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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Everlasting Arms, by Joseph Hocking
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Everlasting Arms
+
+
+Author: Joseph Hocking
+
+
+
+Release Date: March 20, 2012  [eBook #39218]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING ARMS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by David T. Jones, Mary Meehan, Al Haines, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net)
+
+
+
+THE EVERLASTING ARMS
+
+by
+
+JOSEPH HOCKING
+
+Author of "All for a Scrap of Paper," "The Trampled Cross," etc., etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Hodder and Stoughton
+London    New York    Toronto
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                  PAGE
+
+                   PROLOGUE
+
+        CHAPTER I  A WOMAN'S FACE                                    1
+
+       CHAPTER II  THE MARCONIGRAM                                   8
+
+      CHAPTER III  THE SHIPWRECK                                    15
+
+       CHAPTER IV  "THE ENEMY OF YOUR SOUL"                         23
+
+
+          PART I.--THE FIRST TEMPTATION
+
+        CHAPTER V  THE ONLY SURVIVING RELATIVE                      29
+
+       CHAPTER VI  WENDOVER PARK                                    39
+
+      CHAPTER VII  LADY BLANCHE MAKES HER APPEARANCE                52
+
+     CHAPTER VIII  COUNT ROMANOFF'S GOSPEL                          60
+
+       CHAPTER IX  BEATRICE STANMORE                                69
+
+        CHAPTER X  UNCERTAINTY                                      78
+
+       CHAPTER XI  THE REAL HEIR                                    86
+
+      CHAPTER XII  THE DAY OF DESTINY                               94
+
+     CHAPTER XIII  THE INVISIBLE HAND                              102
+
+      CHAPTER XIV  A SCRAP OF PAPER                                113
+
+       CHAPTER XV  COUNT ROMANOFF'S DEPARTURE                      118
+
+      CHAPTER XVI  RIGGLETON'S HOMECOMING                          125
+
+     CHAPTER XVII  FAVERSHAM'S RESOLUTION                          132
+
+
+         PART II.--THE SECOND TEMPTATION
+
+    CHAPTER XVIII  MR. BROWN'S PROPHECY                            140
+
+      CHAPTER XIX  AN AMAZING PROPOSAL                             151
+
+       CHAPTER XX  "THE COUNTRY FOR THE PEOPLE"                    157
+
+      CHAPTER XXI  THE MIDNIGHT MEETING                            165
+
+     CHAPTER XXII  "YOU AND I TOGETHER"                            173
+
+    CHAPTER XXIII  THE SO-CALLED DEAD                              181
+
+     CHAPTER XXIV  VISIONS OF ANOTHER WORLD                        190
+
+      CHAPTER XXV  ROMANOFF'S PHILOSOPHY                           199
+
+     CHAPTER XXVI  A VOICE FROM ANOTHER WORLD                      209
+
+    CHAPTER XXVII  OLGA MAKES LOVE                                 218
+
+
+        PART III.--THE THIRD TEMPTATION
+
+   CHAPTER XXVIII  THE COUNT'S CONFEDERATE                         227
+
+     CHAPTER XXIX  IN QUEST OF A SOUL                              236
+
+      CHAPTER XXX  VOICES IN THE NIGHT                             245
+
+     CHAPTER XXXI  DICK HEARS STRANGE NEWS                         254
+
+    CHAPTER XXXII  BEATRICE CONFESSES                              263
+
+   CHAPTER XXXIII  SIR GEORGE'S LOVE AFFAIR                        272
+
+    CHAPTER XXXIV  THE DAWN OF LOVE                                281
+
+     CHAPTER XXXV  THE ETERNAL STRUGGLE                            291
+
+    CHAPTER XXXVI  HIS GUARDIAN ANGEL                              301
+
+   CHAPTER XXXVII  AT THE CAFÉ MOSCOW                              310
+
+  CHAPTER XXXVIII  THE SHADOW OF A GREAT TERROR                    319
+
+    CHAPTER XXXIX  THE TRIUMPH OF GOOD                             327
+
+       CHAPTER XL  THE MINISTERING ANGEL                           336
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+A WOMAN'S FACE
+
+
+"There may be a great deal in it."
+
+"Undoubtedly there is. Imagination, superstition, credulity," said Dick
+Faversham a little cynically.
+
+"Well, I can't dismiss it in that fashion," replied the other. "Where
+there's smoke there's fire, and you can't get men from various parts of
+the world testifying that they saw the Angels at Mons unless there is
+some foundation of truth in it."
+
+"Again I say imagination. Imagination can do a great deal. Imagination
+can people a churchyard with ghosts; it can make dreams come true, and
+it can also make clever men foolish."
+
+"Admit that. You still haven't got to the bottom of it. There's more
+than mere imagination in the stories of the Angels at Mons, and at other
+places. Less than three weeks ago I was at a hospital in London. I was
+talking with a wounded sergeant, and this man told me in so many words
+that he saw the Angels. He said there were three of them, and that they
+remained visible for more than an hour. Not only did he see them, but
+others saw them. He also said that what appeared like a great calamity
+was averted by their appearance."
+
+There was a silence after this somewhat lengthy speech, and something
+like an uncanny feeling possessed the listeners.
+
+The conversation took place in the smoke-room of a steamship bound for
+Australia, and at least a dozen men were taking part in it. The subject
+of the discussion was the alleged appearance of the Angels at Mons, and
+at other places in France and Belgium, and although at least half of the
+little party was not convinced that those who accepted the stories had a
+good case, they could not help being affected by the numerous instances
+that were adduced of the actual appearance of spiritual visitants. The
+subject, as all the world knows, had been much discussed in England and
+elsewhere, and so it was not unnatural that it should form the topic of
+conversation in the smoke-room of the outgoing vessel.
+
+One of the strongest opponents to the supernatural theory was a young
+man of perhaps twenty-seven years of age. From the first he had taken up
+an antagonistic attitude, and would not admit that the cases given
+proved anything.
+
+"Excuse me," he urged, "but, really, it won't do. You see, the whole
+thing, if it is true, is miraculous, and miracles, according to Matthew
+Arnold, don't happen."
+
+"And who is Matthew Arnold, or any other man, to say that what we called
+miracles don't happen?" urged Mr. Bennett, the clergyman, warmly. "In
+spite of Matthew Arnold and men of his school, the world still believes
+in the miracles of our Lord; why, then, should miracles happen in
+Palestine and not in France?"
+
+"If they did happen," interpolated Faversham.
+
+"Either they happened, or the greatest movement, the mightiest and
+noblest enthusiasms the world has ever known, were founded on a lie,"
+said the clergyman solemnly.
+
+"That may be," retorted Faversham, "but don't you see where you are
+leading us? If, as you say, we accept the New Testament stories, there
+is no reason why we may not accept the Angels at Mons and elsewhere. But
+that opens up all sorts of questions. The New Testament tells of people
+being possessed by devils; it tells of one at least being tempted by a
+personal devil. Would you assert that a personal devil tempts men
+to-day?"
+
+"I believe that either the devil or his agents tempt men to-day,"
+replied the clergyman.
+
+"Then you would, I suppose, also assert that the old myth of guardian
+angels is also true."
+
+"Accepting the New Testament, I do," replied Mr. Bennett.
+
+Dick Faversham laughed rather uneasily.
+
+"Think," went on the clergyman; "suppose someone who loved you very
+dearly in life died, and went into the great spirit world. Do you not
+think it natural that that person should seek to watch over you? Is it
+not natural that he or she who loved you in life should love you after
+what we call death? A mother will give her life for her child in life.
+Why should she not seek to guard that same child even although she has
+gone to the world of spirits?"
+
+"But the whole thing seems so unreal, so unnatural," urged Faversham.
+
+"That is because we live in a materialistic age. The truth is, in giving
+up the idea of guardian angels and similar beliefs we have given up some
+of the greatest comforts in life. Because we have become so
+materialistic, we have lost that grand triumphant conviction that there
+is no death. Why--why--"--and Mr. Bennett rose to his feet
+excitedly--"there is not one of those splendid lads who has fallen in
+battle, who is dead. God still cares for them all, and not one is
+outside His protection. I can't explain it, but I _know_."
+
+"You know?"
+
+"Yes, I know. And I'll tell you why I know. My son Jack was killed at
+Mons, but he's near me even now. Say it's unreal if you like, say it's
+unnatural if you will, but it's one of the great glories of life to me."
+
+"I don't like to cast a doubt upon a sacred conviction," ventured
+Faversham after a silence that was almost painful, "but is not this
+clearly a case of imagination? Mr. Bennett has lost a son in the war. We
+are all very sorry for him, and we are all glad that he gets comfort
+from the feeling that his son is near him. But even admitting the truth
+of this, admitting the doctrine that a man's spirit does not die because
+of the death of the body, you have proved nothing. The appearance of the
+Angels in France and Belgium means something more than this. It declares
+that these spirits appear in visible, tangible forms; that they take an
+interest in our mundane doings; that they take sides; that they help
+some and hinder others."
+
+"Exactly," assented Mr. Bennett.
+
+"You believe that?"
+
+"I believe it most fervently," was the clergyman's solemn answer. "I am
+anything but a spiritualist, as the word is usually understood; but I
+see no reason why my boy may not communicate with me, why he may not
+help me. I, of course, do not understand the mysterious ways of the
+Almighty, but I believe in the words of Holy Writ. 'Are they not all
+ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs
+of salvation?' says the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews. While our
+Lord Himself, when speaking of little children, said, 'I say unto you
+that their angels do always behold the face of My Father who is in
+heaven.'"
+
+Again there was a silence which was again broken by Dick Faversham
+turning and speaking to a man who had not spoken during the whole
+discussion, but who, with a sardonic, cynical smile upon his face, had
+been listening intently.
+
+"What is your opinion, Count Romanoff?" asked Faversham.
+
+"I am afraid I must be ruled out of court," he replied. "These stories
+smack too much of the nursery."
+
+"You believe that they are worn-out superstitions?"
+
+"I should shock you all if I told you what I believe."
+
+"Shock us by all means."
+
+"No, I will spare you. I remember that we have a clergyman present."
+
+"Pray do not mind me," urged Mr. Bennett eagerly.
+
+"Then surely you do not accept the fables recorded in the New
+Testament?"
+
+"I do not admit your description. What you call fables are the greatest
+power for righteousness the world has ever known. They have stood the
+test of ages, they have comforted and inspired millions of lives, they
+stand upon eternal truth."
+
+Count Romanoff shrugged his shoulders, and a smile of derision and
+contempt passed over his features.
+
+"All right," he replied, and again lapsed into silence.
+
+The man had spoken only a very few commonplace words, and yet he had
+changed the atmosphere of the room. Perhaps this was because all felt
+him utterly antagonistic to the subject of discussion. He was different
+from Dick Faversham, who in a frank, schoolboy way had declared his
+scepticism. He had been a marked man ever since the boat had left
+England. There were several reasons for this. One was his personal
+appearance. He was an exceedingly handsome man of perhaps forty years of
+age, and yet there was something repellent in his features. He was
+greatly admired for his fine physique and courtly bearing, and yet but
+few sought his acquaintance. He looked as though he were the repository
+of dark secrets. His smile was cynical, and suggested a kind of
+contemptuous pity for the person to whom he spoke. His eyes were deeply
+set, his mouth suggested cruelty.
+
+And yet he could be fascinating. Dick Faversham, who had struck up an
+acquaintance with him, had found him vastly entertaining. He held
+unconventional ideas, and was widely read in the literature of more than
+one country. Moreover, he held strong views on men and movements, and
+his criticisms told of a man of more than ordinary intellectual acumen.
+
+"You refuse to discuss the matter?"
+
+"There is but little use for an astronomer to discuss the stars with an
+astrologer. A chemist would regard it as waste of time to discuss his
+science with an alchemist. The two live in different worlds, speak a
+different language, belong to different times."
+
+"Of course, you will call me a fanatic," cried the clergyman; "but I
+believe. I believe in God, and in His Son Jesus Christ who died for our
+sins, and who rose from the dead. On that foundation I build all the
+rest."
+
+A change passed over the Count's face. It might be a spasm of pain, and
+his somewhat pale face became paler; but he did not speak. For some
+seconds he seemed fighting with a strong emotion; then, conquering
+himself, his face resumed its former aspect, and a cynical smile again
+passed over his features.
+
+"The gentleman is too earnest for me," he remarked, taking another cigar
+from his case.
+
+Dick Faversham did not see the change that passed over the Count's face.
+Indeed, he had ceased to take interest in the discussion. The truth was
+that the young man was startled by what was an unusual occurrence. The
+room, as may be imagined, bearing in mind that for a long time a number
+of men had been burning incense to My Lady Nicotine, was in a haze of
+tobacco smoke, and objects were not altogether clearly visible; but not
+far from the door he saw a woman standing. This would not have been
+remarkable had not the lady passengers, for some reason known to
+themselves, up to the present altogether avoided the smoke-room. More
+than this, Dick did not recognise her. He had met, or thought he had met
+during the voyage, every lady passenger on the boat; but certainly he
+had never seen this one before. He was perfectly sure of that, for her
+face was so remarkable that he knew he could not have forgotten her.
+
+She was young, perhaps twenty-four. At first Dick thought of her as only
+a girl in her teens, but as, through the thick smoky haze he watched her
+face, he felt that she had passed her early girlhood. What struck him
+most forcibly were her wonderful eyes. It seemed to him as though, while
+they were large and piercing, they were at the same time melting with an
+infinite tenderness and pity.
+
+Dick Faversham looked at her like a man entranced. In his interest in
+her he forgot the other occupants of the room, forgot the discussion,
+forgot everything. The yearning solicitude in the woman's eyes, the
+infinite pity on her face, chained him and drove all other thoughts
+away.
+
+"I say, Faversham."
+
+He came to himself at the mention of his name and turned to the speaker.
+
+"Are you good for a stroll on deck for half an hour before turning in?"
+
+It was the Count who spoke, and Dick noticed that nearly all the
+occupants of the room seemed on the point of leaving.
+
+"Thank you," he replied, "but I think I'll turn in."
+
+He looked again towards the door where he had seen the woman, but she
+was gone.
+
+"By the way," and he touched the sleeve of a man's coat as he spoke,
+"who was that woman?"
+
+"What woman?"
+
+"The woman standing by the door."
+
+"I saw no woman. There was none there."
+
+"But there was, I tell you. I saw her plainly."
+
+"You were wool-gathering, old man. I was sitting near the door and saw
+no one."
+
+Dick was puzzled. He was certain as to what he had seen.
+
+The smoke-room steward appeared at that moment, to whom he propounded
+the same question.
+
+"There was no lady, sir."
+
+"But--are you sure?"
+
+"Certainly, sir. I've been here all the evening, and saw everyone who
+came in."
+
+Dick made his way to his berth like a man in a dream. He was puzzled,
+bewildered.
+
+"I am sure I saw a woman," he said to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE MARCONIGRAM
+
+
+He had barely reached his room when he heard a knock at the door.
+
+"Yes; what is it?"
+
+"You are Mr. Faversham, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes; what do you want?"
+
+"Wireless for you, sir. Just come through."
+
+A few seconds later Dick was reading a message which promised to alter
+the whole course of his life:
+
+    "_Your uncle, Charles Faversham, Wendover Park, Surrey, just
+    died. Your immediate return essential. Report to us on arrival._
+    BIDLAKE & BILTON, _Lincoln's Inn_."
+
+The words seemed to swim before his eyes. His uncle, Charles Faversham,
+dead! There was nothing wonderful about that, for Dick had heard quite
+recently that he was an ailing man, and not likely to live long. He was
+old, too, and in the course of nature could not live long. But what had
+Charles Faversham's death to do with him? It was true the deceased man
+was his father's stepbrother, but the two families had no associations,
+simply because no friendship existed between them.
+
+Dick knew none of the other Favershams personally. His own father, who
+had died a few years before, had left him practically penniless. His
+mother, whose memory his father adored, had died at his, Dick's, birth,
+and thus when he was a little over twenty he found himself alone in the
+world. Up to that time he had spent his life at school and at college.
+His father, who was a man of scholarly instincts, had made up his mind
+that his son should adopt one of the learned professions, although
+Dick's desires did not lean in that direction. At his father's death,
+therefore, he set to work to carve out a career for himself. He had good
+abilities, a determined nature, and great ambitions, but his training,
+which utterly unfitted him for the battle of life, handicapped him
+sorely. For three years nothing went well with him. He obtained
+situation after situation only to lose it. He was impatient of control,
+he lacked patience, and although he had boundless energies, he never
+found a true outlet for them.
+
+At length fortune favoured him. He got a post under a company who did a
+large business in Austria and in the Balkan States, and he made himself
+so useful to his firm that his progress was phenomenal.
+
+It was then that Dick began to think seriously of a great career. It was
+true he had only climbed a few steps on fortune's ladder, but his
+prospects for the future were alluring. He pictured himself becoming a
+power in the commercial world, and then, with larger wealth at his
+command, he saw himself entering Parliament and becoming a great figure
+in the life of the nation.
+
+He had social ambitions too. Although he had had no serious love
+affairs, he dreamed of himself marrying into an old family, by which
+means the doors of the greatest houses in the land would be open to him.
+
+"Nothing shall stop me," he said to himself again and again; and the
+heads of his firm, realising his value to them, gave him more and more
+responsibility, and also pointed hints about his prospects.
+
+At the end of 1913, however, Dick had a serious disagreement with his
+chiefs. He had given considerable attention to continental politics, and
+he believed that Germany would force war. Because of this he advocated a
+certain policy with regard to their business. To this his chiefs gave a
+deaf ear, and laughed at the idea of England being embroiled in any
+trouble with either Austria or the Balkan States. Of course, Dick was
+powerless. He had no capital in the firm, and as his schemes were rather
+revolutionary he was not in a position to press them.
+
+On the outbreak of war in 1914 Dick's firm was ruined. What he had
+predicted had come to pass. Because they had not prepared for this
+possible contingency, and because large sums of money were owing them in
+Austria and Serbia, which they could not recover, all their energies
+were paralysed. Thus at twenty-seven years of age, with only a few
+hundreds of pounds in his possession, Dick had to begin at the bottom
+again.
+
+At length a firm who knew something of his associations with his
+previous employers offered to send him to Australia to attend to matters
+in which they believed he could render valuable service, but payment for
+which would depend entirely on his own success. Dick accepted this offer
+with avidity.
+
+This in bare outline was his story up to the commencement of the history
+which finds him on his way to Australia with the momentous marconigram
+in his hands.
+
+Again and again he read the wireless message which had been handed to
+him. It was so strange, so unexpected, so bewildering. He had never seen
+or spoken to his uncle, never expected to. He was further removed from
+this representative of his family than the Jews from the Samaritans. It
+is true he had seen Wendover Park from the distance. He remembered
+passing the lodge gates some year or two before when cycling through
+Surrey. From a neighbouring hill he had caught sight of the old house
+standing in its broad park-lands, and a pang of envy had shot through
+his heart as he reflected that although its owner and his father were
+stepbrothers he would never be admitted within its walls.
+
+But this message had altered everything: "_Your uncle, Charles
+Faversham, Wendover Park, just died. Your immediate return essential.
+Report to us on arrival._"
+
+The words burnt like fire into his brain. A wireless message, sent to
+him in mid-ocean, must be of more than common purport. Men of Bidlake &
+Bilton's standing did not send such messages as a pastime. They would
+not urge his immediate return without serious reasons.
+
+It must mean--it could only mean--one thing. He must in some way be
+interested in the huge fortune which Charles Faversham had left behind
+him. Perhaps, perhaps--and again he considered the probable outcome of
+it all.
+
+Hour after hour he sat thinking. Was his future, after all, to become
+great, not simply by his own energies, but because of a stroke of good
+fortune? Or, better still, was his uncle's death to be the means whereby
+he could climb to greatness and renown? After all he had not longed so
+much for money for its own sake, but as a means whereby he could get
+power, distinction, high position. With great wealth at his command he
+could--and again a fascinating future spread before him.
+
+He could not sleep; of course, he couldn't! How could he sleep when his
+brain was on fire with wild imaginings and unknown possibilities?
+
+He reflected on the course of his voyage, and considered where the
+vessel would first stop. Yes, he knew they were to call at Bombay, which
+was a great harbour from which ships were frequently returning to
+England. In three days they would be there, and then----
+
+Should he take anyone into his confidence? Should he give reasons for
+leaving the ship? Oh, the wonder, the excitement of it all! The
+discussion about the Angels at Mons, and the talk about visitants from
+the spirit world caring for the people who lived on earth, scarcely
+entered his mind. What need had he for such things?
+
+But who was that woman? For he was sure he had seen her. Tyler, to whom
+he had spoken, and the smoke-room steward might say that no woman was
+there, but he knew better. He could believe his own eyes anyhow, and the
+wonderful yearning look in her eyes still haunted him in spite of the
+disturbing message.
+
+It was not until towards morning that sleep came to him, and then he was
+haunted by dreams. Strange as it may seem, he did not dream of Bidlake &
+Bilton's message nor of his late uncle's mansion. He dreamt of his
+father and mother. He had never seen his mother; she had died at his
+birth. He had never seen a picture of her, indeed. He believed that his
+father possessed her portrait, but he had never shown it to him. His
+father seldom spoke of his mother, but when he did it was in tones of
+awe, almost of worship. She was like no other woman, he said--a woman
+with all the possible beauty and glory of womanhood stored in her heart.
+
+And she was with his father in his dream. They stood by his bedside
+watching over him. His father's face he remembered perfectly. It was
+just as he had seen it when he was alive, except that there was an added
+something which he could not describe. His mother's face was strange to
+him. Yet not altogether so. He knew instinctively that she was his
+mother--knew it by the look on her almost luminous face, by the yearning
+tenderness of her eyes.
+
+Neither of them spoke to him. They simply stood side by side and watched
+him. He wished they would speak; he felt as though he wanted guidance,
+advice, and each looked at him with infinite love in their eyes.
+
+Where had he seen eyes like those of his mother before? Where had he
+seen a face like the face in his dream? He remembered asking himself,
+but could recall no one.
+
+"Mother, mother," he tried to say, but he could not speak. Then his
+mother placed her hand on his forehead, and her touch was like a
+benediction.
+
+When he woke he wondered where he was; but as through the porthole he
+saw the sheen of the sea he remembered everything. Oh, the wonder of it
+all!
+
+A knock came to the door. "Your bath is ready, sir," said a steward, and
+a minute later he felt the welcome sting of the cold salt water.
+
+He scarcely spoke throughout breakfast; he did not feel like talking. He
+determined to find some lonely spot and reflect on what had taken place.
+When he reached the deck, however, the longing for loneliness left him.
+The sky was cloudless, and the sun poured its warm rays on the spotless
+boards. Under the awning, passengers had ensconced themselves in their
+chairs, and smoked, or talked, or read just as their fancy led them.
+
+In spite of the heat the morning was pleasant. A fresh breeze swept
+across the sea, and the air was pure and sweet.
+
+Acquaintances spoke to him pleasantly, for he had become fairly popular
+during the voyage.
+
+"I wonder if they have heard of that wireless message?" he reflected.
+"Do they know I have received news of Charles Faversham's death, and
+that I am probably a rich man?"
+
+"Holloa, Faversham."
+
+He turned and saw Count Romanoff.
+
+"You look rather pale this morning," went on the Count; "did you sleep
+well?"
+
+"Not very well," replied Dick.
+
+"Your mind exercised about the discussion, eh?"
+
+"That and other things."
+
+"It's the 'other things' that make the great interest of life," remarked
+the Count, looking at him intently.
+
+"Yes, I suppose they do," was Dick's reply. He was thinking about the
+wireless message.
+
+"Still," and the Count laughed, "the discussion got rather warm, didn't
+it? I'm afraid I offended our clerical friend. His nod was very cool
+just now. Of course, it's all rubbish. Years ago I was interested in
+such things. I took the trouble to inform myself of the best literature
+we have on the whole matter. As a youth I knew Madame Blavatsky. I have
+been to seances galore, but I cease to trouble now."
+
+"Yes?" queried Dick.
+
+"I found that the bottom was knocked out of all these so-called
+discoveries by the first touch of serious investigation and criticism.
+Nothing stood searching tests. Everything shrivelled at the first touch
+of the fire."
+
+"This talk about angels, about a hereafter, is so much empty wind," went
+on the Count. "There is no hereafter. When we die there is a great black
+blank. That's all."
+
+"Then life is a mockery."
+
+"Is it? It all depends how you look at it. Personally I find it all
+right."
+
+Dick Faversham looked at his companion's face intently. Yes, it was a
+handsome face--strong, determined, forceful. But it was not pleasant.
+Every movement of his features suggested mockery, cynicism, cruelty.
+And yet it was fascinating. Count Romanoff was not a man who could be
+passed by without a thought. There was a tremendous individuality behind
+his deep-set, dark eyes--a personality of great force suggested by the
+masterful, mobile features.
+
+"You have nerves this morning, Faversham," went on the Count. "Something
+more than ordinary has happened to you."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I feel it. I see it. No, I am not asking you to make a confidant of me.
+But you want a friend."
+
+"Yes," cried Dick, speaking on impulse; "I do."
+
+The other did not speak. He simply fixed his eyes on Faversham's face
+and waited.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE SHIPWRECK
+
+
+For a moment Dick was strongly tempted to tell his companion about the
+wireless he had received. But something, he could not tell what, seemed
+to forbid him. In spite of the fact that he had spent a good deal of
+time with Count Romanoff he had given him no confidences. There was
+something in his presence, in spite of his fascination, that did not
+inspire confidence.
+
+"By the way," ventured Dick, after an awkward silence, "I have often
+been on the point of asking you, but it felt like a liberty. Are you in
+any way connected with the great Russian family of your name?"
+
+The Count hesitated before replying. "I do not often speak of it," he
+told him presently, "but I come of a Royal Family."
+
+"The Romanoffs of Russia?"
+
+The Count smiled.
+
+"I do not imagine that they would admit me into their family circle," he
+replied. "I make no claims to it, but I have the right."
+
+Dick was duly impressed.
+
+"Then, of course, you are a Russian. You were born there?"
+
+"A Russian!" sneered the other. "A vast conglomeration of savagery,
+superstition, and ignorance! I do not claim to be a Russian. I have
+estates there, but I am a citizen of the world. My sympathies are not
+national, insular, bounded by race, paltry landmarks, languages. I live
+in a bigger world, my friend. Yes, I am a Romanoff, if you like, and I
+claim kinship with the greatest families of the Russian Empire--but la
+la, what is it? Thistledown, my friend, thistledown."
+
+"But you were educated in Russia?" persisted Dick.
+
+"Educated! What is it to be educated? From childhood I have been a
+wanderer. I have taken my degrees in the University of the world. I have
+travelled in China, Japan, Egypt, America, the Antipodes. In a few days
+we shall call at Bombay. If you will accompany me I will take you to
+people in that city, old Indian families whose language I know, whose
+so-called mysteries I have penetrated, and who call me friend. Ecco! I
+owe my education to all countries, all peoples."
+
+He did not speak boastfully; there was no suggestion of the boaster, the
+braggadocio, in his tones; rather he spoke quietly, thoughtfully, almost
+sadly.
+
+"Tell me this," asked Dick: "you, who I judge to be a rich man, do you
+find that riches bring happiness?"
+
+"Yes--and no. With wealth you can buy all that this world can give you."
+
+Dick wondered at the strange intonation of his voice.
+
+"It is the only thing that can bring happiness," added Romanoff.
+
+"I fancy our friend Mr. Bennett would not agree with you," laughed Dick.
+"He would say that a clear conscience meant happiness. He would tell you
+that a good life, a clean mind, and a faith in God were the secrets of
+happiness."
+
+Romanoff laughed.
+
+"What makes a clear conscience? It is a feeling that you have done what
+is right. But what is right? What is right in China is wrong in England.
+What makes the Chinaman happy makes the Englishman miserable. But why
+should the Englishman be miserable because he does the thing that makes
+the Chinaman happy? No, no, it won't do. There is no right; there is no
+wrong. The Germans are wise there. What the world calls morality is a
+bogy to frighten foolish people. 'It is always right to do the thing you
+_can_ do,' says Brother Fritz. Personally I believe it to be right to do
+what satisfies my desires. It is right because it brings happiness.
+After all, you haven't long to live. A few years and it is all over. A
+shot from a pistol and _voilà!_ your brains are blown out--you are dead!
+Therefore, take all that life can give you--there is nothing else."
+
+"I wonder?" said Dick.
+
+"That is why money is all-powerful. First of all, get rid of
+conventional morality, rid your mind of all religious twaddle about
+another life, and then suck the orange of this life dry. You, now, you
+are keen, ardent, ambitious; you love beautiful things; you can enjoy to
+the full all that life can give you. Nature has endowed you with a
+healthy body, ardent desires, boundless ambitions--well, satisfy them
+all. You can buy them all."
+
+"But I am not rich," interposed Dick.
+
+"Aren't you?" queried the other. "Who knows? Anyhow, you are young--make
+money. 'Money talks,' as the Americans say."
+
+Again Dick was on the point of telling him about the wireless message,
+but again he refrained.
+
+"By the way, Count Romanoff," he said, "did you see that woman in the
+smoke-room last night?"
+
+"Woman! what woman?"
+
+"I don't know. I never saw her before. But while you were talking I saw
+a woman's face through the haze of tobacco smoke. She was standing near
+the door. It was a wonderful face--and her eyes were beyond description.
+Great, pure, yearning, loving eyes they were, and they lit up the face
+which might have been--the face of an angel."
+
+"You were dreaming, my friend. I have seen every woman on board, and not
+one of them possesses a face worth looking at twice."
+
+"I asked another man," admitted Dick, "and he told me I was dreaming. He
+had been sitting near the door, he assured me, and he had seen no woman,
+while the smoke-room steward was just as certain."
+
+"Of course there was no woman."
+
+"And yet I saw a woman, unless----" He stopped suddenly.
+
+"Unless what, my friend?"
+
+"Unless it was a kind of rebuke to my scepticism last night; unless it
+was the face of an angel."
+
+"An angel in mid-ocean!" Romanoff laughed. "An angel in the smoke-room
+of a P. & O. steamer! Faversham, you are an example of your own
+arguments. Imagination can do anything."
+
+"But it would be beautiful if it were so. Do you know, I'm only half a
+sceptic after all. I only half believe in what I said in the smoke-room
+last night."
+
+"Perhaps I can say the same thing," said Romanoff, watching his face
+keenly.
+
+"I say!" and Dick laughed.
+
+"Yes, laugh if you will; but I told you just now that the world
+contained no mystery. I was wrong; it does. My residence in India has
+told me that. Do you know, Faversham, what has attracted me to you?--for
+I have been attracted, I can assure you."
+
+"Flattered, I'm sure," murmured Dick.
+
+"I was attracted, because the moment I saw your face I felt that your
+career would be out of the ordinary. I may be wrong, but I believe that
+great things are going to happen to you, that you are going to have a
+wonderful career. I felt it when I saw you come on deck a little while
+ago. If you are wise you are going to have a great future--a _great_
+future."
+
+"Now you are laughing."
+
+"No, I'm not. I'm in deadly earnest. I have something of the power of
+divination in me. I feel the future. Something's going to happen to you.
+I think great wealth's coming to you."
+
+Dick was silent, and a far-away look came into his eyes. He was thinking
+of the wireless message, thinking whether he should tell Romanoff about
+it.
+
+"I started out on this voyage--in the hope that--that I should make
+money," he stammered.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"In Australia."
+
+"You'll not go to Australia."
+
+"No? Why?"
+
+"I don't know--something's going to happen to you. I feel it."
+
+Dick was again on the point of taking him into his confidence when two
+acquaintances came up and the conversation ended. But Dick felt that
+Romanoff knew his secret all the time.
+
+The day passed away without further incident, but towards afternoon
+there was a distinct change in the weather. The sky became overclouded,
+and the gentle breeze which had blown in the morning strengthened into a
+strong, boisterous wind. The smooth sea roughened, and the passengers no
+longer sat on deck. The smoke-room was filled with bridge players, while
+other public rooms became the scenes of other amusements.
+
+But Dick preferred being alone. He was still hugging his news to his
+heart, still reflecting on the appearance of the strange woman's face in
+the smoke-room, and all the time he was under the influence of Count
+Romanoff's conversation.
+
+Perhaps the great, dark, heaving waste of waters excited his nerves and
+made him feel something of the mysterious and resistless forces around
+him. After all, he asked himself, how small the life of a man, or a
+hundred men, appeared to be amidst what seemed infinite wastes of ocean.
+
+After dinner, in spite of the fact that the weather remained boisterous,
+he again went on deck. The sky had somewhat cleared now, and although
+there were still great black angry clouds, spaces of blue could be seen
+between them. Here the stars appeared, and shone with great brilliancy.
+Then the moon rose serene, majestic. Now it was hidden by a great storm
+cloud, and again it showed its silvery face in the clear spaces.
+
+"Great heavens!" cried Dick, "how little a man knows of the world in
+which he lives, and what rot we often talk. The air all around me may be
+crowded with visitants from the unseen world! My dream last night may
+have an objective reality. Perhaps my father and my mother were there
+watching over me! Why not?"
+
+It is said that atheists are bred in slums, and amidst brick walls and
+unlovely surroundings. It is also said that there are few sailors but
+who are believers--that the grandeur of the seas, that the wonder of
+great star spaces create a kind of spiritual atmosphere which makes it
+impossible for them to be materialists. Whether that is so I will not
+argue. This I know: Dick Faversham felt very near the unseen world as
+he leaned over the deck railings that night and gazed across the
+turbulent waters.
+
+But this also must be said. The unseen world seemed to him not good, but
+evil. He felt as though there were dark, sinister forces around
+him--forces which were inimical to what he conceived to be best in him.
+
+Before midnight he turned in, and no sooner did he lay his head on his
+pillow than he felt himself falling asleep. How long he slept he did not
+know. As far as he remembered afterwards, his sleep was dreamless. He
+only knew that he was awakened by a tremendous noise, and that the ship
+seemed to be crashing to pieces. Before he realised what had taken place
+he found himself thrown on the floor, while strange grating noises
+reached his ears. After that he heard wild shouts and despairing
+screams. Hastily putting on a coat over his night clothes, he rushed out
+to see what had happened; but all seemed darkness and confusion.
+
+"What's the matter?" he cried, but received no answer.
+
+Stumblingly he struggled towards the companion-way, where he saw a dark
+moving object.
+
+"What's happened?" he gasped again.
+
+"God only knows, except the vessel going down!"
+
+"Vessel going down?"
+
+"Yes; struck a mine or something!"
+
+Even as the man spoke the ship seemed to be splitting asunder. Harsh,
+grating, bewildering noises were heard everywhere, while above the
+noises of timber and steel were to be faintly heard the cries of frantic
+women and excited men.
+
+Then something struck him. He did not know what it was, but he felt a
+heavy blow on his head, and after that a great darkness fell upon him.
+
+How long the darkness lasted he could not tell. It might have been
+minutes, it might have been hours; but he knew that he suddenly came to
+consciousness through the touch of icy-cold water. The cold seemed to
+pierce his very marrow, to sting him with exquisite pain. Then he was
+conscious that he was struggling in the open sea.
+
+He had been a strong swimmer from early boyhood, and he struck out now.
+He had no idea which way to swim, but swim he did, heedless of direction
+or purpose. A kind of instinct forced him to get as far away as possible
+from the spot where he came to consciousness.
+
+There was still a heavy sea running. He found himself lifted on the
+crest of huge waves, and again sinking in the depths. But he held on. He
+had a kind of instinct that he was doing something to save his life.
+
+Presently his mind became clear. The past came vividly before him--the
+talk in the smoke-room, the wireless message----
+
+Yes, he must live! Life held out so much to him. His immediate return to
+England was essential. Bidlake & Bilton had told him so.
+
+Where were the other passengers? He had heard women's cries, the wild
+shouts of men, the creaking of timbers, the grating of steel; he had
+felt that the great steamship was being torn to pieces. But now there
+was nothing of this. There was nothing but the roar of waters--great,
+heaving, turbulent waters.
+
+He still struggled on, but he knew that his strength was going. It
+seemed to him, too, as though some power was paralysing his limbs,
+sapping his strength. He still had the desire to save himself, to live;
+but his will power was not equal to his desire.
+
+Oh, the sea was cruel, cruel! Why could not the waves cease roaring and
+rolling if only for five minutes? He would have time to rest then, to
+rest and regain his strength.
+
+Still he struggled on. Again he felt himself carried on the crest of
+waves, and again almost submerged in the great troughs which seemed to
+be everywhere.
+
+"O God, help me!" he thought at length. "My strength is nearly gone. I'm
+going to be drowned!"
+
+A sinister power seemed to surround him--a power which took away hope,
+purpose, life. He thought of Count Romanoff, who had said there was
+nothing after death--that death was just a great black blank.
+
+The thought was ghastly! To cease to be, to die there amidst the wild
+waste of the sea, on that lonely night! He could not bear the thought of
+it.
+
+But his strength was ebbing away; his breath came in panting sobs; his
+heart found it difficult to beat. He was going to die.
+
+Oh, if only something, someone would drive away the hateful presence
+which was following him, surrounding him! He could still struggle on
+then; he could live then. But no, a great black shadow was surrounding
+him, swallowing him up. Yes, and the ghastly thing was taking shape. He
+saw a face, something like the face of--no, he could liken it to no one
+he knew.
+
+The waves still rolled on; but now he heard what seemed like wild,
+demoniacal laughter. Once, when a boy, he had seen Henry Irving in
+_Faust_; he saw the devils on the haunted mountain; he heard their
+hideous cries. And there was a ghastly, evil influence with him now. Did
+it mean that devils were there waiting to snatch his soul directly it
+left his body?
+
+Then he felt a change. Yes, it was distinct, definite. There was a
+light, too--a pale, indistinct light, but still real, and as his tired
+eyes lifted he saw what seemed to be a cross of light shining down upon
+him from the clouds. What could it mean?
+
+It seemed to him that the sinister presence was somehow losing power,
+that there was something, someone in the light which grew stronger.
+
+Then a face appeared above him. At first it was unreal, intangible,
+shadowy; but it grew clearer, clearer. Where had he seen it before?
+Those great, tender, yearning eyes--where had he seen them? Then the
+form of a woman became outlined--a woman with arms outstretched. Her
+face, her lips, her eyes seemed to bid him hope, and it felt to him as
+though arms were placed beneath him--arms which bore him up.
+
+It was all unreal, as unreal as the baseless fabric of a dream; and yet
+it was real, wondrously real.
+
+"Help me! Save me!" he tried to say, but whether he uttered the words he
+did not know. He felt that his grip on life became weaker and
+weaker--then a still, small voice seemed to whisper, "The Eternal God is
+thy refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting Arms."
+
+The roar of the waves grew less, and he knew no more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+"THE ENEMY OF YOUR SOUL"
+
+
+When again Dick Faversham regained something like consciousness he had a
+sensation of choking, of a hard struggle to breathe, which ended in
+partial failure.
+
+He did not know where he was, but he had a sense of warmth, of
+restfulness. He thought he heard the ripple of waves on a sunlit shore,
+and of wide-spreading trees which grew close to the edge of the sea.
+
+But it was all indistinct, unreal, and he did not care very much. He was
+trying to breathe, trying to overcome the awful sense of choking, and
+after a while, dazed, bewildered though he was, he felt his breath come
+easier and the weight on his chest grow lighter. But he was terribly
+tired--so tired that he had no desire to struggle, so languid that his
+very efforts to breathe were the result not of his own will, but of some
+claims of nature over which he had no control. He was just a piece of
+machinery, and that was all.
+
+He felt himself going to sleep, and he was glad. He had no curiosity as
+to where he was, no desire to know how he came to be there, no
+remembrance of the past; he only knew that warm air wrapped him like a
+garment, and that he was deliciously tired and sleepy.
+
+How long he slept he did not know, but presently when he woke he saw the
+sun setting in a blaze of glory. Scarcely a breath of wind stirred the
+warm, fragrant air, and all was silent save the lapping of the waves and
+the screaming of birds in the distance.
+
+He sat up and looked around him. Great tropical trees grew in wild
+profusion, while gorgeous vegetation abounded. It was like some land of
+dreams.
+
+Then suddenly memory asserted itself, and the past flashed before his
+mind. Everything became clear, vivid.
+
+"I am saved! I am alive!" he exclaimed aloud.
+
+Again he saw the wild upheaving sea; he felt himself struggling in the
+deep, while his strength, strength of body, of mind, and will were
+failing him. He recalled the dark, fearful presence that surrounded him,
+and then the coming of the light, and in the light the outline of a
+woman's form. Nothing would ever destroy that memory! The face, the
+lips, the eyes! No, he should never forget! And he had seen her arms
+outstretched, felt her arms placed beneath him--the arms that bore him
+up, brought him to safety.
+
+"I was saved," he murmured--"saved by an angel!"
+
+He was startled by the sound of a footstep, and, turning, he saw
+Romanoff, and with him came back something of the feeling that some evil
+presence surrounded him.
+
+"That's right, Faversham. I was afraid, hours ago, that I should never
+bring you round, but at length you made good, and then, like a sensible
+fellow, went to sleep."
+
+Romanoff spoke in the most matter-of-fact way possible, banishing the
+mere thought of angels or devils.
+
+"Where are we? How did we get here?" gasped Faversham. Up to now he had
+not given a thought to the other passengers.
+
+"Where are we? On an island in the Pacific, my dear fellow. How did we
+get here? After the accident--or whatever it was--the boats were
+lowered, and all hands were got away. I looked out for you, but could
+not find you. There was a great commotion, and it was easy to miss
+anyone in the darkness. I was among the last to leave the sinking
+vessel, and the boat was pretty full. We had got perhaps half a mile
+away from the scene of the wreck, when I saw someone struggling in the
+sea. It was by the purest chance possible that I saw. However, I managed
+to get hold of--what turned out to be you. You were nearly gone--I never
+thought you'd--live."
+
+"But how did I get here?" asked Dick, "and--and where are the others?"
+
+"It was this way," and Romanoff still continued to speak in the same
+matter-of-fact tones. "As I told you, the boat was jammed
+full--overweighted, in fact--so full that your weight was a bit of a
+danger. More than one said you were dead, and suggested that--that it
+was no use endangering the safety of the others. But I felt sure you
+were alive, so I held out against them."
+
+"And then?" asked Dick. He was only giving half his mind to Romanoff's
+story; he was thinking of what he saw when he felt his strength leaving
+him.
+
+"You see the bar out yonder?" and Romanoff pointed towards a ridge of
+foam some distance out at sea. "It's mighty rough there--dangerous to
+cross even when the sea is smooth; when it is rough--you can guess. I
+was holding you in my arms in order to--give room. The oarsmen were
+making for land, of course; you see, we had been many hours in a mere
+cockleshell, and this island promised safety. But in crossing the bar we
+were nearly upset, and I suddenly found myself in the sea with you in my
+arms. It was fairly dark, and I could not see the boat, but I was
+fortunate in getting you here. That's all."
+
+"That's all?"
+
+"Yes; what should there be else?"
+
+"But the others?"
+
+"Oh, I expect they've landed somewhere else on the island--sure to, in
+fact. But I've not looked them up. You see, I did not want to leave
+you."
+
+"Then you--you've saved me?"
+
+"Oh, that's all right, my dear fellow. You are here, and you are looking
+better every minute; that's the great thing. See, I've brought you some
+food--fruit. Delicious stuff. I've tried it. Lucky for us we got to this
+place."
+
+Dick ate almost mechanically. He was still wondering and trying to
+square Romanoff's story with his own experiences. Meanwhile, Romanoff
+sat near him and watched him as he ate.
+
+"How long have we been here?"
+
+"Ten hours at least. Look, my clothes are quite dry. By Jove, I was
+thankful for the hot sun."
+
+"You saved me!" repeated Dick. "I owe my life to you, and yet even
+now----"
+
+"What, my dear fellow?"
+
+"I thought I was saved in another way."
+
+"Another way? How?"
+
+Dick hesitated a few seconds, and then told him, while Romanoff listened
+with a mocking smile on his lips.
+
+"Of course, you were delirious; it was pure hallucination."
+
+"Was it? It was very real to me."
+
+"Such things don't happen, my friend. After all, it was a very
+matter-of-fact, mundane affair. You were lucky, and I happened to see
+you--that's all--and if there was an angel--I'm it."
+
+The laugh that followed was anything but angelic!
+
+"I suppose that's it," and with a sigh Dick assented to Romanoff's
+explanation. Indeed, with this strange, matter-of-fact man by his side,
+he could not believe in anything miraculous. That smile on his face made
+it impossible.
+
+"I don't know how to thank you," he said fervently. "You've done me the
+greatest service one man can do for another. I can't thank you enough,
+and I can never repay you, but if we ever get away from here, and I have
+an opportunity to serve you--all that I have shall be yours."
+
+"I'll remember that," replied Romanoff quietly, "and I accept what you
+offer, my friend. Perhaps the time will come when I can take advantage
+of it."
+
+"I hope you will--you must!"--Dick's mind had become excited--"and I
+want to tell you something," he continued, for he was strangely drawn
+towards his deliverer. "I want to live. I want to get back to England,"
+he went on. "I have not told you before, but I feel I must now."
+
+Whereupon he told him the story of the wireless message and what it
+possibly might mean.
+
+Romanoff listened gravely, and Dick once again experienced that uncanny
+feeling that he was telling the other a story he already knew.
+
+"Didn't I tell you on the boat that something big was in store for you?"
+he said, after many questions were asked and answered. "I shall
+certainly look you up when I go to England again, and it may be I shall
+be able to render you some--further service."
+
+Night came on, and Dick slept. He was calm now and hopeful for the
+future. Romanoff had told him that as the island was on the great trade
+route it was impossible for them to be left there long. Vessels were
+always passing. And Dick trusted Romanoff. He felt he could do no other.
+He was so strong, so wise, so confident.
+
+For hours he slept dreamlessly, but towards morning he had a vivid
+dream, and in his dream he again saw the face of the angel, just as he
+had seen on the wild, heaving sea.
+
+"Listen to me," she said to him. "That man Romanoff is your enemy--the
+enemy of your soul. Do you realise it?--your soul. He is an emissary of
+the Evil One, and you must fight him. You must not yield to him. You
+will be tempted, but you must fight. He will be constantly near you,
+tempting you. He is your enemy, working for your downfall. If you give
+way to him you will be for ever lost!"
+
+Dick heard her words quite plainly. He watched her face as she spoke,
+wondered at the yearning tenderness in her eyes.
+
+"How can he be my enemy?" he asked. "He risked his life to save mine; he
+brought me to safety."
+
+"No," she replied; "it was the arms of another that were placed beneath
+you, and bore you up. Don't you know whose arms? Don't you remember my
+face?"
+
+"Who are you?" asked Dick.
+
+Then, as it seemed to him in his dream, Romanoff came, and there was a
+battle between him and the angel, and he knew that they were fighting
+for him, for the possession of his soul.
+
+He could see them plainly, and presently he saw the face of Romanoff
+gloat with a look of unholy joy. His form became more and more clearly
+outlined, while that of the angel became dimmer and dimmer. The evil
+power was triumphant. Then a change came. Above their heads he saw a
+luminous cross outlined, and he thought Romanoff's face and form became
+less and less distinct. But he was not sure, for they were drifting away
+from him farther and farther----
+
+Again he saw the angel's face, and again she spoke. "You will be
+tempted--tempted," she said, "in many ways you will be tempted. But you
+will not be alone, for the angel of the Lord encampeth around them that
+fear Him. You will know me by the same sign. Always obey the angel."
+
+He awoke. He was lying where he had gone to sleep hours before. He
+started to his feet and looked around him.
+
+Near him, passing under the shadows of the great trees, he thought he
+saw a woman's face. It was the face he had seen on the outgoing vessel,
+the face he had seen when he was sinking in the deep waters, the face
+that had come to him in his dreams.
+
+He was about to speak to her, to follow her, when he heard someone
+shouting.
+
+"Faversham! Faversham!" It was Romanoff's voice. "Come quickly. We've
+hailed a vessel; our signal has been seen. Come to the other side of the
+island."
+
+
+
+
+PART I.--THE FIRST TEMPTATION
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE ONLY SURVIVING RELATIVE
+
+
+Dick Faversham made his way to the offices of Messrs. Bidlake & Bilton,
+Solicitors, Lincoln's Inn Fields, with a fast-beating heart. He felt
+like a man whose fortune depended on the turn of a die. If the lawyers
+had sent him a message for the purpose he hoped, all was well; if
+not----And for the hundredth time he considered the pros and cons of
+the matter.
+
+His rescue from the island had turned out to be one of the prosiest
+matters imaginable. The captain of an English-bound steamer had seen the
+signals made from the island, and had sent boats. Thus Dick was saved
+without difficulty. There were others who had a similar fortune, but
+Dick had no chance to speak with them. No sooner did he reach the
+steamer than he was taken ill, and remained ill during the whole of the
+homeward voyage.
+
+After he reached Plymouth he began to recover rapidly, but he found on
+making inquiries that all who were rescued from the island had
+disembarked at the western seaport. This was very disappointing to him,
+as he wanted to make inquiries concerning the manner of their escape. Of
+Romanoff he neither heard nor saw anything. No one knew anything of him
+on the steamer, neither was he known to board it.
+
+Dick was both glad and sorry because of this. Glad because, although
+Romanoff possessed a strange fascination for him, he had never been
+altogether comfortable in his presence. The man repelled him even while
+he fascinated him, and he felt relieved that he was not on board. On the
+other hand, he was sorry, because he had a feeling that this strange,
+saturnine man might have been a great help to him in his peculiar
+circumstances.
+
+"It may be all a will-o'-the-wisp fancy," he reflected as he walked
+along Fleet Street towards the Law Courts, "and yet it must mean
+something."
+
+His mind was in a whirl of bewilderment, for in spite of Romanoff's
+explanation he could not drive from his mind the belief that his
+experiences after the vessel was wrecked had been real. Indeed, there
+were times when he was _sure_ that he had seen an angel's form hovering
+while he was struggling in the sea, sure that he felt strong arms
+upholding him.
+
+"At any rate, this is real," he said to himself as he turned into
+Lincoln's Inn Fields. "I am here on dry land. I wear a suit of clothes
+which Captain Fraser gave me, and I have twenty-four shillings in my
+pocket. Whatever happens, I will at the first opportunity pay the
+captain for his kindness."
+
+He entered the office and gave his name.
+
+"Do you wish to see Mr. Bidlake or Mr. Bilton?" asked the clerk.
+
+"Either, or both," replied Dick.
+
+"Would you state your business, please?" The clerk did not seem to be
+sure of him.
+
+"I will state my business to your principals," replied Dick. "Please
+take in my name."
+
+When the clerk returned his demeanour was changed. He was obsequious and
+anxious to serve.
+
+"Will you come this way, please, sir?" he said. "Mr. Bilton is in Mr.
+Bidlake's room, and----"
+
+He did not finish the sentence, for the door of an office opened and a
+man of about fifty years of age appeared.
+
+"Come in, Mr. Faversham," he invited. "Do you know, I've been on
+tenterhooks for days about you."
+
+"I landed at Tilbury only a few hours ago."
+
+"Is that so? But it was this way: we, of course, heard that your boat
+had been mined, and we also heard that a number of the passengers and
+crew were rescued; but news about you was contradictory. In one list of
+the saved your name appeared, while in another you were not mentioned.
+Tell us all about it."
+
+"Another time," replied Dick. He was in a fever to know why this very
+respectable firm of lawyers should have sent a wireless to him.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course," assented Mr. Bidlake, leading the way to an inner
+room. "Bilton, you may as well come too. My word, Mr. Faversham, I _am_
+glad to see you."
+
+Dick felt light-hearted. Mr. Bidlake would not receive him in this
+fashion had there not been important reasons for doing so.
+
+"Well now, to come to business right away," said Mr. Bidlake the moment
+they were seated--"you got my message?"
+
+"Twenty-four hours before I was wrecked," replied Dick.
+
+"Just so. You'll tell us all about that presently. My word, you must
+have had a terrible time! But that's by the way. You got my message, and
+therefore you know that your uncle, Mr. Charles Faversham, is dead?"
+
+Dick nodded. He tried to appear calm, but his heart was thumping like a
+sledge-hammer.
+
+"Of course, you know that Mr. Charles Faversham was a bachelor, and--by
+the way, Mr. Bilton, will you find the Faversham papers? You've had them
+in hand."
+
+"Yes, my uncle was a bachelor," repeated Dick as Mr. Bidlake hesitated.
+
+"You've never had any communications with him?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"A peculiar man. A genius for business, but, all the same, a peculiar
+man. However, I think it's all plain enough."
+
+"What is plain enough?"
+
+"Have you the papers, Bilton? That's good. Yes, I have everything here.
+This is the last will of Mr. Faversham--a plain, straightforward will in
+many ways, although slightly involved in others. However----"
+
+The lawyer untied some tape, and began scanning some documents.
+
+"However what?" asked Dick, who by this time was almost beside himself
+with impatience.
+
+"By the way, you can easily put your hand on your birth certificate, as
+well as the death certificate of your father, I suppose?"
+
+"Quite easily."
+
+"Of course you can. The fact that I have known you for some time makes
+things far easier, far less--complicated. Otherwise a great many
+formalities would have to be gone into before--in short, Mr. Richard
+Faversham, I have great pleasure in congratulating you on being the heir
+to a fine fortune--a _very_ fine fortune."
+
+Mr. Bidlake smiled benignly.
+
+"My uncle's fortune?"
+
+"Your uncle's estate--yes. He was a very rich man."
+
+"But--but----" stammered Dick.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course, you wish for some details. This is the position.
+Your uncle made a will--a rather peculiar will in some ways."
+
+"A peculiar will?" queried Dick.
+
+"Yes--as you know, I did a great deal of work for him; but there were
+others. Triggs and Wilcox attended to some things, while Mortlake and
+Stenson also did odd jobs; but I have made all inquiries, and this is
+the last will he made. He wrote it himself, and it was duly witnessed. I
+myself have interviewed the witnesses, and there is no flaw anywhere,
+although, of course, this document is by no means orthodox."
+
+"Orthodox? I don't understand."
+
+"I mean that it is not in legal form. As a matter of fact, it is utterly
+informal."
+
+"You mean that there is some doubt about it?"
+
+"On no, by no means. It would stand good in any court of law, but, of
+course, all such documents are loosely worded. In case of a lawsuit it
+would offer occasion for many wordy battles," and Mr. Bidlake smacked
+his lips as though he would enjoy such an experience. "But here is the
+will in a nutshell," he went on. "You see, his own brother died many
+years ago, while your father, his stepbrother, died--let me see--how
+long ago? But you know. I need not go into that. As you may have heard,
+his sister Helen married and had children; she was left a widow, and
+during her widowhood she kept house for your uncle; so far so good. This
+is the will: all his property, excepting some small sums which are
+plainly stated, was left equally to his sister Helen's children, and to
+their heirs on their decease."
+
+"But where do I come in?" gasped Dick.
+
+"Here, my dear sir. There is a clause in the will, which I'll read:
+'Should not my sister Helen's children be alive at the time of my
+decease, all my property is to be equally divided between my nearest
+surviving relatives.' Now, here," went on the lawyer, "we see the
+foolishness of a man making his own will, especially a man with such
+vast properties as Mr. Charles Faversham had. First of all, suppose his
+sister Helen's children married and had children who were alive at the
+time of Mr. Charles Faversham's death. These children might not inherit
+a penny if his sister's children had been dead. Again, take the term
+'equally divided.' Don't you see what a bill of costs might be run up in
+settling that? What is an equal division? Who is to assess values on an
+estate that consists of shipping interests, lands, mines, and a host of
+other things? Still, we need not trouble about this as it happens. We
+have inquired into the matter, and we find that your Aunt Helen's
+children are dead, and that none of them was married."
+
+"Then--then----"
+
+"You are the nearest surviving relative, my dear sir, and not only
+that--you are the only surviving relative of the late Mr. Charles
+Faversham of Wendover Park, Surrey."
+
+Dick Faversham still appeared outwardly calm, although his brain was
+whirling with excitement. The words, 'shipping interests, lands, mines,
+and a host of other things,' were singing in his ears. And he--_he_ was
+heir to it all! But was there some doubt about it? Was everything so
+definite as the lawyer had stated?
+
+"I believe my Aunt Helen had three children," Dick said after a
+silence--"two girls and a boy, or two boys and a girl, I have forgotten
+which. Do you mean to say they are all dead?"
+
+"Certain. Directly on Mr. Faversham's death I went into the matter. Two
+of the children died in England. The third, a son, died in Australia. I
+was very anxious about that, and spent quite a little fortune in
+cablegrams. Still, I got everything cleared up satisfactorily."
+
+"Tell me how." Dick was very anxious about this. It seemed to him as the
+crux of the whole question.
+
+"It was naturally a little difficult," and Mr. Bidlake smiled
+complacently. "Australia is some little distance away, eh? But I managed
+it. For one thing, an old articled clerk of mine went to Melbourne some
+years ago, and succeeded in getting a practice there. He was very
+anxious to oblige me, and got on the track almost immediately.
+Fortunately for us, the death of Mr. Anthony Riggleton was somewhat
+notorious."
+
+"And Mr. Anthony Riggleton was my Aunt Helen's son?" asked Dick.
+
+"Exactly. He was not a young man of high character, and I am given to
+understand that Mr. Charles Faversham threatened more than once, when he
+was in England, never to leave him a penny. However, he paid his debts,
+gave him a sum of money, and told him to go away and never to return
+again during his life. It seems, too, that Mr. Anthony Faversham
+Riggleton considerably reformed himself during the time he was in
+Australia, so much so that favourable reports were sent to his uncle
+concerning his conduct. That, I imagine, accounts for his inclusion in
+the will. Whether he went wild again, I don't know, but it is certain
+that he met his death in a very suspicious way. It seems that he and
+some other men met in a house of bad repute not far from Melbourne, and
+in a brawl of some sort he came to an untimely end. His body was found
+more than twenty-four hours after his death, in the harbour at
+Melbourne. Evidently the affair was most unsavoury. His face was much
+bashed. A pistol-shot had passed through his brain, and there were some
+knife-stabs in his body."
+
+"And his companions?" asked Dick.
+
+"They had cleared out, and left no traces behind. You see, they had
+plenty of time to do so before the police were able to get to work.
+According to the latest reports I have heard, there is not the slightest
+chance of finding them."
+
+"But the body--was it identified?"
+
+"It was. Letters were found on the body addressed to Mr. Anthony
+Faversham Riggleton, and there were also private papers on his person
+which left no doubt. Added to this, the evidence of the cashier and of a
+clerk of the Bank of Australia was most explicit. You see, he had called
+at the bank on the morning of the night of the brawl, and drew what
+little money he had. When the body was brought to the mortuary, both the
+cashier and the clerk swore it was that of the man who had called for
+the money."
+
+"That was settled definitely, then?"
+
+"Just so. Oh, you can make your mind quite easy. Directly I got news of
+Mr. Charles Faversham's death I naturally took steps to deal with his
+estate, and I assured myself of your interest in the matter before
+seeking to communicate with you. I would not have sent you that wireless
+without practical certainty. Since then I have received newspapers from
+Melbourne giving details of the whole business."
+
+"And my Aunt Helen?" asked Dick.
+
+"She died before the will was made. I gather that her death caused him
+to make the new will--the one we are discussing--in a hurry."
+
+"And my two other cousins?" Dick persisted. He wanted to assure himself
+that there could be no shadow of doubt.
+
+The lawyer smiled. "Things do happen strangely sometimes," he said. "If
+anyone had told me at the time this will was made that you would come in
+for the whole estate, I should have laughed. There were three healthy
+people in your way. And yet, so it is. They are dead. There is not a
+shadow of doubt about it."
+
+"But didn't my uncle know of their decease?"
+
+"I can't tell you that. He was a strange man. As I have said, he had a
+regular genius for making money, and he lived for his business. He
+simply revelled in it; not because he cared about money as such, but
+because the accumulation of wealth fascinated him. He was, as you know,
+unmarried, and up to the time of his making this will, his sister, of
+whom he seemed to have been fond, kept house for him. But he would not
+have her children around him. He gave them large sums of money, but he
+had no personal knowledge of them. It is quite probable, therefore, that
+he, being in failing health for more than a year before his death, would
+have no knowledge that they died some time before he did. You would
+understand if you had known him. A most eccentric man."
+
+Dick reflected a few seconds. The way seemed perfectly plain, and yet
+everything seemed intangible, unreal.
+
+"In proof of that," went on the lawyer, "he did not tell either Mr.
+Bilton or myself that he had made this will. He simply gave a letter to
+the housekeeper he had secured after his sister's death, and told her
+that this letter was to be given to me at his decease. That letter,"
+went on Mr. Bidlake, "contained the key of a safe and instructions to me
+to deal with the contents of the safe immediately after his death. Of
+course, I opened the safe, and among the first things I found was this
+will. The rest I have explained to you."
+
+"And you say I am very wealthy?" asked Dick almost fearfully. Even yet
+it seemed too good to be true.
+
+"Wealthy!" and the lawyer smiled. "Wealthy, my dear sir! I cannot yet
+tell you _how_ wealthy. But if a controlling interest in one of the most
+prosperous shipping companies in the world, if the principal holding in
+one of our great banks, if landed estates in more than three counties,
+if important mining interests, if hundreds of houses in London and hosts
+of other things mean great wealth--then I can truly say that you are a
+very wealthy man. Of course, I cannot as yet estimate the value of the
+whole estate, but the death duties will make a nice fortune--a _very_
+nice fortune. Still, if you decide to entrust your legal business to us,
+as we hope you will, we shall be able in a few weeks to give you an
+approximate idea of what you are worth."
+
+"Of course I will do that," replied Dirk hastily; "naturally there is no
+question about the matter. That must be settled here and now."
+
+"Thank you," said Mr. Bidlake. "Naturally Mr. Bilton and myself
+appreciate this mark of your confidence. You may depend that neither of
+us will spare himself in order to serve you. Eh, Mr. Bilton?"
+
+"Exactly," replied Mr. Bilton. It was the only word he had as yet spoken
+throughout the interview.
+
+"And now," said Dick, "I want your advice."
+
+"Our advice? Certainly. What about?"
+
+"Well, owing to the wreck, I am at this moment in borrowed clothes. I
+have only a few shillings in my pocket----"
+
+"My dear sir," interrupted the lawyer, "that presents no difficulties.
+Let me give you an open cheque for two hundred--five hundred--pounds
+right away. Naturally, too, you will want to get clothes. You lost
+everything in the--the wreck; naturally you did. I had almost forgotten
+such things in the--the bigger matter. But that's all right. I have a
+private sitting-room here, and my tailor would be only too glad to come
+here right away. A most capable man. He would rig you out, temporarily,
+in a few hours, and afterwards----"
+
+"That's all right," interrupted Dick; "but what next?"
+
+"Take possession at once, my dear sir--at once."
+
+"But I don't want anything to get into the papers."
+
+"Certainly not--if we can help it. And I think we can. Shall I ring up
+my tailors? Yes?" And Mr. Bidlake took a telephone receiver into his
+hand. "That's all right," he added two minutes later. "Hucknell will be
+here in less than half an hour, and you can trust him to fix you up and
+tide you over the next few days. Yes, he will be glad to do so--very
+glad. Terrible business this industrial unrest, isn't it? I'm afraid
+it's going to take some settling. Of course, it's world wide, but I say,
+thank goodness our people have got more sense and more balance than
+those poor Russians."
+
+The words were simple enough, and the expression was almost a
+commonplace, but Dick Faversham felt a sudden pain at his heart. He
+thought of the dark, mysterious man who claimed kinship with the great
+Russian House of Romanoff, and in a way he could not understand; the
+thought seemed to take away from the joyous excitement which filled his
+being at that moment. He wished he had never seen, never heard of Count
+Romanoff.
+
+With an effort he shook off the cloud.
+
+"You suggest that I go to Wendover Park at once?"
+
+"Yes, say to-morrow morning. It is your right; in a way, it's your duty.
+The property is undeniably yours."
+
+"Would--would you--could you go with me?" stammered Dick.
+
+"I was on the point of suggesting it myself, my dear sir. Yes, I could
+go to-morrow morning."
+
+"Are there any servants there, or is the house empty?" asked Dick. Again
+he had a sense of unreality.
+
+"Most of the servants are there," replied the lawyer. "I thought it best
+to keep them. I am not sure about a chauffeur, though. I have an idea I
+discharged him. But it can easily be managed. The housekeeper whom your
+uncle engaged on your aunt's death is there, and she, it appears, has a
+husband. Rather a capable man. He can get a chauffeur. I'll ring up
+right away, and give instructions. You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"It's awfully good of you," Dick assured him. "I shall feel lost without
+you."
+
+At half-past one Dick accompanied Mr. Bidlake to his club for lunch,
+attired in a not at all badly fitting ready-made suit of clothes, which
+Mr. Hucknell had secured for him, and spent the afternoon with the
+lawyer discussing the new situation.
+
+"Nine-thirty-five Victoria," said Mr. Bidlake to him as he left him that
+night.
+
+"I'll be there."
+
+Dick went to his hotel like a man in a dream. Even yet everything was
+unreal to him. He had received assurances from one of the most
+trustworthy and respectable lawyers in London that his position was
+absolutely safe, and yet he felt no firm foundation under his feet.
+
+"I expect it's because I've seen nothing yet," he reflected. "When I go
+down to-morrow and get installed as the owner of everything, I shall see
+things in a new light."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+WENDOVER PARK
+
+
+The end of April had now come, and a tinge of green had crept over what
+in many respects is one of the loveliest counties in England. The train
+in which Mr. Bidlake and Dick Faversham sat had left Redhill and was
+passing through a rich, undulating countryside.
+
+"You feel a bit excited, I expect?" and Mr. Bidlake looked up from his
+copy of _The Times_.
+
+"Just a bit."
+
+"You'll soon get over your excitement, although, of course, you'll find
+the change very great. A rich man has many responsibilities."
+
+"If I remember aright, there are several other big houses within a few
+miles of Wendover Park? Was my uncle on good terms with his neighbours?"
+
+The lawyer coughed. "He did not go much into society. As I told you, he
+was a very eccentric man."
+
+Dick was quick to notice the tone in which the other spoke. "You mean
+that he was not well received?"
+
+"I mean that he lived his own life. Mr. Faversham was essentially a
+business man, and--and perhaps he could not understand the attitude of
+the old county families. Besides, feeling against him was rather strong
+when he bought Wendover Park."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I daresay you'll learn all about it in time. Enough to say now that Sir
+Guy Wendover, the previous owner, was in money difficulties, and the
+feeling was that your uncle took advantage of them in order to get hold
+of the place. Personally I don't pay much attention to such stories; but
+undoubtedly they affected your uncle's position. Possibly they may
+affect yours--for a time." The lawyer appeared to utter the last
+sentence as an afterthought.
+
+Presently the train stopped at a wayside station, where the two
+alighted. The sun was now high in the heavens, and the birds were
+singing gaily. Wooded hills sloped up from the station, while westward
+was a vast panorama of hill and dale.
+
+"I don't think you could find a fairer sight in all England," remarked
+Mr. Bidlake. "Ah, that's right. I see a motor-car is waiting for us."
+
+Dick felt as thought a weight rolled from his shoulders the moment he
+stood beneath the open sky. Yes, this was glorious! The air was laden
+with the perfume of bursting life. The chorus of the birds exhilarated
+him; the sight of the rich loamy meadows, where lambkins sported and
+cows fed lazily, made him feel that he was not following some chimera of
+the mind, but tangible realities.
+
+A chauffeur touched his cap. "Mr. Faversham and Mr. Bidlake, sir?" he
+inquired.
+
+A few minutes later the car was moving swiftly along beautiful country
+lanes, the like of which only a few English counties can show. Yes, Dick
+had to admit it. Beautiful as he thought the whole district to be when
+cycling through it years before, he had no idea it was like this. Every
+corner they turned revealed new loveliness. All nature seemed bent on
+giving him a great welcome to his new home.
+
+They had covered perhaps half the journey between the station and the
+house when the chauffeur jammed his foot on the brake suddenly and
+brought the car to a standstill. In front of them stood a small
+two-seater, by the open bonnet of which stood a young lady with hand
+uplifted. Evidently something had gone wrong with her machine, and the
+lane at this point was not wide enough for them to pass.
+
+Dick immediately alighted.
+
+"I am awfully sorry to inconvenience you," protested the girl, "but my
+engine has stopped, and, try as I may, I can't get it to start again."
+
+Her face was slightly flushed, partly with her endeavours to start the
+engine and partly with impatience; but this did not detract from her
+more than usually handsome appearance. For she was handsome; indeed,
+Dick thought he had never seen such a striking girl. And this was no
+wonder. It is only rare that nature produces such a perfect specimen of
+young womanhood as he saw that morning--perfect, that is, in face and
+form, perfect in colouring, in stature, in bearing. She was a
+brunette--great black flashing eyes, full red lips, raven-black hair,
+skin suffused with the glow of buoyant health. More than ordinarily
+tall, she was shaped like a Juno, and moved with all the grace and
+freedom of an athlete.
+
+"Help the lady, my man," said Mr. Bidlake to the chauffeur.
+
+"Sorry, sir," replied the man, "but I don't know anything about engines.
+I've only just learnt to drive. You see, sir, Mrs. Winkley didn't quite
+know what to do when----"
+
+"All right," interrupted Dick, with a laugh; "perhaps I can help you."
+
+"If you only could," laughed the girl. "I haven't had the thing long,
+but it never went wrong until to-day. I know how to drive pretty well,
+but as for understanding the engine, I'm a mere baby."
+
+She had a frank, pleasant voice, and laughed as she spoke, revealing
+perfect teeth.
+
+Dick, who had quite a gift for mechanism, quickly found some tools, and
+commenced testing the sparking-plugs like a man conversant with his
+work.
+
+"I'll have to take off my coat if you'll excuse me," he said presently.
+"I see you start the thing on a battery, and have no magneto. I'm sorry
+I don't know this class of car well, but I think I can see what's the
+matter."
+
+"What is it? Do tell me," she cried, with an eager laugh. "I've been
+studying motor manuals and all that sort of thing ever since I commenced
+to drive, but diagrams always confuse me."
+
+"The distributor seems to be wrong, and some wires have become
+disconnected. Have you been held up long?"
+
+"Oh, a quarter of an hour--more."
+
+"And running the battery all the time?"
+
+"I'm afraid so."
+
+"You must be careful or your battery'll run out of electricity; that
+would mean your being hung up for two days."
+
+"They told me that at the garage a little time ago. But what must I do?"
+and she laughed at him pleasantly.
+
+"If she doesn't start at once, get someone to adjust the parts. There, I
+wonder if she'll go now."
+
+He touched a switch, and the engine began to run.
+
+"She seems all right," he said, after watching the moving mass of
+machinery for some seconds.
+
+"Oh, you are good--and--thank you ever so much."
+
+"It's been quite a pleasure," replied Dick, putting on his coat. "It was
+lucky I came by."
+
+"It was indeed; but look at your hands. They are covered with oil. I
+_am_ sorry."
+
+"Nothing to be sorry for. Oil breaks no bones. Besides, I shall be able
+to wash them in a few minutes."
+
+"You are not going far, then?"
+
+"Only to Wendover Park. Do you know it?"
+
+"Know it! Why----" She checked herself suddenly, and Dick thought she
+seemed a little confused. "But I must be going now. Thank you again."
+
+She got into the car, and in a few seconds was out of sight.
+
+"Remarkably handsome young lady, isn't she?" remarked Mr. Bidlake. "Do
+you know who she is?" he asked the chauffeur.
+
+"Lady Blanche Huntingford, sir," replied the chauffeur.
+
+"Whew!" whistled Mr. Bidlake.
+
+"Anybody special?" asked Dick.
+
+The lawyer smiled. "The incident is decidedly interesting," he replied.
+"First, she is cousin to Sir Guy Wendover who used to own Wendover Park,
+and second, she is the daughter of Lord Huntingford, the proudest and
+most exclusive aristocrat in Surrey."
+
+"No? By Jove, she is handsome!"
+
+"It is said that the Huntingfords rule Social Surrey. If they take you
+up, your social status is assured; if they boycott you----" and the
+lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
+
+Dick was silent a few seconds. Evidently he was thinking deeply. "Isn't
+she glorious?" he cried presently. "I never saw such a dazzling girl.
+Did you notice her eyes--her complexion? I--I wouldn't have missed it
+for anything."
+
+The lawyer did not reply. Perhaps he had reasons for his silence.
+
+The car dashed on for another mile, and then Dick gave a cry of delight.
+
+"That's it, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes; that's it."
+
+They were looking at a lovely old mansion which stood on the slope of a
+hill. Stretching away from it were fine park-lands, and beyond these
+were wide-stretching woods. Looked at on that fair spring day, it was
+indeed a place to be proud of, to rejoice in.
+
+"I never dreamt it was so fine!" gasped Dick.
+
+"One of the finest places in England," was the lawyer's complacent
+reply.
+
+Dick looked like one fascinated. It appealed to and satisfied him
+altogether.
+
+"It's old, isn't it?"
+
+"Three hundred years. It is said that the gardens are a wonder."
+
+The car passed through some heavily wrought gates, and then rolled under
+an avenue of old trees. Dick could not speak; the thought of possessing
+such a place made him dumb. A few minutes later they drew up before the
+main entrance.
+
+Dick was the first to leap out. He was eager to enter, to claim
+possession, to examine every nook and corner of his new home. He put his
+foot on the bottom step leading to the door, and then stopped suddenly.
+He felt himself rooted to the ground, felt afraid to move.
+
+"I congratulate you again," said the lawyer. "I feel proud that I have
+the privilege to----"
+
+"Don't you see? There! Don't you see?" gasped Dick.
+
+"See?" repeated the lawyer. "Of course I see one of the most beautiful
+houses in England."
+
+"Yes, but nothing else?" he asked excitedly.
+
+"What do you mean?" queried the lawyer.
+
+But Dick did not reply. Although the lawyer had seen nothing, he saw in
+dim outline the face and form which had appeared to him when he was
+sinking in the turbulent waters of the Indian Ocean. Was this a warning
+that trouble was to overwhelm him again?
+
+Dick Faversham had no doubts. Whatever he might think later, he was at
+that time certain of what he saw. The sun was shining brightly, and
+there was nothing in the various objects by which he was surrounded to
+suggest the supernatural, and yet he saw the face of the angel. She
+seemed to be hovering over the steps which led to the main entrance of
+the house, and for the moment she looked as though she would forbid his
+entrance. But only for the moment. Slowly she faded away, slowly he lost
+sight of her, and by the time the servant, who had evidently seen the
+approach of the car, had reached the door she had gone.
+
+But he was sure he had seen her. The form he had seen hovering over him
+on the wild, turbulent sea was plainly visible to him at the door of
+this old Surrey mansion. The face, too, could not be mistaken. The same
+calm, benign expression, the same tender mouth. Goodness, purity,
+guardianship, all found their expression in those features. But there
+was something more. The eyes which had riveted his attention and haunted
+his memory for months seemed to convey something different to him now
+from what they had then. There was still the same yearning gaze, the
+same melting tenderness, but there was something more. They seemed to
+suggest fear, warning. Dick Faversham felt as though she wanted to tell
+him something, to warn him against some unknown danger. It is true the
+feeling was indefinite and difficult to put into words; but it was
+there. She might, while not forbidding him to enter the house which had
+so unexpectedly come into his possession, be trying to tell him of
+dangers, of possible calamity.
+
+"And do you say that you can see--that--that you saw nothing?" he almost
+gasped.
+
+"I can see a great deal," replied Mr. Bidlake. "I can see one of the
+loveliest scenes in England. I can see you standing at the entrance
+of--but what do you mean? You look pale--frightened. Aren't you well?"
+
+Dick opened his mouth to tell what he had seen, but he checked himself.
+Somehow the thought of opening his heart to this matter-of-fact lawyer
+seemed like sacrilege. He would not understand. He would tell him, just
+as Romanoff had told him weeks before, that his mind was unbalanced by
+the experiences through which he had passed, that the natural excitement
+caused by the news he had heard were too much for him, and caused him to
+lose his mental balance.
+
+"Yes, I am quite well, thank you."
+
+"Well, what do you mean? What do you think you saw?"
+
+At that moment the door opened, and the housekeeper, who had hurried to
+meet them, appeared, and the lawyer did not listen to his stammering
+reply.
+
+"Good-day, Mr. Bidlake," smiled the housekeeper. "I am glad you got here
+all right. Winkley had quite a difficulty in getting a chauffeur. I hope
+the one provided was satisfactory?"
+
+"It's all right, Mrs. Winkley," and the lawyer was very patronising as
+he spoke; "the man brought us here safely. This," and he turned towards
+Dick, "is Mr. Richard Faversham, the new owner of--hem--Wendover Park,
+and your new--master."
+
+"Indeed, sir," and Mrs. Winkley turned and looked nervously towards
+Dick, "I hope you'll be very--happy here, sir. I bid you welcome, sir."
+
+Dick smiled with frank pleasure and shook hands--a familiarity which
+pleased the housekeeper, but not the lawyer.
+
+"You got my letter, Mrs. Winkley?" Mr. Bidlake said hurriedly.
+
+"Yes, sir, also your telephone message yesterday. Wendover Park is a
+lovely place, Mr. Faversham."
+
+"It is, indeed, Mrs. Winkley. This Surrey air has given me an appetite,
+too."
+
+Dick was so nervous that he hardly knew what he was saying. As he
+glanced around the spacious hall and tried to realise that it was his
+own, and as he called to mind that for the last mile he had been passing
+through his own property, it seemed to be too wonderful to be true.
+
+"Yes, the air is very good, and I am glad you are hungry. Lunch will be
+ready in half an hour. I have prepared a bedroom for you, Mr. Faversham.
+I have assumed you are--staying here?"
+
+"Rather!" and Dick laughed as he spoke. "You must excuse me if I'm a
+little abrupt, Mrs. Winkley. You see, I imagine it will take me some
+little time to settle down to the new order of things."
+
+"I think I understand; it must be a wonderful experience for you. But I
+think you'll find everything all right. I have taken great care of
+everything since the late Mr. Faversham died. It's all just as he left
+it. No doubt you'll want to look over the house?"
+
+"Presently, Mrs. Winkley; but, first of all, I want to come to an
+understanding with you. I am a bachelor, and I don't think I have a
+relation in the world, so, for a time, I--shall make no changes in the
+place at all. What I mean to say is, that I hope you'll continue to be
+my housekeeper, and--and look after me generally. Mr. Bidlake has said
+all sorts of good things about you, so much so that I shall regard
+myself very fortunate if--if you'll remain in your present position."
+
+Dick didn't know at all why he said this, except that he had a feeling
+that something of the sort was expected from him.
+
+"I'm sure it's very kind of you to say so, sir," and Mrs. Winkley smiled
+radiantly. "Of course I've been a little bit anxious, not knowing what
+kind of--of gentleman the new owner would be, or what plans he might
+have. But, if you think I'll suit you, sir, I'll do my utmost to make
+you comfortable and look after your interests. I was housekeeper to Dr.
+Bell of Guildford when the late Mr. Faversham's sister died, and----"
+
+"Yes, I've heard about that," interrupted Dick. "I'm sure he was lucky
+to get you."
+
+"I did my best for him, sir, and he never grumbled. I lived in these
+parts as a girl, so I can get you plenty of references as to the
+respectability of my family."
+
+"I'm sure you can," Dick assented. He was glad that Mrs. Winkley was of
+the superior servant order rather than some superior person who had
+pretensions to being a fine lady. "By the way, of course you know the
+house well?"
+
+"Know the house well?" repeated Mrs. Winkley. She was not quite sure
+that she understood him.
+
+"Yes; know all the rooms?" laughed Dick nervously.
+
+"Why, certainly, sir. I know every room from the garret to the cellar,"
+replied Mrs. Winkley wonderingly.
+
+"And there are no ghosts, are there?"
+
+"Ghosts, sir? Not that I ever heard of."
+
+"I was only wondering. It's an old house, and I was thinking that there
+might be a family ghost."
+
+Mrs. Winkley shook her head. "Nothing of the sort, sir, to my knowledge.
+Wait a minute, though; I did hear when I was a girl that the elm grove
+was haunted. There's a lake down there, and there was a story years ago
+that a servant who had drowned herself there used to wander up and down
+the grove wringing her hands on Michaelmas Eve."
+
+"And where is the elm grove?"
+
+"It's away towards the North Lodge. You wouldn't see it the way you
+came, and it's hidden from here."
+
+"But the house? There's no legend that that has ever been haunted?"
+
+"No, sir. I suppose some of the Wendovers were very wild generations
+ago, but I never heard that any of their spirits ever came back again."
+
+Mrs. Winkley was pleased that her new master kept talking so long,
+although she came to the conclusion that he was somewhat eccentric.
+
+"Of course, it was foolish of me to ask," Dick said somewhat awkwardly;
+"but the thought struck me. By the way, how long did you say it was to
+lunch-time?"
+
+"Not quite half an hour, sir," replied Mrs. Winkley, looking at an old
+eight-day clock. "I'll speak to the cook and get it pushed forward as
+fast as possible. Perhaps you'd like a wash, sir? I'll show you to your
+room, if you would."
+
+"Thank you. After that I--I think, Mr. Bidlake, I'd like to go into the
+gardens."
+
+He was afraid he was making a bad impression upon his housekeeper, and
+he was angry with himself for not acting in a more natural manner. But
+he seemed to be under a strange influence. Although the thought of the
+supernatural had left him, his experience of a few minutes before
+doubtless coloured his mind.
+
+A few minutes later they were out in the sunlight again, and they had
+scarcely reached the gardens when a man of about fifty years of age made
+his way towards them.
+
+"Good morning, sir," he said, with a strong Scotch accent. "Have I the
+honour to speak to the new master?"
+
+"Yes; my name is Faversham."
+
+"I'm M'Neal, your second gardener, sir. I thought when I saw you I'd
+make bold to speak, sir. I've been here for thirty years, sir, and have
+always borne a good character."
+
+"I've no doubt you have," laughed Dick. "You look it."
+
+"Thank you, sir. I gave satisfaction to the late Mr. Faversham, and to
+Sir Guy Wendover before him, and I hope----"
+
+"That we shall get on well together. Of course we shall. I like the look
+of you."
+
+He felt better now. The sight of the broad expanse of the park and the
+smell of the sweet, pure air made him light-hearted again.
+
+"Indeed," he continued, "I may as well tell you right away that I intend
+to keep everybody that was here in my uncle's days. You can tell the
+others that."
+
+"Thank you, sir. But I'd like to remark that this war has made food
+dear."
+
+"I'll bear that in mind; you'll not find me unjust. All who serve me
+shall be well paid."
+
+"We've all done our best, sir," persisted M'Neal, who was somewhat of a
+character, "but I'll not deny that we shall all be the better for a
+master. Personally I'm not satisfied with the way things are looking."
+
+"No? I thought they looked beautiful."
+
+"Ah, but nothing to what they can look. We are, as you may say, in a
+kind of between time now. We've not planted out the beds, although we've
+prepared them. If you'll----"
+
+"Of course I will," Dick interrupted him, with a laugh, "but you must
+give me time before making definite promises."
+
+"If I might show you around," suggested M'Neal, "I think I could
+explain----"
+
+"Later, later," laughed Dick, moving away. "Mr. Bidlake, will you come
+over here with me? I want to speak to you privately."
+
+"Do you know," Mr. Bidlake told him, "that your uncle discharged M'Neal
+several times during the time he lived here?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because he followed him like a dog whenever he came into the grounds,
+and insisted on talking to him. He said the fellow gave him no rest."
+
+"But why did he take him on again?"
+
+"He didn't. But M'Neal took no notice of the discharges. He always
+turned up on the following morning, and went on with his work as though
+nothing had happened."
+
+"And my uncle paid him his wages?"
+
+"Yes. You see, the fellow is as faithful as a dog, although he's a
+nuisance. My word, what a view!"
+
+The lawyer made this exclamation as a turn in the path revealed a
+landscape they had not hitherto seen. It was one of those stretches of
+country peculiar to that part of Surrey, and as Dick looked he did not
+wonder at the lawyer's enthusiasm. Beyond the park, which was studded
+with giant oaks, he saw a rich, undulating country. Here and there were
+farmsteads nestling among the trees; again he saw stretches of
+woodland, while in the distance rose fine commanding hills. The foliage
+had far from reached its glory, but the tinge of green which was
+creeping over every hedgerow and tree contained a promise, and a charm
+that no poet could describe. And the whole scene was all bathed in
+spring sunlight, which the birds, delighting in, made into a vast
+concert hall.
+
+"My word, it is ripping!" cried Dick.
+
+"It's glorious! it's sublime!" cried the lawyer. "You are a fortunate
+man, Mr. Richard Faversham. Do you know, sir, that all you can see is
+yours?"
+
+"All mine?" Dick almost gasped.
+
+"Yes, all this and much more."
+
+For the first time Dick had a real feeling of possession, and something
+to which he had hitherto been a stranger entered his life. Up to now he
+had been poor. His life, ever since his father died, had been a
+struggle. He had dreamed dreams and seen visions, only to be
+disappointed. In spite of ambition, endeavour, determination, everything
+to which he had set his hand had failed him. But now, as if some fabled
+genii had come to his aid, fortune had suddenly poured her favours into
+his lap.
+
+And here was the earnest of it!
+
+This glorious countryside, containing farms, houses, villages, and
+wide-spreading lands, was his. All his! Gratified desire made his heart
+beat wildly. At last life was smiling and joyous. What a future he would
+have! With wealth like his, nothing would be impossible!
+
+"Yes, and much more," repeated the lawyer. "On what chances a man's
+fortunes turn."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Dick, who scarce knew what he was saying.
+
+"Only this," said Mr. Bidlake. "If that fellow had not been killed in a
+drunken brawl, none of this would be yours. As it is, you are one of the
+most fortunate men in England."
+
+"Yes, by Jove, I am."
+
+The lawyer looked at his watch. "Excuse me, Mr. Faversham, but it is
+lunch-time, and I must leave you at five o'clock."
+
+"I'm sorry you can't stay a few days."
+
+"Impossible, my dear sir, much as I'd like to. But I've made a little
+programme for you this afternoon, if it is quite convenient to you."
+
+"Yes?" queried Dick.
+
+"Yes; I've arranged for your steward, your head gamekeeper, and the
+other principal men on the estate to call here. I thought you might like
+to see them. There, I hear the lunch-gong."
+
+Dick went back to the house like a man in a dream.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+LADY BLANCHE MAKES HER APPEARANCE
+
+
+At six o'clock that evening Dick Faversham was alone. He had had
+interviews with his steward, his bailiff, his gamekeeper, his forester,
+his head gardener, and his head stableman, and now he was left to
+himself. Mr. Bidlake, after promising to come again in three days, had
+gone back to London, while the others had each gone to their respective
+homes to discuss the new master of Wendover Park and the changes which
+would probably take place.
+
+Dick had also gone over the house, and had taken note of the many
+features of his new dwelling-place. He had examined the library, the
+billiard-room, the dancing-room, the minstrels' gallery, the banqueting
+hall, and the many other apartments belonging to this fine old mansion.
+Evidently many of the rooms had for years been unused, but, as Mrs.
+Winkley had said, everything was "in perfect condition."
+
+His uncle belonged to that order of men who could not bear to let
+anything deteriorate for lack of attention, and he had spent his money
+freely. In a way, too, Charles Faversham had a sense of fitness. In all
+the improvements he had made, he saw to it that the character and spirit
+of the old place should in no way be disturbed. Thus, while every room
+was hygienic, and every fireplace fitted according to the most modern
+ideas, the true character of everything was maintained. Electric light
+was installed, but not a single fitting was out of accord with the age
+of the building. Modern science had in everything been perfectly blended
+with the spirit of the men who had erected this grand old pile centuries
+before.
+
+And Dick felt it all. He was enough of an artist to realise that
+nothing was out of place, that it was a home to rejoice in, to be proud
+of. If John Ruskin had been alive, and had accompanied him on his tour
+of inspection, there was little that the author of _The Seven Lamps of
+Architecture_ would have found fault with.
+
+Most of the furniture, too, was old, and had belonged to the Wendovers.
+When Mr. Charles Faversham had bought the estate, he had taken over
+everything practically as it stood. Pictures, tapestry, antique articles
+of furniture which had been in the house for centuries still remained.
+
+"Everything has such a homely, cosy feeling!" he exclaimed to himself,
+again and again. "The place is not one of those great, giant, homeless
+barracks; it's just an ideal home. It's perfect!"
+
+And it was all his! That was the thought that constantly came to his
+mind. This fact was especially made real to him during his interview
+with Mr. Boase, the steward. That worthy gentleman, a lawyer who lived
+in a little town, most of which belonged to the Wendover estate, made
+this abundantly plain by every word he spoke, by every intonation of his
+voice.
+
+Mr. Boase unrolled maps and plans in abundance. He placed before him
+lists of tenants, with nature and condition of their tenancy. He told
+him how much each farmer paid in rent, how much the house property was
+worth, what amount was spent each year in repairs, and finally the net
+amount of his rent-roll. And this was all apart from his investments
+elsewhere. It was simply fabulous. He who had always been poor, and had
+often been hard put to it to pay for food and clothes, found himself
+ridiculously wealthy. He had money to burn. Aladdin of romantic renown
+was not so much filled with wonder when the slave of the lamp appeared,
+ready to do his bidding, as was Dick as he realised his position.
+
+And he revelled in thought of it all. He was not of a miserly nature,
+but he gloried in the influence of the power of wealth, and he painted
+glowing pictures of his future. He saw the doors of the rich and the
+great open to him; he saw himself courted by people possessing old names
+and a great ancestry; he fancied himself occupying positions of
+eminence in the life of the nation; he saw proud beauties smiling on
+him.
+
+Nothing was impossible! He knew he had more than an average share of
+brains; his late employers had admitted as much to him. He also had the
+gift of oratory. On the few occasions he had attempted to address his
+fellows this had been abundantly proved. In the past he had been
+handicapped, but now----
+
+After dinner that night he walked out alone. He wanted to see his
+possessions, to feel his own earth beneath his feet, to feast his eyes
+on the glorious countryside.
+
+"It will take me a week," he reflected, "to get used to it all, to fully
+realise that it is all mine. I want to feel my feet, to formulate my
+plans, to sketch my future. Of course, I shall be alone for a time, but
+in a few days the neighbours will be sure to call on me. After that I
+must give a ball. Of course, it is a bad time just now, and it is a
+nuisance that so many of the young fellows have been called into the
+Army; but I'll be able to manage it," and then he pictured the great
+ballroom filled with laughter and gaiety.
+
+Then the memory of Lady Blanche Huntingford came to him. He saw her as
+she had appeared to him that morning. What a glorious creature she was!
+What great flashing eyes, what a complexion, what a figure! And she
+belonged to one of the oldest families in England. The Huntingfords were
+a great people before half the titled nobility of the present day were
+ever heard of.
+
+He called to mind what Mr. Bidlake had told him. If the Huntingfords
+recognised him, his social position was assured, for Lord Huntingford
+was the social magnate of the county. He was almost half in love with
+her already. He remembered her silvery laugh, the gleaming whiteness of
+her teeth. What a mistress she would make for Wendover Park! And he
+could win her love! He was sure he could, and when he did----
+
+He blessed the failure of her car to run that morning; blessed the
+knowledge he possessed whereby he had been able to render her a service.
+Of course, she would find out who he was, and then--yes, he would find
+the Open Sesame for every door.
+
+For the next few days things happened as Dick expected. He was given
+time to view his possessions, to take stock of his new position, and
+then the neighbours began to call. By this time Dick knew full
+particulars of all the old families in Surrey, and he was gratified at
+their appearance. Evidently he suffered from none of the antipathy which
+had been felt towards his uncle. He was young, he was good looking, he
+had the education and appearance of a gentleman, and people accepted him
+at his face value.
+
+One day his heart gave a great bound, for a servant told him that Lord
+and Lady Huntingford, accompanied by Lady Blanche Huntingford, were in
+the drawing-room. He knew then that his position in the society of the
+county would be assured. It was true that Lord Huntingford was
+poor--true, too, that his uncle had practically ejected Sir Guy Wendover
+from his old home, and that Sir Guy was a relative of the Huntingfords.
+But that would count for nothing, and the Huntingfords were the
+Huntingfords!
+
+"This is good of you, Lord Huntingford!" he cried, as he entered the
+room.
+
+"I came to give you a welcome," said Lord Huntingford somewhat
+pompously. "I trust you will be very happy here."
+
+"I'm sure I shall!" cried Dick, with the laugh of a boy. "Wendover Park
+feels like Paradise to me."
+
+"I know the place well," said the peer. "My Cousin Guy, as you may have
+heard, used to live here."
+
+"Yes, I have heard of it, and I'm afraid you must feel rather bitterly
+towards me as a consequence."
+
+"Not at all," replied Huntingford. "Of course, it is all ancient history
+now. We _did_ feel cut up about it at the time, but--but I congratulate
+you on possessing such a fine old place."
+
+"But for the fact that I so love it already," said Dick, "I should wish
+my uncle had secured some other place; but, for the life of me, I can't.
+It's too lovely. Anyhow, I'll try to be not an unworthy successor of Sir
+Guy. I hope you'll help me, Lord Huntingford, and you, Lady Huntingford
+and Lady Blanche. You see, I'm handicapped. I'm a bachelor, and I'm
+entirely ignorant of my duties. I shall look to you for help."
+
+This was sound policy on Dick's part. Lord Huntingford was a vain man,
+and loved to patronise.
+
+"You began all right," laughed Lady Blanche. "You helped a poor,
+forlorn, helpless motorist out of a difficulty."
+
+"You recognise me, then?"
+
+"Of course I do. I positively envied the way you tackled that engine of
+mine and put it right. Of course, I felt angry when I knew who you were.
+No, no, there was nothing personal about it. I only hated the thought
+that anyone other than a Wendover should live here. A family feeling,
+you know."
+
+"All that Wendover Park has is yours to command!" and Dick looked very
+earnest as he spoke.
+
+"Now, that's good of you. But don't be too liberal with your promises. I
+may take you at your word."
+
+"Try me!" cried Dick. "I should like to do something to atone. Not that
+I can give it up," he added, with a laugh. "I simply couldn't, you know.
+But--but----"
+
+"And how are you going to spend your time?" asked Lord Huntingford. "We
+are living in a critical age."
+
+"I shall make something turn up!" Dick cried heartily, "as soon as I
+know where I am."
+
+"And, meanwhile, I suppose you motor, ride, shoot, golf, and all the
+rest of it?" asked Lady Blanche.
+
+"I have all the vices," Dick told her.
+
+"You say you golf?"
+
+"Yes, a little. Would you give me a match?" he ventured.
+
+"I'd love to," and her eyes flashed into his.
+
+The next afternoon Dick met Lady Blanche on the golf links, and before
+the match was over he believed that he was in love with her. Never
+before had he met such a glorious specimen of physical womanhood. To him
+her every movement was poetry, her lithe, graceful body a thing in which
+to rejoice.
+
+After the match Dick motored her back to her home. He was in Arcadia as
+she sat by his side. The charm of her presence was to him like some
+fabled elixir. On their way they caught a glimpse of Wendover Park. The
+old house stood out boldly on the hillside, while the wide-stretching
+park-lands were plainly to be seen.
+
+"It's a perfect place," said the girl. "It just wants nothing."
+
+"Oh yes, it does," laughed Dick.
+
+"What?" she asked.
+
+"Can't you think? If you were a bachelor you would," and he watched her
+face closely as he spoke.
+
+He was afraid lest he might offend her, and he wondered if she saw his
+meaning. He thought he saw a flush surmount her face, but he was not
+sure. They were passing a cart just then, and he had to fix his
+attention on the steering-wheel.
+
+"Do you know," he went on, "it's a bit lonely there. I haven't many
+friends. And then, being a bachelor, I find it difficult to entertain.
+Not but what I shall make a start soon," he added.
+
+"I think you are to be envied," she remarked.
+
+"Of course I am. I'm one of the luckiest fellows in the world. By the
+way, I want to give a dance or something of that sort as a kind of
+house-warming."
+
+"How delightful."
+
+"Is it? But then, you see, I'm so ignorant that I don't know how to
+start about it."
+
+"Don't you? That's a pity. You must get help."
+
+"I must. I say, will you help me? There is no one I'd so soon have."
+
+He was sure this time. He saw the rosy tint on her face deepen. Perhaps
+she heard the tremor in his voice. But she did not answer him; instead,
+she looked away towards the distant landscape.
+
+"Will you?" he persisted.
+
+"What could I do?"
+
+"Everything. You know the people, know who I should invite, and what I
+should do. You are accustomed to that kind of thing. I am not."
+
+Still she was silent.
+
+"Will you?" he asked again.
+
+"Perhaps. If you really wish me to."
+
+She almost whispered the words, but he heard her, and to him there was
+something caressing in her tone.
+
+They passed up a long avenue of trees leading to her home, and a few
+seconds later the car stood at the door.
+
+"You'll come in and have some tea, won't you?"
+
+"May I?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Of course you may. Mother will be expecting you."
+
+As he rode back to Wendover Park that evening Dick was in Paradise.
+Nothing but the most commonplace things had been said, but the girl had
+fascinated him. She had appealed to his ambition, to his pride, to his
+admiration for perfect, physical womanhood. She was not very clever, but
+she was handsome. She was instinct with redundant health; she was
+glorious in her youth and vitality.
+
+"I'm in love," he said to himself more than once. "And she's
+wonderful--simply, gloriously wonderful. What eyes, what a complexion,
+what a magnificent figure! I wonder if----"
+
+I am dwelling somewhat on this part of Dick Faversham's life because
+I wish the reader to understand the condition of his mind, to
+understand the forces at work. Uninteresting as it may be, it is still
+important. For Dick passed through some wonderful experiences soon
+after--experiences which shook the foundations of his life, and which
+will be more truly understood as we realise the thoughts and feelings
+which possessed him.
+
+As I have said, he was in a state of bliss as he drove back to Wendover
+Park that evening, but as he neared his lodge gates a curious feeling of
+depression possessed him. His heart became heavy, forebodings filled his
+mind. It seemed to him that he was on the edge of a dreadful calamity.
+
+"What's the matter with me?" he asked himself again and again. "The sun
+is shining, the world is lovely, and I have all that heart can wish
+for."
+
+Still the feeling possessed him. Something was going to
+happen--something awful. He could not explain it, or give any reason for
+it, but it was there.
+
+Then suddenly his heart stood still. As the car drew up to his own door
+he again saw the face of the angel. She was hovering over the entrance
+just as he had seen her on the day he came to take possession. She
+seemed to dread something; there was pain almost amounting to agony in
+the look she gave him.
+
+He had alighted from the car, and he had a dim idea that a man was
+approaching to take it to the garage, but he paid no attention to him;
+he stood like one transfixed, looking at the apparition. He was aware
+that the car had gone, and that he was alone. In a vague way he supposed
+that the chauffeur, like the lawyer, had seen nothing.
+
+"Who are you? What do you want?"
+
+The words escaped him almost in spite of himself.
+
+But he heard no voice in reply. He thought he saw her lips trying to
+formulate words, but were not able.
+
+"Tell me," he persisted--"tell me who you are, why you appear to me.
+What do you want?"
+
+Again the apparition seemed to be trying to become audible, only to
+fail. Then, although he could hear no distinct voice, her answer seemed
+to come to him.
+
+"Fight, fight; pray, pray," she seemed to be saying. "Beware of the
+tempter. Fight, fight; pray, pray. Promise me."
+
+He was not afraid, but it seemed to him that he was face to face with
+eternal realities. He knew then that there were depths of life and
+experience of which he was ignorant.
+
+He heard steps in the hall, and then someone opened the door.
+
+There stood, smiling, debonair, sardonic, and--yes--wicked, Count
+Romanoff.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+COUNT ROMANOFF'S GOSPEL
+
+
+Count Romanoff!
+
+A weight seemed to settle on Dick Faversham's heart as he saw the
+sinister face of his visitor. During the excitement of the last few days
+he had scarcely given him a thought. The dark, saturnine stranger had
+shrunk away into the background of his life, and no longer seemed of
+importance to him. It is true he had now and then wondered whether he
+should ever see him again, but as there seemed no present likelihood of
+his doing so, he had practically dismissed him from his mind.
+
+His sudden appearance came to him like a shock. Besides, he was nervous,
+excited at what he had just experienced. Every nerve was tingling, every
+sense preternaturally awake. What did this apparition mean? Why should
+the same face and form appear to him again and again?--first in the
+smoke-room of the ship, then on the island, then as he first put foot
+into the new inheritance, and now again. What did it mean? Then during
+that awful struggle in the stormy sea.
+
+"Ha, Faversham. You see, I have taken you at your word."
+
+Dick's thoughts came to earth as the Count's voice reached him.
+
+"I'm glad to see you," he said cordially, and as he led the way to the
+library he was all that a host should be.
+
+"You see, I was in England, and, having a little spare time, I thought I
+would look you up. I hope I'm not taking too great a liberty?"
+
+"Liberty, my dear fellow! I should be annoyed beyond words if you had
+not come to see me. I have hosts of things to discuss with you.
+Besides," and Dick spoke like one deeply moved, "I cannot help
+remembering that but for you it is not likely I should be here. I should
+have been lying somewhere at the bottom of the Indian Ocean."
+
+"Oh, come now; let's have no more of that. Of course, I had the good
+luck to be of service to you, and jolly glad I am; no decent fellow
+could have done less than I did."
+
+"All the same, I cannot forget that I owe my life to you," cried Dick
+fervently. "Do you know, I wondered no end what happened to you; tell me
+about it."
+
+"Not until I hear about you. Of course, I can guess a great deal. The
+fact that you are here tells me that the wireless you got on the ship
+was not only _bona fide_ but important. You are master here, eh?"
+
+Dick nodded.
+
+"I've been told that your uncle was a very rich man. Is that so?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you are his heir?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I congratulate you. By Jove, it's a lovely place. I didn't know when
+I've seen anything I like so much. And I've seen a few houses, I can
+tell you. But really, now, and I hope I'm not impertinent, do you mean
+to tell me that you have entered into all old Charles Faversham's
+wealth?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Shake hands on it. I can think of no one more fitted to own 'big
+money,' as the Americans say. I'm glad of the privilege of seeing you in
+possession."
+
+It seemed to Dick that it was a new Romanoff that he saw. He was no
+longer pessimistic, cynical, saturnine. He looked younger, too, and no
+one could help admitting that he had that grand air that denotes birth
+and breeding.
+
+"I only arrived in London last night," went on Romanoff. "I got into
+Tilbury late in the afternoon, and after I got fixed up at my hotel I
+began to wonder about you. Presently I called to mind what you told me,
+and--here I am."
+
+"Of course you'll stay with me a bit?"
+
+"May I?"
+
+"May you? Why, of course you must, if you can. That goes without
+saying."
+
+"I say, you are awfully good. I should love to stay a bit. This is one
+of the loveliest corners in the world at the loveliest time of the year.
+Surrey in May! What can be more attractive!"
+
+"I'll have your room prepared at once, and, by the way, I'll send a man
+to London for your luggage."
+
+"That is good of you, Faversham. I may as well confess it now. I did
+bring a suit-case with me in the hope that you could put me up for the
+night, but of course----"
+
+"You might have known that I'd want you for a long time," Dick
+interrupted.
+
+A servant entered, and Dick gave his instructions. "Now tell me," he
+went on; "what did you do on leaving the island? I know practically
+nothing about anything. I was very ill, and got no better till the boat
+landed at Plymouth."
+
+Romanoff hesitated for a few seconds, then he replied:
+
+"Oh, I caught a boat bound for Australia."
+
+"Australia, eh?"
+
+"Yes. Our signals were seen by two vessels, one returning to England,
+and the other going to Australia, which, as luck would have it, stopped
+at Bombay for a few hours. So I took that."
+
+"And you didn't stay long in the Antipodes?"
+
+"No, I did not like the country, and I found it necessary to return to
+England."
+
+"I'm jolly glad."
+
+"Well, here I am anyhow. Isn't life a topsy-turvy business? Who would
+have thought when we exchanged commonplaces on that boat a short time
+ago we should forgather like this in a lovely old Surrey house? Facts
+beat fiction all to bits. Fiction is commonplace, tame, prosy; but
+facts--real life--are interesting. Now, tell me about your experiences."
+
+"Not yet. It's nearly dinner-time. I suppose you brought no evening
+clothes?"
+
+Romanoff laughed. "As a matter of fact, I did. Of course, I was not sure
+you were here; but I thought you might be, so I took the liberty of----"
+
+"Splendid," interrupted Dick. "There, the dressing-bell is ringing. I'll
+show you your room. My word, I'm awfully glad you've come. To tell you
+the truth, I was feeling a bit depressed."
+
+"You depressed! I say! Fancy the heir of all this being depressed."
+
+"But I was. The idea of spending the evening alone dismayed me. You see,
+a fellow can't be out every night, and--and there you are. But you've
+come."
+
+"And no one will call to-night?"
+
+"I don't expect so. Young Clavering, who is home on leave, might come
+over for a game of billiards, but I can't think of anyone else likely to
+turn up."
+
+"Clavering--Clavering. I don't think I know the name."
+
+"Oh, it is a good name in Surrey, I can assure you. It's a very old
+family, although I suppose it is frightfully poor. I've only met young
+Clavering once, but I liked him very much. Most of the young fellows
+around here are in the Army, and the older men are frightful old
+fossils. Here's your room. I hope you'll be comfortable."
+
+Romanoff looked around the room with evident pleasure. He walked to the
+window and gazed steadily at the landscape; then he turned to Dick and
+gave him a keen, searching glance.
+
+"You are a fortunate man, Faversham. Speaking as a Russian and also as
+one who has travelled all over the world, I say, commend me to England
+for comfort. Yes, I'll be all right, my friend."
+
+When Dick had gone Romanoff threw himself in a chair and gazed into
+vacancy. A change passed over his face. He was no longer cheerful and
+pleasant; the old sinister, threatening look had come into his eyes,
+while his mouth was cruel. Once an expression swept over his features
+which suggested a kind of mocking pity, but it was only for a moment.
+
+During dinner he was in a gay humour. Evidently he had thrown care to
+the winds, and lived for the pleasure of the moment. Dick found him
+fascinating. He talked pleasantly--at times brilliantly. His
+conversation scintillated with sardonic humour. He told stories about
+many countries. He related anecdotes about the Imperial House of the
+Romanoffs, and described the influence which Rasputin had on the Tzar
+and the Tzarina.
+
+"I cannot understand it," remarked Dick after one of these stories.
+
+"Understand what?"
+
+"How a man like the Tzar could allow a dirty charlatan like Rasputin to
+have such influence. After all, Nicholas was an educated man, and a
+gentleman."
+
+Romanoff laughed.
+
+"As well Rasputin as the others," he replied.
+
+"What others?"
+
+"The priests of the Holy Orthodox Church. Let me give you a bit of
+advice, Faversham; keep clear of all this religious rot. It's true that
+you in England pretend to be more advanced than the poor Russians, but
+at bottom there's no difference. Wherever religion creeps in, it's the
+same story. Religion means credulity, and credulity means lies,
+oppression, cant, corruption."
+
+"Did you meet Rasputin?"
+
+"Oh yes," replied Romanoff, with a sigh of resignation. "On the whole, I
+admired him."
+
+"I say, that's a bit too thick."
+
+"Anyhow, the fellow was interesting. He had a philosophy of his own. He
+recognised the fact that the world was populated by fools, and he
+determined to make the most of his chances. He interpreted religion in a
+way that would give the greatest possible gratification to his senses.
+His policy was to suck the orange of the world dry. 'Salvation through
+sin,' eh?" and Romanoff laughed as he spoke. "Well, it's about the most
+sensible religion I ever heard of."
+
+"It seems to me devilish and dirty," Dick spoke warmly.
+
+"Nonsense, my dear fellow. Of course, all religion is foolishness--that
+is, religion as is usually understood. But if there is to be a religion
+at all, Rasputin got hold of the true one."
+
+"You don't mean that?"
+
+Romanoff looked at Dick steadily for a few seconds. He seemed to be
+thinking deeply as though he were trying to understand his man.
+
+"Perhaps I don't," he admitted presently. "Sometimes one exaggerates in
+order to convey what is actually true. Still, there is a substratum of
+truth in the dirty monk's philosophy, as you'll find out before you are
+much older. By the way, the evening has turned cold, hasn't it?"
+
+"Do you find it so? The air of a night is often cold in the early
+summer. Have you finished? Then we'll go into my little den where I
+always have a fire of an evening."
+
+A few minutes later Romanoff was sprawling in a large easy-chair with
+his feet close to the fire.
+
+"How long have you been here?" he asked.
+
+"Not quite a month."
+
+"Been well received by your neighbours?"
+
+"On the whole, yes."
+
+Again Romanoff looked steadily at his companion. "Will you forgive me if
+I ask you a few questions?"
+
+"Certainly. Go ahead."
+
+"First, then, how do you like being a rich man?"
+
+Dick glanced around the room, and then gave a look towards the
+wide-spreading park-lands.
+
+"How can one help liking it?" he asked.
+
+"Exactly. You do not find money to be the root of all evil, then?"
+
+"Heavens, no!"
+
+"You would not like to be a poor man again?"
+
+"What in the world are you driving at? Of course, the very thought of it
+is horrible."
+
+"Just so. I am in my way a student of human nature, and I was a bit
+curious. Now for a second question. Who is she?"
+
+"Oh, I say."
+
+"Of course she exists."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"In my way I have the power of divination. When I look at a man I know
+something, not much perhaps, but something of his hopes. I felt sure
+before I spoke that you were in love. You've been quick about it, my
+young friend."
+
+"I don't know that I am in love."
+
+"Of course you are. Who is she?"
+
+"There's no one. At least not yet. I don't suppose she's given me a
+second's thought."
+
+"But you do. Is she young, beautiful? Is she rich, well connected?"
+
+"Young! beautiful!" laughed Dick.
+
+"Ah, I see. Not a rustic beauty, by any chance?"
+
+"Rustic beauty, eh? There's nothing rustic about Lady Blanche
+Huntingford."
+
+"Huntingford! That's one of the best known names in England."
+
+"Do you know it?"
+
+"Who doesn't? It's the biggest name in Debrett. But the Huntingfords are
+as poor as church mice."
+
+"What does that matter?"
+
+"You have enough for both, eh? Of course, that's your hope."
+
+"Why?" and Dick turned rather sharply on his interlocutor.
+
+"Oh, nothing personal, my friend. I'm only speaking from a long
+experience. The Huntingfords are poor and proud. I do not know of a more
+unpleasant combination. I've heard of Lady Blanche--she is about
+twenty-four, a great beauty, and so far has not succeeded in the
+marriage market. She's had several seasons in London, but the rich
+aristocrat has not turned up. That's why she may smile on a commoner--a
+newcomer--providing he's rich enough."
+
+"If you'd seen her, spoken with her, you would not talk like that."
+
+"Shouldn't I? Who knows? But it's nothing to worry about, my dear
+fellow. All talk about the love of women goes for nothing. It doesn't
+exist. Of course, there is such a thing as sexual attraction, but
+nothing else."
+
+"You are a terrible cynic, Romanoff."
+
+"I'm a citizen of the world, and I've gone around the world with my eyes
+open. But, as I said, you can have an easy mind. The ball is at your
+feet, my dear fellow. Whatever you want you can have."
+
+"Do be serious." Dick spoke lightly; all the same, he felt uneasy.
+
+"I _am_ serious," replied Romanoff. "With wealth like yours, you are
+master of the world; you can get all the world has to give."
+
+"I wish I could."
+
+"I tell you you can. Money is all-powerful. Just think, if you were
+poor, not a hope, not an ambition could be realised."
+
+"That won't do. Hosts of poor fellows have----"
+
+"Risen to position and power. Just so; but it's been a terrible
+struggle, a ghastly grind. In most cases, too, men don't get money until
+they are too old to enjoy it. But you are young, and the world's at your
+feet. Do you want titles? You can buy them. Power? fame? Again you can
+get them. Beautiful women? Love? Yes, even love of a sort you can buy,
+if you have money. Poverty is hell; but what heaven there is in this
+world can be bought."
+
+"Then you think the poor can't be happy?"
+
+"Let me be careful in answering that. If a man has no ambitions, if he
+has no desire for power, then, in a negative way, he may be happy
+although he's poor. But to you, who are ambitious through and
+through--you, who see visions and dream dreams--poverty would be hell.
+That's why I congratulate you on all this. And my advice to you is, make
+the most of it. Live to enjoy, my dear fellow. Whatever your eyes
+desire, take it."
+
+Dick realised that Romanoff was talking cheap cynicism, that, to use a
+journalistic term, it was "piffle" from thread to needle, and yet he was
+impressed. Again he felt the man's ascendancy over him, knew that he was
+swayed and moulded by a personality stronger than his own.
+
+Dick did not try to answer him, for at that moment there was a knock at
+the door and a servant entered.
+
+"Mr. and Miss Stanmore have called, sir."
+
+"I do not think I know them, do I?" asked Dick.
+
+"I don't know, sir. They live not far from the South Park gates. They
+are old residents, sir."
+
+Whether there was something in the tone of the man's voice, or whether
+he desired company other than Romanoff's, I cannot tell. Certain it is
+that, acting on impulse and scarcely realising what he was doing, he
+said:
+
+"Show them in here, Jenkins, will you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+BEATRICE STANMORE
+
+
+"You don't mind, do you?" asked Dick, turning to Romanoff when the man
+had left the room.
+
+"Not at all, my dear fellow. Why should I?"
+
+Again the servant returned and ushered in an old man and a young girl.
+The former was a striking-looking figure, and would be noticed in any
+crowd. Although old, he stood perfectly upright, and was evidently
+healthy and vigorous. His face was ruddy and almost unlined. His white
+beard and moustache were allowed to grow long, while his almost massive
+head was covered with a wealth of wavy white hair. Perhaps, too, his
+attire helped to make his appearance attractive, and his velvet
+dinner-jacket suggested the artist or the poet.
+
+"I hope you'll forgive me calling, Mr. Faversham," he said, taking
+Dick's outstretched hand, "but I'm an old man, as well as a man of
+moods. I've thought several times of dropping in to see you, but
+refrained. I was afraid you would have no use for an old buffer such as
+I. But to-night I felt I must, and here I am. This is my granddaughter,
+Beatrice."
+
+"It's awfully good of you to call, Mr. Stanmore, and you, too, Miss
+Stanmore."
+
+Dick looked at the girl full in the face as he spoke, and then all
+further words were frozen on his lips. The sight of Beatrice Stanmore
+caused his heart to beat wildly, and made him feel that a new influence
+had entered the room.
+
+And yet, at first sight, there was nothing remarkable in her presence.
+Picture a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl of eighteen--a girl with a sweet,
+winsome, yet mischievous smile, and a perfect complexion; a girl with
+well-formed features and an evident sense of humour--and you see
+Beatrice Stanmore. And yet your picture would be incomplete. What I have
+said suggests a somewhat commonplace girl, such as can be seen by the
+score in any country town. But she was not commonplace. Her blue eyes
+were large and haunting; sometimes they were sad, and yet there was a
+world of mirth and gladness stored in their liquid depths. She was only
+eighteen or nineteen years of age, and she did not look older than her
+years; but, if you took a second look at her, you would know that her
+thoughts were not always a child's thoughts--that she had longings too
+deep for words.
+
+She was dressed very simply. I cannot describe her apparel, but to Dick
+it was something light and diaphanous, which set oft a figure which was
+at once girlish and yet perfect in its proportions. I do not suppose
+that a connoisseur would call her beautiful, but she suggested
+health--health of body, of mind, of soul. It would be impossible to
+associate her with anything impure, rather a flash from her mirth-loving
+eyes would destroy all thought of such a thing.
+
+"I've seen her before," thought Dick, "but where?"
+
+No, it was only fancy. She was an utter stranger to him, and yet he was
+haunted with the thought that somewhere, at some time, they had met and
+known each other, that she had been with him in some crisis.
+
+"Please forgive us, Mr. Faversham," she said, with a laugh; "it's not my
+fault. I should never have had the courage to beard the lion in his
+den."
+
+"What lion? What den?" asked Dick, as he looked into the girl's sunny
+face.
+
+"Of course, you are the lion. You've been the talk of the countryside
+for weeks; and--and isn't this your den?"
+
+She spoke with all the simplicity and frankness of a child, and seemed
+to be perfectly unimpressed by the fact that she was talking with one
+who was spoken of as one of the richest young men in England.
+
+"It's I who am the culprit, Mr. Faversham," broke in the old man. "The
+impulse came upon me suddenly. I said to Beatrice, 'I am going to call
+on young Faversham,' and she jumped at the idea of a walk through the
+park, and that's why she's here with me. Please tell me if we are in the
+way."
+
+"In the way? I'm just delighted. And--but let me introduce you to Count
+Romanoff."
+
+Both Hugh Stanmore and his granddaughter looked towards Count Romanoff,
+who had risen to his feet. The light was shining fully upon his face,
+and Dick could not help feeling what a striking appearance he had. He
+half held out his hand to the newcomers and then suddenly withdrew it.
+
+Old Hugh Stanmore looked at the Count steadily for a few seconds, and
+then bowed in silence. It might seem as though something had frozen his
+urbanity and cheerfulness. He did not appear to notice the
+half-outstretched hand, and Dick felt as though there was an instinctive
+antipathy between them. As for Beatrice, she gave the Count a cold nod,
+and then, with a perfunctory, "How d'ye do?" turned to Dick again.
+
+"I'm so glad you've come here to live, Mr. Faversham," she said, with
+girlish enthusiasm.
+
+"You can't be gladder than I," replied Dick; "but, is there a special
+reason for your gladness?"
+
+"Of course there is. I've wanted for years to see the inside of this
+house, but I was frightfully afraid of your--your uncle. He always
+looked so stern, and so--so forbidding that I hadn't the courage to ask
+him. But you are different."
+
+"Then why haven't you called before?" asked Dick. "I've been here nearly
+a month, and yet I've never seen you before."
+
+"Of course, you must understand," and it was old Hugh Stanmore who
+replied, "that we are quite unimportant people. We live in that cottage
+not far from your South Lodge, and, not knowing you, we felt rather
+sensitive about calling."
+
+"But your name seems familiar. I'm sure I've heard it somewhere."
+
+"Not among the people around here, I imagine?"
+
+"No, I think not; but I seem to have heard of it, or seen it, years
+ago."
+
+"I fancy you are mistaken, although what you say is just possible. When
+I was at Cambridge I had tremendous ambitions, and, like thousands of
+other callow youths, I made up my mind to win fame. I was something of a
+linguist, and had a great longing to win renown as an Egyptologist and
+as an Assyrian scholar. However, I had no money to indulge in such
+luxuries, so on leaving Cambridge I looked to journalism for a living. I
+even wrote a novel," and he laughed merrily.
+
+"Splendid!" cried Dick. "What was the title of the novel?"
+
+"I won't tell you that," replied the old man. "I've drawn a very thick
+curtain over that effort. However, I might have done something if I'd
+persevered; but, luckily or unluckily for me, I had some money left to
+me. Not much, but enough to enable me to travel in the East."
+
+"Yes, and then?"
+
+"Oh, I'm afraid I did not shine as an Egyptologist, although I had some
+wonderful experiences and made some interesting acquaintances. I also
+contributed to that phase of literature."
+
+"I never saw your name in that connection," Dick confessed.
+
+"I expect not. You see, that was many years ago. Still, although my
+health would not stand the Eastern climate, I've kept up my interest in
+my early love. But I've been somewhat of a butterfly. On my return to
+England I conceived a passion for throwing paint in the eyes of the
+public, to quote John Ruskin. I even went so far as to get a few
+pictures hung in the Academy. But, in spite of that, I achieved no fame.
+Since then I've contributed occasional articles to the reviews, while
+such papers as _The Spectator_ and _The Times_ have printed some
+effusions of mine which I in my vanity have called poetry. Please
+forgive me for talking about myself in this way. I know it is frightful
+egotism on my part, but, as I'm one of your nearest neighbours, I'm in a
+way introducing myself."
+
+"It's awfully good of you," replied Dick. "I hope we shall see a good
+deal of each other."
+
+"I hope we shall," replied Hugh Stanmore. "I may as well confess it, Mr.
+Faversham, that although I am an old man, I am a creature of impulses. I
+do things without being able to give a reason for them. I talk without
+knowing why. Do you know that I've never spoken so much about myself to
+anyone in this district as I have to-night, and I've lived here for
+eighteen years?"
+
+"What--at the cottage you spoke of?"
+
+"Yes, at the cottage. I took up my residence there when my son died. He
+was an artist who would have won fame if he had lived; but it pleased
+the good God to take him away. I determined that I would try to bring
+what comfort I could into the life of his young wife. But I was not with
+her long. She died at the birth of this little girl here, three months
+later."
+
+A silence fell upon the little company.
+
+"There, there," laughed Hugh Stanmore, "there's nothing to be sad about.
+This life is only a beginning. Actual life comes next, as Browning says.
+Besides, I've been very happy looking after my little maid here. It's
+rather hard on her, having to see so much of an old man like myself. All
+the same, we've had a jolly time."
+
+"Old man!" cried Beatrice indignantly. "I assure you, Mr. Faversham,
+he's the youngest man in Surrey. Sometimes I am quite ashamed of his
+frivolity. I'm quite a staid, elderly person compared to him."
+
+"Anyhow," said the old man, rising, "we must be going now. But be
+assured of this, Mr. Faversham: no one wishes you joy in your new home
+more than I. We give you a glad welcome to the district, and if an old
+man's prayer and an old man's blessing are worth anything, you have
+them."
+
+"But please don't go yet," cried Dick. "It's only a little after nine
+o'clock, and--and I'm so glad to have you here. You see, you've only
+just come."
+
+"No, no, I know. But we'll be going now. Some other time, when you
+happen to be alone, I'll be glad to come and smoke a pipe with you--if I
+may?"
+
+"May! Of course. Besides, Miss Stanmore said she wanted to look over
+the house. When will you come, Miss Stanmore?"
+
+"I think it must be when you can let Granddad know that you are alone
+and have nothing to do," was the girl's reply. "I shall look forward to
+it tremendously."
+
+"So shall I," cried Dick. Then, forgetful of Romanoff, he added, "And I
+can assure you, you won't have long to wait."
+
+Throughout their conversation, only a part of which I have recorded,
+Romanoff had not spoken a word. Had Dick been watching him he would have
+seen that he was not at all pleased at the presence of the visitors.
+There was a dark, lowering look in his eyes, and almost a scowl on his
+face. It was evident that a strong feeling of antagonism existed.
+
+"Good-night, Mr. Faversham," said old Hugh Stanmore, holding out his
+hand; then, bowing gravely to Romanoff, he passed out of the room.
+
+"Oh, but I'll see you to the door, if you _will_ go," insisted Dick, as
+for a moment he held Beatrice Stanmore's hand in his. "Allow me."
+
+He passed through the hall by her side and opened the door. As he did
+so, he could barely repress an exclamation of wonder and delight, while
+both the old man and the young girl stood as if spellbound.
+
+It was one of those rare nights which constantly recur to one's
+remembrance in after days. It was now the end of May, and while the
+summer had not reached its full glory, the fullness of spring made the
+earth like a paradise. The sky was cloudless and the silver rays of a
+nearly full moon lit up the scene with an unearthly beauty. All around
+giant trees stood, while the flowers, which grew in rich profusion, were
+plainly to be seen. Away through the leafy trees could be seen the
+outline of the country. Here and there the birds, which had barely gone
+to rest, were chirping, while away in the distance a cuckoo proclaimed
+the advent of summer.
+
+For a few seconds they stood in silence, then Hugh Stanmore said
+quietly, "One can understand Charles Kingsley's dying words on such a
+night, Mr. Faversham."
+
+"What did he say?" asked Dick.
+
+"'How beautiful God must be,'" quoted Hugh Stanmore.
+
+Just then a bird burst forth into song--rich-noted, mellow, triumphant.
+
+"A nightingale!" cried the girl. "Look, Granddad, it is over on that
+tree." She went down the drive under the long avenue of trees as she
+spoke, leaving Hugh Stanmore and Dick together.
+
+"They can't be far away on such a night as this," murmured the old man.
+
+"Who can't be far away?"
+
+"The angels. The heavens are full of them. Ah, if we could only see!"
+
+"Do you believe in angels?"
+
+"Do I believe in them? How can I help believing? It is nearly nineteen
+years ago since my boy and his wife died. But they didn't leave me
+altogether. They come to me."
+
+"Have you seen them?" and Dick's eager question was uttered almost
+unconsciously.
+
+"No, not with my natural eyes. Why? I wonder. But I have felt them near
+me. I know they are watching over me. You see, they did not cease to
+love us when God took them away for some higher service. Naturally, too,
+they watch over Beatrice. They could not help it."
+
+He spoke quietly, and in an almost matter-of-fact way, yet with a
+suggestion of reverence in his tones.
+
+"Who knows who is watching over us now?" continued the old man. "Ah, if
+we could only see! 'Are they not all ministering spirits sent to
+minister to those who are heirs of Salvation?'"
+
+Dick felt a shiver pass through him. He reflected that on that very
+spot, only a few hours before, he had seen something, _something_--a
+luminous figure, a pale, sad face--sad almost to agony!
+
+"Mr. Faversham," asked Hugh Stanmore suddenly, "who is Count Romanoff?"
+
+"I don't know much about him," replied Dick. "He was a fellow-passenger
+on board the boat on which I was bound for Australia some time ago. Why
+do you ask?"
+
+"You know nothing else? Excuse me."
+
+"Only that he saved my life."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"Nothing. Only he will have a great influence on your life."
+
+"How do you know?" Dick was greatly excited.
+
+"I have no reason to give you. I only know."
+
+"Good or bad?" asked the young man eagerly.
+
+"I don't know. But did you notice that Beatrice didn't like him? And
+I've never once known her wrong in her estimate of people. There, look
+at her now, amongst the moon's rays under the trees. Doesn't she look
+like an angel? Yes, and she _is_ an angel--one of God's sweetest and
+purest and best. But as human as every woman ought to be. Good-night,
+Mr. Faversham. Yes, my darling, I'm coming," and the old man went down
+the drive with the activity of a boy.
+
+Dick watched them until they were out of sight. He was influenced more
+than he knew by their visit. Their presence, after Count Romanoff's
+cynicism, was like some sweet-scented balm; like a breeze from the
+mountains after the fetid atmosphere of a cavern.
+
+"Well, what did you think of them?" he asked of Romanoff on his return.
+
+The Count shrugged his shoulders. "There's not much to think, is there?"
+he asked.
+
+"I think there is a great deal. I found the old man more interesting
+than almost any caller I have had."
+
+"A dull, prosy, platitudinous old Polonius; as for the girl, she's just
+a badly behaved, unformed, bread-and-butter miss."
+
+Dick did not speak. The Count's words grated on him.
+
+"By the way," went on Romanoff, "I should like to meet Lady Blanche
+Huntingford. I think I knew the old Lord."
+
+"I promised to call to-morrow afternoon," replied Dick. "I'll take you
+over." But he was not so enthusiastic as the Count expected.
+
+After they had retired to their rooms that night, the Count sat long in
+soliloquy. Of what he was thinking it would be difficult to say. His
+face was like a mask.
+
+When he rose from his chair, however, there was a look of decision in
+his eyes.
+
+"The time has come sooner than I thought," he said aloud. "I must bring
+the matter to a head at once. Otherwise I shall lose him."
+
+And then he laughed in his grim, sardonic way, as if something had made
+him merry.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+UNCERTAINTY
+
+
+Dick rose early the following morning, and went for a walk in the park.
+When he returned he found the Count in the breakfast-room.
+
+"Quite a pattern young countryman," he laughed. "I saw you reflecting on
+the beauties of your own domains. Did you sleep well?"
+
+"Like a healthy dog. And you?"
+
+"I never sleep. I dream sometimes--that's all."
+
+"Still play-acting," laughed Dick.
+
+"No, there's not a more serious man in England than I, as a rule; but
+I'm not going to be serious to-day while the sun shines. When the sun
+goes down I shall be tragic. There, Richard is himself again!"
+
+He threw back his shoulders as he spoke, as though he would shift a
+weight from them. "I am hungry, Faversham," he laughed. "Let us eat.
+After breakfast I would love a ride. Have you a horse in your stables
+that you could lend me?"
+
+"Of course I have."
+
+"Good. Then we'll have a gallop till lunch. After that a-wooing we will
+go. I'm feverish to see the glorious Lady Blanche, the flower of the
+age, the beauty of the county. I say, Faversham, prepare to be jealous.
+I can be a most dangerous rival."
+
+"I can't think of you as a marrying man, Count. Domesticity and you are
+oceans apart."
+
+The Count laughed. "No, a man such as I never marries," he said.
+"Marriage! What an idiotic arrangement. But such things always follow
+religion. But for religion, humanity would be natural, happy."
+
+"Come, now. That won't do."
+
+"It is true, my friend. Ever and always the result of religion has been
+to raise unnatural barriers, to create sin. The man who founds a
+religion is an enemy to the race. The greatest enemy to the world's
+happiness was the Founder of Christianity."
+
+"In Heaven's name, why?"
+
+"Because He labelled natural actions as sins, because He was for ever
+emphasising a distinction between right and wrong. When there is no
+right, no wrong. The evolution of religion, and of so-called morality,
+is a crime, because it strikes at the root of human enjoyment. But,
+there, I'm getting serious, and I won't be serious. This is a day to
+laugh, to rejoice in, and I've an appetite like a hunter."
+
+Throughout the morning they carried out the programme Romanoff had
+suggested. Two of the best horses in the stables were saddled, and they
+rode till noon. During all this time the Count was in high spirits, and
+seemed to revel in the brightness of the day and the glory of the
+scenery.
+
+"After all, give me a living thing to deal with," he cried. "This craze
+for motor-cars is a sign of decadence. 'Enjoyment by machinery' should
+be the motto of every motorist. But a horse is different. A horse is
+sentient, intelligent. He feels what his rider feels; he enters into the
+spirit of whatever is going on."
+
+"But motoring can be jolly good sport," Dick rejoined.
+
+"Of course it can. But a motor is impersonal; it is a thing, not a
+being. You cannot make it your slave. It is just a matter of steel, and
+petrol, and oil. It never becomes afraid of you."
+
+"What of that?" asked Dick.
+
+"Without fear there is no real mastery," replied Romanoff.
+
+"But surely the mastery which is obtained through fear is an
+unsatisfactory sort of thing."
+
+Romanoff looked at Dick as though on the point of replying, but he was
+silent.
+
+"Anyhow, I love a horse," he ventured presently. "I love to feel his
+body alive beneath me, love to feel him spurn the ground beneath his
+feet."
+
+"Yes; I, too, love a horse," replied Dick, "and do you know, although
+I've only been here a month, this chap loves me. He whines a welcome
+when I go to the stable, and he kind of cries when I leave."
+
+"And he isn't afraid of you?" asked Romanoff.
+
+"Afraid!" cried Dick. "I hope not. I should hate to feel that a thing I
+loved was afraid of me."
+
+"Wait till you are married," laughed Romanoff.
+
+"I don't see what that has to do with it."
+
+"But it has everything to do with it. A wife should obey, and no woman
+obeys unless she fears. The one thing man has to do when he marries is
+to demand obedience, and until he has mastered the woman he gets none."
+
+"From the little experience I have, a woman is a difficult thing to
+master."
+
+"Everything can be mastered," replied Romanoff. "It sometimes requires
+patience, I'll admit, but it can always be done. Besides, a woman never
+respects her husband until he's mastered her. Find me a man who has not
+mastered his wife, and I'll show you a man whose wife despises him. Of
+course, every woman strives for mastery, but in her heart of hearts
+she's sorry if she gets it. If I ever married----" He ceased speaking.
+
+"Yes; if you married?"
+
+"I'd have obedience, obedience, obedience," and Romanoff repeated the
+word with increasing emphasis. "As you say, it might be difficult, but
+it can always be obtained."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Of course, if you go among the lower orders of people, the man obtains
+his wife's obedience by brute force. If she opposes him he knocks her
+down, thrashes her. But as you rise in the scale of humanity, the
+methods are different. The educated, cultured man never loses his
+temper, seldom utters an angry word. He may be a little sarcastic,
+perhaps, but nothing more. But he never yields. The wife cries, pleads,
+protests, goes into hysterics perhaps, threatens, but he never yields.
+He is polite, cold, cruel if you like, but he never shows a sign of
+weakness, and in the end he's master. And mastery is one of the great
+joys of life."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"I'm sure of it."
+
+Dick felt slightly uncomfortable. "You said you wouldn't be serious
+to-day, Romanoff," he laughed nervously, "and yet you talk as though
+something tragic were in the air."
+
+"I can assure you I'm in one of my light moods," replied the Count.
+"After all, of what account is a woman in a man's life? A diversion if
+you like--a creature necessary to his pleasure, but nothing more. When a
+man regards a woman as indispensable to his happiness, he's lost. Always
+look on a woman, whoever she may be, as a diversion, my friend," and
+Romanoff laughed quietly.
+
+After lunch, however, Romanoff's mood seemed changed. He spoke of his
+early days, and of his experiences in St. Petersburg and Moscow.
+
+"People talk about Paris being the great centre of pleasure," he said a
+little indignantly, "but it is nothing compared with St. Petersburg, or
+Petrograd, as it is called now. Some day, my friend, I must take you
+there; I must show you the sights; I must take you behind the scenes.
+Oh, I envy you!"
+
+"Why should you?" asked Dick.
+
+"Because you are young, because you have the world at your feet."
+
+"And haven't you?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. But, then, you go to everything fresh. You will
+drink the cup of life for the first time; you will drink deep and enjoy.
+But I can never again drink for the first time--there lies the
+difference."
+
+"But if the cup of life is good and sweet, why may not one drink it
+again, and again, and still find enjoyment?"
+
+Romanoff did not reply. He sat for a few seconds in silence, and then
+started up almost feverishly.
+
+"Let us away, my friend," he cried. "I am longing to see Lady Blanche
+Huntingford. How did you describe her? Velvety black eyes, rosy lips,
+hair as black as the raven's wing, tall, stately, shaped like a Juno
+and a Venus combined--was that it? Please don't let's waste any time.
+I'm anxious to be off."
+
+"Even although we are going in a motor."
+
+"Motors are useful, my friend. I may not like them, but I use them. For
+the matter of that, I use everything. I discard nothing."
+
+"Except religion," laughed Dick.
+
+"Oh, I have my religion," replied Romanoff. "Some time I'll tell you
+about it, but not now. The sunlight is the time for adventure, for love,
+for happiness. Let us be off."
+
+Evidently the Count was impressed by Lady Blanche. Directly he entered
+her presence he seemed to forget his cynicism, and to become
+light-hearted and gay.
+
+"Do you know, Lady Blanche," he said, "that I had an idea I had seen you
+somewhere. Your name was familiar, and when Faversham spoke of you, I
+felt I should be renewing an old acquaintance. Of course, I was
+mistaken."
+
+"Why 'of course'?"
+
+"The true reply would be too obvious, wouldn't it? Besides, it would be
+as trite and as clumsy as the repartee of an Oxford undergraduate."
+
+"You are beyond me," she sighed.
+
+Romanoff smiled. "Of course, you are laughing at me; all the same. I'll
+say this: I shall have no doubt from this time on as to whether I've met
+you. Do you know who I regard as the most favoured man in England?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"My friend Faversham, of course," and Romanoff glanced towards Dick, who
+sat listening and looking with a kind of wonder at the face of the girl.
+
+"Of course, Wendover is just lovely," she replied.
+
+"And only a very short motor-run from here," remarked Romanoff.
+
+The girl pouted as though she were vexed at his words, but it was easy
+to see she was not. There could be little doubt that she loved flattery,
+and although she felt slightly uncomfortable under the Count's ardent
+gaze, she was pleased at his admiration.
+
+She was also bent on being agreeable, and Dick felt that surely no
+handsomer woman ever lived than this glorious creature with whom he
+chatted and laughed. More than once he felt his heart beating wildly as
+her eyes caught his, and while he wished that Romanoff was not there, he
+felt it to be one of the happiest days of his life.
+
+"If Romanoff were not here I'd ask her to-day," he reflected. "It's true
+she's almost a stranger to me; but, after all, what does it matter? Love
+does not depend on a long acquaintance."
+
+For Dick felt sure he was in love. It is true there seemed a kind of
+barrier between them, a certain something that kept them apart. But that
+he put down to their different upbringing. She was a patrician, the
+child of long generations of aristocratic associations, while he,
+although his father and mother were gentlefolk, was a commoner. All his
+life, too, he had been poor, while during the last few years he had had
+to struggle constantly with poverty. It was no wonder, therefore, that
+there should be a kind of barrier between them. But that would break
+down. Already he was feeling more as if "he belonged" to his new
+surroundings, while his neighbours had received him with the utmost
+kindness. It was only a matter of time before he would feel at one with
+them all. Meanwhile, Lady Blanche charmed him, fascinated him. She
+appealed to him as a glorious woman, regal in her carriage, wondrous in
+her youth and beauty.
+
+Once during the afternoon they were alone together, and he was almost on
+the point of declaring his love. But something kept him back. What it
+was he could not tell. She was alluring, gracious, and seemed to offer
+him opportunities for telling her what was in his heart. And yet he did
+not speak. Perhaps he was afraid, although he could not have told what
+he feared.
+
+"When are you going to give me another game of golf?" he asked, as they
+parted.
+
+"I don't like threesomes," she laughed, looking towards Romanoff.
+
+"I share your antipathy," said Romanoff, "but could you not suggest
+someone who might bear with me while you and Faversham break the
+record?"
+
+"Please manage it," pleaded Dick.
+
+"There's a telephone at Wendover, isn't there?"
+
+"Of course there is. You'll ring me up and let me know, won't you?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+Her smile was bewildering, and as he felt the warm pressure of her hand
+he was in Arcadia.
+
+"I congratulate you, Faversham," remarked Romanoff, as they neared
+Wendover Park. "She's a glorious creature, simply glorious. Cleopatra
+was plain compared with her. My word, what a mistress for your new home.
+Such eyes, such hair, such a complexion--and what a magnificent figure.
+Yes, Faversham, you are a lucky man."
+
+"If I get her," sighed Dick.
+
+"Get her! Of course you'll get her. Unless----"
+
+"Unless what?" asked Dick as the other hesitated.
+
+Romanoff looked at him for some seconds very searchingly; then he
+sighed.
+
+"Yes, what is it?" persisted Dick, who felt uncomfortable under
+Romanoff's look.
+
+"I'm wondering."
+
+"Why and at what?"
+
+"If you are a wise man or a fool."
+
+"I'm afraid I don't understand."
+
+"No, but you will presently."
+
+There seemed to be something so ominous in his words that a feeling like
+fear possessed Dick's heart. He had always felt somewhat uncomfortable
+in Romanoff's presence, but now the feeling was so intensified that he
+dreaded what he might mean.
+
+"The sun is still shining," went on the Count, "and I told you that I
+should be in a festive mood until dark. In another hour the king of day
+will have disappeared; then I shall have some serious things to say to
+you."
+
+"Let's have no more play-acting," and Dick laughed nervously.
+
+"I can assure you, there'll be no play-acting. Everything will be
+real--desperately real. But I'm going to say no more now. After dinner
+I am going to be serious. But not until. See! Aren't you proud of it
+all? Don't you revel in it? Was there ever such a lovely old house,
+standing amidst such gorgeous surroundings? Look at those giant trees,
+man! See the glorious landscape! Was there ever such a lucky man! What a
+mistress Lady Blanche will make!"
+
+They were now passing up the long avenue which led to the house. Away in
+the distance they could see the mansion nestling amidst giant trees
+centuries old. From the house stretched the gardens, which were glorious
+in the beauty of early summer. And Dick saw it all, gloried in it all;
+but fear haunted him, all the same.
+
+"What is the meaning of this strange mood of yours, Romanoff?" he asked.
+
+"After dinner, my friend," laughed the other. "I'll tell you after
+dinner."
+
+Throughout dinner the Count was apparently light-hearted, almost to
+flippancy, but directly the servants had left them to their coffee and
+cigars his mood changed.
+
+"I told you I was going to be serious, didn't I?" he said slowly. "The
+time for laughter has ceased, Faversham. The next hour will be critical
+to you--ay, and more than critical; it will be heavy with destiny."
+
+"What in Heaven's name do you mean?"
+
+"Have you ever considered," and Romanoff enunciated every word with
+peculiar distinctness, "whether you are _really_ the owner of all
+this?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE REAL HEIR
+
+
+Dick Faversham could not repress a shudder as the other spoke. The
+Count's words were so ominous, so full of sinister meaning that for the
+moment he felt like crying out with fear. He mastered himself after a
+few seconds, however, and his reply was calm.
+
+"I see what you mean," he said quietly. "A few weeks ago I was poor, and
+without great expectation. Now----Naturally you wonder whether it is
+real to me, whether I can believe in my good fortune."
+
+"It goes deeper than that, Faversham," was the Count's rejoinder--"very
+much deeper than that."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"You believe that you are the owner of all this. You regard yourself as
+the lawful possessor of the Wendover Park estate, with all its farms,
+cottages, and villages; you also think of yourself as the owner of
+mining rights, shipping interests, and a host of other things, added to
+a very magnificent credit balance at your bankers'. Isn't that so?"
+
+"Of course I do. What have you to say against it?" Dick spoke almost
+angrily. He was greatly excited, not only by the Count's words, but by
+his manner of speech.
+
+"On the strength of it you have cast eyes of love on one of the most
+beautiful women in England; you have dreamed of marrying Lady Blanche
+Huntingford, who bears one of the oldest names in the land?"
+
+"And if I have, what then?"
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you that your fortune rests on a very slender,
+a very unsafe, foundation?"
+
+"I say, Count Romanoff----"
+
+"Don't be angry, my friend, and, above all, look at everything calmly."
+
+"Really, this is a trifle thick, isn't it? I'm afraid I must ask for an
+explanation of this peculiar manner of speech."
+
+"I deeply regret that I shall have to give an explanation," and there
+was curious vibration in Romanoff's voice. "But please, _please_,
+Faversham, don't think unkindly of me because of what I have to tell
+you. Perhaps I have been very clumsy, but I have been trying all day to
+prepare you for--for what you will regard as bad news."
+
+"Trying to prepare me? Bad news?"
+
+"Yes, my friend. I told you this morning that I was not going to be
+serious while the sun shone, but that after the sun went down I was
+going to be tragically in earnest. The time has come."
+
+"You spoke of my having no right here!" and a gleam of anger shot from
+Dick's eyes. "Might I suggest, Count, that it is a little out of the
+common for a guest to tell his host that he has no right to give him
+hospitality?"
+
+"I was afraid you might take it like that," and Romanoff spoke almost
+gently. "Doubtless I have been very clumsy, very gauche; all the same, I
+have come only in kindness."
+
+"Am I to understand, then, that you came here for the purpose of telling
+me that I am an impostor, an interloper? That, indeed, is interesting."
+
+"I came as a friend, a well-wisher--as one deeply, very deeply,
+interested in your welfare. I came as one who wants you to enjoy what
+you believe is your good fortune, and to marry the most beautiful woman
+in England. If, after you have heard me, you wish me to leave you, I
+will do so--sadly, I will admit, but I will leave you."
+
+"At least, do not deal in hints, in innuendoes. Tell me exactly what you
+mean, and perhaps you will also tell me what particular interest you
+have in the matter, and by what right you--you--talk in this way."
+
+"Faversham, let me first of all admit frankly that I took a great
+liking to you during the voyage that ended so--tragically. I am no
+longer a boy, and I do not take to people easily; but I felt an
+unaccountable interest in you. There were traits in your character that
+attracted me. I said to myself, 'I should like to know that young
+fellow, to cultivate his acquaintance.' That must be my reason for
+taking what interest I have in you. It would have been easy to let you
+drown, to--to listen to the appeal of the other occupants of the boat,
+and----"
+
+"Pardon me," interrupted Dick impulsively, "I have behaved like a cad. I
+forgot that I owed my life to you. But I was excited--angry. You see,
+the suggestion that I am here under false pretences naturally upsets me.
+But tell me what you mean. I do not understand you--I am bewildered by
+your hints."
+
+"Of course, I understand your feelings, and am not in the least
+offended. I think I know you too well not to take offence easily;
+besides, my desire, and my only desire, being to help you makes me
+impervious to ordinary emotions."
+
+"Still," cried Dick, "tell me what you mean. You say my position as
+owner of my Uncle Faversham's estates rests on a very slender, a very
+unsafe foundation. That is surely a serious statement to make. How do
+you know?"
+
+"Your uncle's will--yes, I will admit I went to Somerset House and paid
+a shilling for the right of reading it--states that he gave his fortune
+to his sister's sons, and after them to the next-of-kin."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Presently it came to pass that only one person stood between you and
+possession."
+
+"That is so. I did not know it at the time, but such, I am informed, was
+the case."
+
+"This person's name was Mr. Anthony Riggleton, at that time the only
+surviving son of your uncle's sister!"
+
+"That is so."
+
+Romanoff lay back in his chair and quietly smoked his cigar.
+
+"But why these questions?" persisted Dick.
+
+"I was only thinking, my friend, on what small issues fortune or poverty
+may rest."
+
+"But--but really----"
+
+"Here is the case as I understand it. Your lawyer told you that Mr.
+Anthony Riggleton, the only man who stood between you and all your
+uncle's possessions, was killed in a drunken brawl in Melbourne, and
+that on his death you became heir. That was why he sent you that
+wireless; that was why he summoned you back to England."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"But what if Mr. Anthony Riggleton is not dead?"
+
+"There is no doubt about that," replied Dick, in tones of relief. "Mr.
+Bidlake realised the importance of this, and sent to a lawyer in
+Melbourne to make investigations. Every care was taken, every possible
+loophole of mistake was investigated. I saw all the documents, all the
+newspaper reports."
+
+"Has it ever struck you that mistakes might be made about this?"
+
+"Of course. As a consequence I questioned Bidlake closely, and he told
+me that doubt was impossible."
+
+"Let me understand," and Romanoff continued to speak quietly. "Your
+position is that Anthony Riggleton, the then heir to all your Uncle
+Faversham's fortune, was living in Australia; that he was known in
+Melbourne; that he went to a house near Melbourne with some boon
+companions; that there was a night of orgy; that afterwards there was a
+quarrel; and that Mr. Anthony Riggleton was killed."
+
+"Evidently you've worked up the case," and there was a sneer in Dick's
+voice.
+
+"But I'm right, am I not?"
+
+"As far as you've gone, you are roughly right. Of course, his body was
+afterwards identified by----"
+
+"By the cashier of the bank from which he had drawn money, and by
+others," interrupted Romanoff. "But what if that cashier made a mistake?
+What if it paid him to make it? What if the others who identified the
+body were paid to do so? What if Mr. Anthony Riggleton is still alive?"
+
+"What if a hundred things are true?" cried Dick angrily. "One can ask
+such questions for ever. Of course, if Mr. Anthony Riggleton is still
+alive, I have no right here. If he is alive, I clear out."
+
+"And does the prospect please you?" and the Count looked at Dick like
+one anxious.
+
+"Of course, it doesn't please me. If it's true, I'm a pauper, or next
+door to one. If it's true, I should have to leave everything and go out
+into the world to begin again."
+
+"And give up all thought of Lady Blanche Huntingford," added the Count.
+
+"I say, Romanoff, if you've anything definite to tell me, tell it. I
+tell you honestly, I don't enjoy all this."
+
+"Of course you don't. The thought of giving up all this is like thinking
+of having your eyes pulled out, isn't it?"
+
+"But of course it's all rubbish. Of course you are imagining an ugly
+bogey man," and Dick laughed nervously.
+
+"I'm imagining nothing, Faversham."
+
+"Then you mean to tell me----"
+
+"That Mr. Anthony Riggleton is alive? Yes, I do."
+
+Dick gave the Count an angry look, then started to his feet and began to
+pace the room.
+
+"Of course it's all nonsense," he cried after a few seconds. "Please
+don't imagine that I'm going to accept a cock-and-bull sort of story
+like that. Do you think that Bidlake would be deceived? Do you imagine
+that the man he employed in Melbourne would be duped? No, no, I'm not
+such a fool as to accept that. Besides, what have you to do with it? Why
+did you come here in such a fashion, and with such a story? It does not
+look very friendly, does it?"
+
+"Why I came here, and why I have told you the truth, will leak out
+presently. You will see then that I came not as an enemy, but as a
+friend."
+
+"As a friend!" and there was an angry sneer in Dick's voice.
+
+"As a friend," repeated Romanoff. "Of course," he went on quietly, "I
+expected that you would take it in this way; but you will soon see that
+my motives are--not unworthy of a friend."
+
+"Tell me then how you came to know of this. Perhaps you will also give
+me some proofs that Mr. Anthony Riggleton, who was found dead, whose
+body was identified by responsible witnesses, has so miraculously come
+to life again. Believe me, this hearsay, this wonderful story does not
+appeal to me. Do you come to me with this--this farrago of nonsense with
+the belief that I am going to give up all this?" and he looked out of
+the window towards the far-spreading parks as he spoke, "without the
+most absolute and conclusive proof? If Mr. Anthony Riggleton is alive,
+where is he? Why does he not show himself? Why does he not come here and
+claim his own?"
+
+"Because I have stopped him from coming," replied Romanoff.
+
+"You have stopped him from coming?" cried Dick excitedly.
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Then you have seen him?"
+
+"I have seen him."
+
+"But how do you know it was he? Are Mr. Bidlake's inquiries to go for
+nothing? No, no, it won't do. I can't be deceived like that."
+
+"I know it was he because I have the most absolute proofs--proofs which
+I am going to submit to you."
+
+"You saw him, you say?"
+
+"I saw him."
+
+"But where?"
+
+"In Australia. I told you, didn't I, that--after leaving you I went to
+Australia? I told you, too, that I left Australia quickly because I did
+not like the country. That was false. I came because I wanted to warn
+you, to help you. You asked me just now why, if Mr. Anthony Riggleton
+was alive, he did not show himself. I will tell you why. If I had
+allowed him to do so, if he knew that he was heir to all you now
+possess, you would be a poor man. And I did not want you to be a poor
+man. I did not want your life to be ruined, your future sacrificed, your
+hopes destroyed. That's why, Faversham. That's why I left Australia and
+came here without wasting an hour. That's why I examined your uncle's
+will; that's why I came to warn you."
+
+"To warn me?"
+
+"To warn you."
+
+"Against what?"
+
+"Against dangers--against the dangers which might engulf you--ruin you
+for ever."
+
+"You speak in a tragic tone of voice."
+
+"I speak of tragic things. I told you that this was your hour of
+destiny. I told you the truth. This night will decide your future. You
+are a young fellow with your life all before you. You were born for
+enjoyment, for pleasure, for ease. You, unlike your uncle, who made all
+the wealth we are thinking of, are not a business genius; you are not a
+great master personality who can forge your way through difficult
+circumstances. You are not cast in that mould. But you can enjoy. You
+have barely felt your feet since you came into possession of great
+wealth, but already you have dreamt dreams, and seen visions. You have
+already made plans as to how you can suck the orange of the world dry.
+And to-night will be the time of decision."
+
+Dick laughed uneasily. "How?" he asked, and his face was pale to the
+lips.
+
+"Is there a photograph of Mr. Anthony Riggleton in the house?" asked
+Romanoff.
+
+"Yes, I came across one the other day. Would you like to see it?" He
+went to a drawer as he spoke and took a packet from it. "Here is the
+thing," he added.
+
+"Just so," replied Romanoff; "now look at this," and he took a
+photograph from his pocket. "It's the same face, isn't it? The same man.
+Well, my friend, that is the photograph of a man I saw in Australia,
+weeks after you got your wireless from Mr. Bidlake--months after the
+news came that Mr. Anthony Riggleton was dead. I saw him; I talked with
+him. He told me a good deal about himself, told me of some of his
+experiences in this house. There are a number of people in this
+neighbourhood who knew him, and who could identify him."
+
+"You are sure of this?" gasped Dick.
+
+"Absolutely."
+
+"And does he know--that--that his uncle is dead?"
+
+"Not yet. That's why I hurried here to see you. But he has made up his
+mind to come to England, and of course he intends coming here."
+
+"He told you this, did he?"
+
+"Yes. I came across him in a little town about five hundred miles from
+Melbourne, and when I found out who he was I thought of you."
+
+"But how do you explain the news of his death, the inquest, and the
+other things?"
+
+"I'll come to that presently. It's easily explained. Oh, there's no
+doubt about it, Faversham. I have seen the real heir to all the wealth
+you thought your own."
+
+"But what do you mean by saying that you stopped him from coming here?"
+and Dick's voice was husky.
+
+"I'm going to tell you why I stopped him. I'm going to tell you how you
+can keep everything, enjoy everything. Yes, and how you can still marry
+the woman you are dreaming of."
+
+"But if the real heir is alive--I--I can't," stammered Dick.
+
+"I'm here to show you how you can," persisted Romanoff. "Did I not tell
+you that this was the hour of destiny?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE DAY OF DESTINY
+
+
+Dick Faversham wiped away the beads of perspiration that stood thick
+upon his forehead. It seemed to him that he was surrounded by peculiar
+influences, that forces were at work which he could not understand. In
+one sense he did not at all believe in the story that Count Romanoff had
+told him. It appeared to him chimerical, unconvincing.
+
+It did not seem at all likely that a man of Mr. Bidlake's experience and
+mental acumen could have been so deceived. This subtle-minded lawyer,
+who had lived in London for so many years and had been spoken of as one
+of the most astute and level-headed men in the profession, would not be
+likely to communicate news of such great importance to him without being
+absolutely certain of his ground. He had shown him details of
+everything, too, and Mr. Bidlake was absolutely certain that Mr. Anthony
+Riggleton was dead, that he was murdered near Melbourne. The proofs of
+this were demonstrated in a hundred ways. No, he did not believe in
+Romanoff's story.
+
+Besides, it was absurd, on the face of it. Who was this Count Romanoff?
+He knew little or nothing of him. Though he owed his life to him, he
+knew nothing of his history or antecedents. He was afraid of him, too.
+He did not like his cynical way of looking at things, nor understand his
+mockery of current morality. And should he believe the bare word of such
+a man?
+
+And yet he did believe him. At the back of his mind he felt sure that he
+had spoken the truth.
+
+It came to him with ghastly force that he was not the owner of this fine
+old house, and of all the wealth that during the last few weeks he had
+almost gloated over. There was something in the tones of Romanoff's
+voice--something in his mocking yet intense way of speaking that
+convinced him in spite of himself.
+
+And the fact maddened him. To be poor now after these few brief weeks of
+riches would drive him mad. He had not begun to enjoy yet. He had not
+carried out the plans which had been born in his mind. He had only just
+entered into possession, and had been living the life of a pattern young
+man. But he had meant to enjoy, to drink the cup of pleasure to the very
+dregs.
+
+His mind swept like lightning over the conversation which had taken
+place, and every word of it was burnt into his brain. What did the Count
+mean by telling him that he could retain everything? Why did he persist
+in urging that he had hurried from Australia to England to save him from
+losing everything? What did he mean by telling him that this was his
+hour of destiny--that on his decision would depend the future of his
+life?
+
+"You mean--to say then, that--that----" he stammered, after a long,
+painful silence.
+
+"That Anthony Riggleton, the legal heir of old Charles Faversham, is
+alive," interrupted Romanoff. "I myself have seen him, have talked with
+him."
+
+"Does he know that he is--is the rightful heir?"
+
+"Not yet," and Romanoff smiled. "I took good care of that."
+
+"You mean----"
+
+"I mean that I did not save your life for nothing. When I had fully
+convinced myself that he was--who he said he was--I of course reflected
+on what it meant. I called to mind what you had told me on that island,
+and I saw how his being alive would affect you."
+
+"How did you know? I did not tell you the terms of the will. I did not
+know them myself."
+
+"Does it matter how I knew? Anyhow, he--Riggleton--would guess."
+
+"How did he know?"
+
+Romanoff shrugged his shoulders. "How should I know, my dear fellow? But
+one can easily guess. He knew he was next-of-kin to old Charles
+Faversham, and would naturally think he would inherit his wealth. But
+that is not all. Australia, although a long way from England, is not
+away from the lines of communication. Melbourne is quite a considerable
+city. It has newspapers, telephones, cablegrams, and a host of other
+things. But one thing Anthony Riggleton did not know: he did not know
+that the terms of the will were published in the Melbourne newspapers.
+He was afraid to go near Melbourne, in fact. He thought it best for the
+world to think of him as dead. Indeed, he paid a man to personate him in
+Melbourne, and that man paid the penalty of his deceit by his life."
+
+"It's anything but clear to me."
+
+"Then I'll make it clear. Riggleton had enemies in Melbourne whom it was
+necessary for him to see, but whom he was personally afraid to meet. He
+had served them very shabbily, and they had threatened him with
+unpleasant things. He had as a friend a man who resembled him very
+closely, and he offered this friend a sum of money if he would go to
+Melbourne and personate him. This man, ignorant of his danger, accepted
+the offer--now, do you see?"
+
+After he had asked many questions about this--questions which Romanoff
+answered freely--Dick looked long and steadily at a picture of old
+Charles Faversham which hung on the wall. He was trying to co-ordinate
+the story--trying to understand it.
+
+"And where is Anthony Riggleton now?"
+
+"He is in England."
+
+"In England! Then--then----"
+
+"Exactly," interrupted Romanoff. "You see what I meant when I said that
+the foundations of your position were very insecure. I do not imagine
+that Lady Blanche Huntingford would think very seriously about Dick
+Faversham if she knew the whole truth."
+
+"But--but--in England?"
+
+"Exactly. In England."
+
+"But you say he does not know--the truth?"
+
+"No. He may guess it, though. Who knows?"
+
+"But why did you not tell me this last night? Why wait till now before
+letting me know?"
+
+Again Romanoff smiled; he might be enjoying himself.
+
+"Because I like you, my friend. Because I wanted to see the state of
+your mind, and to know whether it was possible to help you."
+
+"To help me?"
+
+"To help you. I saw the kind of man you were. I saw what such wealth as
+you thought you possessed would mean to you. I saw, too, to what uses
+you could turn the power that riches would give you. So I made my
+plans."
+
+"But you say he is in England. If so, he will know--all!"
+
+"No, he does not. I took good care of that."
+
+"But he will find out."
+
+Romanoff laughed. "No, my friend, I have taken care of everything. As I
+told you, I like you, and I want you to be a great figure in the life of
+your country. That is why you are safe--for the present."
+
+Again Dick wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. It seemed
+to him as though he were standing on a precipice, while beneath him were
+yawning depths of darkness. All he had hoped for was mocking him, and he
+saw himself sinking under the stress of circumstances, just as on that
+terrible night he felt himself sinking in the deep waters. But there
+were no arms outstretched to save him, nor friendly help near him. He
+looked around the room, noble in its proportions, and handsomely
+appointed, and thought of all it suggested. He remembered his last
+interview with Mr. Bidlake, when that gentleman gave him an account of
+his possessions, and told him of the approximate amount of his fortune.
+And now it would all go to this man who was not even aware of the truth.
+It was all bewildering, maddening. Before he had properly begun to taste
+of the sweets of fortune they were being dashed from his lips. He felt
+as though he were losing his senses, that his brain was giving way
+under the stress of the news he had heard.
+
+Then his innate manhood began to assert itself. If what Romanoff had
+said were true, he must bear it. But, of course, he would not yield
+without a struggle. He would take nothing on the bare word of a man who,
+after all, was a stranger. Everything should be proved up to the hilt
+before he relinquished possession.
+
+"Safe for the present!" Dick repeated, and there was a note of angry
+scorn in his voice. "Of course, if--if you are not mistaken, there is no
+question of safety."
+
+"No question of safety?"
+
+"Certainly not. If Anthony Riggleton is alive, and if he is the true
+heir to old Charles Faversham, he must make his claim, as I assume he
+will."
+
+"Then you will yield without a struggle?" and there was a peculiar
+intonation in Romanoff's voice.
+
+"No," cried Dick, "I shall not yield without a struggle. I shall place
+the whole matter in Bidlake's hands, and--and if I'm a pauper, I
+am--that's all."
+
+"I know a better way than that."
+
+"I don't understand you."
+
+"No, but you will in a minute. Faversham, there's no need for you to fix
+up anything, no need for anyone to know what only you and I know."
+
+"Look here," and Dick's voice trembled. "Are you sure that this fellow
+you talk about is Anthony Riggleton--and that he is the lawful heir?"
+
+Romanoff gave Dick a quick, searching glance; then he gave a peculiar
+laugh. "Am I sure that the man is Anthony Riggleton? Here's the
+photograph he gave me of himself. I compared the photograph with the
+man, and I'm not likely to be mistaken. The photograph is the exact
+representation of the man. You have photographs of Riggleton in this
+house; compare them. Besides, he's been here repeatedly; he's known, I
+imagine, to the servants, to the neighbours. If he is allowed to make a
+claim, it will not be a question of Roger Tichborne and Arthur Orton
+over again, my friend. He will be able to prove his rights."
+
+"What do you mean by saying, 'if he is allowed to make his claim'?"
+asked Dick hoarsely. "Of course he'll be allowed."
+
+"Why of course?
+
+"Naturally he will."
+
+"That depends on you. Did I not tell you that this was your hour of
+destiny?"
+
+"Then the matter is settled. I will not usurp another man's rights. If
+he's the lawful owner, he shall have his own. Of course, he will have to
+prove it."
+
+"You don't mean that?"
+
+"Of course I do. Why not?"
+
+"Because it would be criminal madness--the act of a fool!"
+
+"It is the only attitude for a decent fellow."
+
+Again Romanoff let his piercing eyes fall on Dick's face. He seemed to
+be studying him afresh, as though he were trying to read his innermost
+thoughts.
+
+"Listen, my dear fellow," and the Count calmly cut the end of a fresh
+cigar. "I want to discuss this matter with you calmly, and I want our
+discussion to be entirely free from sentimental rubbish. To begin with,
+there is no doubt that the man Anthony Riggleton is alive, and that he
+is the legal owner of all Charles Faversham's fabulous fortune. Of that
+I've no doubt. If he came here everyone would recognise him, while there
+is not a lawyer, not a judge or jury in the land, who would not acclaim
+him the owner of all which you thought yours. But, as I said, I like
+you. You were meant to be a rich man; you were meant to enjoy what
+riches can give you. And of this I am sure, Faversham: poverty after
+this would mean hell to you. Why, man, think what you can have--titles,
+position, power, the love of beautiful women, and a thousand things
+more. If you want to enter public life the door is open to you. With
+wealth like yours a peerage is only a matter of arrangement. As for Lady
+Blanche Huntingford----" and the Count laughed meaningly.
+
+"But what is the use of talking like that if nothing really belongs to
+me?" cried Dick.
+
+"First of all, Faversham," went on the Count, as though Dick had not
+spoken, "get rid of all nonsense."
+
+"Nonsense? I don't understand."
+
+"I mean all nonsense about right and wrong, about so-called points of
+honour and that sort of thing. There is no right, and no wrong in the
+conventional sense of the word. Right! wrong! Pooh, they are only bogys
+invented by priests in days of darkness, in order to obtain power. It is
+always right to do the thing that pays---the thing that gives you
+happiness--power. The German philosophy is right there. Do the thing you
+can do. That's common sense."
+
+"It's devilish!" exclaimed Dick.
+
+"Your mind's unhinged, excited, or you wouldn't say so," replied
+Romanoff. "Now, look at me," and he fastened Dick's eyes by his intense
+gaze. "Do I look like a fanatic, a fool? Don't I speak with the
+knowledge of the world's wisdom in my mind? I've travelled in all the
+countries in the world, my friend, and I've riddled all their
+philosophies, and I tell you this: there is no right, no wrong. Life is
+given to us to enjoy, to drink the cup of pleasure to its depths, to
+press from the winepress all its sweets, and to be happy."
+
+He spoke in low, earnest tones, and as he did so, Dick felt as though
+his moral manhood were being sapped. The glitter of the Count's eyes
+fascinated him, and while under their spell he saw as the Count saw,
+felt as he felt.
+
+And yet he was afraid. There was something awesome in all
+this--something unholy.
+
+"Look here!" and Dick started to his feet. "What do you mean by coming
+to me in this way? Why should you so coolly assert that the moralities
+of the centuries are nonsense? Who are you? What are you?"
+
+Again the Count laughed.
+
+"Who am I? What am I?" he repeated. "You remember Napoleon Bonaparte's
+famous words: 'I am not a man. I am a thing. I am a force. Right and
+wrong do not exist for me. I make my own laws, my own morals.' Perhaps I
+could say the same, Faversham."
+
+"Napoleon found out his mistake, though," protested Dick.
+
+"Did he? Who knows? Besides, better taste the sweets of power, if only
+for a few years, than be a drudge, a nonentity, a poor, struggling worm
+all your days."
+
+"But what do you want? What have you in your mind?"
+
+"This, Faversham. If you will listen to me you will treat Anthony
+Riggleton as non-existent----"
+
+"As non-existent?"
+
+"Yes, you can with safety--absolute safety; and then, if you agree to my
+proposal, all you hope for, all you dream of, shall be yours. You shall
+remain here as absolute owner without a shadow of doubt or a shadow of
+suspicion, and--enjoy. You shall have happiness, my friend--happiness.
+Did I not tell you that this was your day of destiny?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE INVISIBLE HAND
+
+
+Again Dick felt as though he were gripped by an irresistible power, and
+that this power was evil. It was true that the Count sat in the chair
+near him, faultlessly dressed, urbane, smiling, with all the outward
+appearance of a polished man of the world; all the same, Dick felt that
+an evil influence dominated the room. The picture which Romanoff made
+him see was beautiful beyond words, and he beheld a future of sensuous
+ease, of satisfied ambition, of indescribable delights. And what he saw
+seemed to dull his moral sense, to undermine his moral strength.
+Moreover, the man had by his news undermined the foundations of life,
+shattered the hopes he had nourished, and thus left him unable to fight.
+
+"Tell me that this is a--a joke on your part," Dick said at length. "Of
+course it's not true."
+
+"Of course it is true."
+
+"Well, I'll have it proved, anyhow. Everything shall be sifted to the
+bottom."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I'll go and see Bidlake to-morrow. I'll tell him what you've said."
+
+"You will do no such thing." The Count spoke in the most nonchalant
+manner.
+
+"Why not? Indeed, I shall."
+
+"You will not. I'll tell you why. First, because it would be criminally
+insane, and second, because you would be cutting your own throat."
+
+"Please explain."
+
+"Understand," replied Romanoff, "that this is really nothing to me after
+all. I do not benefit by your riches, or lose by your poverty. Why, I
+wonder, am I taking an interest in the matter?" And for the moment he
+seemed to be reflecting. "I suppose it is because I like you--of course
+that is it. Besides, I saved your life, and naturally one has an
+interest in the life one has saved. But to explain: accept for the
+moment the conventional standards of right and wrong, good and evil, and
+what is the result? Suppose you give up everything to Riggleton--what
+follows? You give up all this to an unclean beast. You put power in the
+hands of a man who hasn't an elevated thought or desire. You, now--if
+you are wise, and retain what you have--can do some good with your
+money. You can bring comfort to the people on your estates; you can help
+what you believe worthy causes. You, Faversham, are a gentleman at
+heart, and would always act like one. Mind, I _don't_ accept
+conventional morality; it is no more to me than so much sawdust. But I
+do respect the decencies of life. My education has thrown me among
+people who have a sense of what's fit and proper. Anyhow, judging from
+your own standards, you would be doing an _immoral_ thing by handing
+this great fortune to Riggleton."
+
+"Tell me about him," and Dick felt a tightening at the throat.
+
+"Tell you about him! An unsavoury subject, my friend. A fellow with the
+mind of a pig, the tastes of a pig. What are his enjoyments? His true
+place is in a low-class brothel. If he inherited Wendover Park, he would
+fill these beautiful rooms with creatures of his own class--men and
+women."
+
+The Count did not raise his voice, but Dick realised its intensity; and
+again he felt his influence--felt that he was being dominated by a
+personality stronger than his own.
+
+"No, no," he continued, and he laughed quietly as he spoke; "copy-book
+morality has no weight with me. But I trust I am a gentleman. If, to use
+your own term, I sin, I will sin like a gentleman; I will enjoy myself
+like a gentleman. But this man is dirty. He wallows in filth--wallows in
+it, and rejoices in it. That is Anthony Riggleton. Morality! I scorn it.
+But decency, the behaviour of a gentleman, to act as a gentleman under
+every circumstance--that is a kind of religion with me! Now, then,
+Faversham, would it not be criminal madness to place all this in the
+hands of such a loathsome creature when you can so easily prevent it?"
+
+Of course, the argument was commonplace enough. It was a device by which
+thousands have tried to salve their consciences, and to try to find an
+excuse for wrong-doing. Had some men spoken the same words, Dick might
+not have been affected, but uttered by Romanoff they seemed to undermine
+the foundations of his reasoning power.
+
+"But if he is in England?" he protested weakly.
+
+"He is, but what then?"
+
+"He must know; he must. He is not an idiot, I suppose?"
+
+"No; he is cunning with a low kind of cunning--the cunning of a sensual
+beast. Some would say he is clever."
+
+"Then he must find out the truth."
+
+"Not if you say he must not."
+
+"What have I to do with it?"
+
+"Everything," and Romanoff's eyes seemed to be searching into Dick's
+innermost soul.
+
+"But how? I do not understand," and he nervously wiped his moist hands.
+
+"Say so, and he must be got rid of."
+
+"How?"
+
+Romanoff laughed quietly. "These are good cigars, Faversham," he said,
+like one who was vastly enjoying himself. "Oh, you can do that easily
+enough," he continued.
+
+"How?" asked Dick. He felt his eyes were hot as he turned them towards
+the other.
+
+"I said treat him as though he were non-existent. Well, let him _be_
+non-existent."
+
+"You mean--you mean----" and Dick's voice could scarcely be recognised.
+
+"Why not?" asked the Count carelessly. "The fellow is vermin--just dirty
+vermin. But he is a danger--a danger to the community, a danger to you.
+Why, then, if it can be done easily, secretly, and without anyone
+having the slightest chance of knowing, should you not rid the world of
+such a creature? Especially when you could save all this," and he looked
+around the room, "as well as marry that divine creature, and live the
+life you long to live."
+
+"Never!" cried Dick. "What?--murder! Not for all the wealth ever known.
+No, no--my God, no!"
+
+"If there are good deeds in the world, that would be a good deed,"
+persisted Romanoff. "You would be a benefactor to your race, your
+country," and there was a touch of pleading in his voice. "Why, man,
+think; I have him safe--safe! No one could know, and it would be a
+praiseworthy deed."
+
+"Then why not do it yourself?" cried Dick. There was a sneer as well as
+anger in his voice.
+
+"I am not the next heir to the Faversham estates," replied Romanoff.
+"What does it matter to me who owns all that old Charles Faversham
+gained during his life?"
+
+"Then why suggest such a thing? Why, it's devilish!"
+
+"Don't--please, don't be melodramatic," the Count drawled. "Would you
+not kill a rat that ate your corn? Would you not shoot any kind of
+vermin that infested your house? Well, Riggleton is vermin, human vermin
+if you like, but still vermin, and he is not fit to live. If I,
+Romanoff, were in your position, I would have no more hesitation in
+putting him out of existence than your gamekeeper would have in shooting
+a dog with rabies. But, then, I am not in your position. I have nothing
+to gain. I only take a friendly interest in you. I have hurried to you
+with all speed the moment I knew of your danger, and I have told you how
+you can rid the world of a coarse, dirty-minded animal, and at the same
+time save for yourself the thing nearest your heart."
+
+"Did he come in the same vessel with you?"
+
+"Suffice to say that I know he is in England, and in safe keeping."
+
+"Where? How? England has laws to protect everyone."
+
+"That does not matter. I will tell you if you like; but you would be
+none the wiser."
+
+"Then you have arranged this?"
+
+"If you like--yes."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Still the same silly question. Have you no sense of proportion,
+Faversham? Haven't I told you again and again?"
+
+Dick was almost gasping for breath, and as he buried his head in his
+hands, he tried to understand, to realise. In calmer moments his mind
+would doubtless have pierced the cheap sophistry of the Count, and
+discarded it. But, as I have said, he was greatly excited, bewildered.
+Never as now did he desire wealth. Never as now had the thought of
+winning Lady Blanche seemed the great thing in life to be hoped for. And
+he knew the Count was right--knew that without his money she would no
+more think of marrying him than of marrying the utmost stranger. And yet
+his heart craved after her. He longed to possess her--to call her his
+own. He saw her as he had never seen her before, a splendid creature
+whose beauty outshone that of any woman he had ever seen, as the sun
+outshone the moon.
+
+And this Anthony Riggleton, whom the Count described as vermin, stood in
+his way. Because of a quibble on his part this loathsome thing would
+ruin his future, dash his hopes to the ground, blacken his life.
+
+But the alternative!
+
+"No, of course not!" he cried.
+
+"You refuse?"
+
+"Certainly I do. I'm not a murderer."
+
+"Very well, go your own way. Go to your Mr. Bidlake, see him shrug his
+shoulders and laugh, and then watch while your cousin--your
+_cousin_!--turns this glorious old place into a cesspool."
+
+"Yes; rather than stain my hands in----I say, Romanoff," and the words
+passed his lips almost in spite of himself, "there must be some deep
+reason why you--you say and do all this. Do you expect to gain anything,
+in any way, because of my--retaining possession of my uncle's wealth?"
+
+For the first time the Count seemed to lose possession over himself. He
+rose to his feet, his eyes flashing.
+
+"What!" he cried; "do you mean that I, Romanoff, would profit by your
+poor little riches? What is all this to me? Why, rich as you thought you
+were, I could buy up all the Faversham estates--all--all, and then not
+know that my banking account was affected. I, Romanoff, seek to help a
+man whom I had thought of as my friend for some paltry gain! Good-night,
+Mr. Richard Faversham, you may go your own way."
+
+"Stop!" cried Dick, almost carried away by the vehemence of the other;
+"of course, I did not mean----"
+
+"Enough," and the Count interrupted him by a word and a laugh. "Besides,
+you do not, cannot, understand. But to rid your mind of all possible
+doubt I will show you something. Here is my account with your Bank of
+England. This is for pocket-money, pin-money, petty cash as your
+business men call it. There was my credit yesterday. In the light of
+that, do you think that I need to participate in your fortune, huge as
+you regard it?"
+
+Dick was startled as he saw the amount. There could be no doubt about
+it. The imprimatur of the Bank of England was plainly to be seen, and
+the huge figures stood out boldly.
+
+"I'm sure I apologise," stammered Dick. "I only thought that--that--you
+see----"
+
+"All right," laughed the Count, "let it be forgotten. Besides, have I
+not told you more than once that I am interested in you? I have shown
+you my interest, and----"
+
+"Of course you have," cried Dick. "I owe you my life; but for you I
+should not be alive to-day."
+
+"Just so. I want to see you happy, Faversham. I want you to enjoy life's
+sweetness. I want you to be for ever free from the haunting fear that
+this Anthony Riggleton shall ever cross your path. That is why----"
+
+He hesitated, as though he did not know what to say next.
+
+"Yes," asked Dick, "why what?"
+
+"That is why I want to serve you further."
+
+"Serve me further? How?"
+
+"Suppose I get rid of Riggleton for you?"
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"Suppose I offer to get rid of Riggleton for you? Suppose without your
+having anything to do with him, without knowing where he is, I offer to
+remove him for ever from your path--would you consent?"
+
+"I consent?"
+
+"Yes; I must have that. Would you give it?"
+
+"You--you--that is, you ask me if I will consent to--to his--his
+murder?"
+
+"Just that, my friend. That must be--else why should I do it? But--but I
+love you, Faversham--as if you were my son, and I would do it for your
+happiness. Of course, it's an unpleasant thing to do, even although I
+have no moral scruples, but I'll do it for you."
+
+Again Dick felt as though the ground were slipping from under his feet.
+Never before was he tempted as he was tempted now, never did it seem so
+easy to consent to wrong. And he would not be responsible. He had
+suggested nothing, pleaded nothing. His part would be simply to be
+blindly quiescent. His mind was confused to every issue save one. He had
+only to consent, and this man Riggleton, the true owner of everything,
+would be removed for ever.
+
+"And if I do not?" he asked.
+
+"Then nothing more need be said. But look at me, Faversham, and tell me
+if you will be such a fool. If there is any guilt, I bear it; if there
+is any danger, I face it; do you refuse, Faversham? I only make the
+offer for your sake."
+
+Again Dick felt the awful eyes of the Count piercing him; it was as
+though all his power of judgment, all his volition were ebbing away. At
+that moment he felt incapable of resistance.
+
+"And if I consent?" he asked weakly.
+
+"Of course you will, you _will_, you WILL," and the words were repeated
+with peculiar intensity, while the eyes of the two met. "I only make one
+stipulation, and I must make it because you need a friend. I must make
+it binding for your sake."
+
+He took a piece of paper from a desk and scribbled a few words.
+
+"There, read," he said.
+
+Dick read:
+
+"I promise to put myself completely under the guidance of Count Romanoff
+with regard to the future of my life."
+
+"There, sign that, Faversham," and the Count placed the pen in his hand.
+
+Without will, and almost without knowledge, Dick took the pen.
+
+"What do you want me to do?" asked Dick dully.
+
+"Sign that paper. Just put 'Richard Faversham' and the date. I will do
+the rest."
+
+"But--but if I do this, I shall be signing away my liberty. I shall make
+myself a slave to you."
+
+"Nonsense, my dear fellow. Why should I interfere with your liberty?"
+
+"I don't know; but this paper means that." He was still able to think
+consecutively, although his thoughts were cloudy and but dimly realised.
+
+"Think, Faversham. I am undertaking a dirty piece of work for your sake.
+Why? I am doing it because I want you to be free from Anthony Riggleton,
+and I am doing it because I take a deep interest in you."
+
+"But why should I sign this?"
+
+In spite of the Count's influence over him, he had a dull feeling that
+there was no need for such a thing. Even although he had tacitly
+consented to Romanoff's proposal he saw no necessity for binding
+himself.
+
+"I'll tell you why. It's because I know you--because I read your mind
+like a book. I want to make you my protégé, and I want you to cut a
+figure in the life of the world. After all, in spite of Charles
+Faversham's wealth, you are a nobody. You are a commoner all compact.
+But I can make you really great. I am Romanoff. You asked me once if I
+were of the great Russian family, and I answered yes. Do you know what
+that means? It means that no door is closed to me--that I can go where I
+will, do what I will. It means that if I desire a man's aggrandisement,
+it is an accomplished fact. Not only are the delights of this country
+mine for the asking, but my name is an _Open Sesame_ in every land. My
+name and my influence are a key to unlock every door; my hand can draw
+aside the curtain of every delight. And there are delights in the world
+that you know nothing of, never dreamt of. As my protégé I want them to
+be yours. A great name, great power, glorious pleasures, the smile of
+beautiful women, delights such as the author of _The Arabian Nights_
+only dimly dreamt of--it is my will that you shall have them all.
+Charles Faversham's money and my influence shall give you all this and
+more. But I am not going to have a fretful, puling boy objecting all the
+time; I am not going to have my plans for your happiness frustrated by
+conscience and petty quibbles about what is good and evil. That is why I
+insist on your signing that paper."
+
+Romanoff spoke in low tones, but every word seemed to be laden with
+meanings hitherto unknown to Dick. He saw pictures of exquisite
+delights, of earthly paradises, of joys that made life an ecstasy.
+
+And still something kept his hand still. He felt rather than reasoned
+that something was wrong--that all was wrong. He was in an abnormal
+state of mind; he knew that the influences by which he was surrounded
+were blinding him to truth, and giving him distorted fancies about
+life's values.
+
+"No," he said doggedly; "I won't sign, and I won't consent to this
+devilish deed."
+
+Again Romanoff laughed. "Look at me, Dick, my boy," he said. "You are
+not a milksop; you were made to live your whole life. Fancy you being a
+clerk in an office, a store--a poor little manikin keeping body and soul
+together in order to do the will of some snivelling tradesman! Think of
+it! Think of Anthony Riggleton living here, or in London, in Paris, in
+India--or wherever he pleases--squandering his money, and satiated with
+pleasure, while you--you----Pooh! I know you. I see you holding Lady
+Blanche in your arms. I see you basking in the smiles of beautiful women
+all over the world. I see the name of Faversham world-wide in its
+power. I see----" and the Count laughed again.
+
+All the while, too, he kept Dick's eyes riveted on his own--eyes which
+told him of a world of sensuous delights, and which robbed him of his
+manhood. No, he could not bear to become poor again, and he would not
+give up the delights he had dreamt of. Right! Wrong! Good! Evil! They
+were only words. The Count was right. It was his right to enjoy.
+
+"All right, I'll sign," he said.
+
+He dipped the pen into the ink, and prepared to inscribe his name, but
+the moment he placed his hand on the paper it felt as though it were
+paralysed.
+
+"There is something here!" he gasped.
+
+"Something here? Nonsense."
+
+"But there is. Look!"
+
+It seemed to him that a ray of light, brighter than that of the electric
+current that burnt in the room, streamed towards him. Above him, too, he
+saw the face that was now becoming familiar to him. Strange that he had
+forgotten it during the long conversation, strange that no memory of the
+evening before, when over the doorway he had seen an angel's face
+beaming upon him and warning him, had come to him.
+
+But he remembered now. The night on the heaving sea, the vision on the
+island, the luminous form over the doorway of the house, all flashed
+before him, and in a way he could not understand Romanoff's influence
+over him lessened--weakened.
+
+"Sign--sign there!" urged the Count, pointing towards the paper.
+
+"What is the matter with your eyes?" gasped Dick. "They burn with the
+light of hell fire."
+
+"You are dreaming, boy. Sign, and let's have a bottle of wine to seal
+the bargain."
+
+"I must be dreaming," thought Dick. "An angel's face! What mad, idiotic
+nonsense!"
+
+He still held the pen in his hand, and it seemed to him that strength
+was again returning to his fingers.
+
+"Where must I sign?" he muttered. "I can't see plainly."
+
+"There--right at the point of your pen," was the Count's reply.
+
+But Dick did not sign, for suddenly he saw a white, shadowy hand appear,
+which with irresistible strength gripped his wrist.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A SCRAP OF PAPER
+
+
+Suddenly the spell, or whatever had enchained him, was broken. There was
+a noise of wheels on the gravel outside, and the sound of footsteps in
+the hall. He heard the Count mutter a savage oath, and a moment later
+the door opened and he heard a happy, clear, girlish voice:
+
+"Oh, Mr. Faversham, forgive me for coming; but I really couldn't help
+myself."
+
+It was Beatrice Stanmore who, unheralded and unaccompanied, stood by his
+side.
+
+He muttered something, he knew not what, although he felt as though a
+weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and strength came back to his
+being.
+
+"I really couldn't," the girl went on. "Granddad left me just after a
+very early dinner, and then I felt awfully miserable and depressed. I
+didn't know why. It was just ghastly. Nothing had happened, and yet I
+knew--why, I couldn't tell--that something was terribly wrong. Then
+something told me that you were in danger, that unless I came to help
+you, you would be--oh, I can't put it into words! You are not in danger,
+are you?"
+
+"It was very kind of you to come," muttered Dick. "I'm no end glad to
+see you."
+
+"But--but I'm afraid!" she said in her childish way. "I don't know what
+Granddad will say to me. You see, you are a stranger to me, and I had no
+right to come. But I couldn't help it--I really couldn't. Someone seemed
+to be saying to me all the time, 'Mr. Faversham is in deadly peril; go
+to him--go to him quick! quick!' And I couldn't help myself. I kept
+telling myself that I was very silly, and all that sort of thing, but
+all the time I heard the voice saying, 'Quick, quick, or you'll be too
+late!' But I'm afraid it's all wrong. You are all right. You are in no
+danger, are you?"
+
+"I'm no end glad to see you," he repeated. "And it is awfully good of
+you to come."
+
+He still seemed to be under strange influences, but he no longer felt as
+though his strength was gone. His heart was strangely light, too. The
+presence of the girl by his side gave him comfort.
+
+"You are not angry with me, then? I've not done wrong, have I?"
+
+"Wrong? No! You have done quite right--quite. Thank you very, very
+much."
+
+"I'm glad of that. When I had left our house I wanted to run to you.
+Then I thought of the car. I've learnt to drive, and Granddad thinks I'm
+very clever at it. I simply flew through the park. But I'm glad you are
+in no danger. I must go now."
+
+She had not once looked at Romanoff; she simply stood gazing at Dick
+with wide-open, childish-looking eyes, and her words came from her
+almost pantingly, as though she spoke under the stress of great
+excitement. Then she looked at the paper before him.
+
+"You are not going to write your name on that, are you?" she asked.
+
+"No," he replied; "I'm not."
+
+"You must not," she said simply. "It would be wrong. When I heard the
+words telling me to come to you I--I saw--but no, I can't recall it. But
+you must not sign that. I'll go now. Good-night, and please forgive me
+for coming."
+
+"Please don't go yet."
+
+"But I must. I could not stay here. There's something wrong, something
+evil. I'm sure there is."
+
+She glanced nervously towards Romanoff, and shivered. "Good-night," she
+said, holding out her hand. "I really must go now. I think the danger is
+over--I feel sure it is; and Granddad will be anxious if he comes back
+and does not find me."
+
+"I'll see you to the door," said Dick. "I shall never cease to thank you
+for coming."
+
+Leaving the paper on the table, and without looking at Romanoff, he
+opened the door to her, and passed into the hall.
+
+"Yes; I shall never cease to thank you," he repeated--"never. You have
+saved me."
+
+"What from?" and she looked at him with a strangely wistful smile.
+
+"I don't know," he replied--"I don't know."
+
+When they stood together on the gravel outside the door, he gave a deep
+sigh. It seemed to him as though the pure, sweet air enabled him to lift
+every weight from himself. He was free--wonderfully, miraculously free.
+
+"Oh, it is heavenly, just heavenly here!" and she laughed gaily. "I
+think this is the most beautiful place in the world, and this is the
+most beautiful night that ever was. Isn't the avenue just lovely? The
+trees are becoming greener and greener every day. It is just as though
+the angels were here, hanging their festoons. Do you like my car? Isn't
+it a little beauty?"
+
+"Yes," replied Dick. "May--may I drive you back?"
+
+"Will you? Then you can explain to Granddad. But no, you mustn't. You
+must go back to your friend."
+
+"He isn't my friend," replied Dick almost involuntarily; "he's just--but
+perhaps you wouldn't understand."
+
+"He isn't a good man," she cried impulsively. "I don't like him. I know
+I ought not to say this. Granddad often tells me that I let my tongue
+run away with me. But he's not a good man, and--and I think he's your
+enemy."
+
+Dick was silent.
+
+"Is he staying with you long?" she went on.
+
+"No, not long."
+
+"I'm glad of that. He isn't nice. He's--he's--I don't know what. I shall
+tell Granddad I've been here."
+
+"He won't be angry, will he?"
+
+"No; he's never angry. Besides, I think he'll understand. You'll come
+and see us soon, won't you?"
+
+"I'm afraid I shall not be able to. I'm going away."
+
+"Going away?"
+
+"Yes; I'm leaving Wendover Park. At least, I expect so."
+
+"You don't mean for always?"
+
+"Yes; for always. To-night has decided it."
+
+She looked at him wistfully, questioningly.
+
+"Has that man anything to do with it? Is he driving you away?"
+
+"No; he wants me to stay."
+
+She again scanned his features in a puzzled, childish way. "Of course, I
+don't understand," she said.
+
+"No; I hardly understand myself," and he spoke almost involuntarily.
+"Thank you very much for coming."
+
+She clasped his hand eagerly. "I shall be very sorry if you go," she
+said, "but please don't do anything that man asks you. Please don't."
+
+"I won't," replied Dick.
+
+He started the car for her, and then watched her while she drove down
+the avenue. Then he stood for a few seconds looking at the great
+doorway. He might have been expecting to see there what had been so
+plainly visible before, but there was nothing.
+
+The grey old mansion was simply bathed in the light of the dying day,
+while the silvery moon, which was just rising behind the tree-tops, sent
+its rays through the fast-growing leaves. But as Beatrice Stanmore had
+said, it was a most wondrous night. All nature was glorying in life,
+while the light breezes seemed to bring him distant messages. The birds,
+too, even although the sun had set, perhaps an hour before, sent their
+messages one to another, and twittered their love-songs as they settled
+to their rest.
+
+He waited on the steps for perhaps five minutes, then he found his way
+back to Romanoff. For some seconds neither said anything; each seemed to
+have a weight upon his lips. Then Romanoff spoke.
+
+"You refuse, then?"
+
+"Yes; I refuse."
+
+"What do you refuse?"
+
+"Everything. I refuse to allow you to do that devilish deed. I refuse to
+obey you."
+
+Romanoff laughed as his eyes rested on Dick's face.
+
+"You know what this means, of course?"
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"Then--then I interfere no further."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+Romanoff waited a few seconds before he spoke again. "Of course, you are
+very silly, Faversham," he said. "Soon you'll be sorry for this, and
+some time you'll need my help. Meanwhile I'm tired, and will go to bed."
+
+He passed out of the room as he spoke, and Dick noticed that the scrap
+of paper was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+COUNT ROMANOFF'S DEPARTURE
+
+
+The next morning when Dick came downstairs he found Romanoff evidently
+prepared for a journey. His luggage had been brought into the hall, and
+he was looking at a time-table.
+
+"Faversham, I am sorry that we part in this way," he said.
+
+"Are you going?" asked Dick.
+
+The Count looked at him steadily, as if trying to divine his state of
+mind--to know if he had changed his purposes since the previous evening.
+
+"Naturally," he replied.
+
+"You have settled on your train?"
+
+"Yes; I go by the 10.43."
+
+"Then I will see that a car is in readiness."
+
+As may be imagined, Dick had spent a well-nigh sleepless flight, and he
+was in a nervous condition; but upon one thing he had decided. He would
+be studiously polite to the Count, and would in no way refer to the
+happenings of the previous night. Even yet he had not made up his mind
+about his visitor, except that he agreed with Beatrice Stanmore. The man
+still fascinated him; but he repelled him also. There was something
+mysterious, evil, about him; but the evil was alluring; it was made to
+seem as though it were not evil.
+
+"Should you alter your mind," said the Count on leaving, "this address
+will find me. After to-night at ten o'clock, it will be useless to try
+to find me."
+
+Dick looked at the card he had placed in his hand, and found the name of
+one of the best hotels in London.
+
+When he had gone, the young man felt strangely lonely and fearfully
+depressed. The air seemed full of foreboding; everything seemed to tell
+him of calamity. As the morning passed away, too, he, more than once,
+found himself questioning his wisdom. After all, the Count had asked
+nothing unreasonable. Why should he not promise to be guided by a man
+who was so much older and wiser than himself? One, too, who could so
+greatly help him in the future.
+
+Again and again he wandered around the house, and through the gardens.
+Again and again he feasted his eyes upon the beauty of the park and the
+glory of the district. And it was his no longer! Could he not even
+now----
+
+No; he could not! If Anthony Riggleton were alive, and was the true heir
+to old Charles Faversham's wealth, he should have it. The thought of
+doing what Romanoff had proposed made him shudder.
+
+But he would not give up without a struggle. After all, he was in
+possession, and he was accepted as the owner of Wendover Park as well as
+heir to enormous wealth. Why, then, should he give it up? No; he would
+fight for what he held.
+
+The day passed slowly away. He ate his lonely lunch in silence, and
+then, taking a two-seater car, ran it in the direction of Lord
+Huntingford's house. Just as he was passing the gates Lady Blanche
+appeared, accompanied by a girl of about her own age.
+
+Almost unconsciously he lifted his foot from the accelerator and pressed
+down the brake.
+
+"Alone, Mr. Faversham?" she asked, with a radiant smile.
+
+"Quite alone, Lady Blanche."
+
+"Your guest is gone, then?"
+
+"He left this morning."
+
+"Then--then please excuse the informality--but then we are neighbours;
+won't you come to dinner _en famille_ on Thursday night? Father will be
+delighted to see you. And, oh, I want to introduce you to my friend
+here."
+
+He did not catch the girl's name, but it did not matter. He had only
+eyes and ears for this glorious woman. Her face was wreathed with
+smiles, while her eyes shone brightly. Surely such a woman was never
+known before. In a moment he had forgotten the previous night--forgotten
+the great crisis in his life.
+
+"Thursday! I shall be delighted!" he cried, lifting his cap.
+
+The two passed on, and he resumed his drive. Why did he not ask them to
+accompany him? Why? Why?
+
+His mind was in a turmoil. The sight of Lady Blanche had set his nerves
+tingling, and caused his blood to course madly through his veins. Her
+smile, her look, her attitude could only mean one thing: she thought
+kindly of him--she thought more than kindly of him.
+
+Then he remembered. Wendover Park was not his--nothing was his. If
+Romanoff told him truly, he was a pauper. All--all would have to be
+sacrificed.
+
+Where he went that afternoon he had no recollection. He only knew that
+he drove the car at its utmost speed, and that the country through which
+he was passing was strange to him. He wanted to get away from himself,
+from his thoughts, from everything that reminded him of the truth.
+
+He returned to Wendover Park in time for dinner, and from eight to ten
+o'clock he sat alone. On his arrival he had asked whether there had been
+any callers, any message, and on receiving an answer in the negative, he
+had heaved a sigh of relief. In the library after dinner, however, the
+whole ghastly position had to be faced, and for two hours his mind was
+torn first this way and then that.
+
+But he did nothing. He could not do anything. How could he?
+
+The evening--the night passed, and there was no happening. Everything
+was orderly, quiet, commonplace. He might never have seen the luminous
+figure at the doorway, never felt that awesome gripping of his wrist;
+indeed, the whole experience might have been a dream, so unreal was it.
+
+The next day passed, and still nothing happened. More than once he was
+on the point of ringing up Mr. Bidlake, but he refrained. What could he
+say to the keen old lawyer?
+
+He did not leave the house during the whole day. Almost feverishly he
+listened to every sound. No footstep passed unnoticed, no caller but was
+anxiously scanned. Every time the telephone bell rang, he rushed to it
+with fast-beating heart, only to heave a sigh of relief when he
+discovered that there was no message concerning the things which haunted
+his mind.
+
+Still another night passed, and still nothing happened. He was beginning
+to hope that Romanoff had been playing a practical joke on him, and that
+all his fears were groundless.
+
+Then just before noon the blow came.
+
+The telephone bell tinkled innocently near him, and on putting the
+instrument to his ear he heard Mr. Bidlake's voice.
+
+"Is that you, Mr. Faversham?
+
+"Mr. Faversham speaking. You are Mr. Bidlake, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+This was followed by a cough; then the lawyer spoke again.
+
+"Will you be home this afternoon?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I want to see you very particularly. A strange thing has happened.
+Grotesque, in fact, and I want you to be prepared for--for anything."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I don't like telling you over the telephone. I'm tremendously upset. I
+can hardly speak collectedly."
+
+"I think I know. It has to do with Anthony Riggleton and the Faversham
+estates, hasn't it?"
+
+"How did you know? Yes; it has. It's terribly serious, I'm afraid. I'd
+better see you at once. Some arrangement, some compromise might be
+made."
+
+"You mean that Riggleton is not dead? That you've seen him?"
+
+He spoke quite calmly and naturally. Indeed, he was surprised at his
+command over himself.
+
+"Yes; he's just left me. He's been here for two hours. Of course, I
+tried at first to take his visit as a joke, but----"
+
+"You are convinced that it _was_ Riggleton?"
+
+"I can have no doubt about it--no possible doubt. He's deadly in earnest
+too, and his case is overwhelming--simply overwhelming. Never, outside
+the realms of the wildest romance, did I ever come across a case where a
+lawyer could be so completely mistaken. But I can't help it, and I'm
+afraid that--that your prospects for the future are materially altered.
+Of course you might----"
+
+"You are coming down here, you say. There's a good train from Victoria
+at 1.45. Can you catch it?"
+
+"Ye--s. I think so."
+
+"Then I'll send a car to meet you at this end."
+
+He rang the bell, altered the time of lunch, and then sat down to think.
+But not for long. Calmly as he had talked to the lawyer, his every nerve
+was quivering with excitement, every faculty was in tension.
+
+He went to the window and looked out.
+
+All he saw was his no longer. He had no doubt about it, and it seemed to
+him that an icy hand was placed upon his heart as he realised it.
+
+And he might have retained it!
+
+Was he glad or sorry because of what he had done? Every particle of his
+being was crying out for the life he longed to live, and yet----As he
+thought of the price he would have to pay, as he remembered Romanoff's
+words, he did not repent.
+
+He calmly waited for the lawyer's arrival.
+
+By four o'clock Mr. Bidlake was on his way back to London again, and
+Dick knew that his own fate was sealed. The lawyer had proved to him
+that he had no right to be there, and while he advised him to put on a
+bold face, and in the last extremity to try and compromise with Anthony
+Riggleton, he held out no hope. Anthony Riggleton was beyond doubt the
+true heir of old Charles Faversham, and he had undisputable proofs of
+the fact.
+
+"I am more upset than I can say, Faversham," said the lawyer, when he
+had described Riggleton's visit, "but we can't help ourselves. He is
+perfectly sure of his ground, and he has reason to be."
+
+"He convinced you entirely, then?"
+
+"Absolutely--absolutely."
+
+Dick was still calm. Perhaps the experiences of the last few days left
+him almost incapable of feeling.
+
+"What sort of fellow is he?"
+
+The lawyer puckered up his face, and shook his head dismally. "He will
+not be a Society favourite," was all he said.
+
+"But he has no doubts as to his plans?"
+
+"He says he's going to take possession immediately. If you offer any
+opposition, he will apply for an injunction."
+
+"Has he any money?"
+
+"He appeared to be quite well off. His clothes are quite new," added the
+lawyer, "and he sported some very flashy jewellery. I was impressed by
+the thought that he had someone behind him."
+
+"Did he say so?"
+
+"No, not definitely, but I formed that impression. Anyhow, you can be
+certain of this. He will lose no time in making his claim. Indeed, I
+should not be at all surprised if the papers don't contain some notice
+of his advent and his claims to-morrow morning."
+
+"You said something about a compromise."
+
+"Yes, you see"--and the lawyer coughed almost nervously--"this will be
+very awkward for you. You've no right here; you've been spending money
+which has not been your own. Still, your case is not without its good
+points. You are in possession, you have been accepted as the owner
+of--all this, and even although he has the prior claim, you would have
+great sympathy from a jury--should it come to that. I told him so. I
+don't promise anything, but it might be that he might be disposed to--do
+something considerable to persuade you to leave him in possession
+quietly."
+
+"As a kind of salve for my disappointment?" and there was an angry light
+in Dick's eyes.
+
+"If you like to put it that way, yes. But, bless my soul, it is close on
+four o'clock, and I must be going. I can't say how sorry I am, and--and
+if I can do anything----"
+
+"Is the fellow married?" interrupted Dick.
+
+"No--nothing of that sort. After all, no one but he stands in the way of
+possession."
+
+"What shall I do?" Dick asked himself. "I'm worse off than I was before.
+At any rate I was in the way of earning a few hundred pounds when that
+wireless came. But now everything is altered, and I don't know where to
+turn. Still----" and there was a grim, hard look in his eyes.
+
+Slowly he walked down the avenue towards the lodge gates. Away in the
+distance, as though coming towards him, he saw a young girl. It was
+Beatrice Stanmore. He took a few steps towards her, and then turned
+back. Something forbade his speaking to her; somehow she seemed closely
+connected with the black calamity which had fallen on him.
+
+He had barely returned to the house when he heard the tooting of a motor
+horn, and, looking out, he saw a large, powerful motor-car coming
+rapidly up the avenue. A minute later he heard voices in the
+hall--voices which suggested recognition. Then the door opened.
+
+"Mr. Anthony Riggleton!" said the servant excitedly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+RIGGLETON'S HOMECOMING
+
+
+A young fellow about twenty-eight years of age entered the room. He was
+a round-faced, thickly built man, and he carried himself with a swagger.
+Evidently it had been his desire to get himself up for the occasion. His
+clothes were new, and shouted aloud of his tastes. They suggested a
+bookmaker. He smoked a large cigar, and wore an aggressive buttonhole.
+He did not take off his hat on entering, but, having advanced a couple
+of steps, took a survey of the room.
+
+"Yes," he said, and his voice was somewhat thick; "I remember the old
+place well. It's as natural as life." Then, coming up to where Dick was,
+he continued, "Of course you know who I am?"
+
+Dick, who had difficulty in repressing his excitement, mentioned
+something about never having seen him before.
+
+"Oh, stow that!" said the newcomer. "I'm Tony Riggleton, I am. You know
+that well enough."
+
+"I don't see why I should," and Dick's voice was a little angry. He
+instinctively disliked Tony Riggleton.
+
+"I do, though. Why, Bidlake hasn't been gone half an hour. Hopper has
+just told me."
+
+Dick was silent. He did not see at the moment what there was for him to
+say.
+
+"You guess why I'm here?" he went on.
+
+"I'm not good at guessing." Dick felt that Riggleton had the whip hand
+of him, and while he did not intend to make any concessions to his
+whilom cousin, he felt sure what the upshot of their meeting would be.
+
+"Oh, I say, Faversham," and Riggleton moved farther into the room, "it's
+no use taking the high hand with me. Of course I don't blame you, and
+naturally you're cut up. Anyone would be in your place. But there's
+nothing green about me. All this show belongs to me, and I mean to
+finger the coin. That's straight. Mind, I've come down here in a
+friendly way, and I don't want to be unreasonable. See? I'm old
+Faversham's heir. Old Bidlake was obliged to own it, although he
+wriggled like a ferret in a hole. I can see, too, that you're a bit of a
+swell, and would suit his book better than I can; but I can make the
+money go. Don't you make any mistake."
+
+He laughed as he spoke, and made a pretence of re-lighting his cigar.
+
+"Come now," he went on, "let's have a bottle of champagne, and then we
+can talk over things quietly."
+
+"There's nothing to talk over as far as I can see," interposed Dick.
+
+"What do you mean by that?" In spite of his assertive attitude, he did
+not appear at ease, and was constantly casting furtive and suspicious
+glances towards Dick.
+
+"I mean," replied Dick, "that if you are old Charles Faversham's heir,
+and if you can prove it, there's nothing more to be said."
+
+"You mean that you'll clear out quietly?"
+
+There was evident astonishment in his voice. Apparently he had expected
+bluster, and perhaps a scene.
+
+"Of course I shall clear out quietly. Naturally there are formalities
+with which you'll have to comply; but, if you are the true owner, you
+are, and there's no more to be said."
+
+Riggleton looked at him with open-mouthed wonder, evidently staggered
+that Faversham was taking the matter so calmly.
+
+Dick was silent. The fellow was getting on his nerves, and he had
+difficulty in keeping calm.
+
+"Then you don't mean to fight it out?" he continued.
+
+"Why should I?" asked Dick quietly. "You have placed your papers in Mr.
+Bidlake's hands, and left everything for his examination. Your identity
+will have to be proved, and all that sort of thing; but I hope I've too
+much self-respect to try to hold anything that isn't mine."
+
+"Put it there!" cried Anthony Riggleton, holding out his hand. "That's
+what I call acting like a gentleman, that is. I sort of thought you'd
+get your monkey up, and--but there. It's all right. There's nothing
+fishy about me. I don't pretend to be a saint, I don't. In fact, I don't
+believe old Uncle Charlie ever meant me to come in for all his wad.
+S'welp me bob, I don't. I was never his sort, and I don't mind telling
+you that he as good as kicked me out from here. You see, I was always
+fond of a bit of life, and I've gone the whole hog in my time. But
+that's all over now."
+
+"You mean that you're going to reform?"
+
+"Reform! Not 'alf. No, Faversham; I'm going to have the time of my life.
+I'm going to--but--I say, have you been here ever since you thought you
+came in for the old man's whack?"
+
+"Yes; why?"
+
+"You _are_ a plaster saint. By gosh, you are! But you don't see me
+burying myself in this hole. Of course it's very grand, and all that
+sort of thing; but, no, thank you! Tony Riggleton is going the whole
+hog. What's the use of money else? Of course I shall use the place now
+and then. When I feel my feet a bit I shall get some music-hall people
+down here for week-ends, and all that sort of thing. But, as for living
+here like Bidlake says you have!--no, thank you. London's my mark! I
+tell you, I mean to paint the town red. And then, if I can get passports
+and that sort of tommy-rot, I'll do Paris and Madrid and Rome. You don't
+catch me burying myself like a hermit. Not a little bit. Now I've got
+the money, I mean to make it fly. I _should_ be a fool if I didn't!"
+
+The man was revealing himself by every word he spoke. His tastes and
+desires were manifested by his sensual lips, his small, dull eyes and
+throaty voice.
+
+"Now, look here, Faversham," he went on, "I'll admit you are different
+from what I expected you to be. I was prepared for a bit of a shindy,
+and that's straight. But you've taken a knock-down blow in a sporting
+way, and I want to do the thing handsome. Of course I own this show just
+as I own all the rest of the old man's estates; but there's nothing mean
+about me. Live and let live is my motto. You can stay on here for a week
+or a fortnight if you like. I don't want to be hard. For that matter,
+although I'm going back to town to-night, I'll come back on Saturday and
+bring some bits of fluff from the Friv, and we'll make a week-end of it.
+I expect you've plenty of fizz in the house, haven't you?"
+
+Dick was silent. The conversation, only a part of which I have recorded,
+so disgusted him that, although he was not a Puritan by nature, he felt
+almost polluted by the man's presence. It seemed like sacrilege, too,
+that this fellow should turn Wendover Park into a sty, as he evidently
+meant to do, and he found himself wondering whether, after all, he would
+not have been justified in accepting Romanoff's offer.
+
+"Come, what do you say?" went on Riggleton. "I tell you----" and then he
+went on to give details of his programme. "There's no need for you to be
+so down in the mouth," he concluded. "There's plenty of money, as you
+know, and I'll not be hard on you."
+
+The fellow was so coarsely patronising that Dick with difficulty kept
+himself from starting up and rushing from the room. At that moment,
+however, a servant entered and brought him a telegram, and a moment
+later his brain seemed on fire as he read:
+
+     "Riggleton's claim undoubtedly valid, but can still save situation
+     if you accept my terms.--ROMANOFF, Hotel Cosmopolitan."
+
+The words burnt into his brain; he felt as he had felt a few nights
+before when Romanoff had placed the paper before him to sign.
+
+"Any answer, sir?"
+
+He looked towards a pen which lay on the table before him. Why should he
+not send back an acceptance?
+
+"I say," said Riggleton, "is that about the estate? Because if it is, I
+demand to see it."
+
+His tone was loud and arrogant. The sight of the telegram had evidently
+aroused his suspicions and his desire to assert his mastery.
+
+"Oh, I mean it," he went on. "I'm an easy chap to get on with, but I'm
+master here. I tell you that straight."
+
+Dick felt as though his nerves were raw; the man's presence was
+maddening. And he had to give up everything to him!
+
+"It's a purely personal telegram," he replied. "I'm only considering how
+I shall answer it."
+
+He seized a telegraph form, and dipped a pen into an inkstand, but he
+did not write a word. His mind again flew back to the night when
+Romanoff tempted him, and when he had felt a hand grip his wrist.
+
+"Let's get out," he said, cramming the telegram into his pocket.
+
+"Yes; let's," assented Riggleton; "but let's have a drink before we go.
+I say, my man," and he turned to the servant, who still waited, "bring a
+bottle of fizz. Yes; do as you're told. I'm your new master. Everything
+belongs to me. See?"
+
+The servant turned to Dick. Doubtless there had been a great deal of
+excited conversation in the servants' quarters, and he awaited
+confirmation of what he had heard.
+
+"Do as he tells you," assented Dick, and then he left the room.
+
+But he could not help hearing what took place between Riggleton and the
+servant.
+
+"What do you mean by looking to him?" asked Riggleton angrily. "Any of
+your nonsense and it'll be right about face with you. I'm master here
+and no error. It was all a mistake about Faversham. Everything belongs
+to me. See? And look here, there's going to be a change here. I ain't no
+milksop, I can tell you, and the whole lot of you'll have to get a move
+on, or out you go. It isn't much time that I shall spend in this gloomy
+hole, but when I am here there'll be something doing. I shall get the
+place full of a jolly lot of girls, and Wendover Park won't be no mouldy
+church, nor no bloomin' nunnery. You can bet your life on that.
+There'll be plenty of booze, and plenty of fun. Now then, get that fizz,
+and be quick about it."
+
+The man's raucous, throaty voice reached him plainly, and every word
+seemed to scrape his bare nerves. He left the hall, and went out on the
+lawn where the sun shone, and where the pure spring air came to him like
+some healing balm.
+
+This, then, was his cousin! This was the man who was the heir of old
+Charles Faversham's great wealth!
+
+The whole situation mocked him. He believed he had done the thing that
+was right, and this was the result of it.
+
+Like lightning his mind swept over his experiences, and again he
+wondered at all that had taken place. He tried to understand his strange
+experiences, but he could not. His thoughts were too confused; his brain
+refused to grasp and to co-ordinate what he could not help feeling were
+wonderful events.
+
+He looked towards the great doorway, where, on the day of his coming to
+Wendover Park, he had seen that luminous figure which had so startled
+him. But there was nothing to be seen now. He wondered, as he had
+wondered a hundred times since, whether it was an objective reality, or
+only the result of a disordered imagination. There, in the bright
+sunlight, with Anthony Riggleton's raucous voice still grating on his
+ears, he could not believe it was the former. But if it were pure
+imagination, why--why----And again his mind fastened on the things
+which in spite of everything were beginning to revolutionise his life.
+
+Then a thought startled him. He realised that a change had come over
+him. If he had met Tony Riggleton a few months before, neither the man's
+presence nor his language would have so disgusted him. He had writhed
+with anger when Riggleton had unfolded his plans to him, and yet a
+little while before he himself had contemplated a future which was not,
+in essence, so far removed from what his cousin had so coarsely
+expressed. Yes; he could not blind himself to the fact that
+since--since----But no, nothing was clear to him.
+
+"I say, Faversham."
+
+He turned and saw that Riggleton had joined him.
+
+"Show me around a bit, will you? You see, the old man wouldn't have me
+here much, and--I should like to talk things over."
+
+"I think, when Mr. Bidlake has got everything in order----"
+
+"Oh, hang Bidlake! Besides, it's no use your talking about Bidlake. I've
+settled with him. You don't feel like talking, eh? Very well, let's go
+for a walk."
+
+Almost instinctively Dick turned down the drive which led to the cottage
+where Beatrice Stanmore lived.
+
+"Yes," reflected Riggleton, after they had walked some time in silence;
+"I suppose this kind of thing appeals to a poetical bloke like you seem
+to be. But it doesn't do for Tony R. I love a bit of life, I do. I
+always did. Did you ever hear that I ran away from school, and went off
+on my own when I was fifteen? Went to sea, I did, and knocked about the
+world. I had a rough time, too; that's why I've no polish now. But I
+know the value of money, I do, and you may bet your bottom dollar that
+I'll make things hum. Ah, here we are at the lodge gates."
+
+Dick looked across a meadow, and saw old Hugh Stanmore's cottage. Even
+although it was some little distance away he could see the gaily
+coloured flowers in the garden and the pleasant quaintness of the
+cottage. But it was no longer his. In future it would belong to this
+clown by his side, and----
+
+His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a motor, and a few seconds
+later he caught sight of Lady Blanche Huntingford in her two-seater car.
+His heart gave a leap as he saw her put her foot on the clutch, while
+the car slowed down by his side.
+
+The girl smiled into his face. "You've not forgotten your promise for
+to-morrow night, Mr. Faversham?" she said, and then, stopping the
+engine, she stepped lightly into the lane.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+FAVERSHAM'S RESOLUTION
+
+
+It seemed to Dick that nothing could have happened more unfortunately.
+Painfully aware as he was that Anthony Riggleton was standing by his
+side, and devouring every detail of the girl's appearance, he felt
+ashamed that she should see him. He wanted to run away, longed to disown
+all knowledge of the vulgar creature who accompanied him.
+
+"No, I've not forgotten, Lady Blanche," he managed to say.
+
+"And we may expect you?" There was eagerness in her voice, expectancy in
+the gladness of her bright eyes.
+
+"I--I'm afraid not," he stammered.
+
+The girl flashed a quick look upon him--a look partly of questioning,
+partly of disappointment. "Really, Mr. Faversham----" she protested, and
+then stopped. Perhaps she felt that something untoward had taken place.
+
+"You see," he went on confusedly, "while I'd just love to come, things
+have happened since I saw you. I did not know----" and almost
+unconsciously he glanced towards Riggleton.
+
+"I say, Faversham," and Riggleton put on his most fascinating smile,
+"introduce me to your lady friend, won't you? I don't think, when I've
+been in the neighbourhood before, that I've had the pleasure of meeting
+the young lady."
+
+But Dick was silent. He simply could not speak of the fellow as his
+cousin. Evidently, too, Riggleton felt something of what was passing in
+Dick's mind; perhaps, too, he noticed the haughty glance which the girl
+gave him, for an angry flush mounted his cheeks, and his small eyes
+burnt with anger.
+
+"Oh, you don't feel like it!" he exclaimed aloud. "And no wonder. Well,
+miss, I'll tell you who I am. I'm the owner of this place, that's what I
+am. My name's Anthony Riggleton, and I'm what the lawyers call
+next-of-kin to old Charles Faversham. That's why I'm boss here. There's
+been a big mistake, that's what there's been, and Dick Faversham got
+here, not under false pretences--I don't say that--but because people
+thought I was dead. But I ain't dead by a long chalk. I'm jolly well
+alive, and I'm the heir. That's the situation, miss. I thought I'd tell
+you straight, seeing we may be neighbours. As for Dick here, of course
+he's jolly well disappointed. Not that I mayn't do the handsome thing by
+him, seeing he means to be reasonable. I may make him my steward, or I
+might make him an allowance. See?"
+
+The girl made no response whatever. She listened in deadly silence to
+Riggleton, although the flush on her cheek showed that the man's words
+had excited her. Also she looked at Dick questioningly. She seemed to be
+demanding from him either an affirmation or a denial of what the man
+said. But Dick remained silent. Somehow he felt he could not speak.
+
+"You don't seem to take me, miss," went on Riggleton, who might have
+been under the influence of the champagne he had been drinking, "but
+what I'm telling you is gospel truth. And it may interest you to know
+that I mean to paint this part of the country red. Oh, I'll shake things
+up, never fear. Might you be fond of hunting, and that kind of thing,
+miss? Because after the war I mean to go in for it strong."
+
+Still Lady Blanche did not speak to him. The only reply she made was to
+get into her car and turn on the engine. "Good afternoon, Mr.
+Faversham," she said. "Then must I tell my father that you'll not be
+able to come to-morrow?"
+
+"Perhaps you'd better," replied Dick, "but--I'll explain later."
+
+Almost unconsciously he lifted his hat, while the car passed out of
+sight.
+
+"By gosh!" exclaimed Riggleton, "she's a stunner, she is!--a regular
+stunner. Who is she?"
+
+But Dick turned and hurried up the drive towards the house. He felt
+that he could no longer bear to be near the creature who had robbed him
+of everything worth living for.
+
+"I say, you needn't be so huffy," cried Riggleton, who again joined him.
+"Why didn't you introduce me? I don't know when I've seen such a
+stunning bit of fluff. She looks regular top-hole stuff too! And hasn't
+she got a figure? And I say, Faversham, seeing that I said I was
+prepared to do the handsome by you, you might have done the correct
+thing. What! Oh, I suppose you were riled because I told her how things
+are. But the truth was bound to come out, man! Do you think I would be
+such a ninny as not to let her know I was the bloomin' owner of this
+show? Tell me, who is she?"
+
+"Lady Blanche Huntingford."
+
+He uttered the name curtly, savagely. He was angry with himself for
+having spoken at all.
+
+"Whew! She's Lord Huntingford's daughter, is she?" and he gave a hoarse
+laugh. "Well, she's a beauty, she is--just a beauty!"
+
+He laughed again in high good-humour, indeed, he seemed to be enjoying
+himself vastly.
+
+"You are a deep one, Faversham, you are," he shouted, as he slapped Dick
+on the back. "Here was I calling you a fool for staying in this hole
+instead of going to London and gay Paree. But I see the reason now.
+Dining with her to-morrow night, were you? And it seems that I've spoilt
+your little game. Well, she's a bit of all right, that's what she is. A
+regular bit of all right. I don't know but after all I shall do the
+country squire touch, and make up to her. What are you looking like that
+for?"
+
+For Dick's face was crimson with rage. The fellow's coarse vulgarity was
+driving him mad.
+
+"Are you in love with her?" persisted Riggleton. "Is that it?"
+
+Still Dick did not speak. He was walking rapidly towards the house--so
+rapidly that Riggleton had difficulty in keeping up with him.
+
+"I say, don't be huffy," went on Tony. "I'm sorry if I didn't do the
+correct thing. I didn't mean anything wrong, and I'm not up to the ways
+of the swells. As I told you, I ran away from school, and got in with a
+rough set. That was why, when I came back here, Uncle Charlie cleared me
+out. But I don't believe in grudges, I don't, and I'm sorry if I've put
+your nose out. I can't say fairer than that, can I?"
+
+Dick felt slightly ashamed of himself. He was beginning to understand
+Riggleton better now, and to appreciate his coarse kindness.
+
+"It's all right, Riggleton," he said, "and no doubt you've done the
+natural thing. But--but I don't feel like talking."
+
+"Of course you don't," said Tony, "and of course my coming is a regular
+knock-out blow to you. If it was me, I'd have--well, I don't know what I
+wouldn't have done. But I'm not such a bad chap after all. And look
+here, I meant what I said, and I'm prepared to do the handsome thing.
+You play fair with me, and I'll play fair with you. See? I shall make an
+unholy mess of things if I'm left alone, and if you like I'll keep you
+on here. You shall be my steward, and I'll make you a good allowance.
+Then you can stay here, and I'll give you my word of honour that I'll
+not try to cut you out with Lady Blanche, although she takes the fancy
+of yours truly more than any bit of fluff I've seen for years."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, drop it!" cried Dick, exasperated.
+
+"All right," laughed Tony. "I don't mind. There's plenty of girls to be
+had. Besides, she's not my sort. She's too high and mighty for me.
+Besides," and he laughed raucously, "it all comes back to me now. Once
+when I was here before, I nearly got into trouble with her. I was
+trespassing on her father's grounds, and she came along and saw me. She
+told me to clear out or she'd set the dogs on me. Good Lord! I'd
+forgotten all about it, and I never thought I'd see her again. So if
+you're gone on her, I'll give you a clear field, my boy. I can't say
+fairer than that, now can I?"
+
+They had reached the house, and Dick again, almost unconsciously, looked
+at the great doorway. He dreaded, yet he almost longed to see the great
+haunting eyes of the figure which, whether imaginary or real, had become
+such a factor in his existence.
+
+But there was nothing. No suggestion of the luminous form appeared.
+
+Of course it was all a mad fancy--all the result of exciting and
+disturbing experiences.
+
+"Riggleton," he said, when they had reached the library, "I want to be
+quiet; I want to think. You don't mind, do you? I'll explain presently."
+
+"As you like, my boy. Think as much as you bloomin' well want to. I see
+the servant hasn't taken away the fizz, so I'll have another drink."
+
+Dick threw himself on a chair and covered his face with his hands. He
+tried to think, tried to co-ordinate events, tried to understand the
+true bearings of the situation. But he could not. His mind was either a
+blank or it was filled with mad, confusing thoughts.
+
+What should he do?
+
+He thought he had decided on his course of action before Riggleton's
+advent, but now everything was a wild chaos; he seemed to be in a
+maelstrom. Should he accept Riggleton's offer? The fellow was a fool;
+there could be no doubt about that--a coarse-minded, vulgar, gullible
+fool. With careful treatment, he, Dick, could still remain master of
+Wendover Park; he could have all the money he wanted; he could--and a
+vista of probabilities opened up before him. He was sure he could play
+with his cousin as a cat plays with a mouse. He could get him in his
+power, and then he could do what he liked with him.
+
+And why not?
+
+Perhaps, perhaps----He turned towards Riggleton, who was pouring out a
+glass of champagne and humming a popular music-hall song. Yes; he could
+mould the fellow like clay; he could make him do anything--_anything_!
+
+He was on the point of speaking, of starting a conversation which would
+naturally lead to the thing he had in his mind, but no words passed his
+lips. It seemed to him as though two distinct, two antagonistic forces
+were in the room. Almost unconsciously he took Romanoff's telegram from
+his pocket, and as he did so, he felt as though the sender was by his
+side; but even while he thought of the man he remembered something else.
+He remembered the night when he had unfolded his plans to him, and when
+he had pointed to the paper which he had prepared for him.
+
+Again he felt the grip of the hand upon his wrist, again he felt a
+presence which he could not explain--a presence which forbade him to
+sign away his liberty--his soul.
+
+He thought, too, how immediately afterwards that guileless child
+Beatrice Stanmore had rushed into the room, and had told him that she
+had been impelled to come to him.
+
+Suddenly a prayer came to his lips: "O God, help me! For Christ's sake,
+help me!"
+
+It was strange, bewildering. He was not a praying man. He had not prayed
+for years, and yet the prayer, unbidden, almost unthought of, had come
+into his heart.
+
+"Well, have you made up your mind?"
+
+It was Tony Riggleton's voice, and he felt like a man wakened out of a
+trance.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good. You take me on, eh? We'll be pals, and you'll stay on here as my
+steward?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What are you going to do, then?"
+
+"I'm going to London."
+
+"To London, eh? But when?"
+
+"To-night."
+
+"To-night! Well, I'm----But--but, all right. I'll drive you there in my
+car, and we'll make a night of it."
+
+"No, thank you. Look here, Riggleton, I'm very much obliged to you, and
+I appreciate all you have said; but our paths must lie apart."
+
+"Lie apart?" Tony's mind was a little confused. "You mean to say that
+you don't accept the allowance I'm willing to make you?"
+
+"I mean that. I thank you very much, but I don't accept."
+
+"But--but what are you going to do?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Have you any money?"
+
+"No. Yes, I have, though. I've a few pounds which I saved before I
+thought I--I was----"
+
+"Old Uncle Charlie's heir," concluded Tony as Dick hesitated. "But what
+about the estate?"
+
+"The lawyer must settle all that. I'm sorry I'm intruding here. I'll go
+and pack my things right away. Some day I'll repay you for the money
+I've spent while I've been here."
+
+"Look here," and Tony came to Dick's side, "don't you be a fool. You
+just take things sensibly. Pay me money! Money, be blowed! You just----"
+
+"No, thank you. I'll go now if you don't mind."
+
+He left the room as he spoke, and a few minutes later he had packed a
+small suit-case. He returned to the room where Tony still remained.
+
+"Good-bye, Riggleton; I'm off."
+
+"But you--you're mad."
+
+"I think I am. Good-bye."
+
+"But where are you going?"
+
+"To the station. If I make haste I shall catch the next train to
+London."
+
+Riggleton looked at him in open-mouthed wonder. "Well, you _are_ a
+fool!" he gasped.
+
+Dick rushed out of the house without a word to the servants. He felt as
+though he dared not speak to them. Something in his heart--something
+which he could not explain--was telling him to fly, and to fly quickly.
+
+When he reached the doorway he turned and looked. He wanted to see
+if--if----But there was nothing. The westering sun shed its bright rays
+not only on the house, but on the flowers which bloomed in glorious
+profusion; but there was no suggestion of anything beyond the ordinary
+to be seen.
+
+"Of course I _am_ a fool," he reflected; "perhaps I am mad," and then he
+again tried to understand the experiences which had so bewildered him.
+But he could not. All was confusion.
+
+He hurried along the drive which led to the lodge near which Beatrice
+Stanmore lived. He had a strange longing to see once more the home of
+the child who had come to him in the hour of his dire temptation.
+
+When he had gone some distance he turned to have a last look at the
+house. Never had it seemed so fair; never as now did he realise what he
+was leaving. What a future he was giving up! What a life he was
+discarding! Yes; he had been a fool--an egregious fool! Oh, the folly of
+his actions!--the mad folly!
+
+"Holloa, Mr. Faversham!"
+
+He turned and saw Beatrice Stanmore.
+
+"You are going away?"
+
+"Yes; I'm going to London."
+
+"And walking to the station? Why?"
+
+"Because I've no conveyance."
+
+The girl looked at him wonderingly. Questions seemed to hang upon her
+lips--questions which she dared not ask.
+
+"I'm going away," he went on, "because nothing is mine. There's been a
+great mistake--and so I'm going away. Do you understand?"
+
+She looked at him with childlike wonder. In years she was nearly a
+woman, but she was only a child in spirit.
+
+"But surely you need not go and leave everything?" she queried.
+
+"No; I need not go." He hardly knew what he was saying. He seemed like a
+man under a spell.
+
+"Then what makes you go?"
+
+"You," he replied. "Don't you remember? Good-bye."
+
+He hurried on without another word. He felt he was going mad, even if he
+were not mad already. And yet he had a kind of consciousness that he was
+doing right.
+
+"But I will come back some day," he said between his set teeth. "I'll
+not be beaten! Somehow--somehow I'll make my way. I'll conquer--yes,
+I'll conquer! At all hazards, I'll conquer!"
+
+There was a grim determination in his heart as he set his face towards
+the unknown.
+
+
+
+
+PART II.--THE SECOND TEMPTATION
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+MR. BROWN'S PROPHECY
+
+
+"Yes, Mr. Faversham; I see such a future before you as was never
+possible to any other Englishman."
+
+The speaker was a man about fifty years of age, short, stout, well fed,
+seemingly prosperous. A smile played around his lips---a smile which to
+a casual observer suggested a kindly, almost a childlike, innocence. He
+might have been interested in orphan schools, charity organisations, or
+any other philanthropic movement. His voice, too, was sympathetic and
+somewhat caressing, and his whole appearance spoke of a nature full of
+the milk of human kindness.
+
+The two men were sitting in the corner of a smoking-room in a London
+club. A most respectable club it was, whose members were in the main
+comprised of financiers, prosperous merchants, and men of the upper
+middle classes. Money was writ large everywhere, while comfort, solid
+comfort, was proclaimed by the huge, softly cushioned chairs, the
+thickly piled carpets, and the glowing fires. Any stranger entering the
+club would have said that its members were composed of men who, having
+plenty of this world's goods, meant to enjoy the comforts which their
+gains justly entitled them to.
+
+Dick Faversham, to whom the words were spoken, smiled, and the smile was
+not without incredulity and a sense of wonder.
+
+"Yes," went on the speaker, "you smile; you say in your heart that I am
+a bad example of my theories; but one mustn't be deceived by
+appearances. You think, because I am fat and prosperous, that I take no
+interest in my fellow-creatures, that I do not dream dreams, see
+visions, eh? Is not that so?"
+
+"Not at all," replied Dick; "but your views are so out of accord with
+all this," and he looked around the room as he spoke, "that I am
+naturally a bit puzzled."
+
+"It is because I have accustomed myself to this, because I have seen
+inside the minds of rich men, and thus understand their prejudices and
+points of view, that I also see the other things. You have seen me in
+places different from this, my friend."
+
+"Yes," replied Dick; "I have."
+
+"Little as you have realised it," went on the other, "I have watched you
+for years. I have followed you in your career; I have seen your
+sympathies expand; I have been thrilled with your passion too. You did
+not suspect, my friend, three years ago, that you would be where you are
+to-day, eh?"
+
+"No," assented Dick; "I didn't."
+
+"You have thought much, learnt much, suffered much, seen much."
+
+"Yes; I suppose so," and a wistful look came into his eyes, while his
+face suggested pain.
+
+"It is said," went on the stout man, "that there is no missioner so
+ardent, so enthusiastic, as the new convert; but, as I have told you,
+you do not go far enough."
+
+Dick was silent.
+
+"You are spoken of by many as a man with advanced ideas, as one who has
+an intense passion for justice, as one, too, who has advanced daring
+plans for the world's betterment; but I, the fat old Englishman, the
+respectable millionaire, the man whom Governments have to consider--mark
+that--the man whom Governments have to consider and consult, tell you
+that your scheme, your plans are mere palliatives, mere surface things,
+mere sticking-plasters on the great, gaping sores of our times. That if
+all your ideas were carried out--yes, carried out to the full--you would
+not advance the cause of humanity one iota. In a few months the old
+anachronisms, the old abuses, would again prevail, while you would be a
+back number, a byword, a fellow who played at reform because you neither
+had the vision to see the world's real needs nor the courage to attempt
+real reform. A back number, my dear sir, and a mere play-actor to boot."
+
+The fat man watched the flush on Dick's face as he spoke, and was
+apparently gratified.
+
+"You see," he went on, still watching Dick's face closely, "I am getting
+on in life, and I have shed my illusions. I have my own philosophy of
+life, too. I do not believe that the reformer, that the man who lives to
+relieve the woes of others must of necessity be a monk, a Peter the
+Hermit, a Francis of Assisi. The labourer is worthy his hire; the great
+worker should have a great reward. Why should honour, riches, fall into
+the lap of kings who do nothing, of an aristocracy which is no
+aristocracy? Youth is ambitious as well as altruistic. Thus ambitions
+should be ministered unto, realised. Shakespeare was only a shallow
+parrot, when he wrote the words, 'Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away
+ambition.' The man who flings away ambition becomes a pulpy reed. He
+lacks driving force, lacks elemental passions. If one opposes primitive
+instincts, one is doomed to failure."
+
+"Pardon me if I fail to see what you are driving at," interposed Dick.
+
+"You'll see in a minute," asserted the other. "What I urge is this: the
+man who sets up a new kingdom should be a king. It is his right. The man
+who sees a new earth, a more glorious earth, an earth where justice and
+right abound, and where neither poverty nor discontent is known--I say
+the man who sees that new earth and brings it to pass should rule over
+it as king. He should have, not the pomp and empty pageantry of a paltry
+hereditary king, but the honour, the power, the riches of the true
+king."
+
+The man paused as if he expected Dick to reply, but no reply was
+forthcoming. Still, the stout man was evidently satisfied by his survey
+of Dick's face, and he noted the flash of his eyes.
+
+"That is why, to come back to where we were a few minutes ago," he went
+on, "I see such a future for you as was never possible to any other
+Englishman. I see you, not only as the man who will revolutionise the
+life of this starved and corrupt country, not only as the man who will
+bring in a new era of prosperity and happiness for all who are citizens
+of the British Empire, but as the man who can enjoy such a position,
+such honours, such riches as no man ever enjoyed before. Do you follow
+me? The people who are redeemed will make haste to heap glory and honour
+upon their redeemer."
+
+"History does not bear that out," was Dick's reply.
+
+"No, and why, my friend? I will tell you. It is because the men who have
+aimed to be saviours have been fools. It is because they have been blind
+to the elemental facts of life. The first business of the saviour is not
+self-interest--I do not say that--but to regard his own welfare as
+essential to the welfare of others. The man who allows himself to be
+crucified is no true saviour, because by allowing it he renders himself
+powerless to save. No, no, I see you, not only as one who can be a great
+reformer, and as one who can strike death-blows at the hoary head of
+abuse, but as one who can lift himself into such fame and power as was
+never known before. The plaudits of the multitudes, the most glorious
+gifts of the world, the love of the loveliest women--all, all, and a
+thousand times more, can be yours. That is your future as I see it, my
+friend."
+
+"Do you know what I think of you?" asked Dick, with a nervous laugh.
+
+"It would be interesting to know," was the reply.
+
+"That your imaginative gifts are greater than your logical powers."
+
+The stout man laughed heartily. "I suppose I puzzle you," he replied.
+"You think it strange that I, the financier, the millionaire if you
+like, who eats well, drinks good wine, smokes good cigars, and who is a
+member of the most expensive clubs in London, should talk like this, eh?
+You think it strange that I, who two hours hence will be hobnobbing with
+financiers and Cabinet ministers, should be talking what some would
+call rank treason with an advanced labour leader, eh? But do not judge
+by outward appearances, my friend; do not be misled by the world's
+opinions. It is not always the ascetic who feels most acutely or
+sympathises most intensely.
+
+"As I told you, I have watched you for months--years. For a long time I
+did not trust you; I did not believe you were the man who could do what
+I saw needed doing. Even when I heard you talking to the masses of the
+people--yes, carrying them away with the passion of your words--I did
+not altogether believe in you. But at length I have come to see that you
+are the man for my money, and for the money of others."
+
+Again he looked at Dick keenly.
+
+"Ah, I astonish you, don't I? You have looked upon such as I as enemies
+to the race. You have not realised that there are dozens of millionaires
+in this city of millionaires who almost hate the money they have made,
+because they see no means whereby it can be used for the uplifting and
+salvation of the oppressed and downtrodden. They do not talk about it,
+yet so it is. I tell you frankly, I would at this moment give
+half--two-thirds--of all I possess if thereby I could carry out the
+dream of my life!"
+
+The man spoke with passion and evident conviction. There was a tremor in
+his voice, and his form became almost rigid. His eyes, too, flashed with
+a strange light--a light that spoke almost of fanaticism.
+
+"You already have in your mind what burns in mine like a raging
+furnace," he went on. "You see from afar what has become a fixed,
+settled conviction with me. You behold as a hazy vision what I have
+contemplated for a long time, until it is clearly outlined, thoroughly
+thought out. I will tell you what it is directly. And if that great
+heart of yours, if that fine quick mind of yours does not grasp it,
+assimilate it, and translate it into actuality, it will be one of the
+greatest disappointments of my life. I shall for evermore put myself
+down as a blind fool, and my faith in human nature will be lost for
+ever."
+
+"Tell me what it is," and Dick's voice was tense with eagerness.
+
+Months, years had passed since Dick had left Wendover Park, and both his
+life and thoughts had become revolutionised. Perhaps this was not
+altogether strange. His manner of life had been altered, his outlook
+altogether new.
+
+Even now as he looked back over those fateful days he could not
+understand them. They seemed to him rather as some wild fantastic series
+of dreams than as sane and sober realities. Yet realities they were,
+even although they were a mystery to him. Often in his quiet hours he
+caught himself thinking of the figure of the woman in the smoke-room of
+the outward-bound ship, which no one but himself could see, while again
+and again he almost shivered as he felt himself sinking in the black,
+turbulent sea, while conflicting powers seemed to be struggling to
+possess him. Indeed, the wonder of that night never left him. The light
+which shone in the darkness, the luminous form above him, the great,
+yearning, pitying eyes which shone into his, and the arms outstretched
+to save.
+
+Sometimes it was all visionary and unreal--so visionary was it that he
+could not believe in its reality, but at other times he could not doubt.
+It was all real--tremendously real. Especially was it so as he thought
+of those after days when he had fought the greatest battles of his life.
+Again and again he had seen himself in the library at Wendover while
+Romanoff stood beside him and told him of his plans; again and again had
+he recalled the moment when he took the pen in his hand to sign the
+paper, and had felt the grip on his wrist which had paralysed his hand.
+
+Was it real, or was it imaginary?
+
+"Suppose I had signed it?" he had often asked himself; "where should I
+be now? I should be a rich man--the owner of old Charles Faversham's
+huge fortune. Possibly I should have married Lady Blanche Huntingford
+and acted the part of the rich squire. But what would Romanoff have
+exacted of me? What would be my thoughts about Tony Riggleton?"
+
+Yes; those were wonderful days, whether they were a dream or a reality,
+and sometimes he called himself a fool for not following the Count's
+advice, while at others he shuddered to think of the dangers from which
+he had escaped.
+
+He had never seen nor heard of Lady Blanche since. On his arrival in
+London he had written an explanatory letter, and had expressed the hope
+that she would not lose interest in him. But he had received no reply.
+Evidently she regarded him as a kind of an impostor, with whom she could
+no further associate herself.
+
+Neither had he ever seen or heard of Romanoff. This dark, sinister man
+had passed away into the shadows, and only remained a strange memory, a
+peculiar influence in his life.
+
+Of Tony Riggleton he had heard various stories, all of which were of the
+same nature. Tony had been true to the programme he had marked out. He
+had filled Wendover Park with a motley crowd of men and women, and the
+orgies there were the talk of the neighbourhood. He had also a flat in
+London where he had indulged in his peculiar tastes.
+
+It was on hearing these stories that Dick had felt that he had acted the
+fool. He had become cynical, too, and laughed at the idea that virtue
+and honour were wise.
+
+"If I had followed Romanoff's advice," he had said to himself, "I might
+have----" And repeatedly he had recounted what he might have done with
+the wealth which he had thought was his.
+
+For many months Dick had a hard struggle to live. His few weeks of
+riches had unfitted him for the battle of life. Society was shaken to
+its foundations; the world was a maddening maze. Again and again he had
+offered himself for the Army--only to be rejected. He was conscious of
+no illness, but the doctors persistently turned him down.
+
+Presently he drifted towards the industrial North of England and became
+employed in a huge factory where thousands of people worked. It was here
+that Dick's life underwent a great change. For the first time he found
+himself the daily, hourly companion of grimy-handed toilers.
+
+This gave him a new vision of life; it placed new meanings on great
+problems; he was made to look at life from new angles. For the first
+time he felt the squalor, the ugliness of life. He lived in a grimy
+street, amidst grimy surroundings. He saw things as the working classes
+saw them, saw them with all their grey unloveliness, their numbing
+monotony.
+
+Still ambitious, still determined to carve out a career, he felt
+oppressed by the ghastly atmosphere in which he found himself. He was
+now fast approaching thirty, and he found himself unable to adapt
+himself to his new conditions. He thought of all he had hoped to do and
+be, and now by some sport of fate he had become engulfed in this
+maelstrom of life.
+
+Little by little the inwardness of it all appealed to him. He had to do
+with men and women who were drunken, foul-mouthed, depraved. What wonder
+that he himself was becoming coarsened every day! Things at which he
+would once have shuddered he now passed by with a shrug of his
+shoulders. How could the working classes be refined, how could they have
+exalted ideas amidst such surroundings?
+
+He noticed the tremendous disparity between the moneyed and the working
+classes. The former were deliberately exploiting the great world
+convulsion, and the peculiar conditions caused thereby, to make huge
+profits. It was all wrong--utterly wrong. What was the worker, on whose
+labour everything depended? Mere means for swelling the capitalists'
+profits. Who cared about them? Politicians talked glibly about what they
+meant to do; but they did nothing.
+
+Newspapers shrieked, and capitalists talked about the disloyalty of the
+working classes. How could men go on strike while the very existence of
+empire, civilisation, humanity hung in the balance? they asked. But what
+of their own disloyalty? What of those who held a pistol at the head of
+the Government, and threatened to disorganise the trade of the country
+and paralyse output, if they could not stuff their money-bags still
+fuller?
+
+And so on, and on. His new environment changed him--changed his
+sympathies, his thoughts, his outlook. He thought of Tony Riggleton
+spending the money these people were making for him in wild orgies among
+loose men and women, and he became angry and bitter.
+
+Little by little his superior education asserted itself. He found, too,
+that he had a remarkable aptitude for public speech. He discovered that
+he could sway huge multitudes by the burning fervour of his words. He
+was able to put into language what the people felt, and before long
+became a popular hero.
+
+The world was in a state of flux; old ideas, old conceptions were swept
+aside as worn-out fallacies. What ten years before were regarded as
+madmen's dreams no longer appeared either unreasonable or quixotic. The
+forces of life had become fluid, and it was the toiler of the nation who
+was to decide into what channels the new movements were to flow.
+
+And Dick became a doctrinaire, as well as a dreamer of a new heaven and
+a new earth. He became an ardent reader, too. He was surprised at the
+ease with which his mind grasped theories hitherto unknown to him, how
+he absorbed the spirit of unrest, and how he flung himself into the
+world's great fray.
+
+"Faversham's our man," people said on every side. "He's got eddication,
+he's got a fair grip on things, and he can knock the masters to
+smithereens when it comes to argument and the gilt o' th' gab."
+
+"But who is he?" asked others. "He's noan our sort. He was noan brought
+up a workin' man."
+
+"Nay, but he's a workin' man naa. He's worked side by side with the best
+on us, and he knows how to put things. I tell thee, he mun go into
+Parlyment. He'll mak 'em sit up. He mun be our member."
+
+This feeling became so strong that Dick was on two occasions selected to
+be one of deputations to the Prime Minister, and more than that, he was
+chosen to be the chief spokesman to state the workers' claims.
+
+In all this, not only were his sympathies aroused, but his vanity was
+appealed to. It was very pleasant to feel himself emerging from
+obscurity; the roar of cheering which the mention of his name elicited
+became as sweet as the nectar of the gods to him.
+
+Again he saw visions, and dreamt dreams. They were different from those
+of the old days, but they did a great deal to satisfy him. They told him
+of position, of power, of a place among the great ones of the world.
+Sometimes he was almost glad that Tony Riggleton inherited Charles
+Faversham's huge fortune. If he had retained it, and gained high
+position, that position would have been through the toil and brain of
+another. Now he would do everything by himself--unaided and alone.
+
+More than once during the many stormy and excited meetings Dick had
+attended, he had seen a kindly, benevolent-looking man, whose face
+suggested the milk of human kindness. Dick rather wondered how he came
+there, and on asking his name was told that he was called John Brown,
+and that, although he did not directly belong to the working classes, he
+was in deep sympathy with them, and had more than once subscribed to
+their funds. Presently Dick became acquainted with Mr. Brown, and
+something like intimacy sprang up between them.
+
+He found that Mr. Brown was a great admirer of his speeches, and more
+than once that gentleman had hinted that if he found any money
+difficulty in entering Parliament, he, John Brown, would see that the
+difficulty should be removed.
+
+"I am almost ashamed of being something of a capitalist," he confided to
+Dick, "but, at any rate, I can use what money I have for the advance of
+the cause which is so dear to me."
+
+Just before Dick was going to London the next time, he received a letter
+from Mr. Brown asking him to meet him at a well-known club. "I have
+certain things to say to you," he said, "certain propositions to make
+which I think will be worthy of your consideration."
+
+On Dick's arrival in London he made certain inquiries about Mr. Brown,
+which, however, did not help him much. He was by no means a prominent
+character, he learnt, but he was believed by many to be a man of
+enormous wealth. He was told, moreover, that he was somewhat eccentric,
+and loved doing good by stealth.
+
+It was therefore with aroused curiosity that Dick made his way to the
+club in question. He was not yet quite sure of his man, and so he
+determined to listen carefully to what Mr. Brown had to say without
+committing himself. Before long he found himself deeply interested. The
+stout, benevolent-looking man was revealing himself in a new light, and
+Dick found himself listening with fast-beating heart.
+
+"Yes; I will tell you what it is," said Mr. Brown. "I will make plain to
+you what I meant when I said that I see such a future before you as was
+never possible to any other Englishman."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+AN AMAZING PROPOSAL
+
+
+Dick unconsciously drew his chair nearer the fire, while every nerve in
+his body became tense. He felt that the millionaire had not brought him
+here for mere pastime.
+
+"Tell me," said Mr. Brown, "what your plans for the future are."
+
+"Too hazy to outline," was Dick's reply.
+
+"That's truer than you think, my friend--far truer than you think;
+that's why your position is so absurd. And yet you answer me falsely."
+
+Dick gave the other a look that was almost angry.
+
+"No, no, my friend," went on Mr. Brown; "do not mistake me. I do not
+accuse you of falsehood. You think you are speaking the truth. But you
+are not. In a way, your plans are defined. You mean to be Member of
+Parliament for Eastroyd. You mean to be the first Labour Member for that
+great working-class constituency. Already you have been approached by
+the various unions of the town, and you have been assured that you will
+be returned by a triumphant majority. And you've practically accepted,
+although you have persuaded yourself that you've not yet made up your
+mind. So far so good--or bad; but you are unsettled. There is something
+at the back of your mind that you can't explain. It doesn't satisfy you.
+Am I not speaking the truth?"
+
+"Perhaps," assented Dick.
+
+"And naturally, too. Oh, my young friend, I know--I know. I have been
+through it all. What is a Labour Member after all? Just one of a few
+others, who is submerged by the great so-called Liberal and Conservative
+Parties. What can he do? Speak now and then when he's allowed to, beat
+the air, be listened to by a handful of his own supporters, and then
+forgotten. Consider the history of the Labour Party. What influence has
+it really had on the life of the nation? My friend, the government of
+the country is still in the hands of the upper and middle classes in
+spite of all you do and say."
+
+"Pardon me," interrupted Dick, "but what are you driving at? What you
+say may be partly true, but at least the hope of the working classes,
+politically speaking, lies in the Labour Party."
+
+"Moonshine, my friend--mere moonshine. The atmosphere of the British
+House of Commons stifles the aspiration of the Labour Members. One by
+one they are absorbed into the old orthodox parties, and nothing is
+done. You know it, too. That's why the thought of becoming a Labour
+Member is unsatisfying to you. You would never be a real power, and you
+would always be regarded as an outsider, and you would never touch the
+helm of affairs."
+
+Dick was silent. After all, he was not a working man. He had social
+ambitions. He desired not only to be a prominent figure among the
+working classes; he wanted to be an equal of, a peer amongst the
+dominant forces of the world. He still remembered Lady Blanche
+Huntingford--as a Labour Member he would be outside her sphere.
+
+"You see it, don't you?" persisted Mr. Brown.
+
+"And if I do? What then?"
+
+"Everything then, my friend. Your present plans would end in nothing.
+Not only would you fail to do anything real for the people, but you
+yourself would be stultified. A Labour Member! What is he?--a man who,
+socially, is patronised; who is recognised only on sufferance; who, if
+he marries, must marry a commoner, a woman of the people, with all her
+limitations. Oh, I know, I know. And meanwhile the working people still
+continue to be trodden underfoot, and who toil for what they can squeeze
+out of their employers--their social superiors. Yes, yes, you are
+impatient with me. You say I am a long time in getting to my point. But
+be patient, my friend; I will get there. I only want you to realise the
+truth."
+
+"Then please get to your point," urged Dick a little impatiently.
+
+"I will," replied Mr. John Brown, and he placed his chubby hand on
+Dick's knee. "Here is the fact, my friend: we live in a time when
+nothing is impossible. The world is in travail, in wild convulsions. The
+new channels of life are not made. All the forces of life are in a state
+of flux. Now is the time for the real leader, the strong man. The great
+proletariat is waiting for that leader, longing for him. The people are
+tired of the old worn pathways; they are waiting for the new kingdom,
+the new deliverer."
+
+"You are still in the clouds," cried Dick. "Come down to the solid
+earth."
+
+"I will, my friend. England is ripe for real reform, ripe for the new
+order. The open sores of the country cannot be healed by
+sticking-plasters. They must be cauterised; the cancers must be cut out.
+In one word--Revolution!"
+
+Dick started to his feet, and took a hasty glance around the room. For a
+wonder, it was empty. They were alone.
+
+"You are mad!" he cried.
+
+"Of course I am," laughed Mr. Brown. "Every man is called mad who sees a
+new heaven and a new earth. But, my friend, I speak as an Englishman, as
+one who loves his country. I am a patriot, and I want to see a greater,
+grander England. I want to see a Britain that shall be happy,
+prosperous, contented. I want to destroy poverty, to smash up the old
+order of things--an order which has dragged squalor, misery, poverty,
+injustice, inequality at its heels. I am tired--_tired_ of seeing
+criminal wealth and mad luxury and waste on the one hand, and abject
+grinding poverty on the other. And to cure it all you must go to the
+roots of things; there must be great upheavals, revolutions. The land
+must be the people's, the mineral must be the people's, the water, the
+food, the wealth, the Army, the Navy, the _everything_ must belong to
+the people."
+
+"Bolshevism!" The word came from him abruptly--angrily.
+
+"Yes, Bolshevism," replied the other; "and what then?"
+
+"Russia!" and there was a sneer in Dick's voice as he uttered the word.
+
+"Yes, Russia if you like. And still, what then? Would you have Russia go
+on century by century as it had been going? Would you have scores upon
+scores of millions of men and women go on existing as they were
+existing? You know the history of Russia for ten centuries past. What
+has it been?--a criminal, bloated, corrupt, cruel, overbearing,
+persecuting aristocracy and bureaucracy on the one hand, and a welter of
+poor, suffering, starving, outraged, diseased, dying people on the
+other. That was Russia. And desperate diseases need desperate remedies,
+my friend. Of course, the very name of Russia is being shuddered at just
+now. But think, my friend. Birth is always a matter of travail, and
+Russia is being re-born. But wait. In ten years Russia will be regarded
+as the pioneer of civilisation--as the herald of a new age. Russia is
+taking the only step possible that will lead to justice, and to peace,
+and prosperity for all."
+
+"You don't mean that!" Dick scarcely knew that he spoke.
+
+"I am as certain of it as that I sit here. I swear it by whatever gods
+there be!"
+
+Plain, stout Mr. John Brown was changed. Dick forgot his fat, chubby
+hands, his round, benevolent, kindly, but commonplace face. It was a new
+Mr. John Brown that he saw. A new light shone in his eyes, a new tone
+had come to his voice, a seemingly new spirit inspired him.
+
+"I go further," cried Mr. Brown, "and I say this: England--the British
+Isles need the same remedy. All that you have been thinking about are
+sticking-plasters--palliatives, and not cures. What England needs is a
+Revolution. All the old corrupt, crushing forces must be destroyed, the
+old gods overthrown, and a new evangelist must proclaim a new gospel."
+
+"A madman's dream," protested Dick. "Let's talk of something else."
+
+"Not yet," replied Mr. John Brown. "Tell me this, you who long for a new
+heaven and a new earth--you who plead for justice, for fraternity, for
+brotherhood: do you believe that the programme--I mean the organised
+programme--of the Labour Party or the Socialist Party will ever bring
+about what you desire?"
+
+Dick was silent.
+
+"Ah, you are honest. You know it will not. In your heart of hearts you
+know, too, that nothing but a thorough upheaval, a complete Revolution
+of the bad old order of things can bring about what you desire. Patching
+up an old building whose walls are cracked, whose drains are corrupt,
+whose foundations are insecure, is waste of time and energy. If you want
+a new sanitary house the old place has to be demolished and the rubbish
+_cleared away_! That's it, my friend. That's what's needed in this
+country. The rubbish must be cleared away. That's what the people want.
+For the moment they are crying out for something, they hardly know what,
+but they will have a Revolution, and they are longing for a leader to
+lead them, a prophet to interpret their needs."
+
+"But for England to become another Russia!" Dick's response was that of
+a man who had not yet grasped all that was in the other's mind.
+
+"There is no need of that. Because England has not sunk to the depths of
+Russia, her revolution would be less violent. There would be no need for
+excesses, for violence. But here is the fact, my friend: three-fourths
+of our population belong to the wage-earning classes; they are the
+toilers and the moilers; let the true gospel be preached to them, let
+the true prophet and leader appear, and they would follow him."
+
+"And who is to be the prophet, the leader?"
+
+"You, my friend."
+
+"I!" gasped Dick.
+
+"You. Richard Faversham. You who have tasted the sweets of wealth. You
+who have toiled and sweated with the workers. You who have eyes to see,
+ears to hear. You who have the power to interpret the people's
+longings. You who have the qualities of the leader, who can take them to
+the Promised Land. You!"
+
+"Madness!"
+
+"You say that now. You will not say it in a few hours from now. You can
+understand now what I meant when I startled you an hour ago by saying
+that I see such a future before you as was never possible to any
+Englishman. You are young; you are ambitious. It is right you should be.
+No man who is not ambitious is worth a rotten stick to his age. Here is
+such a career as was never known before. Never, I say! Man, it's
+glorious! You can become the greatest man of the age--of all the ages!"
+
+Mr. Brown looked at Dick intently for a few seconds, and then went on,
+speaking every word distinctly.
+
+"A Labour Member, indeed! A voting machine at four hundred a year! The
+hack of his party organisation! Is that a career for a man like you?
+Heavens, such a thought is sacrilege! But this, my friend, is the
+opportunity of a life--of all time."
+
+"Stop!" cried Dick. "I want to grasp it--to think!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+"THE COUNTRY FOR THE PEOPLE"
+
+
+"But you _are_ mad," said the young man at length. "Even if you are
+right in your diagnosis of the disease from which the country is
+suffering, if the remedy you suggest is the only one, I am not the man
+you need. And even if I were, the remedy is impossible. England is not
+where France was a hundred years ago; she is not where Russia is
+to-day."
+
+"And you are not a Lenin, a Trotsky, eh?" and Mr. John Brown laughed
+like a man who had made a joke.
+
+"No, thank Heaven, I am not," and Dick spoke quickly. "I do not believe
+in the nationalisation of women, neither do I believe in the destruction
+of the most sacred institutions of life."
+
+"Of course you don't," replied Mr. John Brown, "and I am glad of it.
+Russia has gone to many excesses which we must avoid. But what can you
+expect, my friend? After centuries of oppression and persecution, is it
+any wonder that there has been a swing of the pendulum? The same thing
+was true of France a hundred years ago. France went wild, France lost
+her head, and neither Danton nor Robespierre checked the extravagances
+of the people. But, answer me this. Is not France a thousand times
+better to-day than when under the Bourbons and the Church? Is not such a
+Republic as France has, infinitely better than the reign of a corrupt
+throne, a rotten aristocracy, and a rottener Church? Besides, did not a
+great part of those who were guillotined deserve their doom?"
+
+"Perhaps they did; but--but the thing is impossible, all the same."
+
+"Why impossible?"
+
+"For one thing, Lenin and Trotsky are in a country without order and
+law. They murdered the Tzar and his family, and they seized the money of
+the Government and of the banks. Such a thing as you suggest would need
+millions, and you could not get any body of Englishmen to follow on the
+Russian lines. Besides--no, the thing is impossible!"
+
+"Money!" repeated Mr. John Brown, like a man reflecting. "I myself would
+place in your hands all the money you need for organisation and
+propaganda."
+
+"In _my_ hands!"
+
+"In your hands, my friend. Yes, in your hands. But we have talked enough
+now. You want time to think over what has been said. But will you do
+something, my friend?"
+
+"I don't know. I suspect not."
+
+"I think you will. To-night I want you to accompany me to a place where
+your eyes will be opened. I want you to see how deep are the feelings of
+millions, how strong is the longing for a leader, a guide. You, who have
+felt the pulses of the millions who live and act in the open, have no
+idea of what is felt by the millions who act in the dark."
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"Of course you don't. You and other so-called Labour leaders, because
+you mingle with a class which you call the people, think you know
+everything. You believe you know the thought, the spirit of the age.
+Come with me to-night and I will show you a phase of life hitherto
+unknown to you. You will come? Yes?"
+
+"Oh yes, I will come," replied Dick, with a laugh. The conversation had
+excited him beyond measure, and he was eager for adventure.
+
+"Good. Be at the entrance to the Blackfriars Underground Station
+to-night at eleven o'clock."
+
+"At eleven; all right."
+
+Mr. John Brown looked at his watch, and then gave a hasty glance round
+the room. He saw two portly looking men coming in their direction.
+
+"I am sure you will excuse me, Mr. Faversham. It is later than I
+thought, and I find I have appointments. But it has been very
+interesting to know your point of view. Good evening. Ah, Sir Felix, I
+thought you might drop in to-night," and leaving Dick as though their
+talk had been of the most commonplace nature, he shook hands with the
+newcomers.
+
+Dick, feeling himself dismissed, left the club, and a minute later found
+himself in the thronging crowd of Piccadilly. Taxicabs, buses, richly
+upholstered motor-cars were passing, but he did not heed them. People
+jostled him as he made his way towards Hyde Park gates, but he was
+unaware of it. His head was in a whirl; he was living in a maze of
+conflicting thoughts.
+
+Of course old John Brown was a madman! Nothing but a madman would
+advance such a quixotic programme! He pictured the club he had just
+left--quiet, orderly, circumspect--the natural rendezvous for City and
+West End magnates, the very genius of social order and moneyed
+respectability. How, then, could a respected member of such a place
+advance such a mad-brained scheme?
+
+But he had.
+
+Not that he--Dick Faversham--could regard it seriously. Of course he had
+during the last two years been drawn into a new world, and had been led
+to accept socialistic ideas. Some, even among the Socialists, called
+them advanced. But this!
+
+Of course it was impossible.
+
+All the same, there was a great deal in what John Brown had said. A
+Labour Member. A paid voting machine at £400 a year! The words rankled
+in his mind.
+
+And this scheme was alluring. The country for the people!...
+
+He made his way along the causeway, thinking of it.
+
+A Revolution! The old bad, mad order of things ended by one mighty
+upheaval! A new England, with a new outlook, a new Government!... A
+mighty movement which might grip the world. A new earth....
+
+And he--Dick Faversham?
+
+Here was scope for new enterprises! Here was a career! On the one hand,
+a paid working man member at £400 a year, regarded with a supercilious
+smile by the class to which he really belonged; and, on the other, a
+force which shook Society to its foundations--a leader whose name would
+be on all lips....
+
+Of course it was all nonsense, and he would drive it from his mind.
+
+And he would not meet Mr. John Brown that night. What a madcap idea to
+go to some midnight gathering--where, Heaven only knew! And for what?
+
+He had reached Park Lane, and almost unconsciously he turned eastward.
+
+He could not remember a single thing that had happened during his walk
+from Park Lane to Piccadilly Circus. The great tide of human life surged
+to and fro, but he was oblivious of the fact.
+
+He was thinking--wildly thinking.
+
+Then suddenly he gave a start. Just as he reached the Circus he saw a
+face which set his heart beating wildly.
+
+"Ah, Faversham, is that you?"
+
+"Count Romanoff!" Dick almost gasped.
+
+"Yes; who would have thought of seeing you? Still, the world is small."
+
+The Count was not changed. He still carried himself proudly, and was
+dressed to perfection. Also, he still seemed to regard others with a
+degree of indifference. He was the same contemptuous, cynical man of the
+world.
+
+"What are you doing, eh? Still living at Wendover Park?"
+
+"No. You know I am not."
+
+"No? Ah, I remember now. I have been knocking around the world ever
+since, and had almost forgotten. But your quondam cousin entered
+possession, didn't he? But you, what did you do?"
+
+"Oh, I--I drifted."
+
+"Drifted--where?--to what? You look changed. Things are not going well
+with you, eh?"
+
+"Yes--quite well, thank you."
+
+"Yes? You married Lady Blanche? But no, I should have heard of it."
+
+"No; I did not marry. I am living in Eastroyd."
+
+"Eastroyd! Where's that?"
+
+"Don't you know?"
+
+"Never heard of it before. Is it in England?"
+
+Dick was growing angry; there was a sneer in every tone of the man's
+voice. He felt a mad desire to make the Count see that he had become a
+man of importance.
+
+"Yes; it's in the North," he replied. "It's a huge town of a quarter of
+a million people. A great industrial centre."
+
+"And what are you doing there?"
+
+"I'm contemplating an invitation to become a Member of Parliament for
+the town. I'm assured that, if I accept, my return to the House of
+Commons is certain."
+
+"Ah, that's interesting. And which side will you take--Conservative or
+Liberal? Conservative, I suppose?"
+
+"No; I should stand as a Labour candidate."
+
+"As a----Surely I didn't hear you aright?"
+
+"Quite right. My sympathies have come to lie in that direction."
+
+"But--but--a Labour Member! I thought you had some pretensions to be a
+gentleman."
+
+Dick felt as though he had received the lash of a whip. He wanted to
+lash back, to make Romanoff feel what he felt. But no words came.
+
+"You have no sympathy with the working classes?" he asked feebly.
+
+"Sympathy! What gentleman could? See what they've done in my own
+country. I had little sympathy with Nicky; but great heavens, think! Of
+course I'm angry. I had estates in Russia; they had been in the families
+for centuries--and now! But the thing is a nightmare! Working classes,
+eh! I'd take every mal-content in Europe and shoot him. What are the
+working classes but lazy, drunken swine that should be bludgeoned into
+obedience?"
+
+"I don't think you understand the British working classes," was Dick's
+response.
+
+"No? I'm sure I don't want to. I prefer my own class. But pray don't let
+me keep you from them. Good evening."
+
+Without another word, without holding out his hand, the Count turned on
+his heel and walked away.
+
+The incident affected Dick in two ways. First of all, it made his
+experiences three years before in the Wendover Park very shadowy and
+unreal. In spite of everything, he had not been able to think of the
+Count save as an evil influence in his life, as one who desired to get
+him into his power for his own undoing. He had had a vague belief that
+in some way unknown to him, Romanoff desired to hold him in his grip for
+sinister purposes, and that he had been saved by an opposing power. Had
+he been asked to assert this he would have hesitated, and perhaps been
+silent. Still, at the back of his doubt the feeling existed. But now,
+with the memory of the Count's contemptuous words and looks in his mind,
+it all appeared as groundless and as unreal as the fabric of a dream. If
+he had been right, he would not have treated him in such a fashion.
+
+The other way in which the incident affected him was to arouse an angry
+determination to win a position equal to and superior to that which
+would be his as Charles Faversham's heir. He would by his own endeavours
+rise to such heights that even the Count's own position would pale into
+insignificance. After all, what were kings and princes? Their day was
+over. Soon, soon thrones all over the world would topple like ninepins;
+soon the power of the world would be in new hands.
+
+A Labour Member, indeed! Working people swine, were they? Soon the
+working people of the world would be masters! Then woe be to a useless,
+corrupt aristocracy! As for the leaders of the toilers...
+
+"I'll meet Mr. John Brown again to-night," he reflected. "I'll go to
+this, this!... I wonder what he has in his mind?"
+
+Meanwhile Count Romanoff wandered along Piccadilly till he came to St.
+James's Street. He was smiling as though something pleasant had happened
+to him. His eyes, too, shone with a strange light, and he walked like a
+victor.
+
+He walked past the Devonshire Club, and then turned into a street
+almost opposite St. James's Square. Here he looked at his watch and
+walked more slowly. Evidently he knew his way well, for he took several
+turnings without the slightest hesitation, till at length he reached a
+house at the corner of a street. He selected a key from a bunch, opened
+the door of the house, and entered. For a moment he stood still and
+listened; then, walking noiselessly along a thick carpet, he opened the
+door of a room and entered.
+
+"Sitting in the dark, eh? Reflecting on the destiny of nations, I
+suppose?"
+
+The Count's manner was light and pleasant. He was in a good humour. He
+switched on the light and saw Mr. John Brown. It would seem that they
+had met by appointment.
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Brown; "I was reflecting on the destiny of
+nations--reflecting, too, on the fact that the greatest victories of the
+world are won not by armies who fight in the open, but by brains that
+act in the dark."
+
+"You have seen him. I know that."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I know everything, my friend. You met him about an hour ago. You had a
+long talk with him. You have baited your hook, and thrown it. Before you
+could tell whether the fish would rise, you thought it better to wait.
+You decided to make further preparations."
+
+"Romanoff, I believe you are the devil."
+
+"Many a true word is spoken in jest, my friend. But, devil or not, am I
+not right?"
+
+"You have seen him? He has told you?"
+
+"He has told me nothing. Yes, he has, though. He has told me he had
+ambitions to be a Labour Member of Parliament."
+
+"But nothing more?"
+
+"Nothing more. I was passing along the street and spoke to him."
+
+The two were looking at each other eagerly, questioningly. Mr. John
+Brown's face had become flabby; the flesh around his eyes was baggy. The
+eyes had a furtive look, as though he stood in awe of his companion.
+Romanoff, too, in spite of his claim to omniscience, might be a little
+anxious.
+
+"The fellow's career is a miracle," remarked Mr. John Brown at length.
+"A millionaire one day, a pauper the next. And then to settle down as a
+toiler among toilers--to become the popular hero, the socialist leader,
+the rebel, the seer of visions, the daring reformer! A miracle, I say!
+But with proper guidance, he is the man we need. He can do much!"
+
+Count Romanoff laughed like one amused.
+
+"Germany is in a bad way, eh? Poor Wilhelm, what a fool! Oh, what a
+fool!"
+
+"Be quiet!" cried the other hoarsely. "Even here the walls may have
+ears, and if it were suspected that----"
+
+"Exactly, my friend," sneered the Count. "But tell me how you stand."
+
+For some time they talked quietly, earnestly, the Count asking questions
+and raising objections, while Mr. John Brown explained what he had in
+his mind.
+
+"Germany is never beaten," he said--"never. When arms fail, brains come
+in. Russia has become what Russia is, not by force of arms, but by
+brains. Whose? And Germany will triumph. This fellow is only one of many
+who are being used. A network of agencies are constantly at work."
+
+"And to-night you are going to introduce him to Olga?" and the Count
+laughed.
+
+"The most fascinating woman in Europe, my friend. Yes; to-night I am
+going to open his eyes. To-night he will fall in love. To-night will be
+the beginning of the end of Britain's greatness!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE MIDNIGHT MEETING
+
+
+Dick Faversham stood at the entrance of the underground station at
+Blackfriars Bridge. It was now five minutes before eleven, and the
+traffic along the Embankment was beginning to thin. New Bridge Street
+was almost deserted, for the tide of theatre-goers did not go that way.
+Dick was keenly on the look out for Mr. John Brown, and wondered what
+kind of a place he was going to visit that night.
+
+He felt a slight touch upon his shoulder, and, turning, he saw Mr. Brown
+go to the ticket office.
+
+"Third single for Mark Lane," he said, carelessly throwing down two
+coppers, yet so clearly that Dick could not help hearing him.
+
+Without hesitation Dick also went to the office and booked for the same
+place. Mr. Brown took no apparent notice of him, and when the train came
+in squeezed himself into a third-class compartment. Having secured a
+seat, he lit a cheap black cigar.
+
+Dick noticed that he wore a somewhat shabby over-coat and a hat to
+match. Apparently Mr. Brown had not a thought in his mind beyond that of
+smoking his cigar and reading a soiled copy of an evening paper.
+
+Arrived at Mark Lane, Mr. Brown alighted and, still without taking
+notice of Dick, found his way to the street. For some time he walked
+eastward, and then, having reached a dark alley, turned suddenly and
+waited for Dick to come up.
+
+"Keep me in sight for the next half-mile," he said quickly. "When I stop
+next, you will come close to me, and I will give you necessary
+instructions."
+
+They were now in a part of London which was wholly strange to the young
+man. There were only few passers-by. It was now nearly midnight, and
+that part of London was going to sleep. Now and then a belated traveller
+shuffled furtively along as though anxious not to be seen. They were in
+a neighbourhood where dark things happen.
+
+Evidently Mr. John Brown knew his way well. He threaded narrow streets
+and dark alleys without the slightest hesitation; neither did he seem to
+have any apprehension of danger. When stragglers stopped and gave him
+suspicious glances, he went straight on, unheeding.
+
+Dick on the other hand, was far from happy. He did not like his midnight
+journey; he did not like the grim, forbidding neighbourhood through
+which they were passing. He reflected that he was utterly ignorant where
+he was, and, but for a hazy idea that he was somewhere near the river,
+would not know which way to turn if by any chance he missed his guide.
+
+Presently, however, Mr. Brown stopped and gave a hasty look around.
+Everywhere were dark, forbidding-looking buildings which looked like
+warehouses. Not a ray of light was to be seen anywhere. Even although
+vast hordes of people were all around the spot where he stood, the very
+genius of loneliness reigned.
+
+He beckoned Dick to him, and spoke in low tones.
+
+"Be surprised at nothing you see or hear," he advised in a whisper.
+"There is no danger for either you or me. This is London, eh? And yet
+those who love England, and are thinking and working for her welfare,
+are obliged to meet in secret."
+
+"Still, I'd like to know where we are going," protested Dick. "I don't
+like this."
+
+"Wait, my young friend. Wait just five minutes. Now, follow me in
+silence."
+
+Had not the spirit of adventure been strong upon the young fellow, he
+would have refused. There was something sinister in the adventure. He
+could not at all reconcile Mr. John Brown's membership of the club he
+had visited that afternoon with this Egyptian darkness in a London slum.
+
+"Follow without remark, and without noise," commanded the older man,
+and then, having led the way a few yards farther, he flashed a light
+upon some narrow stone steps.
+
+Dick was sure he heard the movement of a large body of water. He was
+more than ever convinced that they were close to the Thames.
+
+Mr. Brown descended the steps, while Dick followed. His heart was
+beating rapidly, but he had no fear. A sense of curiosity had mastered
+every other feeling. At the bottom of the steps Mr. Brown stopped and
+listened, but although Dick strained his powers of hearing, he could
+detect no sound. The place might have been exactly what it appeared in
+the darkness--a deserted warehouse.
+
+"Now, then," whispered Mr. Brown, and there was excitement in his voice.
+
+A second later he tapped with his stick on what appeared to be the door
+of the warehouse. Dick, whose senses were keenly alert, counted the
+taps. Three soft, two loud, and again two soft ones.
+
+The door opened as if by magic. There was no noise, and Dick would not
+have known it was opened save for the dim light which was revealed. A
+second later he had entered, and the door closed.
+
+In the dim light Dick saw that he was following two dark forms.
+Evidently the person who had opened the door was leading the way. But he
+could discern nothing clearly; he thought they were passing through some
+kind of lumber room, but he could have sworn to nothing. After that
+there was a passage of some sort, and again they descended some more
+steps, at the bottom of which Dick heard what seemed the confused murmur
+of voices....
+
+Dick found himself standing in a kind of vestibule, and there was a
+sudden glare of light. Both he and Mr. John Brown were in a well-lit
+room, in which some two hundred people had gathered.
+
+When Dick's eyes had become accustomed to the light, he saw that he was
+in the midst of one of the most curious crowds he had ever seen. The
+people seemed of many nationalities, and the sexes appeared equally
+divided. Very few old people were present. In the main they were well
+dressed, and might have been comfortably situated. Nevertheless, it was
+a motley crowd--motley not so much because of any peculiarity in their
+attire as because of their personalities. What impressed Dick more than
+anything else was the look of fierce intelligence on their faces, and
+the nervous eagerness which characterised their every movement. Every
+look, every action spoke of intensity, and as Dick swept a hasty glance
+around the room, he felt that he was breathing an atmosphere which was
+altogether new to him--an atmosphere which was electric.
+
+The room was evidently arranged for a meeting. At one end was a platform
+on which was placed a table and half a dozen chairs, while the people
+who formed the audience were waiting for the speakers to appear.
+
+Then Dick realised that all eyes were turned towards himself and that a
+sudden silence prevailed. This was followed by what Dick judged to be a
+question of some sort, although he could not tell what it was, as it was
+asked in a language unknown to him.
+
+"It is all right. I, John Brown, vouch for everything."
+
+"But who is he?" This time the question was in English, and Dick
+understood that it referred to himself.
+
+"It is all right, I repeat," replied Mr. Brown. "My companion is a
+comrade, a friend, whom you will be glad to hear. Who is he? He is a
+Labour leader, and is chosen by the working people of Eastroyd to
+represent them in the British Parliament."
+
+A great deal of scornful laughter followed this. It might have been that
+Mr. Brown were trying to play a practical joke upon them.
+
+"Listen," said Mr. Brown. "I am not unknown to you, and I think I have
+proved to you more than once that I am in sympathy with your aims. Let
+me ask you this: have I ever introduced anyone who was not worthy and
+whose help you have not gladly welcomed?"
+
+There was some slight cheering at this, and Mr. Brown went on:
+
+"I need not assure you that I have taken every precaution--_every_
+precaution--or tell you that, if good does not come of my being here,
+harm will surely not come of it. This, my friends, is Mr. Richard
+Faversham of Eastroyd, whose fiery zeal on behalf of the world's toilers
+cannot be unknown to you."
+
+Again there was some cheering, and Dick noted that the glances cast
+towards him were less hostile, less suspicious.
+
+Mr. Brown seemed on the point of speaking further, but did not. At that
+moment a curtain at the back of the platform was drawn aside, and three
+men accompanied by two women appeared. It would seem that the time for
+the commencement of the meeting had come.
+
+Dick had some remembrance afterwards that one of the men addressed the
+meeting, and that he spoke about the opportunities which the times
+offered to the struggling millions who had been crushed through the
+centuries, but nothing distinct remained in his mind. Every faculty he
+possessed was devoted to one of the two women who sat on the platform.
+He did not know who she was; he had never seen her before, and yet his
+eyes never left her face.
+
+Never before had he seen such a woman; never had he dreamed that there
+could be anyone like her.
+
+Years before he had seen, and fancied himself in love with, Lady Blanche
+Huntingford. He had been captivated by her glorious young womanhood, her
+abundant vitality, her queenly beauty. But, compared with the woman on
+the platform, Blanche Huntingford was as firelight to sunlight.
+
+Even as he sat there he compared them--contrasted them. He remembered
+what he had thought of the proud Surrey beauty; how he had raved about
+her eyes, her hair, her figure; but here was a beauty of another and a
+higher order. Even in his most enthusiastic moments, Lady Blanche's
+intellectuality, her spirituality, had never appealed to him. But this
+woman's beauty was glorified by eyes that spoke of exalted thoughts,
+passionate longings, lofty emotions.
+
+Her face, too, was constantly changing. Poetry, humour, passion, pity,
+tenderness, scorn were expressed on her features as she looked at the
+speaker. This woman was poetry incarnate! She was pity incarnate! She
+was passion incarnate!
+
+Dick forgot where he was. He was altogether unconscious of the fact that
+he was in a meeting somewhere in the East End of London, and that things
+were being said which, if known to the police, would place the speaker,
+and perhaps the listeners, in prison. All that seemed as nothing; he was
+chained, fascinated by the almost unearthly beauty of the woman who sat
+on the little shabby-looking platform.
+
+Then slowly the incongruity of the situation came to him. The audience,
+although warmly dressed and apparently comfortably conditioned, belonged
+in the main to the working classes. They were toilers. Most of them were
+malcontents--people who under almost any conditions would be opposed to
+law and order. But this woman was an aristocrat of aristocrats. No one
+could doubt it any more than he could doubt the sunlight. Her dress,
+too, was rich and beautiful. On her fingers costly rings sparkled;
+around her neck diamonds hung. And yet she was here in a cellar
+warehouse, in a district where squalor abounded.
+
+The speaker finished; evidently he was the chairman of the meeting, and
+after having finished his harangue turned to the others on the platform.
+
+Dick heard the word "Olga," and immediately after the room was full of
+deafening cheers.
+
+The woman he had been watching rose to her feet and waited while the
+people continued to cheer. Fascinated, he gazed at her as her eyes swept
+over the gathering. Then his heart stood still. She looked towards him,
+and their eyes met. There might have been recognition, so brightly did
+her eyes flash, and so tender was the smile which came to her lips. She
+seemed to be saying to him, "Wait, we shall have much to say to each
+other presently." The air of mystery, which seemed to envelop her,
+enveloped him also. The hard barriers of materialism seemed to melt
+away, and he had somehow entered the realm of romance and wonder.
+
+Then her voice rang out over the audience--a voice that was rich in
+music. He did not understand a word she said, for she spoke in a
+language unknown to him. And yet her message reached him. Indeed, she
+seemed to be speaking only to him, only for him. And her every word
+thrilled him. As she spoke, he saw oppressed peoples. He saw men in
+chains, women crushed, trodden on, little children diseased, neglected,
+cursed. The picture of gay throngs, revelling in all the world could
+give them in pleasure, in music, in song, and wine, passed before his
+mind side by side with harrowing, numbing want and misery.
+
+Then she struck a new note--vibrant and triumphant. It thrilled him,
+made his heart beat madly, caused a riot of blood in his veins.
+
+Suddenly he realised that she was speaking in English, that she was
+calling to him in his own language. She was telling of a new age, a new
+era. She described how old things had passed away, and that all things
+had become new; that old barriers had been broken down; that old
+precedents, old prejudices which for centuries had crushed the world,
+were no longer potent. New thoughts had entered men's minds; new hopes
+stirred the world's heart. In the great cataclysm through which we had
+passed, nations had been re-born, and the old bad, mad world had passed
+away in the convulsions of the world's upheaval.
+
+"And now," she concluded, "what wait we for? We await the prophet, the
+leader, the Messiah. Who is he? How shall he come? Is he here? Is the
+man who is able to do what the world needs brave enough, great enough to
+say, like the old Hebrew prophet, 'Here am I, send me'?"
+
+And even as she spoke Dick felt that her eyes were fastened upon him,
+even as her words thrilled his heart. Something, he knew not what it
+was, formed a link between them--gave this woman power over him.
+
+There was no applause as she sat down. The feeling of the people was too
+intense, the magnetic charm of the speaker too great.
+
+Still with her eyes fixed upon Dick, she made her way towards him. He
+saw her coming towards him, saw her dark, flashing eyes, her white,
+gleaming teeth, felt the increasing charm of her wondrous face.
+
+Then there was a change in the atmosphere--a change indefinable,
+indescribable. Just above the woman's head Dick saw in dim outline what
+years before had become such a potent factor in his life. It was the
+face of the angel he had seen when he was sinking in the deep waters,
+and which appeared to him at Wendover Park.
+
+"Mr. Richard Faversham," said the woman who had so thrilled him that
+night, "I have long been waiting for this hour."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+"YOU AND I TOGETHER"
+
+
+For some time Dick Faversham was oblivious to the fact that the woman
+who had so fascinated him a few minutes before stood near him with hands
+outstretched and a smile of gladness in her eyes. Again he was under the
+spell of what, in his heart of hearts, he called "The Angel." Even yet
+he had no definite idea as to who or what this angel was, but there was
+a dim consciousness at the back of his mind that she had again visited
+him for an important reason. He was certain that her purposes towards
+him were beneficent, that in some way she had crossed the pathway of his
+life to help him and to save him.
+
+Like lightning the memory of that fearful night when he was sinking in
+the stormy sea came surging back into his mind. He remembered how he had
+felt his strength leaving him, while the cold, black waters were
+dragging him into their horrible depths. Then he had seen a ray of light
+streaming to him across the raging sea; he had seen the shadowy figure
+above him with outstretched arms, and even while he had felt himself
+up-borne by some power other than his own, the words had come to
+him--"Underneath are the Everlasting Arms."
+
+It was all shadowy and unreal--so much so that in later days he had
+doubted its objective reality, and yet there had been times when it had
+been the most potent force in his life. It had become such a great and
+glorious fact that everything else had sunk into insignificance.
+
+Then there was that scene in the library at Wendover. He had been on the
+point of signing the paper which Count Romanoff had prepared for him.
+Under this man's influence, right and wrong had appeared to him but a
+chimera of the imagination. The alternative which had appeared before
+him stood out in ghastly clearness. He had only to sign the paper, and
+all the riches which he thought were his would remain in his possession.
+But he had not signed it. Again that luminous form had appeared, while a
+hand, light as a feather, but irresistible in its power, had been laid
+upon his wrist, and the pen had dropped from his fingers.
+
+And now the angel had come to him again. Even as he looked, he could see
+her plainly, while the same yearning eyes looked into his.
+
+"Mr. Faversham!"
+
+He started, like a man suddenly wakened from a dream, and again he saw
+the woman who had been spoken of as Olga, and who had thrilled him by
+her presence and by the magic of her voice, standing by his side.
+
+"Forgive me," he said, "but tell me, do you see anyone on the platform?"
+
+The girl, for she appeared to be only two or three and twenty, looked at
+him in a puzzled kind of way.
+
+"No," she replied, casting her eyes in that direction; "I see no one.
+There is no one there."
+
+"Not a beautiful woman? She is rather shadowy, but she has wonderful
+eyes."
+
+"No," she replied wonderingly.
+
+"Then I suppose I was mistaken. You are Olga, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes; I am Olga."
+
+"And you made that wonderful speech?"
+
+"Was it wonderful?" and she laughed half sadly, half gaily.
+
+Suddenly the spell, or whatever it was, left him. He was Dick Faversham
+again--keen, alert, critical. He realised where he was, too. He had
+accompanied Mr. John Brown to this place, and he had listened to words
+which were revolutionary. If they were translated into action, all law
+and order as he now understood them would cease to be.
+
+Around him, too, chattering incessantly, was a number of long-haired,
+wild-eyed men. They were discussing the speech to which they had just
+listened; they were debating the new opportunities which the times had
+created.
+
+"Ah, you two have met!" It was Mr. John Brown who spoke. "I am glad of
+that. This is Olga. She is a Princess in Russia, but because she loved
+the poor, and sought to help them, she was seized by the Russian
+officials and sent to Siberia. That was two years ago. She escaped and
+came to England. Since then she has lived and worked for a new Russia,
+for a new and better life in the world. You heard her speak to-night.
+Did you understand her?"
+
+"Only in part," replied Dick. "She spoke in a language that was strange
+to me."
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. But, as you see, she speaks English perfectly. We
+must get away from here. We must go to a place where we can talk
+quietly, and where, you two can compare ideas. But meanwhile I want you
+to understand, Mr. Faversham, that the people you see here are typical
+of millions all over Europe who are hoping and praying for the dawn of a
+new day. Of course there are only a few thousands here in London, but
+they represent ideas that are seething in the minds of hundreds of
+millions."
+
+"Mr. Brown has told me about you," said Olga. "I recognised you from his
+description the moment I saw you. I felt instinctively what you had
+thought, what you had suffered, what you had seen in visions, and what
+you had dreamed. I knew then that you were the prophet--the leader that
+we needed."
+
+Dick gave her a quick glance, and again felt the spell of her beauty.
+She was like no woman he had ever seen before. Her eyes shone like
+stars, and they told him that this was a woman in a million. The quickly
+changing expressions on her face, the wondrous quality of her presence,
+fascinated him.
+
+"I shall be delighted to discuss matters with you," replied Dick. "That
+part of your speech which I understood made me realise that we are one
+in aim and sympathy. If you will come to my hotel to-morrow, we can
+speak freely."
+
+Olga laughed merrily. "I am afraid you do not understand, Mr.
+Faversham," she said. "I am a suspect; I am proscribed by your
+Government. A price has been placed on my head."
+
+Dick looked at her questioningly.
+
+"No; I am afraid I don't understand," was his reply.
+
+"Don't you see?" and again she laughed merrily. "I am looked upon as a
+dangerous person. News has come to your authorities that I am a menace
+to society, that I am a creator of strife. First of all, I am an alien,
+and as an alien I am supposed to subscribe to certain regulations and
+laws. But I do not subscribe to them. As a consequence I am wanted by
+the police. If you did your duty, you would try to hand me over to the
+authorities; you would place me under arrest."
+
+"Are--are you a spy, then?" Dick asked.
+
+"Of a sort, yes."
+
+"A German?"
+
+A look of mad passion swept over her face.
+
+"A German!" she cried. "Heaven forbid. No, no. I hate Germany. I hate
+the accursed war that Germany caused. And yet, no. The war was a
+necessity. The destruction of the old bad past was a necessity. And we
+must use the mad chaos the war has created to build a new heaven and
+create a new earth. What are nationalities, peoples, country boundaries,
+man-made laws, but the instruments of the devil to perpetuate crime,
+brutality, misery, devilry?"
+
+Dick shook his head. "You go beyond me," he said. "What you say has no
+appeal for me."
+
+"Ah, but it has," she cried; "that is why I want to talk with you. That
+is why I hail you as a comrade--yes, and more than a comrade. I have
+followed your career; I have read your speeches. Ah, you did not think,
+did you, when you spoke to the people in the grimy north of this country
+about better laws, better conditions--ay, and when you made them feel
+that all the people of _every_ country should be one vast
+brotherhood--that your words were followed, eagerly followed, by a
+Russian girl whose heart thrilled as she read, and who longed to meet
+you face to face?"
+
+"You read my speeches? You longed to see me?" gasped Dick.
+
+"Every word I read, Mr. Faversham; but I saw, too, that you were chained
+by cruel tradition, that you were afraid of the natural and logical
+outcome of your own words. But see, we cannot talk here!" and she
+glanced towards the people who had come up to them, and were listening
+eagerly.
+
+"Come, my friend," whispered Mr. Brown, "you are honoured beyond all
+other men. I never knew her speak to any man as she speaks to you. Let
+us go to a place where I will take you, where we can be alone. Is she
+not a magnificent creature, eh? Did you ever see such a divine woman?"
+
+"I'm perfectly willing," was Dick's reply, as he watched Olga move
+towards the man who had acted as chairman. Truly he had never seen such
+a woman. Hitherto he had been struck by her intellectual powers, and by
+what had seemed to him the spiritual qualities of her presence. But now
+he felt the charm of her womanhood. She was shaped like a goddess, and
+carried herself with queenly grace. Every curve of her body was perfect;
+her every movement was instinct with a glowing, abundant life. Her
+complexion, too, was simply dazzling, and every feature was perfect. A
+sculptor would have raved about her; an artist would have given years of
+his life to paint her. Her eyes, too, shone like stars, and her smile
+was bewildering.
+
+A few minutes later they were in the street, Dick almost like a man in a
+dream, Mr. John Brown plodding stolidly and steadily along, while Olga,
+her face almost covered, moved by his side. Dick was too excited to heed
+whither they were going; neither did he notice that they were being
+followed.
+
+They had just turned into a narrow alley when there was a quick step
+behind them, and a man in a police officer's uniform laid his hand on
+Olga's arm and said:
+
+"You go with me, please, miss."
+
+The girl turned towards him with flashing eyes.
+
+"Take your hand from me," she said; "I have nothing to do with you."
+
+"But I have something to do with you. Come, now, it's no use putting on
+airs. You come with me. I've been on the look out for you for a long
+while."
+
+"Help her! Get rid of the man!" whispered Mr. Brown to Dick. "For God's
+sake do something. I've a weak heart and can do nothing."
+
+"Now, then," persisted the policeman. "It's no use resisting, you know.
+If you won't come quiet, I may have to be a bit rough. And I _can_ be
+rough, I can assure you!"
+
+"Help! help!" she said hoarsely.
+
+She did not speak aloud, but the word appealed to Dick strongly. It was
+sacrilege for the police officer to place his hands on her; he
+remembered what she had told him, and dreaded the idea of her being
+arrested and thrown into prison.
+
+"You won't, eh?" grumbled the policeman. "We'll soon settle that."
+
+Dick saw him put his whistle to his lips, but before a sound was made,
+the young fellow rushed forward and instantly there was a hand-to-hand
+struggle. A minute later the police constable lay on the pavement,
+evidently stunned and unconscious, while Dick stood over him.
+
+"Now is our chance! Come!" cried Mr. Brown, and with a speed of which
+Dick thought him incapable, he led the way through a network of narrow
+streets and alleys, while he and the girl followed. A little later they
+had entered a house by a back way, and the door closed behind them.
+
+"Thank you, Faversham," panted Mr. Brown. "That was a narrow squeak,
+eh?"
+
+He switched on a light as he spoke, and Dick, as soon as his eyes had
+become accustomed to the light, found himself in a handsomely, even
+luxuriously, appointed room.
+
+"Sit down, won't you?" said Olga. "Oh, you need not fear. You are safe
+here. I will defy all the police officers in London to trace me now. Ah!
+thank you, Mr. Faversham! But for you I might have been in an awkward
+position. It would have been horrible to have been arrested--more
+horrible still to be tried in one of your law courts."
+
+"That was nothing," protested Dick. "Of course I could not stand by and
+see the fellow----"
+
+"Ah, but don't you see?" she interrupted merrily. "You have placed
+yourself in opposition to the law? I am afraid you would be found
+equally guilty with me, if we were tried together. Did I not tell you?
+There is a price on my head. I am spoken of as the most dangerous person
+in London. And you have helped me to escape; you have defeated the ends
+of justice."
+
+"But that is nothing," cried Mr. John Brown. "Of course, Mr. Faversham
+is with us now. It could not be otherwise."
+
+Every event of the night had been somewhat unreal to Dick, but the
+reality of his position was by no means obscure at that moment. He, Dick
+Faversham, who, when he had advocated his most advanced theories, had
+still prided himself on being guided by constitutional methods, knew
+that he had placed himself in a most awkward position by what he had
+done. Doubtless, efforts would be made to find him, and if he were
+discovered and recognised, he would have a very lame defence. In spite
+of the honeyed way in which Mr. Brown had spoken, too, he felt there was
+something like a threat in his words.
+
+But he cast everything like fear from his mind, and turned to the young
+girl, who had thrown off her cloak, and stood there in the brilliant
+light like the very incarnation of splendid beauty.
+
+"I would risk more than that for this opportunity of talking with you,"
+he could not help saying.
+
+"Would you?" and her glorious eyes flashed into his. "I am so glad of
+that. Do you know why? Directly I saw you to-night, I felt that we
+should be together in the greatest cause the world has ever known. Do
+you think you will like me as a co-worker? Do you believe our hearts
+will beat in unison?"
+
+Again she had cast a spell upon him. He felt that with such a woman he
+could do anything--dare anything.
+
+Still, he kept a cool head. His experiences of the last few years had
+made him wary, critical, suspicious.
+
+"I am going to be frank," she went on. "I am going to lay bare my heart
+to you. The cause I have at heart is the world's redemption; that, too,
+is the cause I believe you, too, have at heart. I want to destroy
+poverty, crime, misery; I want a new earth. So do you. But the way is
+dangerous, stormy, and hard. There will be bleeding footsteps all along
+the track. But you and I together!--ah, don't you see?"
+
+"I am afraid I don't," replied Dick. "Tell me, will you?"
+
+She drew her chair closer to him. "Yes; I will tell you," she said in a
+whisper.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE SO-CALLED DEAD
+
+
+"Don't be frightened at a word," she laughed. "I shall explain that word
+in a few minutes. But it will not need much explanation. At heart you
+and I are one."
+
+Dick waited in silence.
+
+"You do not help me," and her laugh was almost nervous. "And yet--oh, I
+mean so much. But I am afraid to put it into a word, because that word
+has been so misunderstood, so maligned. It is the greatest word in the
+world. It sweeps down unnatural barriers, petty creeds, distinctions,
+man-made laws, criminal usages. It is the dawn of a new day. It is the
+sunrise. It is universal liberty, universal right. It is the divine
+right of the People!"
+
+Still Dick was silent, and as she watched him she started to her feet.
+
+"Who have held the destinies of the great unnumbered millions in the
+hollow of their hands?" she cried passionately. "The few. The Emperors,
+the Kings, the Bureaucrats. And they have sucked the life blood of these
+dumb, suffering millions. They have crushed them, persecuted them, made
+them hewers of wood and drawers of water. Why have the poor lived? That
+they might minister to the rich. Just that and nothing more. Whether the
+millions have been called slaves, serfs, working classes--whatever you
+like--the result has been the same. They have existed that the few might
+have what they desired. But at last the world has revolted. The Great
+War has made everything possible. The world is fluid, and the events of
+life will be turned into new channels. Now is the opportunity of the
+People. Whatever God there is, He made the world and all that is in it
+for the People. In the past it has been robbed from them, but now it is
+going to be theirs! Don't you see?"
+
+Dick nodded his head slowly. This, making allowance for the extravagance
+of her words, was what he had been feeling for a long time.
+
+"Yes," he said presently; "but how are they to get it?"
+
+"Ah!" she laughed. "I brought you here to-night to tell you. You are
+going to give it them, my friend. With me to help you, perhaps, if you
+will have me. Will you? Look into my eyes and tell me that you see--that
+you understand?"
+
+Her eyes were as the eyes of a siren, but still Dick did not lose his
+head.
+
+"I see no other way of giving the people justice than by working on the
+lines I have been trying to work for years," he said.
+
+"Yes, you do," she cried triumphantly. "You are a Labour man--a
+Socialist if you like. You have a vision of better conditions for the
+working classes in England--the British Isles. But what is that? What
+does it all amount to? Sticking-plasters, _mon ami_--sticking-plasters."
+
+"Still, I do not understand," replied Dick.
+
+"But you do," she persisted, still with her great, lustrous eyes
+laughing into his, in spite of a certain seriousness shining from them.
+"Think a minute. Here we are at a crisis in the world's history. Unless
+a mighty effort is made now, power, property, everything will drift back
+to the old ruling classes, and that will mean what it has always meant.
+Still the same accursed anomalies; still the same blinding, numbing,
+crushing poverty on the one hand; still the same pampered luxury and
+criminal waste on the other. All things must be new, my friend--new!"
+
+"But how?"
+
+"In one word--Bolshevism. No; don't be startled. Not the miserable
+caricature, the horrible nightmare which has frightened the dull-minded
+British but a glorious thing! Justice for humanity, the world for the
+people! That's what it means. Not for one country, but for all the
+countries--for the wide world. Don't you see? The world must become one,
+because humanity is one. It must be. Disease in any part of the organism
+hurts the whole body. If wrong is done in Russia, England has to pay;
+therefore, all reform must be world wide; right must be done
+everywhere."
+
+"Words, words, words," quoted Dick.
+
+"And more than words, my friend. The most glorious ideal the world has
+ever known. And every ideal is an unborn event."
+
+"Beautiful as a dream, but, still, words," persisted Dick.
+
+"And why, my friend?"
+
+"Because power cannot be wrested from the hands in which it is now
+vested----"
+
+"That is where you are mistaken. Think of Russia."
+
+"Yes; think of Russia," replied Dick--"a nightmare, a ghastly crime,
+hell upon earth."
+
+"And I reply in your own language, 'Words, words, words.' My friend, you
+cannot wash away abuses hoary with age with rose water. Stern work needs
+stern methods. Our Russian comrades are taking the only way which will
+lead to the Promised Land. Do not judge Russia by what it seems to-day,
+but by what it will be when you and I are old. Already there are patches
+of blue in the sky. In a few years from now things will have settled
+down, and Russia, with all its wealth and all its possibilities, will
+belong to the people--the great people of Russia. That is what must be
+true of every nation. You talk of the great wealth of European
+countries, and of America. Who holds that wealth? Just a few
+thousands--whereas it should be in the hands of all--all."
+
+"And how will you do this mighty thing?" laughed Dick.
+
+"By the people not simply demanding, but taking their rights--taking it,
+my friend."
+
+"By force?"
+
+"Certainly by force. It is their right."
+
+"But how?"
+
+"Think, my friend. Do you believe the people will ever get their rights
+by what is called constitutional means? Do you think the landed
+proprietors will give up their lands? That the Capitalists will disgorge
+their millions? That the bourgeoisie will let go what they have squeezed
+from the sweat and toil of the millions? You know they will not. There
+is but one way all over the world. It is for the people everywhere to
+claim, to _force_, their rights."
+
+"Revolution!"
+
+"Yes, Revolution. Do not be afraid of the word."
+
+"Crime, anarchy, blood, ruin, the abolition of all law and order!"
+
+"What is called crime and anarchy to-day will be hailed a few years
+hence as the gospel which has saved the world."
+
+Dick could not help being influenced by her words. There was an
+intellectual quality in her presence which broke down his prejudices, a
+spiritual dynamic in her beauty and her earnestness which half convinced
+him.
+
+"Admitting what you say," he replied presently, "you only proclaim a
+will-o'-the-wisp. Before such a movement could be set on foot, you must
+have the whole people with you. You must have a great consensus of
+opinion. To do this you must educate the people. Then you must have a
+tremendous organisation. You would have to arm the people. And you would
+need leaders."
+
+She laughed gaily. "Now we are getting near it," she cried. "You've seen
+the vision. You've been seeing it, proclaiming it, unknowingly, for
+years, but you've not dared to be obedient to your vision. But you will,
+my friend. You will."
+
+She placed her hand on his arm, and looked half beseechingly, half
+coyly, into his face.
+
+"Do you not see with me?" she cried. "Could you not join with me in a
+great crusade for the salvation of the world? For I can be a faithful
+comrade--faithful to death. Look into my eyes and tell me."
+
+Again he looked into her eyes, and he saw as she saw, felt as she felt.
+His past life, his past work, seemed but as a mockery, while the vision
+she caused him to see was like a glimpse of Paradise. Even yet, however,
+a kind of hard, Saxon, common sense remained with him; and she appeared
+to realise it, for, still keeping her hand upon his arm, she continued
+her appeal. She told him what she had seen and heard, and tried to prove
+to him how impossible it was for the poor to have their rights save by
+rising in their millions, seizing the helm of power, and claiming,
+taking, their own. Still he was not altogether convinced.
+
+"You describe a beautiful dream," he said, "but, like all beautiful
+dreams, it vanishes when brought into contact with hard realities. What
+you speak of is only mob rule, and mob rule is chaos. To achieve
+anything you must have leaders, and when you get your leaders, you
+simply replace one set of rulers by another."
+
+"Of course we do," was her answer. "But with this difference. The
+present leaders are the result of an old bad system of selfish greed.
+They think and act for themselves instead of for the good of the people.
+But, with you as a leader, we should have a man who thinks only of
+leading the children of the world into Light."
+
+"I?--I?" stammered Dick.
+
+"Of course, you, my friend. Else why should I long to see you, speak
+with you, know you?"
+
+"Of course it's madness," he protested.
+
+"All great enterprises are madness," was her reply; "but it is Divine
+madness. You were born from the foundation of the world for this work.
+You have vision, you have daring, you have the essential qualities of
+the leader, for you have the master mind."
+
+It is easy for a young man to be flattered by a beautiful woman,
+especially when that woman is endowed with all charms, physical,
+intellectual, personal. Her hand was still on his arm; her eyes were
+still burning into his.
+
+"Of course it is impossible," he still persisted.
+
+"Why?" she asked.
+
+"A huge organisation which is international requires the most careful
+arrangement--secret but potent."
+
+"The organisation exists in outline."
+
+"Propaganda work."
+
+"It has been going on for years. Even such work as you have been doing
+has been preparing the way for greater things."
+
+"Money--millions of money!" he cried. "Don't you see? It's easy to talk
+of leading the people, but difficult to accomplish--impossible, in fact,
+in a highly organised country like this."
+
+"Give me your consent--tell me you will consent to lead us, and I will
+show you that this is already done. Even now a million British soldiers
+are ready--ready with arms and accoutrements!"
+
+Again she pleaded, again she fired his imagination! Fact after fact she
+related of what had been done, and of what could be done. It needed, she
+said, but the strong man to appear, and the poor, the suffering from
+every byway, would flock to his standard.
+
+"But don't you see?" cried Dick, half bewildered and altogether dazzled
+by the witchery of her words. "If I were to respond to your call, you
+would be placing not only an awful responsibility upon me, but a
+terrible power in my hands?"
+
+"Yes, I do see!" she cried; "and I glory in the thought. Look here, my
+friend, I have been pleading with you not for your own sake, but for the
+sake of others--for the redemption of the world. But all along I have
+thought of you--_you_. It is right that you should think of yourself.
+Every man should be anxious about his own career. This is right. We
+cannot go against the elementary truths of life. There must be the
+leaders as well as the led. And leadership means power, fame! Every
+strong man longs for power, fame, position. You do, my friend. For years
+you have been craving after it, and it is your right, your eternal
+right. And here is the other ground of my appeal, my friend. Such a
+position, such fame, such power is offered you as was never offered to
+any man before. To be a leader of the world! To focus, to make real the
+visions, longings, hopes of unnumbered millions. To make vocal, to
+translate into reality all the world has been sighing for--striving
+after. Great God! What a career! What a position!"
+
+"Ah--h!" and Mr. John Brown, who had been silent during the whole
+conversation, almost sobbed out the exclamation, "that is it! that is
+it! What a career! What a position to struggle after, to fight for!
+Power! Power! The Kings and Emperors of the world become as nothing
+compared with what you may be, my friend."
+
+Dick's heart gave a wild leap. Power! place! greatness! Yes; this was
+what he had always longed for. As the thought gripped him, mastered him,
+impossibilities became easy, difficulties but as thistledown.
+
+And yet he was afraid. Something, he knew not what, rose up and forbade
+him to do things he longed to do. He felt that every weakness of his
+life had been appealed to--his vanity, his selfishness, his desire for
+greatness, as well as his natural longing for the betterment of the
+world. And all the time the beautiful woman kept her hand on his arm.
+And her touch was caressing, alluring, bewildering. Her eyes, wondrous
+in their brilliance, fascinating, suggesting all the heart of man could
+long for, were burning into his.
+
+He rose to his feet. "I must go," he said. "I will consider what you
+have said."
+
+The woman rose too. She was nearly as tall as he, and she stood by his
+side, a queen among women.
+
+"And you will think kindly, won't you?" she pleaded. "You will remember
+that it is the dearest hope of my life to stand by your side, to share
+your greatness."
+
+Dick was silent as he made his way through the dark and silent streets
+with Mr. Brown by his side. He was still under the influences of the
+night through which he had passed; his mind was still bewildered.
+
+Just before he reached his hotel, he and Mr. Brown parted--the latter to
+turn down Piccadilly, Dick to make his way towards Bloomsbury. When Mr.
+Brown had gone, Dick stood and watched him. Was he mistaken, or did he
+see the figure of a man like Count Romanoff move from the doorstep of a
+large building and join him? Was it Count Romanoff's voice he heard? He
+was not sure.
+
+The night porter of his hotel spoke to him sleepily as he entered.
+
+"No Zepps to-night, sir," he said.
+
+"No; I think not. I fancy the Huns have given up that game."
+
+"Think so, sir? Well, there's no devilish thing they won't think of. I
+hear they're going to try a new dodge on us."
+
+"Oh, what?"
+
+"I don't know. But if it isn't one thing it's another. Nothing's too
+dirty for 'em. Good night--or, rather, good morning, sir."
+
+"Good morning."
+
+Dick went to bed, but not to sleep. Again and again his mind rehearsed
+the scenes through which he had passed. It all seemed like a dream, a
+phantasmagoria, and yet it was very wonderful.
+
+When daylight came he plunged into a bath, and as he felt the sting of
+the cold water on his body, he felt his own man again. His mind was
+clear; his senses were alert.
+
+After breakfast he went for a walk towards Hyde Park. The air was clear
+and exhilarating; the great tide of human life stirred his pulses and
+caused his blood to course freely through his veins. His mind was saner,
+more composed. He turned into the Park at the Marble Arch, and he
+watched the crowds of gaily dressed women and swiftly moving motor-cars.
+
+Presently his heart gave a wild leap. Coming towards him he saw Lady
+Blanche Huntingford. He thought he saw her smile at his approach, and
+with eager footsteps he moved towards her. He held out his hand. "This
+is indeed a pleasure, Lady Blanche," he said.
+
+She gave him a quick, haughty stare, and passed on. He was sure she
+recognised him, but she acted as though he did not exist. She had cut
+him dead; she had refused to know him. The woman's action maddened him.
+Yet why should she not refuse to recognise him? He was a nobody, whom
+she remembered as a kind of Roger Tichborne--an impostor.
+
+But she should know him! Again the memory of his recent experiences
+came surging back into his mind. He could reach a position where such as
+she would be as nothing, and like lightning his mind fastened upon
+Olga's proposal.
+
+Yes; he would accept. He would throw himself heart and soul into this
+great work. He would become great--yes, the greatest man in England--in
+the world! He would go back to his hotel and write to her.
+
+A little later he sat at a table in the writing-room of the hotel, but
+just as he commenced to write the pen dropped from his hand. Again he
+thought he felt that light yet irresistible hand upon his wrist--the
+same hand that he had felt in the library at Wendover Park.
+
+He gave a quick, searching glance around the room, and he saw that he
+was alone.
+
+"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked aloud.
+
+Again he looked around him. Did he see that luminous form, those
+yearning, searching eyes, the memory of which had been haunting him for
+years? He was not sure. But of this he was sure. The place seemed filled
+with a holy influence, and he thought he heard the words, "Watch and
+pray, that ye enter not into temptation."
+
+"Speak, speak, tell me who you are," he again spoke aloud. But no
+further answer came to him.
+
+Bewildered, wondering, he rose to his feet and sauntered around the
+room. His attention was drawn to a number of papers that were scattered
+on a table. A minute later he was reading an article entitled
+
+     "DO THE SO-CALLED DEAD SPEAK TO US?"
+
+The paper containing the article was a periodical which existed for the
+purpose of advocating spiritualism. It announced that a renowned medium
+would take part in a séance that very afternoon in a building not far
+away, and that all earnest and reverent seekers after truth were invited
+to be present.
+
+"I'll go," determined Dick as he read.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+VISIONS OF ANOTHER WORLD
+
+
+After Dick had decided to attend the séance he read the article more
+carefully. It purported to be written by a man who had given up all
+faith in religion and all forms of spiritual life. He had tried to find
+satisfaction in the pleasures and occupations of his daily existence,
+and had treated everything else as a played-out fallacy. Then two of his
+sons had been killed in the war, and life had become a painful, hollow
+mockery. By and by he became impressed by the thought that his sons were
+alive and wanted to speak to him. Sometimes, too, he had felt as though
+presences were near him, but who they were or what they meant he could
+not tell. After this he had by pure accident heard two people talking
+about their experiences at a séance, and one had distinctly stated that
+he had seen and spoken to a dear dead friend. This caused the writer to
+turn his attention to spiritualism. The result was that he remained no
+longer a materialist, but was an ardent believer in the spiritual world.
+He distinctly stated that he had had irrefutable assurance that his sons
+were alive, that they had spoken to him, and had brought him messages
+from the spirit world. Things which before had been bewildering and
+cruel now became plain and full of comfort. Life was larger, grander,
+and full of a great hope.
+
+Dick's heart warmed as he read. Surely here was light. Surely, too, he
+would be able to find an explanation to what for years had been a
+mystery to him.
+
+He thought of the conversations he had heard in Eastroyd, in relation to
+this, to which he had paid but little attention because his mind had
+been too full of other matters, but which were now full of
+significance. His mind again reverted to the discussion on the Angels
+at Mons. If there were no truth in the stories, how could so many have
+believed in them? How could there be such clear and definite testimonies
+from men who had actually seen?
+
+And had not he, Dick Faversham, both seen and heard? What was the
+meaning of the repeated appearances of that beautiful, luminous figure
+with great, yearning eyes and arms outstretched to save?
+
+Yes; he would go to this séance. He would inquire, and he would learn.
+
+He felt he had need of guidance. He knew he had come to another crisis
+in his life. The proposal which had been made to him was alluring; it
+appealed to the very depths of his being.
+
+Power, position, fame! That was what it meant. To take a leading part in
+the great drama of life, to be a principal factor in the emancipation of
+the world! But there was another side. If this movement was spreading
+with such gigantic strides--were to spread to England and dominate the
+thoughts and actions of the toiling millions of the country--what might
+it not mean?
+
+He was sure of nothing. He could not grasp the issues clearly; he could
+not see his way to the end. But it was grand; it was stupendous!
+Besides, to come into daily, hourly, contact with that sublime woman--to
+constantly feel the magnetic charm of her presence! The thought stirred
+his pulses, fired his imagination! How great she was, too. How she had
+swept aside the world's conventions and man-made moralities. She seemed
+like a warm breath from the lands of sunshine and song. And yet he was
+not sure.
+
+For hours he sat thinking, weighing pros and cons, trying to mark out
+the course of his life. Yes; he had done well. Since he had left
+Wendover Park he had become an influence in the industrial life of the
+North; he had become proclaimed a leader among the working classes; in
+all probability he would soon be able to voice their cause in the Mother
+of Parliaments.
+
+But what did it all amount to after all? A Labour Member of Parliament!
+The tool of the unwashed, uneducated masses! A voting machine at £400 a
+year! Besides, what could he do? What could the Labour Party do? When
+their programme was realised, if ever it was realised, what did it all
+amount to? The wealth, the power, would still be in the hands of the
+ruling, educated classes, while he would be a mere nobody.
+
+"Sticking-plasters."
+
+The term stuck to him--mocked him. He was only playing at reform. But
+the dream of Olga--the emancipation of the race! the dethronement of the
+parasites--the bloodsuckers of the world!--a new heaven and a new
+earth!--while he, Dick Faversham, would be hailed as the prophet, the
+leader of this mighty movement, with infinite wealth at his command and
+power unlimited. Power!
+
+Men professed to sneer at Trotsky; they called him a criminal, an
+outrage to humanity. But what a position he held! He was more feared,
+more discussed, than any man in the world--he who a few months before
+was unknown, unheard of. And he defied kings and potentates, for kings
+and potentates were powerless before him. While behind him was a new
+Russia, a new world.
+
+To be such a man in England! To make vocal and real the longings of the
+greatest Democracy in the world, and to lead it. That would mean the
+premier place in the world, and----
+
+So he weighed the position, so he thought of this call which had come to
+him.
+
+During the afternoon he left his hotel and made his way towards the
+house where the spiritualistic séance was to be held. In spite of all
+his dreams of social reforms, and the appeal made to his own ambitions,
+his mind constantly reverted to the vision which had again come to
+him--to the influences he could not understand.
+
+He found the house, and was admitted without difficulty. It was in a
+commonplace, shabby-looking street not far from Tottenham Court Road. On
+his arrival he was admitted into a room, where an absurd attempt had
+been made to give it an Oriental appearance. An old woman occupied the
+only arm-chair in the room. She looked up at his entrance, stared at him
+for a few seconds, and then muttered indistinctly. He was followed by
+half a dozen others who might have been habitués of the place.
+
+Presently a man entered, who glanced inquiringly around the room. He
+appeared to be about fifty years of age, and had light watery-looking
+eyes. He made his way to Dick.
+
+"You desire to be present at the séance?" he asked of Dick.
+
+"If I may?" was Dick's reply.
+
+"You come as a sincere, earnest, reverent inquirer?"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Is there any friend you have lost, any message you want to receive?"
+and he scrutinised Dick closely.
+
+"At a time like this, we have all lost friends," Dick replied.
+
+"Ah, then you come as an inquirer?"
+
+"That is true. I have come to learn."
+
+"Certainly. But of course there are certain expenses. Would it be
+convenient for you to give me ten shillings?"
+
+Dick gave him a ten-shilling note, whereupon the man turned to another
+visitor.
+
+"A great medium, but keen on business," Dick heard someone say.
+
+"Yes, but why not? Mediums must live the same as other people."
+
+Another man entered. He was much younger than the other. He looked very
+unhealthy, and his hands twitched nervously.
+
+"The room is ready," he said, and his voice was toneless. "Perhaps you
+would like to see it and examine it before the light is excluded, so
+that you may be sure there is no deception."
+
+Dick with two others accepted the man's invitation. The room into which
+he was led was carpetless and completely unfurnished save for a number
+of uncushioned chairs and a plain deal table. Nothing else was visible.
+There was not a picture on the walls, not a sign of decoration. Dick
+and the others professed satisfaction with what they had seen.
+
+A few minutes later the others joined them, accompanied by the man who
+had been spoken of as a "great medium," also the man with the nervous,
+twitching hands, who Dick afterwards learned was the leader of the two
+mediums.
+
+"My friends," he said, "will you seat yourselves around the table? We
+promise you nothing. The spirits may come, and they may not. I,
+personally, am a medium of the old order. I do not pretend to tell you
+what spirits say; I make no claim to be a clairvoyant. If the spirits
+come they will speak for themselves--if they wish to speak. If there are
+persons here who desire a message from the spirit world they will, if
+they receive such a message at all, receive it direct from the spirits.
+I pretend to explain nothing, just as I promise nothing. But in the past
+spirits have come to such gatherings as this, and many comforting
+messages have been given. That is all."
+
+The party then sat down at the table, placed their hands upon it in such
+a way that the fingers of one person joined those of the persons sitting
+next, and thus formed a circle. All light was excluded.
+
+For three minutes there was silence. No sound was heard; no light was
+seen. All was darkness and silence.
+
+Then suddenly there was a faint voice--a child's voice. It sounded as
+though it came from the ceiling.
+
+"I am come," wailed the voice.
+
+"Yes, and I am come." This time the voice seemed to come from the
+direction of the window. It was hoarse, and coarse.
+
+"Who are you?
+
+"I am Jim Barkum. I was killed at Mons."
+
+"Anything to tell us?"
+
+"No; nothin' except I'm all right. I come fro' Sheffield. If you could
+tell my mother, Emily Barkum, that I'm very happy I'd be very thankful."
+
+"What's your mother's address?"
+
+"Number 14 Tinkers Street."
+
+After this a number of other spirits purported to come, one of whom
+said he was the son of a sitter in the circle, and that he had been
+killed in the war.
+
+"Will you reveal yourself?" said the medium.
+
+Some phosphorous light shone in the darkness, in the radiance of which
+was the outline of a face.
+
+"Do you recognise it?" asked the medium.
+
+"It might be Jack," Dick heard a voice say.
+
+After this there seemed to be a quarrel among the spirits. There was a
+good deal of confused talk and a certain amount of anger expressed. Also
+a number of feeble jokes were passed and far-away laughter heard.
+Evidently the spirits were in a frolicsome humour.
+
+Dick, whose purpose in coming to the séance was not to take part in a
+fiasco, grew impatient. In his state of mind he felt he had wasted both
+money and time. It was true he had seen and heard what he could not
+explain, but it amounted to nothing. Everything seemed silly beyond
+words. There was nothing convincing in anything, and it was all
+artificial.
+
+"I should like to ask a question," he ventured at length.
+
+"Go ahead," said a voice, which seemed to come from the ceiling.
+
+"I should like to ask this: why is it that you, who have solved the
+great secret of death, should, now you are permitted to come back and
+speak to those of us who haven't, talk such horrible drivel?"
+
+"Hear! hear!" assented a member of the circle.
+
+"Oh, it's this way," answered the spirit: "every one of you sitting here
+have your attendant spirits. If you are intellectual, intellectual
+spirits attend you and come to talk to you, but as you are not they just
+crack silly jokes."
+
+There was laughter at this, not only from the sitters, but among the
+spirits, of which the room, by this time, seemed to be full.
+
+"That's not bad," replied Dick. "One might think you'd said that before,
+but as it happens we are not all fools, and I personally would like
+something more sensible. This is a time when thousands of hearts are
+breaking," he added.
+
+"What would you like to know?"
+
+It was another voice that spoke now--a sweeter and more refined voice,
+and might have belonged to a woman.
+
+"I would like to know if it is true that each of us have attendant
+spirits, as one of you said just now?"
+
+"Yes; that is true."
+
+"You mean guardian angels?"
+
+"Yes; if you like to call them that. But they are not all guardian
+angels. There are spirits who try to do harm, as well as those who try
+to guard and to save."
+
+"Are they here now?"
+
+"Yes; they are here now. I can see one behind you at this moment."
+
+The atmosphere of the room had suddenly changed. It seemed as though
+something solemn and elevating had entered and driven away the
+frivolous, chattering presences which had filled the room. A hush had
+fallen upon the sitters too, and all ears seemed to be listening
+eagerly.
+
+"You say you can see a spirit behind me now?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me, is it a good spirit or a bad one?"
+
+"I do not know. The face is hidden."
+
+"But surely you can cause the face to be seen. I am anxious to learn--to
+know."
+
+"I think I can tell directly. Wait."
+
+There was a silence for perhaps ten seconds; then the voice spoke again.
+
+"The spirit will not show its face," it said, "but it is always with
+you. It never leaves you night nor day."
+
+"Why does it not leave me?"
+
+"I cannot tell; I do not know."
+
+"Tell me," persisted Dick, "you do not seem like the other spirits who
+have been here--if they are spirits," he added in an undertone. "Can you
+not find out if I am watched over for any particular purpose?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I can. I can see now. It is a guardian angel, and she loves
+you."
+
+"She loves me--why does she love me?"
+
+"When she was alive she loved you. I think you were engaged. But she
+died, and you never married her. But she is always watching over
+you--trying to help you. Were you ever engaged to anyone who died?"
+
+"That is surely a leading question," was Dick's retort. "Is that all you
+can tell me?"
+
+"That is all, except that you have enemies, one in particular, who is
+trying to do you harm, and your guardian angel is always near you,
+seeking to protect you. Have you an enemy?"
+
+"Possibly--I don't know. Is that enemy a man or a woman?"
+
+"I cannot tell. Everything is becoming hazy and dim. I am not a spirit
+of the highest order. There, everything is blank to me now."
+
+After this the séance continued for some time, but as far as Dick was
+concerned, it had but little definite interest. Many things took place
+which he could not explain, but to him they meant nothing. They might
+have been caused by spirits, but then again they might have been the
+result of trickery. Nothing was clear to him except the one outstanding
+fact that no light had been thrown on the problem of his life. He wanted
+some explanation of the wonderful apparition which had so affected his
+life, and he found none. For that matter, although the spirit world had
+been demonstrated to him, he had no more conviction about the spirit
+world after the séance than he had before. All the same, he could not
+help believing, not because of the séance, but almost in spite of it,
+that a presence was constantly near him, and that this presence had a
+beneficent purpose in his life.
+
+"You were not convinced?" asked a man of him as presently he left the
+house.
+
+Dick was silent.
+
+"Sometimes I think I am, and sometimes I think I am not," went on the
+man. "It's all a mystery. But I know one thing."
+
+"What?" asked Dick.
+
+"My old mother, who held fast to the old simple faith in Christ, had no
+doubts nor fears," was the man's reply. "I was with her when she was
+dying, and she told me that angels were beckoning to her. She said she
+saw the face of her Lord, and that He was waiting to welcome her on the
+other side. I wish I could see as she saw."
+
+"Did she believe in angels?" asked Dick.
+
+"She had no doubt," replied the man. "She said that God sent His angels
+to guard those they loved, and that those angels helped them to fight
+evil spirits."
+
+"Accepting the idea of a spirit world, it seems reasonable," and Dick
+spoke like one thinking aloud rather than to be answering the man.
+
+"Did not angels minister to Christ after He was tempted of the Devil?"
+persisted the man. "Did not angels help the Apostles? I don't think I'll
+bother about spiritualism any more. There may be truth in it; there may
+not; but I'd rather get hold of the faith my mother had."
+
+"I wonder?" mused Dick, as he went away alone. "I wonder? But I'll have
+to send an answer to Olga. My word, what a glorious woman, and what a
+career! But I don't see my way clear."
+
+He made his way back to his hotel, thinking and wondering. He felt he
+had come to a crisis in his life, but his way was not plain, and he did
+not know where to look for light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+ROMANOFF'S PHILOSOPHY
+
+
+Count Romanoff sat in a handsomely furnished room. It formed a part of a
+suite he had taken in a fashionable London hotel. He was smoking a
+cigar, while at his side was a tray with several decanters containing
+spirits.
+
+He seemed to be puzzled, and often there was an angry gleam in his eyes,
+a cruel smile on his lips.
+
+"I am not sure of him," he muttered, "and so far I've failed altogether.
+More than once I was certain that I had him--certain that he was bound
+to me hand and foot, and then----"
+
+He started to his feet and strode impatiently across the room. He
+appeared angry. Looking out of the window, he could see the tide of
+human beings which swept hither and thither in the London street.
+
+"Good and evil," he said aloud--"good and evil. Those people are all the
+time tempted, and yet--and yet----But I'll have him. It's only a matter
+of time now."
+
+He heard a knock at the door, and started violently. For a
+self-contained, strong man, he seemed at times to be peculiarly
+apprehensive.
+
+"Yes; come in. Ah, it's you, is it? I was expecting you."
+
+"Count Romanoff, are you ever surprised?" It was Mr. John Brown who
+spoke, and who quietly came into the room.
+
+"Rarely," replied the Count. "Why should I? After all, the events of
+life are a matter of calculation. Certain forces, certain powers of
+resistance--and there you are."
+
+"It takes a clever man to calculate the forces or the powers of
+resistance," replied Mr. Brown.
+
+"Just so. Well, I am clever."
+
+Mr. Brown looked at him curiously, and there was an expression almost of
+fear in his eyes.
+
+"Count Romanoff," he said, "I wonder sometimes if you are not the
+Devil--if there is a devil," he added as if in afterthought.
+
+"Why, do you doubt it?"
+
+"I don't know. It would be difficult to explain some things and some
+people unless you postulate a devil."
+
+The Count laughed almost merrily. "Then why not accept the fact?" he
+asked.
+
+"Do you?" asked Mr. Brown.
+
+"I have no doubt of it. I--but wait. You must clear the ground. The
+existence of a devil presupposes evil--and good. If what the world calls
+evil is evil--there is a devil."
+
+"You speak like one who knows."
+
+"I do know."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Because----But look here, my friend, you did not come here to discuss
+_that_ problem."
+
+"No; I did not. I came because I wanted to discuss----"
+
+"A young man called Richard Faversham. Very well, let's discuss him,"
+and the Count took a fresh cigar and lit it.
+
+"I've been thinking a good deal since I saw you last," said Mr.
+Brown--"thinking pretty deeply."
+
+The Count for reply looked at Mr. Brown steadily, but spoke no word.
+
+"I have been wondering at your interest in him," said Mr. Brown. "He's
+not your sort."
+
+"Perhaps that's a reason," he suggested.
+
+"Still I do not understand you."
+
+"But I understand you. I know you through and through. You, although you
+are a member of the best London clubs, although you pass as a Britisher
+of Britishers, and although you bear a good old commonplace English
+name, hate Britain, and especially do you hate England. Shall I tell you
+why?"
+
+"Not aloud, my friend--not aloud; there may be servants outside--people
+listening," and Mr. Brown spoke in a whisper.
+
+"I _shall_ speak aloud," replied the Count, "and there is no one
+listening. I feel in a communicative, garrulous mood to-night, and it's
+no use mincing words. You hate England, because you are German at heart,
+and a German by birth, although no one knows it--but me. I also hate
+England."
+
+"Why?" asked Mr. Brown.
+
+"Because it stands for those things I abominate. Because, in spite of
+its so-called materialism, it still holds fast to the old standards of
+religion, and all that religion means. It stands for what the world
+calls progress, for civilisation, and Democracy. And I hate Democracy."
+
+"You are a Russian," commented Mr. Brown--"a Russian aristocrat,
+therefore you would naturally hate Democracy."
+
+"Am I?" and the Count laughed. "Well, call me that if you like."
+
+"You told me so when we first met."
+
+"Did I? I know you came to me in a sad way. You began to doubt your
+country, and your country's victory. You saw that it would never gain
+what it desired and hoped on the battlefield. You realised that this
+England--this Britain that you had scorned--was mightier than you
+thought. You saw that John Bull, whom I hate as much as you, was
+practically invincible."
+
+"Yes; I could not help realising that. I admitted it to you, and you
+told me to----"
+
+"Take special note of Faversham. I told you his story."
+
+"Yes, you did, and I accepted your advice. I went to Eastroyd; I made
+his acquaintance."
+
+"And were impressed by the power he had obtained over the working
+classes, the Democracy, that we hear so much about. As you told me, he
+had taken up their cause, and that he had developed the gift of public
+oratory so assiduously that his power over working-class audiences was
+almost magnetic."
+
+"But look here, Count, I----"
+
+"Pardon me a moment. I had studied Faversham for years. For reasons of
+my own, I wanted him to do certain things."
+
+Mr. Brown sat quietly, watching the Count, who ceased speaking suddenly,
+and seemed to be staring into vacancy.
+
+"Did you ever read a book by a man named John Bunyan, called _The Holy
+War_?" he asked, with seeming irrelevance.
+
+Mr. Brown laughed. "Years ago, when I was a boy," he replied.
+
+"A wonderful book, my friend. I have read it many times."
+
+"_You_ read it many times! Why, what interest could such a book have for
+you?"
+
+"A very deep interest," and there was a curious intonation in his voice.
+
+"What interest?" asked Mr. Brown.
+
+The Count rose to his feet and knocked some ash from the end of his
+cigar. "Corpo di Bacco!" he cried. "Did not the man get deep? The city
+of Mansoul! And the Devil wanted to get it. So he studied the
+fortifications. Eyegate, nosegate, touchgate, eargate he saw, he
+understood!"
+
+"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Mr. Brown in astonishment.
+
+"There is one passage which goes deep," went on the Count as though Mr.
+Brown had not spoken. "It contained some of the deepest philosophy of
+life; it went to the roots of the whole situation. I had it in my mind
+when I advised you to make Faversham's acquaintance."
+
+"What passage?" asked Mr. Brown, still failing to catch the drift of the
+other's words.
+
+"It is this," and the Count spoke very quietly. "_For here lay the
+excellent wisdom of Him who built Mansoul, that the walls could never be
+broken down, nor hurt by the most mighty adverse potentate, unless the
+townsmen gave consent thereto._"
+
+Mr. Brown looked puzzled. "I don't follow you," he said.
+
+"Don't you? Bunyan wrote in parable, but his meaning is plain. He said
+that Diabolus could never conquer Mansoul except by the consent of
+Mansoul. Well, I saw this: England--Britain--could never be conquered
+except by the consent of the people of England. United, Britain is
+unconquerable."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Therefore, I made you see that if your country, which stands for force,
+and militarism, and barbarism, was to conquer England you must get
+England divided; you must get her own forces in a state of disunity. A
+country at war with itself is powerless. Set class against class,
+interest against interest, party against party, and you produce chaos.
+That is the only hope of your country, my friend. The thing was to get a
+man who could do this for you."
+
+"And you thought of Faversham?"
+
+"I told you to make his acquaintance."
+
+"Which I have done. The results you know."
+
+"Are you satisfied with the results?"
+
+Mr. John Brown was silent a few seconds. Evidently he was thinking
+deeply.
+
+"He is no Bolshevist at heart," he said.
+
+"Are you?"
+
+"I? Great heavens, no! I hate it, except for my enemies. But it has
+served our purpose so far. Russia is in a state of chaos; it is
+powerless--bleeding at our feet. If Russia had remained united, we, the
+Germans, would have been crushed, beaten, ruined. As it is----"
+
+"I love the condition of Russia," and Romanoff spoke almost exultantly.
+"I love it! It is what I hoped for, strove for, prayed for!"
+
+"You--a Russian--say that! And _you_ pray?"
+
+"Yes; I pray. What then?"
+
+"But you did not pray to God?" and there was a note of fear in Mr.
+Brown's voice.
+
+"I prayed to my own god," replied Romanoff, "who is a very good
+counterpart of the god of your Kaiser. The good old German god, eh?" and
+he laughed ruthlessly. "And what is he, my friend? A god of force, a god
+of cruelty. Ruthlessness, mercilessness, anything to win. That's the
+German god. I prayed to that."
+
+Mr. Brown almost shuddered.
+
+"Yes; the condition of Russia is one of the great joys of my life. It
+means victory--victory for me, for you--if we can only get England to
+follow Russia's example."
+
+"If we only could," assented Mr. Brown.
+
+"And there are elements at work which, properly used, will bring this
+about," went on the Count. "I, Romanoff, tell you so. And Faversham is
+your man."
+
+"He is no Bolshevist," again urged Mr. Brown. "At heart he knows what it
+means. That's why I am nearly hopeless about him. Give him time to
+think, and he will see that it will mean chaos--ruin to the things he
+has been taught to love."
+
+"Before Adam ate the forbidden fruit two things happened," remarked
+Romanoff.
+
+"What?"
+
+"First the serpent worked. Then the woman."
+
+"The woman! Yes; the woman!"
+
+"Human nature is a curious business," went on the Count. "There are
+several points at which it is vulnerable. I have made a special point of
+studying human nature, and this I have seen."
+
+"I don't quite follow you."
+
+"I don't speak in riddles, my friend. Take a strong character like
+Faversham, and consider it. What is likely to appeal to it? As I
+understand the case, there are three main channels of appeal. First,
+money, and all that money means. Next there is ambition, greed for
+power, place, position, dominance. Then there is the eternal thing--the
+Senses. Drink, gluttony, drugs, women. Generally any one of these things
+will master a man, but bring them altogether and it is certain he will
+succumb."
+
+"Yes, yes, I see."
+
+"Money, and all that money brings, is not enough in Faversham's case.
+That I know. But he is intensely ambitious--and--and he is young."
+
+"That is why you told me to introduce him to Olga?"
+
+"A woman can make a man do what, under ordinary circumstances, he would
+scorn to do. If you advocated Bolshevism to him, even although you
+convinced him that he could be Lenin and Trotsky rolled into one, and
+that he could carry the Democracy of Britain with him, he would laugh at
+you. I saw that yesterday after your conversation with him. He was
+attracted for an hour, but I saw that he laughed at your proposals. That
+was why I told you to let him see and hear Olga. Now, tell me of their
+meeting."
+
+Mr. Brown described in correct detail Dick's experiences in the East of
+London.
+
+"Never did I believe a woman could be such a siren," Mr. Brown
+concluded. "She charmed, she magnetised, she fascinated."
+
+"Is he in love with her?" asked the Count.
+
+"If he is not he must be a stone," said Mr. Brown.
+
+"Yes, but is he? I told you to watch him--to report to me."
+
+"I do not know. He did not consent readily; he must have time to think,
+he said. But, man, he cannot resist her!"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"But have you ever heard of any man who could resist her blandishments?
+Has she not been called a sorceress?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know--but he promised her nothing?"
+
+"He said he would let her know later."
+
+"Then he has resisted. My friend, I do not understand him. But--but--let
+me think."
+
+"He was greatly impressed not only by her, but by her arguments," went
+on Mr. Brown presently. "I tell you, the woman is a sibyl, a witch. She
+was wonderful--wonderful. While I listened, I--even I--almost believed
+in her description of Bolshevism. A new heaven, and a new earth! I tell
+you, I almost believed in it. She pictured a paradise, an El Dorado, an
+Elysium, and she made Faversham see, understand. I tell you, he cannot
+resist her, and if he promises her, as he will, I can see England in a
+state of chaos in six months. Then--then----"
+
+But the Count did not seem to be listening. His eyes were turned towards
+the streets, but he saw nothing.
+
+"He went to a spiritualistic séance this afternoon," he said presently.
+
+"What?--Faversham?"
+
+"Yes, Faversham. What do you think it means?"
+
+"I cannot think. He has never struck me as that sort of fellow."
+
+"Look here, Brown, have you had many intimate talks with him?"
+
+"Intimate? Yes, I think so."
+
+"What have you talked about?"
+
+"Always about the condition of the people, politics, and things of that
+nature."
+
+"Have you ever discussed religion with him?"
+
+"I don't believe he has any religion."
+
+"I wonder?"
+
+"What do you wonder?"
+
+"I say, during your conversations with him--during your visits to
+Eastroyd--have you ever heard, have you ever discovered, that he is in
+love with anyone?"
+
+"Never. He has taken no notice of women since I have known him. He seems
+to have been engrossed in his socialistic work. Mind, I doubt whether,
+at heart, he is even a socialist, much less a Bolshevist."
+
+"That does not matter if we can get him to enlist in Olga's crusade. He
+has enough influence among, not only the working classes of the country,
+but among the leaders of the working classes all over the land, to
+create disturbances. He can inspire strikes; he can cause anarchy among
+the people. He can imbue them with Bolshevist ideals; he can make great
+promises. That done, the British Army is powerless. Without coals, and
+without the means of transport--don't you see?"
+
+"Of course I see. That's what I've had in my mind from the first. If
+that can be done, Germany will be master of the world!"
+
+"And more than that," and the Count spoke exultantly, "I shall have him,
+body and soul."
+
+"But we must be very careful. If our plans leak out, my life will not be
+worth a row of pins."
+
+Again the Count paced the room. He did not seem to be heeding Mr. Brown.
+His face worked convulsively, his eyes burned red, his hands clenched
+and unclenched themselves.
+
+"I vowed I'd have him," he reflected--"vowed he should be mine. Left by
+himself he will do great things for what is called the good of the
+world. He will work for sobriety, purity, British national life. The man
+has powers, qualities which mean great things for what pietists call the
+world's betterment. But he is an aristocrat at heart; he loves money,
+and, more, he loves position, fame. He is as ambitious as Napoleon. He
+longs for power. But he has a conscience; he has a strong sense of what
+he calls right and wrong. I thought I had him down at Wendover. But I
+failed. Why, I wonder? But I will not fail this time. Olga will dull his
+conscience. She has charmed, fascinated him. She will make him her
+slave. Then--then----"
+
+"Yes, yes," broke in Mr. Brown, who had only half understood the Count's
+monologue; "then he will cause a revolution here in England, and Britain
+as a fighting power will be paralysed. But I am not sure of him. He
+loves his country, and unless Olga gets hold of him, and that soon, he
+will see what our plans mean, and he will refuse to move hand or foot.
+You see, we've got no hold on him."
+
+"We've every hold on him," almost snapped the Count. "We've appealed to
+his every weakness, and Olga will do the rest. I select my tools
+carefully, my friend."
+
+A knock was heard at the door, and the Count impatiently opened it. "I
+am engaged; I cannot be disturbed," he said.
+
+"The lady said she must see you," protested the servant, "so I--I
+thought I'd better come."
+
+The Count looked beyond the man, and saw a woman closely veiled.
+
+"Show the lady in," and a few seconds later she threw off her wraps and
+revealed her face.
+
+"Olga?" cried both men together.
+
+"Yes; I thought I'd better brave all danger. I've heard from him."
+
+"From Faversham?"
+
+"Yes; a long telegram."
+
+"What does he say?" gasped Mr. Brown.
+
+"I have it here," replied Olga breathlessly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+A VOICE FROM ANOTHER WORLD
+
+
+Dick Faversham walked along Oxford Street thinking deeply. Although he
+had been by no means convinced by what he had seen and heard, he could
+not help being impressed. The whole of the proceedings might be
+accounted for by jugglery and clever trickery, or, on the other
+hand, influences might have been at work which he could not
+understand--influences which came from the unseen world. But nothing
+satisfied him. Everything he had experienced lacked dignity. It was
+poor; it was sordid. He could not help comparing the outstanding
+features of the séance with the events which had so affected him. The
+face of the woman in the smoking-room of the steamer, the sublime figure
+which had upheld him when he was sinking in the wild, stormy sea, was
+utterly removed from the so-called spirits who had obeyed the summons of
+the mediums, and acted through them. How tawdry, too, were the so-called
+messages compared with the sublime words which had come to him almost
+like a whisper, and yet so plainly that he could hear it above the roar
+of the ocean:
+
+"The Eternal God is thy Refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting
+Arms."
+
+This was sublime--sublime in the great comfort it gave him, sublimer
+still in what it signified to the life of the world.
+
+"It's true, too!" he exclaimed aloud, as he threaded his way along the
+crowded thoroughfare. "True!"
+
+He stopped as the meaning of the words came to him:
+
+"The Eternal God is thy Refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting
+Arms."
+
+And because that was true, everything was possible!
+
+As he thought of it, his materialism melted like snow in a tropical sun,
+and he realised how superficial and how silly his past scepticism had
+been.
+
+God was behind all, underneath all, in all, through all. And if that was
+true, He had a thousand agents working to do His will, an infinite
+variety of means whereby His purposes were carried out. He, Dick
+Faversham, could not understand them; but what of that? God was greater
+than the thoughts of the creatures He had made.
+
+But what of his own immediate actions? He had promised Olga that he
+would that very day send her a telegram where and when he could meet
+her, and that this telegram would signify his intention to fall in with
+her plans. She had given him directions where this telegram was to be
+sent, and he had to confess that he had looked forward to meeting her
+again with no ordinary pleasure.
+
+The memory of their strange conversation on the previous night, and the
+picture of her glorious womanhood came to him with a strange vividness.
+Well, why should he not send the telegram?
+
+He passed a post office just then, and turned as though he would enter.
+But he did not pass through the doorway. Something, he could not tell
+what, seemed to hold him back. He thought little of it, however, and
+still made his way along Oxford Street, towards High Holborn.
+
+Again the problem of the future faced him, and he wondered what to do.
+Somehow, he could not tell why, but the thought of meeting the beautiful
+Russian did not seem to be in accord with the sublime words which were
+surging through his brain:
+
+"The Eternal God is thy Refuge."
+
+He found himself thinking of the wondrous face which had appeared to him
+as he stood at the door of Wendover Park, and he remembered the words
+that came to him.
+
+"Pray, pray!" the voice had said. "Watch and pray!"
+
+"God help me!" he cried almost involuntarily. "Great God help me!"
+
+He still threaded his way through the crowd in the great thoroughfare,
+almost unconscious of what he did. He was scarcely aware that he had
+uttered a cry to Heaven for help. He passed the end of Chancery Lane and
+then came to the old timbered houses which stand opposite Gray's Inn
+Road. But this ancient part of London did not appeal to him. He did not
+notice that the houses were different from others. He was almost like a
+man in a dream.
+
+Then suddenly he found himself in Staple Inn. How he had come there he
+did not know. He had no remembrance of passing through the old doorway,
+but he was there, and the change from the roar of the great thoroughfare
+outside and the silence of this little sequestered nook impressed him.
+
+There was not a soul visible in the little square. As all Londoners
+know, Staple Inn is one of the smallest and quietest in the metropolis.
+The houses which form it are mostly occupied by professional men, and
+there is scarcely ever anything like traffic there. But this afternoon
+there was no one to be seen, and the change from the crowded highway was
+pleasant.
+
+"What in the world am I doing here?" he asked himself.
+
+But before he had time to answer the question he had propounded he
+realised a strange sensation. Although he could see nothing, he felt
+that some presence was near him.
+
+"Listen."
+
+The word was scarcely above a whisper, but he heard it plainly. He
+looked around him, his senses alert, but nothing was to be seen.
+
+"Can you hear me?"
+
+"Yes." He spoke the word almost involuntarily, and his voice seemed
+strange to his own ears.
+
+"Do you know Drury Lane?"
+
+"Yes," and he looked around wonderingly, trying to locate the voice.
+
+"To-night, at nine o'clock, you must go to Drury Lane. You must walk
+westward until you come to Blot Street. Turn up at Blot Street, and keep
+along the right side. You must turn at the third street. You are sure
+you are following my instructions?"
+
+"Yes, yes," he answered excitedly. "Who are you? Where are you?"
+
+"You must walk along the third street for about twenty steps, stopping
+at the door marked 13A. You will knock five times in quick succession.
+You will wait five seconds, then you will give two more knocks louder
+than the first. The door will be opened, and you will be asked your
+business. Your reply will be two words, 'Victory,' 'Dominion.' You will
+be admitted without further questions. After that use your own
+judgment."
+
+Suddenly there was a change as if in the whole atmosphere. He had, as it
+seemed to him, been in a kind of trance, but now he was more than
+ordinarily awake. And he was alone. Whatever had been near him was gone.
+The voice had ceased speaking.[1]
+
+[Footnote 1: In view of the fact that the above incident may be regarded
+as utterly unbelievable, I may say that an experience of the same nature
+was related to me only a few weeks ago, far more wonderful than the one
+I have recorded. Concerning the good faith of those who told the
+incident, it is above all suspicion, and of its authenticity there seems
+no room for doubt. I cannot further enter into details for obvious
+reasons.--THE AUTHOR.]
+
+For some time Dick Faversham stood alone in the square without moving
+hand or foot. He was in a state of astonishment which was beyond the
+power of words to describe. But he had no doubt that he had heard the
+voice; he was as certain that some presence which he could not see had
+been near him as that he was certain he stood there at that moment.
+
+Outside the square in Holborn the tide of traffic rolled on. Conveyances
+filled with human life rushed eastward and westward; men and women,
+oblivious to the fact of any world save their own, made their way to
+their destinations; but inside the square a man felt he had been in
+touch with mystery, eternity.
+
+He moved into High Holborn like a man in a dream, and stood for a few
+seconds watching the faces of the passers-by.
+
+"And not one of them seems to realise that the spirit world is all
+around them," he reflected.
+
+He never thought of disobeying the commands he had received. The voice
+had come to him with a note of authority; the message was one which must
+be obeyed.
+
+Slowly he made his way westward again, and presently came to a post
+office. He entered without hesitation, wrote a telegram, gave it to the
+clerk, and, having paid for its dispatch, again made his way along the
+street.
+
+"There, that's done with," he said, with a sigh of relief.
+
+At nine o'clock that night he found himself in Drury Lane following the
+instructions he had received. He was quite calm, although his heart
+throbbed with expectancy. He had little or no thought of what he was
+going to see or hear; enough for him that he was obeying instructions,
+that he was acting upon the commands which had come to him for his good.
+For he had no doubt that these commands were somehow for his benefit.
+Almost unconsciously he associated the presence near him with the one
+who had hovered over him with arms outstretched when he had been sinking
+in the stormy sea.
+
+He had no difficulty in finding Blot Street, and quickly found himself
+at the third turning of that shabby-looking thoroughfare.
+
+"Chainley Alley," he read in the dim light of the darkened street lamp
+at the corner.
+
+The place was very quiet. He was now away from the traffic of the broad
+streets, and ordinary business had ceased for the day. There was nothing
+to mark Chainley Alley from a hundred others which may still be found in
+the centre of London. It was simply a dark, grimy little opening which,
+to the ordinary passer-by, presented no interest whatever. A minute
+later he stood at 13A. All was dark here, and it was with difficulty
+that he discerned the number. He listened intently, but heard no sound,
+and then, with a fast-beating heart, he knocked five times in quick
+succession. Then, waiting five seconds, he knocked again according to
+instructions.
+
+The door opened as if by magic. It might seem that he was expected. But
+the passage into which he looked was as black as ink; neither could he
+hear anything.
+
+Then suddenly the silence was broken. "Who are you? What do you want?"
+asked someone unseen.
+
+"'Victory,' 'Dominion,'" he whispered.
+
+A dim light shone, and he saw what looked like a woman of the caretaker
+order. Evidently the house was bigger than he imagined, for the woman
+led him down a long corridor which suggested that it was a way to
+another and a larger block of buildings in the rear.
+
+She opened a door and told him to go in. "You will wait there till I
+call you," she whispered, and then closed the door behind him.
+
+There was a thick rug on the floor, which muffled the sound of his
+footsteps, but there was no furniture in the room save a deal table and
+one straight-backed chair. A tiny gas-jet burnt on the wall, which,
+however, was extinguished a few seconds after the door had closed.
+
+"This is darkness with a vengeance," reflected Dick, but the fact did
+not trouble him so much because he had brought a small electric lamp
+with him. He switched on this light and saw that the room had no outlet
+at all, save the door. There was neither window nor fireplace, and, in
+fact, was little more than a large cupboard.
+
+Before he had time to realise what this might mean, he heard the sound
+of footsteps, which seemed to be close by; this was followed by
+murmuring voices. Then there were more footsteps, and the voices became
+clearer.
+
+"Is he come?" he heard one man say.
+
+"Not yet. But he'll soon be here. He did not promise to get here till
+half-past nine."
+
+From that time there was a general hum of conversation, which was
+intermingled by the clinking of glasses. It might be that he was close
+to a kind of club-room, and that the members were arriving and ordering
+refreshments. The conversation continued, now indistinct, and again more
+clear. Dick caught snatches of it, but it was not connected, and
+conveyed but little meaning to him.
+
+Suddenly he heard everything plainly, and a sentence struck him. "I hope
+he'll be careful," he heard someone say. "The whole lot of us would
+swing if we were found here together." The man spoke in German, and
+Dick's interest became tense.
+
+"More likely be shot," someone retorted, with a laugh.
+
+"But we're safe enough. This is the first time we've been here, and
+every care has been taken."
+
+"I know," said someone, who appeared doubtful, "but if the British
+Secret Service people have been fools in the past, they are sharp enough
+now. Schleswig thought he was as safe as houses, but he was cleverly
+nabbed, and now he's cold meat."
+
+"Never mind," said another voice, "our turn is coming. Gott in Himmel,
+won't we let them know when we are masters of London! Even now the
+English don't know that their country is a powder magazine. They little
+think that, in spite of their Alien Acts and the rest of it, the country
+is still riddled with friends of the Fatherland. Hark, he's coming!"
+
+This was followed by a general shuffling of feet, and Dick instinctively
+felt that something of importance was about to happen. He wondered at
+the ease with which he could now hear. Evidently the partition which hid
+him from the room in which the conspirators had met (for evidently they
+were conspirators) was thin, or else there must have been some secret
+channel by which the sounds reached him. He realised, too, that these
+people had not entered by way of Chainley Alley, but that their room
+must have an outlet somewhere else. Possibly, probably too, as they had
+used this meeting-place for the first time that night, these people
+would be ignorant of the closet where he was hidden.
+
+Dick heard a new voice, and he detected in a moment that it was a voice
+of authority. I will not attempt to relate all he heard, or attempt to
+give a detailed description of all that took place. I will only briefly
+indicate what took place.
+
+The newcomer, who was evidently the person for whom the others had
+waited, seemed to regard those to whom he spoke as his subordinates. He
+was apparently the leader of a movement, who reported to his workers
+what progress had been made, and who gave them instructions as to the
+future.
+
+He began by telling them that things were not going altogether well for
+the Fatherland, although he had no doubt of final victory.
+
+But England--Great Britain--was their great enemy, and, unless she were
+conquered, Germany could never again attempt to be master of the world.
+But this could never be done altogether by force of arms.
+
+"Russia is conquered!" he declared; "it lies bleeding, helpless, at our
+feet, but it was not conquered on the battlefield. By means of a
+thousand secret agencies, by careful and skilful propaganda, by huge
+bribes, and by playing on the ignorance of the foolish, we set the
+Bolshevist movement on foot, and it has done our work. Of course it has
+meant hell in Russia, but what of that? It was necessary for the
+Fatherland, and we did our work. What, although the ghastliest outrages
+are committed, and millions killed, if Germany gains her ends!"
+
+What was done in Russia was also being done in Great Britain, he assured
+them. Of course, our task was harder because the people had, on the
+whole, been well conditioned and had the justest Government in the
+world. But he had not been dismayed. Thousands of agencies existed, and
+even among the English the Germans had many friends. The seeds which had
+been sown were bringing forth their harvest.
+
+They had fermented strikes, and the English people hadn't known that
+they had done it. If some of the key industries, such as coal and
+transport, could be captured, England was doomed. This could be done by
+Bolshevism; and it was being done.
+
+"But what real progress has been made?" someone dared to ask presently.
+
+"We have workers, agents in all these industries," replied the man, "and
+I'm glad to tell you that we have won a new recruit, who, although he is
+a patriotic Englishman, will help our cause mightily. Our trusted
+friend, Mr. John Brown, has got hold of a man who has a tremendous
+influence among not only the working-class people in various unions, but
+among the leaders of those unions, and who will be of vast help in our
+cause, and of making Great Britain another Russia; that done, victory
+is ours."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"A young man named Faversham. John Brown has had him in hand for months,
+and has now fairly made him his tool. Even to-night, comrades, we shall
+get him into our net."
+
+"Tell us more about him," cried someone; but before the speaker could
+reply, some sort of signal was evidently given, for there was a general
+stampede, and in an incredibly short time silence reigned.
+
+Almost unconsciously Dick switched on his electric lamp and looked at
+his watch. It was eleven o'clock. Although he had not realised it, he
+had been in the little cupboard of a room more than an hour and a half,
+while these men had been plotting the ruin and the destruction of the
+country he loved.
+
+For some time he could not grasp all he had heard, but the meaning of it
+was presently clear to him. The thought almost overwhelmed him. He had
+unwittingly been again and again playing into the hands of the enemy.
+
+"I must get out of this," he reflected after a few seconds. "I must get
+back to the hotel and think it all out."
+
+"You can go now." It was the woman who showed him there who spoke.
+
+A few seconds later he was in the open air, making his way towards Drury
+Lane.
+
+"Thank God!"
+
+The words passed his lips involuntarily. It seemed the natural
+expression of his heart.
+
+Almost unconsciously he found his way back to his hotel. He had no
+remembrance afterwards of the streets he had traversed, or of the
+turnings he had taken. His mind was too full of the thought that but for
+his wonderful experience in Staple Inn the facts he had learnt that
+night would not have been made known to him.
+
+On reaching his hotel he made his way to his sitting-room, and on
+opening the door he saw a letter lying on the table, which on
+examination he found to be signed "Olga."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+OLGA MAKES LOVE
+
+
+In order to relate this story in a connected manner it is necessary to
+return to Count Romanoff's rooms, where, a few hours earlier, both the
+Count and Mr. John Brown were startled by the sudden entrance of Olga.
+
+"Let me see the telegram," the Count said, holding out his hand. His
+voice was somewhat hoarse, and his eyes had a peculiar glitter in them.
+
+The girl handed it to him without a word.
+
+    "_Impossible for me to come. Am leaving London almost
+    immediately._--FAVERSHAM."
+
+"What time did you get this?" he asked.
+
+"I scarcely know. Almost directly I got it I came to you. I thought it
+best. Do you think it is true? Do you believe he will leave London?"
+
+The Count was silent for a few seconds. "It would seem so, wouldn't it?"
+he answered grimly. "But he must _not_ leave London. At all hazards, he
+must be kept here."
+
+"But it means that Olga has failed," cried Mr. John Brown. "It means
+that we have lost him!"
+
+"We have not lost him. I'll see to that," and there was a snarl in
+Romanoff's voice. "Olga Petrovic, all now depends on you. At your peril
+you must keep him here; you must win him over. If you fail, so much the
+worse for you."
+
+Evidently the girl was angered. "Do you threaten me?" she said, with
+flashing eyes.
+
+"And if I do, what then?"
+
+"Simply that I will not be threatened. If you speak to me in that
+fashion, I refuse to move another finger."
+
+"I am not in the habit of having my plans destroyed by the whims of a
+petulant woman," said the Count very quietly. "I tell you that if you
+fail to keep him in London, and if you fail to make him your slave,
+ready to obey your every bidding, you pay the penalty."
+
+"What penalty?"
+
+"What penalty?" and the Count laughed. "Need you ask that? You are in my
+power, Countess Olga Petrovic. I know every detail of your
+history--every detail, mind you--from the time you were waiting-maid to
+the Czarina. Yours is a curious history, Countess. How much would your
+life be worth if it were known to the British authorities that you were
+in London? What would our German friends do to you if they knew the part
+you played at Warsaw?"
+
+"You know of that?" she gasped.
+
+"I know everything, Countess. But I wish you no harm. All I demand is
+that you gain and keep Faversham in your power."
+
+"Why are you so anxious for him to be in my power?"
+
+"Because then he will be in my power."
+
+"Your power? Why do you wish him in your power? Do you want to do him
+harm?"
+
+"Harm!" Then Romanoff laughed. "And if I do, what then?"
+
+"That I refuse to serve you. Carry out your threats; tell the British
+authorities who I am. Tell the Germans what I did at Warsaw. I do not
+care. I defy you. Unless you promise me that you will not do Faversham
+harm, I will do nothing."
+
+"Why are you interested as to whether I will do Faversham harm?"
+
+"I am--that's all."
+
+The Count was silent for a few seconds. Evidently his mind was working
+rapidly. "Look at me!" he cried suddenly, and, as if by some power she
+could not resist, she raised her eyes to his.
+
+The Count laughed like one amused.
+
+"You have fallen in love with him, eh?"
+
+The girl was silent, but a flush mounted her cheeks.
+
+"This is interesting," he sneered. "I did not think that Olga Petrovic,
+who has regarded men as so many dogs of the fetch-and-carry order, and
+who has scorned the thought of love, should have fallen a victim to the
+malady. And to a thick-headed Englishman, too! Surely it is very
+sudden."
+
+"You sneer," she cried, "but if I want to be a good woman; what then?"
+
+The Count waved his hand airily. "Set's the wind in that quarter, eh?
+Well, well. But it is very interesting. I see; you love him--you, Olga
+Petrovic."
+
+"And if I do," she cried defiantly, "what then?"
+
+"Only that you will obey me the more implicitly."
+
+"I will not obey you," she cried passionately. "And remember this, I am
+not a woman to be played with. There have been many who have tried to
+get the better of Olga Petrovic, and--and you know the result."
+
+"La, la!" laughed the Count, "and so my lady threatens, does she? And do
+you know, if I were susceptible to a woman's beauty, I should rejoice to
+see you angry. Anger makes you even more beautiful than ever. For you
+are beautiful, Olga."
+
+"Leave my beauty alone," she said sullenly. "It is not for you anyhow."
+
+"I see, I see. Now listen to me. If you do not obey me in everything, I
+go to Richard Faversham, and I tell him who and what you are. I give him
+your history for the last ten years. Yes, for the last ten years. You
+began your career at eighteen and now you are twenty-eight. Yes, you
+look a young girl of twenty-two, and pride yourself upon it. Now then,
+Countess, which is it to be? Am I to help you to win the love of
+Faversham--yes and I can promise you that you shall win his love if you
+obey my bidding--or am I to go to him and tell him who Olga Petrovic
+really is?"
+
+The girl looked at him angrily, yet piteously. For the first time she
+seemed afraid of him. Her eyes burnt with fury, and yet were full of
+pleading at the same time. Haughty defiance was on her face, while her
+lips trembled.
+
+"But if you tell him, you destroy my plans. You cannot do that, Count!"
+It was Mr. John Brown who spoke, and there was a note of terror in his
+voice.
+
+"_Your_ plans! What do I care for your plans?" cried the Count. "It is
+of my own plans I am thinking."
+
+"But I thought, and as you know we agreed----"
+
+"It is not for you to think, or to question my thoughts," interrupted
+the Count. "I allow no man to interpret my plans, or to criticise the
+way in which I work them out. But rest contented, my dear friend, John
+Brown," he added banteringly, "the success of your plans rests upon the
+success of my own."
+
+While they were speaking Olga Petrovic gazed towards the window with
+unseeing eyes. She looked quite her age now: all suggestion of the young
+girl had gone, she was a stern, hard-featured woman. Beautiful she was,
+it is true, but with a beauty marked by bitter experience, and not the
+beauty of blushing girlhood.
+
+"Well, Countess Olga, which is it to be?" asked Romanoff, who had been
+watching her while he had been speaking to Mr. Brown.
+
+"What do you want me to do?"
+
+"Do! Keep him in London. Enlist his sympathies. Make him your slave as
+you have made other men your slaves. Bind him to you hand and foot. Make
+him love you."
+
+A strange light burned in the girl's eyes, for at the Count's last words
+she had seemingly thrown off years of her life. She had become young and
+eager again.
+
+"Swear to me that you mean him no harm, and I will do it," was her
+reply. "If I can," she added, as an afterthought.
+
+"Do you doubt it?" asked Romanoff. "Have you ever failed when you have
+made up your mind?"
+
+"No, but I do not feel certain of him. He is not like those others.
+Besides, I failed last night. In his heart he has refused me already. He
+said he was leaving London almost immediately, which means that he does
+not intend to see me again."
+
+"And you want to see him again?"
+
+"Yes," she replied defiantly; "I do."
+
+"Good." He seized a telephone receiver as he spoke and asked for a
+certain number. Shortly after he was connected with Dick's hotel.
+
+"Mr. Richard Faversham of Eastroyd is staying with you, isn't he?"
+
+"Mr. Richard Faversham? Yes, sir."
+
+"Is he in?"
+
+"No, sir, he went out a few minutes ago."
+
+"Did he say when he was likely to return?"
+
+"No, sir, he said nothing."
+
+"But you expect him back to-night?"
+
+"As far as I know, sir."
+
+"Thank you. Either I, or a lady friend, will call to see him to-morrow
+morning at ten o'clock on a very important matter. Tell him that, will
+you?"
+
+"Certainly, sir. What name?"
+
+But the Count did not reply. He hung up the telephone receiver instead.
+
+"Why did you say that?" asked Olga. "How dare I go to his hotel in broad
+daylight?"
+
+"You dare do anything, Countess," replied the Count. "Besides, you need
+not fear. Although you are wanted by the British authorities, you are so
+clever at disguise that no detective in Scotland Yard would be able to
+see through it." He hesitated a moment, and then went on: "If we were in
+Paris I would insist on your going to see him to-night, but Mrs. Grundy
+is so much in evidence in England that we must not risk it."
+
+"But if they fail to give him your message?" she asked. "Suppose he
+leaves to-morrow morning before I can get there?" Evidently she was
+eager to carry out this part of his plans.
+
+"He will not leave," replied Romanoff; "still, we must be on the safe
+side. You must write and tell him you are coming. There is ink and paper
+on yonder desk."
+
+"What shall I write?" she asked.
+
+"Fancy Olga Petrovic asking such a question," laughed the Count. "Word
+your letter as only you can word it, and he will spend a sleepless night
+in anticipation of the joy of seeing you."
+
+She hesitated for a few seconds, and then rushing to the desk began to
+write rapidly.
+
+"And now," said Romanoff, when she had finished, "to avoid all danger
+we must send this by a special messenger."
+
+Thus it was, when Dick Faversham returned from Chainley Alley that night
+that he found the letter signed "Olga" awaiting him.
+
+It was no ordinary letter that he read. A stranger on perusing it would
+have said that it was simply a request for an interview, but to Dick it
+was couched in such a fashion that it was impossible for him to leave
+London before seeing her. For this is what he had intended to do. When
+he had sent the telegram a few hours earlier his mind was fully made up
+never to see her again. Why he could not tell, but the effect of his
+strange experience in Staple Inn was to make him believe that it would
+be best for him to wipe this fascinating woman from the book of his
+life. Her influence over him was so great that he felt afraid. While in
+her presence, even while she fascinated him, he could not help thinking
+of the fateful hours in Wendover Park, when Romanoff stood by his side,
+and paralysed his manhood.
+
+But as he read her letter, he felt he could do no other than remain.
+Indeed he found himself anticipating the hour of her arrival, and
+wondering why she wished to see him.
+
+He had come to London ostensibly on business connected with his probable
+candidature in Eastroyd, and as he had to see many people, he had
+engaged a private sitting-room in the hotel. To this room he hurried
+eagerly after breakfast the following morning, and although he made
+pretensions of reading the morning newspaper, scarcely a line of news
+fixed itself on his memory. On every page he saw the glorious face of
+this woman, and as he saw, he almost forgot what he had determined as he
+left Chainley Alley.
+
+Precisely at ten o'clock she was shown into the room, and Dick almost
+gave a gasp as he saw her. She was like no woman he had ever seen
+before. If he had thought her beautiful amidst the sordid surroundings
+of the warehouse in the East End of London, she seemed ten-fold more so
+now, as slightly flushed with exercise, and arrayed in such a fashion
+that her glorious figure was set off to perfection, she appeared before
+him. She was different too. Then she was, in spite of her pleading
+tones, somewhat masterful, and assertive. Now she seemed timid and
+shrinking, as though she would throw herself on his protection.
+
+"Are you sure you are safe in coming here?" he asked awkwardly. "You
+remember what you told me?"
+
+"You care then?" she flashed back. Then she added quickly, "Yes, I do
+not think anyone here will recognise me. Besides, I had to take the
+risk."
+
+"Why?" he questioned.
+
+"Because your telegram frightened me."
+
+"Frightened you? How?"
+
+"Because--oh, you will not fail me, will you? I have been building on
+you--and you said you were leaving London. Surely that does not mean
+that all my hopes are dashed to the ground? Tell me they are not."
+
+Her great dark eyes flashed dangerously into his as she spoke, while her
+presence almost intoxicated him. But he mastered himself. What he had
+heard the previous night came surging back to his memory.
+
+"If your hopes in any way depend on me, I am afraid you had better
+forget them," he said.
+
+"No, no, I can never forget them. Did you not inspire them? When I saw
+you did I not feel that you were the leader we needed? Ah no, you cannot
+fail me."
+
+"I cannot do what you ask."
+
+"But why? Only the night before last you were convinced. You saw the
+vision, and you had made up your mind to be faithful to it. And oh, you
+could become so great, so glorious!"
+
+He felt the woman's magnetic power over him; but he shook his head
+stubbornly.
+
+"But why?" she pleaded.
+
+"Because I have learned what your proposal really means," he replied,
+steeling himself against her. "I was carried away by your pleading, but
+I have since seen that by doing what you ask I should be playing into
+the hands of the enemies of my country, the enemies of everything worth
+living for."
+
+"You mean the Germans; but I hate Germany. I want to destroy all
+militarism, all force. I want the world to live in peace, in prosperity,
+and love."
+
+"I cannot argue with you," replied Dick; "but my determination is fixed.
+I have learnt that Mr. John Brown is a German, and that he wants to do
+in England what has been done in Russia, so that Germany may rule the
+world."
+
+"Mr. John Brown a German!" she cried like one horror-stricken. "You
+cannot mean that?"
+
+"Did you not know it?"
+
+"I? Oh no, no, no! you cannot mean it! It would be terrible!"
+
+She spoke with such passion that he could not doubt her, but he still
+persisted in his refusal.
+
+"I have seen that what you dream of doing would turn Europe, the world,
+into a hell. If I were to try to persuade the people of this country to
+follow in the lines of Russia, I should be acting the part of a criminal
+madman. Not that I could have a tithe of the influence you suggested,
+but even to use what influence I have towards such a purpose would be to
+sell my soul, and to curse thousands of people."
+
+She protested against his statement, declaring that her purposes were
+only beneficent. She was shocked at the idea that Mr. John Brown was a
+German, but if it were true, then it only showed how evil men would
+pervert the noblest things to the basest uses. She pleaded for poor
+humanity; she begged him to reconsider his position, and to remember
+what he could do for the betterment of the life of the world. But
+although she fascinated him by the magic of her words, and the witchery
+of her presence, Dick was obdurate. What she advocated he declared meant
+the destruction of law and order, and the destruction of law and order
+meant the end of everything sacred and holy.
+
+Then she changed her ground. She was no longer a reformer, pleading for
+the good of humanity, but a weak woman seeking his strength and
+guidance, yet glorious in her matchless beauty.
+
+"If I am wrong," she pleaded, "stay with me, and teach me. I am lonely
+too, so lonely in this strange land, and I do so need a friend like you,
+strong, and brave, and wise. And oh, I will be such an obedient pupil!
+Ah, you will not leave London, will you? Say you will not--not yet."
+
+Again she almost mastered him, but still he remained obdurate.
+
+"I must return to my work, Miss----You did not tell me your name." And
+she thought she detected weakness in his tones.
+
+"My name is Olga Petrovic," she replied. "In my own country, when I had
+a country, I was Countess Olga Petrovic, and I suppose that I have still
+large estates there; but please do not call me by your cold English term
+'Miss.' Let me be Olga to you, and you will be Dick to me, won't you?"
+
+"I--I don't understand," he stammered.
+
+"But you do, surely you do. Can you look into my eyes, and say you do
+not? There, look at me. Yes, let me tell you I believe in the sacredness
+of love, the sacredness of marriage. Now you understand, don't you? You
+will stay in London, won't you, and will teach a poor, ignorant girl
+wherein she is in error."
+
+He understood her now. Understood that she was making love to him,
+asking him to marry her, but still he shook his head. "I must return to
+my work," he said.
+
+"But not yet--tell me not yet. Forgive me if I do not understand English
+ways and customs. When I love, and I never loved before, I cannot help
+declaring it. Now promise me."
+
+A knock came to the door, and a servant came bearing cards on a tray.
+
+"Mr. Hugh Edgeware," "Miss Beatrice Edgeware," he read. He held the
+cards in his hands for a second, then turned to the woman, "I must ask
+you to excuse me," he said. "I have friends who have come to see me."
+
+Olga Petrovic gave him a look which he could not understand, then
+without a word left the room, while he stood still like a man
+bewildered.
+
+"Show them up," he said to the servant.
+
+
+
+
+PART III.--THE THIRD TEMPTATION
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+THE COUNT'S CONFEDERATE
+
+
+Count Romanoff sat alone in his room. On one side the window of his room
+faced Piccadilly with its great seething tide of human traffic, from
+another St. James's Park was visible. But the Count was not looking at
+either; he was evidently deep in his own thoughts, and it would appear
+that those thoughts were not agreeable.
+
+He was not a pleasant-looking man as he sat there that day. He was
+carefully dressed, and had the appearance of a polished man of the
+world. No stranger would have passed him by without being impressed by
+his personality--a dark and sinister personality possibly, but still
+striking, and distinguished. No one doubted his claim to the title of
+Count, no one imagined him to be other than a great personage. But he
+was not pleasant to look at. His eyes burnt with a savage glare, his
+mouth, his whole expression, was cruel. It might seem as though he had
+been balked in his desire, as though some cruel disappointment had made
+him angry.
+
+More than once his hands clenched and unclenched themselves as he
+muttered angrily, savagely, while again and again a laugh of vindictive
+triumph passed his lips. And yet even in his laugh of triumph there was
+something of doubt. He was perturbed, he was furious.
+
+"But he shall be mine," he said at length, "mine! and then----"
+
+But his tone lacked certainty; his eyes burnt with anger because he had
+not been able to accomplish his designs.
+
+"It might be that he was especially watched over," he reflected, as
+though some beneficent Providence were fighting for him. "Providence!
+Providence! As though----!"
+
+He started to his feet and began to pace the room. His stride was angry,
+his whole appearance suggested defeat--a defeat which he had determined
+to transform to triumph.
+
+"Good! Evil!" he cried. "Yes, that is it. Good! Evil! And I have given
+myself over to evil, and I have sworn that evil could be made stronger
+than good! I have sworn to exemplify it, in the case of that young fool,
+Dick Faversham. I thought I should have accomplished it long ago but I
+have so far failed, failed!"
+
+He still continued to pace the room, although apparently he was
+unconscious of the fact. There was a far-off look in his eyes, a look
+that almost suggested despair.
+
+"Does it mean after all that right is stronger than wrong, that right is
+more eternally established in the world than wrong? That in the sweep of
+events the power of right is slowly but surely conquering and crushing
+the evil, that the story of what is called evolution is the story of the
+angel in man overcoming the beast?"
+
+Again he laughed, and the laugh had a cruel ring in it.
+
+"No, no; evil is triumphant. Nearly two thousand years have passed since
+the Man of Nazareth was crucified, and yet for years the devil has been
+triumphant. Europe has been deluged in blood, world hatreds have been
+created, murder has been the order of the day, and the earth has been
+soaked in blood. No, no; evil is triumphant. The Cross has been a
+failure, and Him who died on it defeated!"
+
+He paused in his angry march around the room, and again he looked
+doubtful.
+
+"No, no," he cried; "cruelty, lies, treason, have not triumphed. Germany
+is beaten; her doctrine that might was right--a doctrine born in
+hell--has been made false. After all this sword-clanging, all the
+vauntings about an invincible army, materialism, devilry, have failed.
+Germany is being humbled to the dust, and her militarism defeated and
+disgraced."
+
+The thought was evidently wormwood to him, for his features worked
+convulsively, his eyes were bloodshot. It might seem that the triumph of
+right filled him with torture.
+
+Presently he shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and lifted his hands
+above his head as though he would throw a burden from him.
+
+"But that is not my affair," he cried. "It was for me to conquer that
+man, to make him my slave. I swore to do it. I had every chance, and I
+thought that he, young, ambitious, and subject to all human passions,
+would be an easy victim. He was no dreamer, he had none of the makings
+of an ascetic, much less a saint, and yet so far he has beaten me. He
+still lives what is called the clean, healthy life. He still mocks me.
+It might be that he is specially guarded, that some angel of good were
+constantly fighting against me, constantly defeating me."
+
+The thought seemed to disconcert Romanoff. A look almost like fear swept
+over his features, and again something like despair came into his eyes.
+
+"But no, I have other weapons in my armoury yet," he reflected. "He is
+no religious fanatic, no pious prig with ideals, he is still ambitious,
+still craves for all the things that humanity longs for."
+
+A clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour of six.
+
+"He should soon be here," he reflected. "I told him not to waste a
+second."
+
+At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a second later a man
+entered who gave the appearance of having come from a distance.
+
+He was a mild, placid-looking creature whose very walk suggested that he
+was constantly making an apology for his existence. A creature not of
+highways, but of byways, a humble Uriah Heep sort of fellow who could
+act like a whipped cur in his desire to curry favour, but who in his
+hour of triumph would show his fangs, and rend his victim without mercy.
+
+"You are back to time, Slyme. Well, what news?"
+
+By this time Romanoff was the great gentleman again--haughty,
+patronising, calm, and collected.
+
+"Of course your honour has heard that he's in? I wired the moment I
+knew."
+
+"Yes, I knew that before I got your wire. A servant in the hotel here
+told me the moment it was ticked off on the tape. Of course I expected
+that. Naturally it was uncertain, as all such things are. One can
+calculate on the actions of the few; but not on those of the many. Human
+nature is a funny business."
+
+"Isn't it, your Excellency? It's a remark I've often dared to make; one
+can never tell what'll happen. But he's in; he's the Member for
+Eastroyd."
+
+"With over a thousand majority."
+
+"I've discovered that he's coming up to town by the midnight train from
+Eastroyd."
+
+"Ah!" The Count's eyes flashed with interest.
+
+"Yes, he seemed very much delighted at his victory, and is coming up I
+suppose to consult with other Members of his party."
+
+"Of course he's delighted with his victory. For heaven's sake refrain
+from remarking on the obvious. Tell me about the election."
+
+"What does your honour, that is, your lordship, want to hear about? What
+phase of the election, I mean?"
+
+"You had your instructions. Report on them."
+
+"Well, if I may say so," remarked Slyme apologetically, "although he has
+over a thousand majority, he has very much disappointed the people."
+
+"Why? In what way?"
+
+"He isn't so much of a firebrand as he was. The people complain that he
+is too mealy-mouthed."
+
+"Less of a people's man, do you mean?"
+
+"I don't say that quite. But he's more moderate. He talks like a man
+trying to see all sides of a question."
+
+The Count reflected a few seconds, and then snapped his fingers.
+
+"And his private life?" the Count questioned.
+
+"As far as I could find out, blameless."
+
+"Have the wealthier classes taken up with him at all?"
+
+"No, not actively. But they are far less bitter towards him. They are
+saying that he's an honest man. I do not say that for myself. I'm only
+quoting," added the little man.
+
+Romanoff asked many questions on this head, which the little man
+answered apologetically, as if with a desire to know his employer's
+views before making direct statements.
+
+"There are generally a lot of scandals at a political election," went on
+the Count. "I suppose that of Eastroyd was no exception?" He said this
+meaningly, as though there were an understanding between them.
+
+Little Polonius Slyme laughed in a sniggering way. "Polonius" was the
+name by which he was known among his friends, and more than once the
+Count used it when addressing him.
+
+"I made many inquiries in that direction," he replied; "I even went so
+far as to insinuate certain things," he added with a covert look towards
+the Count. "I had some success, but not much."
+
+But the Count's face was like a mask. Polonius Slyme could tell nothing
+of his thoughts.
+
+"I did not think your lordship would be offended?" he queried with a
+cunning look in his eyes.
+
+"Go on."
+
+"I had some success, but not much."
+
+"What were your insinuations about? Drink, drug-taking, debt,
+unfaithfulness to his class?--what?"
+
+"Oh, there was no possibility of doing anything on those lines,
+although, as I said, there was some disappointment on the last head. But
+that's nothing. I reflected that he was a young man, and a bachelor--a
+good-looking bachelor." He added the last words with a suggestive
+giggle.
+
+"I see. Well?"
+
+"Of course he is a great favourite with the fair sex. By dint of very
+careful but persistent investigation I discovered that two ladies are
+deeply in love with him."
+
+Romanoff waited in silence.
+
+"One is the daughter of a wealthy manufacturer, quite the belle of the
+town among the moneyed classes. I inquired about her. There is no doubt
+that she's greatly interested in him."
+
+"And he?"
+
+"He's been seen in her company."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. She would be a good match for him, that's all. There was a
+rumour that she had visited his lodgings late at night."
+
+"Which rumour you started?"
+
+"I thought it might be useful some day. As for the other woman, she's a
+mill girl. A girl who could be made very useful, I should think."
+
+"Yes, how?"
+
+"She's undoubtedly very much in love with him--after her own fashion.
+She possesses a kind of gipsy beauty, has boundless ambitions, is of a
+jealous disposition, and would stop at nothing to gain her desires."
+
+"And is Faversham friendly with her?"
+
+"Just friendly enough for one to start a scandal in case of necessity.
+And the girl, as you may say, not being overburdened with conscientious
+scruples, could be made very useful."
+
+Romanoff reflected for some time, then he turned to Slyme again.
+
+"Slyme," he said, "I don't think you need go any further in that
+direction. Faversham is scarcely the man to deal with in the way you
+suggest. Still you can keep them in mind. One never knows what may
+happen."
+
+Polonius Slyme was evidently puzzled. He looked cautiously,
+suspiciously, at the face of the other, as if trying to understand him.
+
+"I have tried to do your lordship's will," he ventured.
+
+"Yes, and on the whole I'm satisfied with what you've done. Yes, what is
+it?"
+
+"If your lordship would deign to trust me," he said.
+
+"Trust you? In what way?"
+
+"If you would tell me what is in your mind, I could serve you better,"
+he asserted, with a nervous laugh. "All the time I have been acting in
+the dark. I don't understand your lordship."
+
+The Count smiled as though he were pleased.
+
+"What do you want to know?" he asked.
+
+"I am very bold, I know, and doubtless I am not worthy to have the
+confidence of one so great and so wise as your lordship. But I have
+tried to be worthy, I have worked night and day for you--not for the
+wages, liberal though they are, but solely for the purpose of being
+useful to you. And I could, I am sure, be more useful if I knew your
+mind, if I knew exactly what you wanted. I am sure of this: if I knew
+your purposes in relation to Faversham, if I knew what you wanted to do
+with him, I could serve you better."
+
+The Count looked at Slyme steadily for some seconds.
+
+"I allow no man to understand my mind, my purposes," the Count answered.
+
+"Certainly, your lordship," assented the little man meekly; "only your
+lordship doubtless sees that--that I am handicapped. I don't think I'm a
+fool," he added; "I am as faithful as a dog, and as secret as the
+grave."
+
+"You want to know more than that," replied Romanoff harshly.
+
+Polonius Slyme was silent.
+
+"You want to know who I am," continued the Count. "You have been puzzled
+because I, who am known as a Russian, should interest myself in this man
+Faversham, and up to now you, in spite of the fact that you've hunted
+like a ferret, have found out nothing. More than that, you cannot think
+why I fastened on you to help me, and, cunning little vermin that you
+are, you stopped at nothing to discover it."
+
+"But only in your interest," assented the little man eagerly; "only
+because I wanted to deserve the honour you have bestowed upon me."
+
+"I am disposed to be communicative," went on the Count; "disposed to
+make something of a confidante of you. Of my secret mind, you, nor no
+man, shall know anything, but I will let you know something."
+
+Polonius Slyme drew nearer his master and listened like a fox. "Yes,
+your lordship," he whispered.
+
+"Look here, Polonius, you have just told me that you are a man of
+brains: suppose that you wanted to get a strong man in your power, to
+make him your slave, body and soul, what would you do? Suppose also that
+you had great, but still limited power, that your knowledge was wide,
+but with marked boundaries, how would you set to work?"
+
+"Every man has his weaknesses," replied Polonius. "I should discover
+them, fasten upon them, and make my plans accordingly."
+
+"Yes, that's right. Now we'll suppose that Faversham is the man, what
+would you regard as his weaknesses?"
+
+"Pride, ambition, a love, almost amounting to a passion, for power,"
+answered the little man quickly. "That would mean a longing for wealth,
+a craving for fame."
+
+"And conscience?" queried the Count.
+
+"He has a conscience," replied the little man; "a conscience which may
+be called healthily normal."
+
+"Just so. Now I'll tell you something. I've placed wealth in his way,
+and he has rejected it for conscience sake. I've tempted him with power
+and fame, almost unlimited power and fame, and although he's seen the
+bait, he has not risen to it."
+
+Polonius was silent for some time. Evidently he was thinking deeply;
+evidently, too, he saw something of what lay behind the Count's words,
+for he nodded his head sagely, and into his cunning eyes came a look of
+understanding.
+
+"Of course you do not care to tell me why you want to make him your
+slave, body and soul?" he whispered.
+
+"No!" the Count almost snarled. "No man may know that."
+
+"You ask what I would do next?"
+
+"Yes, I ask that."
+
+"No man is invulnerable," said the little man, as though he were talking
+to himself. "No man ever was, no man ever will be. Every man has his
+price, and if one can pay it----"
+
+"There is no question of price," said the Count eagerly; "nothing need
+stand in the way, any price can be paid."
+
+"I see, I see," and the little man's foxy eyes flashed. "You want to
+work the man's moral downfall," he added. "You want to make him a slave
+to your will--_not_ to make him a saint?"
+
+The Count was silent.
+
+"If I wanted to make such a man a slave to my will, and I had such means
+as you suggest, I should find a woman to help me. A woman beautiful,
+fascinating, unscrupulous. I would instruct her to be an angel of light.
+I would make her be the medium whereby he could obtain all that such as
+he desires, and I would make him believe that in getting her he would
+find the greatest and best gift in life, a gift whereby all that was
+highest and best in this life, and in the life to come, could be got. At
+the same time she must be a _woman_, a woman that should appeal to his
+desires, and make his pulses throb at the thought of possessing her."
+
+For some time they spoke eagerly together, the Count raising point after
+point, which the little man was not slow to answer.
+
+"Polonius, did I not know otherwise, I should say you were the devil,"
+laughed Romanoff.
+
+"I know you are," replied the little man in great glee.
+
+"What do you mean?" and there was a kind of fear in the Russian's voice.
+
+"Only that your cleverness is beyond that of ordinary mankind. You have
+thought of all this long before you asked me."
+
+"Have I? Perhaps I have; but I wanted your opinion."
+
+"The difficulty is to find the woman."
+
+"In two minutes she will be here. Go into the next room and watch, and
+listen. After she has gone, you shall tell me what you think of her."
+
+A minute later the door opened, and Olga Petrovic entered the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+IN QUEST OF A SOUL
+
+
+"Good evening, Countess. Thank you for coming so promptly. Be seated,
+won't you?"
+
+Olga Petrovic looked at the Count eagerly, and accepted the chair he
+indicated. She looked older than when she left Dick Faversham after the
+interview I have described, and there were indications on her face that
+she had suffered anxious thoughts, and perhaps keen disappointment. But
+she was a strikingly beautiful woman still. Tall, magnificently
+proportioned; and almost regal in her carriage. She was fast approaching
+thirty, but to a casual observer she appeared only two- or
+three-and-twenty. She had the air of a grand lady, too, proud and
+haughty, but a woman still. A woman in a million, somewhat captivating,
+seductive; a woman to turn the head of any ordinary man, and make him
+her slave. One felt instinctively that she could play on a man's heart
+and senses as a skilful musician plays on an instrument.
+
+But not a good woman. She had a world of experience in her eyes. She
+suggested mystery, mystery which would appear to the unwary as Romance.
+Because of this she could impress youth and inexperience by her
+loveliness, she could appear as an angel of light.
+
+She was magnificently dressed, too. Every detail of her glorious figure
+was set off to the full by her _costumier_, and her attire spoke of
+wealth, even while this fact was not ostentatious or even intended. In
+short, her _costumier_ was an artist who knew her business.
+
+Evidently, if ever she had been in danger by appearing in public, that
+danger was over. There was no suggestion of fear or apprehension in her
+demeanour.
+
+"Why do you wish to see me?" she asked abruptly.
+
+"I am quite aware," said Romanoff, without taking any apparent notice of
+her question, "that I took a liberty in asking you to come here. I
+should have asked you when it would have been convenient for you to
+graciously receive me at your flat. For this I must crave your pardon."
+
+There was something mocking in his voice, a subtle insinuation of power
+which the woman was not slow to see.
+
+"You asked me to come here because you wanted me, and because you knew I
+should come," she replied. "You knew, too, that I could not afford to
+disobey you."
+
+"We will let that drop," replied the Count suavely. "I count myself
+honoured by your visit. How could it be otherwise?" and he cast an
+admiring glance towards her.
+
+The woman watched him closely. It seemed as though, in spite of their
+acquaintance, she did not understand him.
+
+"You see," went on Romanoff, "our Bolshevism is a thing of the past. The
+proletariat of England will have none of it. A few malcontents may have
+a hankering after it; but as a class the people of England see through
+it. They see what it has done for Russia, and they know that under a
+Bolshevist régime all liberty, all safety, all prosperity would be gone
+for ever."
+
+The woman nodded.
+
+"Besides," went on the Count, "you are in a far more becoming position
+as the Countess Petrovic, with estates in Russia and elsewhere, than as
+Olga, the high priestess of a wild and irresponsible set of fanatics."
+
+"You have changed your views about those same fanatics," responded the
+woman rather sullenly.
+
+"Have I? Who knows?" was the Count's smiling and enigmatical reply. "But
+I did think they might have served my purpose."
+
+"What purpose?"
+
+"Dear lady, even to you I cannot disclose that. Besides, what does it
+matter?"
+
+"Because I would like to know. Because--because----" There she broke off
+suddenly.
+
+"Because through it the man Faversham crossed your path, eh?" and the
+smile did not leave his face.
+
+"You knew that Bolshevism would fail in England," cried the woman. "You
+knew that the whole genius of the race was against it. Why then did you
+try to drag--Faversham into it? Why did you tell me to dazzle him with
+its possibilities, to get him involved in it to such a degree that he
+would be compromised?"
+
+"Ah, why?"
+
+"But he would have none of it," retorted the woman. "He saw through it
+all, saw that it was an impossible dream, because in reality it was, and
+is, a wild delusion and a nightmare."
+
+"Perhaps that was your fault," replied Romanoff. "Perhaps your powers of
+fascination were not as great as I thought. Anyhow----"
+
+"Have you seen him lately?" she interrupted. "You know where he is? What
+he is doing?"
+
+Her voice vibrated with eagerness; she looked towards Romanoff with a
+flash of pleading in her great lustrous eyes.
+
+"Don't you read the newspapers?"
+
+"Not the English. Why should I? What is there in them for me? Of course
+I get the Polish and the Russian news."
+
+"If you read the English newspapers you would have no need to ask where
+he is," replied Romanoff.
+
+"Why, has he become famous?"
+
+As if in answer to her question there was a knock at the door, and a
+servant entered bringing three London evening papers.
+
+"There," said the Count, pointing to some bold headlines--"there is the
+answer to your question."
+
+"Great Labour Victory in Eastroyd," she read. "Triumphant Return of Mr.
+Richard Faversham."
+
+Her eyes were riveted on the paper, and almost unheeding the Count's
+presence she read an article devoted to the election. Especially was her
+attention drawn to the Career of the Successful Candidate.
+
+"Although Mr. Faversham, because of his deep sympathy with the aims of
+the working classes, has been returned to Parliament by them," she read,
+"he is not a typical Labour Member. As the son of a scholar, and the
+product of one of our best public schools, he has naturally been
+associated with a class different from that which has just given him its
+confidence. Years ago he was regarded as the heir of one of our great
+commercial magnates, and for some time was in possession of a great
+country house. His association with the middle classes, however, has not
+lessened his passionate interest in the welfare of the poor, and
+although he has of late become less advanced in his views, there can be
+no doubt that he will be a strong tower to the party with which he has
+identified himself."
+
+"He will be in London to-morrow," remarked Romanoff, when presently the
+woman lifted her head.
+
+"In London? To-morrow!"
+
+The Count noted the eagerness with which she spoke.
+
+"Yes," he said; "to-morrow."
+
+"And he will be a great man?"
+
+"Not necessarily so," answered Romanoff. "He will be a Labour Member at
+four hundred pounds a year. He will have to be obedient to the orders of
+his party."
+
+"He never will! He is not a man of that sort!"
+
+Her voice was almost passionate. Evidently her interest in him was deep.
+
+"Won't he? We shall see. But he will find it hard to live in London on
+four hundred pounds a year. London is not a cheap city in these days.
+You see he has all the instincts of his class."
+
+"Will he be one of the working men? Will he live as they live? Will he
+be of their order?" asked Olga.
+
+"You seem greatly interested, Countess."
+
+"Naturally. I--I----"
+
+"Yes, I remember your last interview."
+
+The woman's eyes flashed with anger. She suggested the "woman scorned."
+
+"You made love to him, didn't you, Countess? And he--he politely
+declined your advances?" Romanoff laughed as he spoke.
+
+The woman started to her feet. "Did you get me here to taunt me with
+that?" she cried. "Besides, did I not obey your bidding? Was it not at
+your command that I----"
+
+"Yes, but not against your will, Countess. You had what our French
+neighbours call the _grand passion_ for Faversham, eh?"
+
+"Why do you taunt me with that?"
+
+"Because the game is not played out. I do not break my promise, and I
+promised you that he should be yours--yours. Well, the time has come
+when my promise may be fulfilled."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Countess, are you still in love with Faversham?"
+
+"I don't know. Sometimes I think I hate him. Tell me, why have you
+brought me here to-day?"
+
+"To give you your opportunity. To tell you how, if you still love
+Faversham, you can win him; and how, if you hate him, you can have your
+revenge. Surely, Olga Petrovic, you are not the kind of woman who sits
+down meekly to a snub. To offer your love to a man, and then accept a
+cold rebuff. I thought I knew you better."
+
+Deeply as his words wounded her, she did not forget her caution.
+
+"What interest have you in him?" she asked. "I have never been able to
+understand you."
+
+"No, I am not easily understood, and I do not make my motives public
+property. But Faversham will in future live in London. He, although he
+is a Labour Member, will have but little sympathy, little in common with
+his confrères. He will be lonely; he will long for the society of women,
+especially for those who are educated, fascinating, beautiful. Olga, are
+you the woman to be beaten? Listen, he with his tastes, will need money.
+You can give it to him. He will be lonely; he will need companionship.
+You have a beautiful flat in Mayfair, and you can be as fascinating as
+an angel."
+
+She listened to every word he said, but her mind might be far away.
+
+"Why do I care for him?" she cried passionately. "What is he to me? A
+middle-class Englishman, with an Englishman's tastes and desires, an
+Englishman with the morality of his class. Just a plain, stupid,
+uninteresting bourgeois, a specimen of the self-satisfied Puritan."
+
+"You found him vastly interesting though."
+
+"Yes, but why should I? Why do I care what becomes of him? He is nothing
+to me."
+
+"He can be something to you though, Countess; you are a beautiful,
+fascinating woman. You can appeal to every man's weaknesses, no matter
+what they are. With time and opportunity no man can resist you. Say the
+word, and I will give you these opportunities."
+
+"You mean----?"
+
+"That I want him to be yours. You want him, and I owe you at least
+this."
+
+"You have some other purpose."
+
+"And if I have, what then? He will be yours, body and soul. Tell me, are
+you still in love with him?"
+
+The woman walked to the window, and looked out on the tide of human
+traffic in Piccadilly. For some time she seemed to be lost in thought,
+then she burst out passionately.
+
+"I am angry whenever I think of him. He was as cold as an icicle; I was
+like a woman pleading with a stone. Something seemed to stand between
+us--something--I don't know what."
+
+"What, you?" and there was a taunt in the Count's voice. "You, Olga
+Petrovic, said to be the most beautiful, the most dangerous woman in
+Europe, you whom no man has been able to resist, but who have fascinated
+them as serpents fascinate birds? Are you going to be beaten by this
+middle-class Englishman, this Labour Member of Parliament with £400 a
+year? Will you have him boast that Countess Olga Petrovic threw herself
+at him, and that he declined her without thanks?"
+
+"Has he boasted that?" she cried hoarsely.
+
+"What do you think?" laughed the Count. "Is he not that kind of man?"
+
+"No," the word came from her involuntarily. "Only----"
+
+"Only he is much in favour with the ladies at Eastroyd. I have just been
+told that."
+
+"I hate him!" she said, and her voice was hoarse.
+
+"I wonder?" queried the Count mockingly.
+
+"Do you know, have you found out who his visitors were that day, that
+morning when I saw him last?"
+
+"An old man and a chit of a girl."
+
+"Yes, I know that; I saw them as I left the room. The man might have
+been a poet, an artist, and the girl was an unformed, commonplace miss.
+But he did not regard them as commonplace. His eyes burnt with a new
+light as he read their cards. I saw it. I believe I should have had him
+but for that. I had conquered him; he was ready to fall at my feet; but
+when he read their names, I knew I had lost. Who were they?"
+
+"I have not discovered. They could have been only casual acquaintances.
+I have had him watched ever since he left London that day, and he has
+never seen them since. Of course he may be in love with her. It may be
+that he prefers an English wayside flower to such a tropical plant as
+yourself. That he would rather have youth and innocence than a woman
+twenty-eight years of age, who--who has had a past."
+
+"He never shall! Never!"
+
+Her eyes flashed dangerously. She had evidently decided on her course.
+
+"You may have to play a bold, daring game," insinuated the Count.
+
+"I will play any game. I'll not be beaten."
+
+"You love him still--you who never loved any man for more than a month!
+And Faversham----"
+
+"You must find out where he lives, you must let me know."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"You may leave everything to me."
+
+"Mind, Olga, you may have to appear an Angel of Light in order to win
+him. In fact I think that will have to be your plan. He has all the
+old-fashioned morality of the middle-classes."
+
+"We shall see!" cried the woman triumphantly.
+
+"I may trust you then?"
+
+"Tell me why you wish this? Suppose I--I love him really, suppose I am
+willing to become his slave? Suppose I want to settle down to--to quiet
+domestic happiness, to loving motherhood? Suppose I want to be good--and
+to pray?"
+
+The Count's eyes burnt red with anger as she spoke, while his features
+were contorted as if with pain.
+
+"Stop that," he almost snarled. "I know you, Olga Petrovic, I know too
+much about you. Besides, the Bolshevists have taken your estates,
+and--but why argue? You love luxury, don't you? Love beautiful dresses,
+love your life of ease, love what money can buy, money that you can't
+get without me?"
+
+"You must tell me all I need to know," she answered with sullen
+submissiveness.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then I will go."
+
+"And you will not fail?"
+
+"No, I will not fail."
+
+She left the room without another word, while Romanoff returned to his
+chair, and sat for some time immovable. His face was like a mask. His
+deep impenetrable eyes were fixed on vacancy.
+
+"Yes, Polonius, you can come in. I can see that you are almost tired of
+watching me. But my face tells you nothing, my little man."
+
+Polonius Slyme slinked into the room like a whipped cur.
+
+"Look here, little man," went on the Count, "I pay you to watch others,
+not me. The moment you begin to spy on me, that moment you cease to be
+my servant. Do you understand?"
+
+"But, indeed, your lordship----"
+
+"Do not try to deny. I know everything. I forgive you for this once; but
+never again. Obey me blindly, unquestioningly, and all will be well with
+you, but try to spy upon me, to discover anything about me, and the lost
+souls in hell may pity you. Ah, I see yow understand."
+
+"Forgive me, my lord. I will obey you like a slave."
+
+"What do you think of her?"
+
+"She is magnificent, glorious! She can turn any man's brain. She is a
+Circe, a Sybil, a Venus--no man with blood in his veins can resist her!"
+
+"That is your opinion, eh?"
+
+"I never saw such a creature before. And--and she has no conscience!"
+
+The Count laughed. "Now, Slyme, I have some more work for you."
+
+"To watch her!" he cried eagerly, rubbing his hands.
+
+"No, not yet. That may be necessary some time, but not now. I have other
+work for you."
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"To-morrow morning you will go to Surrey. I will give you all
+particulars about the trains and the stations presently. You will go to
+a place known as Wendover Park. Near one of the lodge gates of this
+house is a pretty cottage. It was occupied, and probably still is, by a
+man called Hugh Stanmore and his granddaughter. You must find out
+whether he is still there, and learn all you can about them. Report all
+to me. You understand?"
+
+"Perfectly, your Highness," replied Polonius, whose terminology in
+relation to the Count was uncertain.
+
+"You will report to me."
+
+"Yes, certainly, my lord, everything."
+
+"Very well, now go."
+
+The night came on, and the room grew dark, but Count Romanoff did not
+switch on the light. He sat alone in the dark thinking, thinking.
+
+"I have him now," he muttered presently. "Master, you shall have Richard
+Faversham's soul."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+VOICES IN THE NIGHT
+
+
+Dick Faversham was on his way to London. He was going there as the
+Member for Eastroyd, and he was somewhat excited. He was excited for
+several reasons. Naturally he was elated at being a Member of
+Parliament, and he looked forward with pleasant anticipation to his
+political life in the Metropolis, and to his experiences in the House of
+Commons. But that was not all. This was his first visit to London since
+he had experienced those strange happenings which we described some time
+ago. As the train rushed on through the night he became oblivious to the
+presence of his fellow-passengers in the recollection of the events
+which were a mystery to him then, even as they were a mystery now.
+
+Especially did his mind revert to that wonderful experience in Staple
+Inn. He had heard a voice although he saw nothing, and that voice had
+meant a great deal to him. More than once he had wondered if he had done
+right in being silent about what had taken place afterwards. Ought he
+not to have gone to the police and told them what he had heard? But he
+had not been able to make up his mind to do this. Somehow everything had
+been associated with what had come to him in Staple Inn, and of that he
+could not speak. It would be sacrilege to do so. Besides, it might not
+have been necessary. From the fact that the traitors had left the house
+so suddenly, he concluded that the police were cognizant of their
+existence.
+
+But his eyes had been opened. That was why, when Olga Petrovic visited
+him, he was unresponsive. And yet he was not sure.
+
+Should he ever see this beautiful woman again, he wondered?
+
+He was afraid of her even while he longed to see her. Even then he
+recalled the tones of her voice, and the look in her eyes as she had
+pleaded with him. He had felt himself yielding to her pleading, all the
+barriers of his being seemed to be breaking down before the power of her
+glorious womanhood.
+
+Then there was the coming of Hugh Stanmore and his granddaughter. They
+were the last persons he had expected to see, and yet the sight of their
+names seemed to break the spell which Olga Petrovic had cast over him.
+
+There seemed no reason why they should come, and their interview,
+considering the circumstances under which he had seen them last was of a
+very prosy nature. Hugh Stanmore had happened to meet with a man who was
+a Government official, and who had told him of one Richard Faversham who
+was one of a deputation to his department, and who had pleaded
+passionately for certain things which the working-classes desired. This
+led to his learning the name of his hotel, and to the visit which had
+followed.
+
+Hugh Stanmore had scarcely referred to his life at Wendover, and seemed
+to be in ignorance of Tony Riggleton's whereabouts. Dick wondered at
+this after the interview, and reproached himself with not asking many
+questions. At the time, however, he seemed to be indifferent.
+
+To Beatrice he spoke only a few words. She appeared to be shy and
+diffident. If the truth must be told, she seemed ill at ease, and not at
+all pleased that her grandfather had brought her there. She was far less
+a child than when he had seen her at Wendover, and he had reflected that
+she was neither so interesting nor so good-looking as she had been two
+or three years before. Still, he was glad to see her, and he remembered
+the pleasant smile she had given him when she had left the room. His
+conversation with Hugh Stanmore had been almost entirely about his life
+at Eastroyd, and the conditions which obtained there.
+
+He realised, too, that a subtle change had come over his opinions on
+his return to Eastroyd. Not that he had less interest in the class whose
+cause he had espoused; but he knew that he had been led to take larger
+views.
+
+That was why some discontent had been felt among his most ardent
+supporters. Even those who had worked hardest for him during the
+election felt it incumbent upon them to raise a note of warning as they
+accompanied him to the station that night.
+
+"It's all very well, Dick, lad," said one advanced Socialist, "but we
+mun make a bold front. I don't hold with Bolshevism, or owt of that
+sort; but the Capitalist is the enemy of the working man, and we mun put
+those money-bags in their right place."
+
+It was a cold, dark, wintry morning when he arrived in London. The
+station and the streets were almost empty, the vehicles were few, and he
+felt cold and lonely. He had made no arrangements for his stay in the
+Metropolis, but he felt sure that the manager of the hotel where he had
+previously made his home would find him temporary accommodation. As it
+was impossible to get a taxi, he left his luggage at the station, and
+determined to walk. He knew the way well, and as the distance was only
+about a mile, he started with comparative cheerfulness.
+
+As I have said, the streets were well-nigh deserted, and not a single
+soul passed him as he made his way up Euston Road. Nevertheless he had
+the feeling that he was being followed. More than once he looked around,
+but could see no one. Several times, too, he felt sure he heard
+following footsteps, but when he stopped there was silence.
+
+When he turned at St. Pancras Church he looked up and down the street,
+but nothing suspicious met his gaze. A milkman's cart, a drayman's
+waggon, and that was all. The street lamps threw a sickly light on the
+cold wet road, and the houses were dark. London looked asleep.
+
+For some time after he had passed St. Pancras Church he heard nothing;
+but, as he neared Woburn Square, he again heard footsteps. It seemed to
+him, too, that he was surrounded by dark influences. Something sinister
+and evil seemed to be surrounding him. He was not afraid, and his
+nerves were steady, but his brain was filled with strange fancies.
+
+Almost unconsciously his mind reverted to Count Romanoff. He had seen
+him only once since he had left Wendover Park, and the man was still an
+enigma to him. He had a thousand times reflected on the strange
+happening in the library there, but although he felt he had been saved
+from something terrible, he had not definitely associated the Count with
+anything supernatural. For Dick was not cast in a superstitious mould.
+
+The footsteps drew nearer, and again he looked around. Was it a fact, or
+was it fancy that he saw a dark form which hurriedly passed from his
+sight?
+
+He was aware a few seconds later that he was walking more rapidly, and
+that something like fear was in his heart.
+
+"Listen."
+
+He heard the word plainly, and stopped. All was silent here. He saw that
+he was in one of the several squares which exist in the neighbourhood,
+but he was not sure which. He did not think it was Woburn Square, but it
+might be Taviton Square. He was not intimately acquainted with that part
+of London.
+
+"Yes, what is it? Who are you?"
+
+He spoke aloud, spoke almost unconsciously, but there were no answering
+words. He was the only person there. He moved to a lamp and looked at
+his watch; he had a vague idea that he wanted to know the time. The
+watch pointed to half-past one. Evidently he had forgotten to wind it,
+for he knew his train was due to arrive something after three, and that
+it was late.
+
+He was about to start again when he thought he heard the words:
+
+"Go to Wendover."
+
+But there was nothing distinct. No voice reached him, and no one was in
+sight. At that moment the wind wailed across the open space, and moaned
+as it passed through the leafless branches of the trees. The wind seemed
+to formulate the same words.
+
+"Go to Wendover."
+
+"Of course it's all fancy," he reflected. "I expect my nerves are
+playing me tricks. I never knew I had any nerves; but I've been through
+an exciting time. I've been making speeches, meeting committees, and
+replying to deputations for the last fortnight, and I expect I'm about
+done up. After all, fighting an election is no make-believe."
+
+A shiver passed through him. To say the least of it, even although it
+might be pure fancy, there was something uncanny about it all, and he
+could not help reflecting on his past experience.
+
+He did not move, but stood like one spellbound, listening to the wind as
+it soughed its way through the shrubs and trees which grew in the centre
+of the Square.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked again. "What do you want?"
+
+He was sure there was a voice this time. It rose above the wailing wind,
+but he could see no one.
+
+"You are in danger--great danger!"
+
+"What danger? Who are you?"
+
+"'Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.'"
+
+He recognised the words. They were spoken by One Whose Name he always
+held in reverence, spoken to His disciples in a far back age, before the
+knowledge of science and critical investigation had emerged from its
+swaddling clothes. But they were spoken in a woman's voice, spoken in
+almost wailing accents.
+
+His whole being was filled with a great awe. The voice, the words coming
+to him, at such a time and in such a way, filled him with a great
+wonder, solemnised him to the centre of his being.
+
+"If it were not a woman's voice, I might think it was He Himself who
+spoke," he said in a hoarse whisper.
+
+Then he thought of the footsteps, thought of the ominous, sinister
+influences which had surrounded him a few minutes before.
+
+"Lord, Lord Jesus Christ, help me!"
+
+He said the words involuntarily. They had passed his lips before he knew
+he had spoken.
+
+Was there any answer to his prayer? He only knew that he did not feel
+any fear, that a great peace came into his heart. He felt as he had
+never felt before, that God was a great reality. Perhaps that was why he
+was no longer lonely. There in the heart of the greatest city of the
+world, there in the darkness of a winter night, he was filled with a
+kind of consciousness that God was, that God cared, that he was not an
+orphan for whom no one cared, but a child of the Universal Father.
+
+He looked up and saw the clouds swept across the sky. Here and there was
+a break through which a star shone. Eyes of heaven, they seemed to him.
+Yes, the spirit world was very near to him. Perhaps, perhaps--who
+knew?--there were messengers of the Unseen all around him.
+
+    "Earth is crammed with heaven,
+    And every common bush afire with God."
+
+Where had he heard those words? Ah yes, was it not Elizabeth Barrett
+Browning who wrote them, wrote them while in Italy, where she sojourned
+with her husband, the greatest poet of his time?
+
+Again he looked around him, but nothing could be seen by his natural
+eyes. The houses, the trees, the gardens all lay wrapped in the gloom of
+the cold and darkness of that wintry morning, there in the heart of
+London. All the same it seemed that something had been born within him,
+something which he could not define, and again he seemed to hear, as he
+had heard years before, the glorious words which turned to naught the
+ribald and trifling scepticism of men:
+
+"The Eternal God is thy Refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting
+Arms."
+
+The sublimity of the message appealed to him. Surely no greater words
+were ever spoken. They peopled the dark wintry heavens with angels, they
+made everything possible.
+
+"Lord, tell me what to do."
+
+The prayer came naturally to his lips. It seemed to him that there was
+nothing else for him to say. But there were no answering words. All was
+silent, save for the soughing of the wind across the square. And yet I
+am wrong. He did hear words; they might be born of his own
+consciousness, and have no objective reality whatever, but again the
+wind seemed to speak to him.
+
+"Go to Wendover."
+
+Why should he go to Wendover? He had no right to be there, and from the
+rumours that he had heard, Tony Riggleton had turned the old house into
+a scene of drunken and sensual orgies. But in answer to his question the
+wailing wind seemed to reiterate, as if in a kind of dreary monotony,
+the same words, "Go to Wendover, go to Wendover."
+
+Then suddenly everything became mundane.
+
+"Good-night, or good morning rather."
+
+It was a policeman who spoke, and who looked rather suspiciously at the
+lonely looking young man.
+
+"Good morning," replied Dick; "it's not long to daylight is it?"
+
+"Another hour or two yet. Lost your way?"
+
+"I've come from King's Cross. I travelled by the midnight train, and
+there were no conveyances to be got."
+
+"Ah, petrol's a bit scarce yet; but I hear we shall have more soon.
+Anywhere you want to get?"
+
+"Yes, I'm going to Jones' Hotel."
+
+"That's close to the British Museum; and only a few minutes away. I
+suppose your room's booked all right. The hotels are very crowded in
+London just now."
+
+"That'll be all right. Good morning, and thank you!"
+
+"That's all right, sir. Go to the end of the square, turn to the right,
+then take the second street to the left and you are there."
+
+A few minutes later Dick was at the hotel. The night porter knew him
+well, and showed him into the smoke-room, where there was a good fire,
+and comfortable arm-chairs.
+
+"You'll be all right here till breakfast, sir, won't you? After that you
+can see the manager."
+
+Five minutes later Dick was asleep.
+
+A few hours later he met some of his political confrères, two of whom
+begged him to lodge with them.
+
+It was not much of a place they assured him, but the best their money
+would run to. "Four hundred a year's very little in London, and that
+you'll find out before long," one of them assured him.
+
+"Every penny has to be looked after, and by living two or three together
+we can do things cheaper."
+
+After seeing their lodgings, however, Dick determined to look around for
+himself. He did not relish the idea of sharing apartments with others.
+He wanted privacy, and he felt, although, like himself, these men were
+"Labour Members," that he had little in common with them.
+
+"I thought of trying to get a small, cheap flat," he said.
+
+"Not to be thought of with our pay," was the laughing response. "Of
+course you being a bachelor may have saved up a bit, or it may be that
+you think you'll be able to make a few pounds by journalism."
+
+"Some do it, don't they?" he asked.
+
+"They all want to do it, that's why there's so little chance. But I hear
+you are a bit of a swell, been to a public school and all that kind of
+thing, so you may have friends at court. Done anything that way?"
+
+Dick shook his head. "Never," he replied; "but no one knows what he can
+do till he tries."
+
+After considerable difficulty Dick happened upon a service flat which,
+although it cost more than he had calculated upon, was so convenient,
+and appealed to him so strongly, that he took it there and then.
+
+Indeed he felt a pleasant sense of proprietorship, as he sat alone in
+his new home that night. The room was very small, but it was cosy. A
+cheerful fire burnt in the grate, and the reading-lamp threw a grateful
+light upon the paper he held in his hand.
+
+"I must get a writing-desk and some book-cases, and I shall be as right
+as rain," he reflected. "This is princely as a sitting-room, and
+although the bedroom is only a box, it's quite big enough for me."
+
+He closed his eyes with lazy contentment, and then began to dream of his
+future. Yes, ambition was still strong within him, and the longing to
+make a material, yes, an international, reputation was never so
+insistent as now. He wondered if he could do it, wondered whether being
+a Labour Member would ever lead to anything.
+
+"A voting machine at four hundred a year."
+
+He started up as though something had strung him. He remembered who had
+said those words to him, remembered how they had wounded him at the time
+they were spoken. Was that all he was after his hopes and dreams? He had
+been a big man at Eastroyd. People had stopped in the streets to point
+him out; but in London he was nobody.
+
+"A voting machine at four hundred a year!"
+
+Yes, but he would be more. He had proved that he had brains, and that he
+could appeal to the multitude. He had his feet on the ladder now,
+and----
+
+His mind suddenly switched off. He was no longer in his newly acquired
+flat, he was walking from King's Cross to Jones' Hotel, he was passing
+through a lonely square.
+
+"Go to Wendover."
+
+How the words haunted him. Every time the wind blew he had heard them,
+and----
+
+He started to his feet. "Well, why not? I have nothing to do to-morrow,
+and I can get there in a couple of hours."
+
+The next morning he eagerly made his way to Victoria Station.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+DICK HEARS STRANGE NEWS
+
+
+"Good mornin', sir."
+
+The porter touched his cap and looked at Dick curiously.
+
+"Good morning, Wheelright. You are here still?"
+
+"Yes, sir. They took the other chap, and left no one in his place, so to
+speak. So me and the stationmaster have had to do everything. I was sort
+of superannuated, so to speak, when you was 'ere, so I had to take on my
+old job when Ritter went. However, I'd 'ear that he'll soon be back."
+
+"Yes, the boys are coming home now."
+
+"And a good job, too. Not but what me and the stationmaster have carried
+on, so to speak, and I'm as good a man as ever I was."
+
+Dick remembered old Wheelright well. He did odd jobs at the station
+during his short stay at Wendover Park, and was known among the people
+in the neighbourhood as "Old So-to-speak." He was also noted as an
+inveterate gossip.
+
+"Comin' down to live 'ere again, so to speak?" he queried, looking at
+Dick curiously.
+
+"No," replied Dick. "Just paying a short visit. I shall be returning by
+the 4.20 at the latest."
+
+Wheelright shuffled on at Dick's side. He was much tempted to ask him
+further questions, but seemed afraid.
+
+"You don't know where--where Squire Riggleton is, I suppose, sir?
+
+"Why do you ask that?"
+
+"I was wondering, that's all. There's been a good deal of talk about
+him, so to speak. Some say he was took for the army just the same as if
+he hadn't sixpence. I have heard he was took prisoner by the Germans,
+too. But some people _will_ talk. Have you heard 'bout his being killed,
+sir?"
+
+"No, I never heard that."
+
+"Ah." He looked at Dick questioningly, and then ventured further. "He
+didn't do hisself much credit as a squire," he added.
+
+"Indeed."
+
+"No, there was nice carryings on, so I've heard. But then some people
+will talk. However, there's no doubt that Mrs. Lawson, who had her two
+daughters as servants there in your day, took them both away. It was no
+place for respectable Christians to live, she said."
+
+Dick made no reply. He had just come by train, and was the only
+passenger who alighted. Old Wheelright immediately recognised him. He
+did not feel altogether at ease in listening to him while he discussed
+his cousin, but was so interested that he let him go on talking. The
+truth was that Dick did not know why he was there, except that he had
+obeyed the command he had heard when walking from King's Cross. As he
+stood there that day he was not sure whether he had heard a voice or
+whether it was only an impression. But the words haunted him, and he
+felt he could do no other than obey. Now he was here, however, he did
+not know where to go, or what to do. He felt sensitive about going to
+the house which he had thought was his, and asking for admission. The
+action would call up too many painful memories. And yet he did not like
+going back without once again seeing the home that had meant so much to
+him.
+
+"You know that people have talked a lot about _you_, sir?"
+
+"I dare say."
+
+"And everybody was sorry when you left. It was all so funny. Young
+Riggleton he came to the Hare and Hounds, and told the landlord all
+about it."
+
+"Indeed."
+
+"Yes. I did hear that the London lawyers called him over the coals for
+talking so much, so to speak. But some people will talk. However, as I'd
+say, 'twasn't the lawyer's business. If Riggleton liked to talk, that's
+his business. Still I s'pose he had a drop of drink in him, or p'r'aps
+he mightn't a' done it. He told the landlord that he'd offered you a
+good job if you'd stay, but as the landlord said, 'How could you expect
+a gentleman like Mr. Faversham to stay as a servant where he'd been
+master?' I suppose he did make the offer, sir?"
+
+"Is the same housekeeper at Wendover?" asked Dick, not noticing
+Wheelright's questions.
+
+"Oh yes, bless you, sir, yes. I've been told she gave notice to leave
+like the other servants; but Riggleton went away instead. He said he
+couldn't stand living in a cemetery. That's what he called Wendover,
+sir. He came back a few times, but only for a day or two. From what I
+hear he hasn't showed his face there for years. All the same, it's kept
+in good repair. I suppose the London lawyer do see to that."
+
+The old man went on retailing the gossip of the neighbourhood, but
+beyond what I have recorded he said little that interested Dick. After
+all, why should he care about stories concerning Anthony Riggleton, or
+pay attention to the scandalous tales which had been afloat? He had no
+doubt but that Mr. Bidlake would have given him all information about
+his cousin, if he had called and asked him; but he had not gone.
+
+He made his way along the country lanes, scarcely seeing a single soul.
+He was angry with himself for coming, and yet he knew that he had not
+been able to help himself. He was there because he had been drawn there
+by an irresistible impulse, or because he was under the power of
+something, or someone whom he dared not disobey.
+
+The day was dark and cloudy, and the air was dank and cold. The trees
+were leafless, not a flower appeared, and the whole countryside, which
+had once appeared to him so glorious, now seemed grim and depressing.
+
+"Of course, I'm a fool," he muttered savagely, but still he trudged
+along until he came to the lodge gates. How proud he had been when he
+had first seen them! How his heart had thrilled at the thought that all
+he saw was his own, his very own! But now he had no right there. He
+might have been the veriest stranger.
+
+He had carefully avoided the entrance near which old Hugh Stanmore
+lived. He did not want the old man to know of his visit.
+
+He was altogether unnoticed by the people who lived in the lodge, and a
+few seconds later was hurrying up the drive. Yes, in spite of the
+winter, in spite of the leafless trees, the place was very beautiful.
+The noble avenue under which he was walking was very imposing, the
+rhododendron, and a dozen other kinds of shrubs relieved the wintry
+aspect. Besides, the woods were so restful, the fine park lands were the
+finest he had ever seen.
+
+And he had thought they were all his. He for a short time had been
+master of everything!
+
+Suddenly the house burst on his view, and with a cry, almost like a cry
+of pain, he stood still, and looked long and yearningly. No wonder he
+had loved it. It was all a country home should be.
+
+And it might have been his! If he had obeyed Romanoff; but no; even then
+he felt thankful that he had not yielded to the man who tempted him.
+
+For a moment he thought of turning back. It would be too painful to go
+and ask for permission to go in. But he did not turn back. As if urged
+on by some unseen power he made his way towards the entrance.
+
+He had an eerie feeling in his heart as he approached the steps. He
+called to mind his first visit there, when he had asked the lawyer if he
+saw anything. For a moment he fancied he saw the outline of a shadowy
+form as he saw it then. But there was nothing. The grey stone walls,
+half hidden by ivy, stood before him as they stood then, but that
+wondrous face, with pitiful pleading eyes, was not to be seen.
+
+He felt half disappointed at this. He could understand nothing, but he
+had a feeling that it was the form of someone who loved him, someone
+sent to protect him.
+
+At first he had fought the idea. He had told himself that he was too
+matter-of-fact, that he had too much common sense to think of an optical
+illusion as something supernatural; but as event after event took place
+he could not help being possessed by the thought that he was under the
+guardianship of something, someone who watched over him, helped him. He
+never spoke about it to anyone; it was too sacred for discussion.
+
+But there was nothing. He heard no voice, saw no form, and a feeling
+like disappointment crept into his heart. Dick Faversham was not a
+morbid fellow, and he had a feeling of dislike for anything like
+occultism. As for spiritualism, in the ordinary sense of the word, it
+made no appeal to him. But this was different. Somehow he had a kind of
+consciousness that the spirit world was all around him, and that the
+Almighty Beneficence used the inhabitants of that spirit world to help
+His children.
+
+No, there was nothing. His visit had been purposeless and vain, and he
+would find his way back to the station. Then suddenly the door opened,
+and the old housekeeper appeared.
+
+"It is, it _is_ Mr. Faversham!"
+
+But he did not speak. A weight seemed on his lips.
+
+"Come in, sir, come in."
+
+Before he realised what had taken place he stood in the entrance hall,
+and the door closed behind him.
+
+"Are you come for good?"
+
+The housekeeper's voice was tremulous with excitement, and her eyes were
+eagerly fastened on his face.
+
+Dick shook his head. "No, I'm only here for a few minutes."
+
+"But he's dead."
+
+"Who's dead?"
+
+"That man. The man Riggleton. Haven't you heard about it?"
+
+"No, I've not heard."
+
+"But there were rumours, and I thought you'd come to tell me they were
+true. Oh, I am sorry, so sorry. I should love to have you here as master
+again. It was such a joy to serve you. And that man, he nearly drove me
+mad. He brought bad people here. He filled the house with a lot of low
+men and women. And there were such goings on. I stood it as long as I
+could, and then I told him I must leave the house at once. So did
+several of the servants. He begged me to stop, he offered to double my
+wages, but I told him I must go, that I was a respectable woman, and had
+served only gentry who knew how to behave themselves. Then he said he
+would leave himself, and he persuaded me to stay on. Didn't you hear,
+sir?"
+
+"No, I did not hear. I went away to the North of England."
+
+"Oh, there were such stories. I suppose he threw away a fortune in
+London."
+
+"Is he there now?" asked Dick.
+
+"I don't know. I asked Mr. Bidlake, but he would tell me nothing. The
+last I heard was that he was forced into the army, and was killed."
+
+"How long was that ago?"
+
+"Several months now."
+
+"And you've heard nothing since?"
+
+"No, sir; nothing."
+
+"Well, I will go now."
+
+"But you'll stay for lunch? I'm not stinted in any way, and Mr. Bidlake
+sends me a liberal allowance for the expenses of the house. I can easily
+manage lunch, sir, and it would be such a joy to me."
+
+"You are very kind, and I appreciate it very much; but I really
+couldn't--after what took place. I'll go to the Hare and Hounds and have
+some bread and cheese."
+
+"Couldn't you, sir? I'm so sorry, and it's a long way to Lord
+Huntingford's."
+
+"Yes, of course, that's out of the question."
+
+"But you must have lunch somewhere, and you couldn't go to the Hare and
+Hounds."
+
+"Oh yes, I could. I dare say Blacketter would give me some bread and
+cheese. That will be all I shall need."
+
+The housekeeper began to rub her eyes. "It's just awful," she sobbed.
+"To think that you who were master here, and whom we all liked so much,
+should have to go to a place like that. But I know. Mr. Stanmore is at
+home; he'll be glad to welcome you there."
+
+"Mr. Stanmore is at home, is he?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He called here yesterday, and Miss Beatrice is at home too.
+They were both here. Mr. Stanmore brought Sir George Weston over to see
+the house."
+
+"Sir George Weston?" and Dick felt a strange sinking at his heart as he
+heard the words. "I don't seem to remember the name."
+
+"He's from the west, sir, from Devonshire, I think. It has been said
+that he came to see Miss Beatrice," and the housekeeper smiled
+significantly.
+
+"You mean----"
+
+"I don't know anything, sir; it may be only servants' gossip. He's said
+to be a very rich man, and has been serving in Egypt. Some say that he
+came to discuss something about Egypt with Mr. Stanmore; but it was
+noticed that he was very attentive to Miss Beatrice."
+
+"He's been staying at the cottage, then?"
+
+"For nearly a week, sir."
+
+"Is he there now?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. All I know is that he was here with them yesterday.
+Mr. Stanmore brought a letter from Mr. Bidlake authorising me to show
+them over the house."
+
+"Is Sir George a young man? You said he was in the army, didn't you?"
+Dick could not understand why his heart was so heavy.
+
+"About thirty, I should think, sir. Yes, I believe he had a high command
+in our Egyptian army. He's a great scholar too, and Mr. Stanmore said
+that this house was the finest specimen of an Elizabethan house that he
+knew of. A very pleasant gentleman too. It's not my business, but he'd
+be a good match for Miss Beatrice, wouldn't he? Of course Mr. Stanmore
+belongs to a very good family, but I suppose he's very poor, and Miss
+Beatrice has hardly a chance of meeting anyone. You remember her, sir,
+don't you? She was little more than a child when you were here, but
+she's a very beautiful young lady now."
+
+The housekeeper was fairly launched now, and was prepared to discuss the
+Stanmores at length, but Dick hurried away. He would have loved to have
+gone over the house, but he dared not; besides, in a way he could not
+understand, he longed to get into the open air, longed to be alone.
+
+"I hope, oh, I do hope that something'll happen," said the housekeeper
+as he left the house; but what she did not tell him.
+
+A little later Dick found himself on the drive leading to Hugh
+Stanmore's cottage. He had not intended to take this road, but when he
+realised that he was in it, he did not turn back. Rather he hurried on
+with almost feverish footsteps.
+
+Sir George Weston had been spending a week at the cottage, had he? Why?
+Was it because he was an Egyptologist, and interested in Hugh Stanmore's
+previous researches, or was he there because of Beatrice, as the
+servants' gossip said? It was nothing to him, but he had an overwhelming
+desire to know. Was Beatrice Stanmore a beautiful girl? She had not
+appealed to him in this light when her grandfather brought her to see
+him months before; but girls often blossomed into beauty suddenly.
+Still, wasn't it strange that Weston should stay at the cottage a week?
+
+Of course he would not call. He was simply taking the longer road to the
+station. Yes, he could plainly see the house through the trees, and----
+
+"Is that Mr. Faversham? Well, this is a surprise; but I _am_ glad to see
+you."
+
+It was old Hugh Stanmore who spoke, while Dick in a strangely nervous
+way took the proffered hand.
+
+"Come to look at your old house, eh? I see you've come from that
+direction."
+
+"Yes, I have been--talking with my old housekeeper," he stammered.
+
+"And you've never been here before since--you left?"
+
+Dick shook his head.
+
+"Well, well, life's a strange business, isn't it? But come in, my dear
+fellow. You're just in time for lunch."
+
+Dick began to make excuses, but the other refused to listen, and they
+entered the cottage together.
+
+"I'm afraid I couldn't presume upon your kindness so far."
+
+"Kindness! Nonsense. Of course you must. Besides, I see that you are a
+Member of Parliament, and a Labour Member too. I must talk with you
+about it. Lunch will be on the table in five minutes."
+
+"You are sure I shouldn't be bothering you?" He had an overwhelming
+desire to stay.
+
+"Bother! What bother can there be? I'm only too delighted to see you.
+Come in."
+
+They entered the cottage together.
+
+"Oh, by the way," went on Hugh Stanmore, as they entered a cosy
+sitting-room, "let me introduce you to Sir George Weston."
+
+A strikingly handsome man of about thirty rose from an arm-chair and
+held out his hand. He was in mufti; but it was impossible to mistake him
+for anything but a soldier. Head erect, shoulders squared, and a
+military bearing proclaimed him to be what he was.
+
+"Glad to see you, Mr. Faversham," said Sir George heartily "I suppose
+you've come down to see----" He stopped abruptly. He felt he had made a
+_faux pas_.
+
+"It's all right," said Dick with a laugh. He felt perfectly at ease now.
+"Yes, I came to see the old place which years ago I thought was mine.
+You've heard all about it, I've no doubt?"
+
+"Jolly hard luck," sympathised Sir George. "But anyhow you----"
+
+"Ah, here's Beatrice," broke in Hugh Stanmore. "Beatrice, my dear,
+here's an old friend dropped in to lunch with us. You remember Mr.
+Faversham, don't you?"
+
+The eyes of the two met, and then as their hands met Dick's friendly
+feeling towards Sir George Weston left him. He could not tell why.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+BEATRICE CONFESSES
+
+
+Dick Faversham saw at a glance that Beatrice Stanmore had ceased being a
+child. She was barely twenty. She was girlish in appearance, and her
+grandfather seemed to still regard her as a child. But her childhood had
+gone, and her womanhood had come. Rather tall, and with a lissom form,
+she had all a girl's movements, all a girl's sweetness, but the flash of
+her eyes, the compression of her lips, the tones of her voice, all told
+that she had left her childhood behind. But the first blush of her
+womanhood still remained. She retained her child's naturalness and
+winsomeness, even while she looked at the world through the eyes of a
+woman.
+
+Dick was struck by her beauty too. When years before she had rushed into
+the library at Wendover, almost breathless in her excitement, she had
+something of the angularity, almost awkwardness, of half-development.
+That had all gone. Every movement was graceful, natural. Perfect health,
+health of body, health of mind had stamped itself upon her. She had no
+suggestion of the cigarette-smoking, slang-talking miss who boasts of
+her freedom from old-time conventions. You could not think of Beatrice
+Stanmore sitting with men, smoking, sipping liqueurs, and laughing at
+their jokes. She retained the virginal simplicity of childlikeness. All
+the same she was a woman. But not a woman old beyond her years. Not a
+woman who makes men give up their thoughts of the sacredness of
+womanhood.
+
+No one could any more think of Beatrice Stanmore being advanced, or
+"fast," than one could think of a rosebud just opening its petals to the
+sun being "fast."
+
+She had none of the ripe beauty of Lady Blanche Huntingford, much less
+the bold splendour of Olga Petrovic. She was too much the child of
+nature for that. She was too sensitive, too maidenly in her thoughts and
+actions. And yet she was a woman, with all a woman's charm.
+
+Here lay her power. She was neither insipid nor a prude. She dared to
+think for herself, she loved beautiful dresses, she enjoyed pleasure and
+gaiety; but all without losing the essential quality of
+womanhood--purity and modesty. She reminded one of Russell Lowell's
+lines:
+
+    "A dog rose blushing to a brook
+    Ain't modester, nor sweeter."
+
+That was why no man, however blasé, however cynical about women, could
+ever associate her with anything loud or vulgar. She was not neurotic;
+her healthy mind revolted against prurient suggestion either in
+conversation or in novels. She was not the kind of girl who ogled men,
+or practised unwomanly arts to attract their attention. No man, however
+bold, would dream of taking liberties with her. But she was as gay as a
+lark, her laughter was infectious, the flash of her eyes suggested all
+kinds of innocent mischief and fun. She could hold her own at golf, was
+one of the best tennis players in the district, and could ride with
+gracefulness and fearlessness.
+
+Does someone say I am describing an impossible prodigy? No, I am trying
+to describe a sweet, healthy, natural girl. I am trying to tell of her
+as she appeared to me when I saw her first, a woman such as I believe
+God intended all women to be, womanly, pure, modest.
+
+She was fair to look on too; fair with health and youth and purity. A
+girl with laughing eyes, light brown hair, inclined to curl. A sweet
+face she had, a face which glowed with health, and was unspoilt by
+cosmetics. A tender, sensitive mouth, but which told of character, of
+resolution and daring. A chin firm and determined, and yet delicate in
+outline. This was Beatrice Stanmore, who, reared among the sweet Surrey
+hills and valleys, was unsmirched by the world's traffic, and who
+recoiled from the pollution of life which she knew existed. A girl
+modern in many respects, but not too modern to love old-fashioned
+courtesies, not too modern to keep holy the Sabbath Day, and love God
+with simple faith. A religious girl, who never paraded religion, and
+whose religion never made her monkish and unlovely, but was the joy and
+inspiration of her life.
+
+"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Faversham," she said. "I've often wondered
+why you never came to Wendover."
+
+"In a way it was very hard to keep away," was Dick's reply. "On the
+other hand, I had a kind of dread of seeing it again. You see, I had
+learnt to love it."
+
+"I don't wonder. It's the dearest old house in the world. I should have
+gone mad, I think, if I'd been in your place. It was just splendid of
+you to take your reverse so bravely."
+
+"I had only one course before me, hadn't I?"
+
+"Hadn't you? I've often wondered." She gave him a quick, searching
+glance as she spoke. "Are you staying here long?"
+
+"No, only a few hours. I return to London this afternoon. I came down
+to-day just on impulse. I had no reason for coming."
+
+"Hadn't you? I'm glad you came."
+
+"So am I."
+
+There was a strange intensity in his tones, but he did not know why he
+spoke with so much feeling.
+
+"Of course Granddad and I have often talked of you," she went on. "Do
+you know when we called on you that day in London, I was disappointed in
+you. I don't know why. You had altered so much. You did not seem at all
+like you were when we saw you down here. I told Granddad so. But I'm so
+glad you are Member of Parliament for Eastroyd, and so glad you've
+called. There, the lunch is ready. Please remember, Mr. Faversham, that
+I'm housekeeper, and am responsible for lunch. If you don't like it, I
+shall be offended."
+
+She spoke with all the freedom and frankness of a child, but Dick was
+not slow to recognise the fact that the child who had come to Wendover
+when Romanoff was weaving a web of temptation around him, had become a
+woman who could no longer be treated as a child.
+
+"Are you hungry, Sir George?" she went on, turning to her other visitor.
+"Do you know, Mr. Faversham, that these two men have neglected me
+shamefully? They have been so interested in rubbings of ancient
+inscriptions, and writings on the tombs of Egyptian kings, that they've
+forgotten that I've had to cudgel my poor little brains about what they
+should eat. Housekeeping's no easy matter in these days."
+
+"That's not fair," replied Sir George. "It was Mr. Stanmore here, who
+was so interested that he forgot all about meal-times."
+
+The soldier was so earnest that he angered Dick. "Why couldn't the fool
+take what she said in the spirit of raillery?" he asked himself.
+
+"Adam over again," laughed Beatrice. "'The woman tempted me and I did
+eat.' It's always somebody else's fault. Now then, Granddad, serve the
+fish."
+
+It was a merry little party that sat down to lunch, even although Dick
+did not seem inclined for much talk. Old Hugh Stanmore was in great
+good-humour, while Beatrice had all the high spirits of a happy, healthy
+girl.
+
+"You must stay a few hours now you are here, Mr. Faversham," urged the
+old man presently. "There's not the slightest reason why you should go
+back to town by that four something train. It's true, Sir George and I
+are going over to Pitlock Rectory for a couple of hours, but we shall be
+back for tea, and you and Beatrice can get on all right while we are
+away."
+
+Sir George did not look at all delighted at the suggestion, but Beatrice
+was warm in her support of it.
+
+"You really must, Mr. Faversham," she said. "I shall be alone all the
+afternoon otherwise, for really I can't bear the idea of listening to
+Mr. Stanhope, the Rector of Pitlock, prose about mummies and fossils and
+inscriptions."
+
+"You know I offered to stay here," pleaded Sir George.
+
+"As though I would have kept you and Granddad away from your fossils,"
+she laughed. "Mr. Stanhope is a great scholar, a great Egyptologist,
+and a great antiquary, and you said it would be your only chance of
+seeing him, as you had to go to the War Office to-morrow. So you see,
+Mr. Faversham, that you'll be doing a real act of charity by staying
+with me. Besides, there's something I want to talk with you about. There
+is really."
+
+Sir George did not look at all happy as, after coffee, he took his seat
+beside old Hugh Stanmore, in the little motor-car, but Dick Faversham's
+every nerve tingled with pleasure at the thought of spending two or
+three hours alone with Beatrice. Her transparent frankness and
+naturalness charmed him, the whole atmosphere of the cottage was so
+different from that to which for years he had been accustomed.
+
+"Mr. Faversham," she said, when they had gone, "I want you to walk with
+me to the great house, will you?"
+
+"Certainly," he said, wondering all the time why she wanted to go there.
+
+"You don't mind, do you? I know it must be painful to you, but--but I
+want you to."
+
+"Of course I will. It's no longer mine--it never was mine, but it
+attracts me like a magnet."
+
+Five minutes later they were walking up the drive together. Dick was
+supremely happy, yet not knowing why he was happy. Everything he saw was
+laden with poignant memories, while the thought of returning to the
+house cut him like a knife. Yet he longed to go. For some little
+distance they walked in silence, then she burst out suddenly.
+
+"Mr. Faversham, do you believe in premonitions?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So do I. It is that I wanted to talk with you about."
+
+He did not reply, but his mind flashed back to the night when he had sat
+alone with Count Romanoff, and Beatrice Stanmore had suddenly and
+without warning rushed into the room.
+
+"Do you believe in angels?" she went on.
+
+"I--I think so."
+
+"I do. Granddad is not sure about it. That is, he isn't sure that they
+appear. Sir George is altogether sceptical. He pooh-poohs the whole
+idea. He says there was a mistake about the Angels at Mons. He says it
+was imagination, and all that sort of thing; but he isn't a bit
+convincing. But I believe."
+
+"Yes." He spoke almost unconsciously. He had never uttered a word about
+his own experiences to anyone, and he wondered if he should tell her
+what he had seen and heard.
+
+"It was a kind of premonition which made me go to see you years ago,"
+she said quietly. "Do you remember?"
+
+"I shall never forget, and I'm very glad."
+
+"Why are you very glad?"
+
+"Because--because I'm sure your coming helped me!"
+
+"How did it help you?"
+
+"It helped me to see, to feel; I--I can't quite explain."
+
+"That man--Count Romanoff--is evil," and she shuddered as she spoke.
+
+"Why do you say so?"
+
+"I felt it. I feel it now. He was your enemy. Have you seen him since?"
+
+"Only once. I was walking through Oxford Circus. I only spoke a few
+words to him; I have not seen him since."
+
+"Mr. Faversham, did anything important happen that night?"
+
+"Yes, that night--and the next."
+
+"Did that man, Count Romanoff, want you to do something which--which was
+wrong? Forgive me for asking, won't you? But I have felt ever since that
+it was so."
+
+"Yes." He said the word slowly, doubtfully. At that moment the old house
+burst upon his view, and he longed with a great longing to possess it.
+He felt hard and bitter that a man like Tony Riggleton should first have
+made it a scene of obscene debauchery and then have left it. It seemed
+like sacrilege that such a man should be associated with it. At that
+moment, too, it seemed such a little thing that Romanoff had asked him
+to do.
+
+"If I had done what he asked me, I might have been the owner of Wendover
+Park now," he added.
+
+"But how could that be, if that man Riggleton was the true heir?" she
+asked.
+
+"At that time there seemed--doubt. He made me feel that Riggleton had no
+right to be there, and if I had promised the Count something, I might
+have kept it."
+
+"And that something was wrong?"
+
+"Yes, it was wrong. Of course I am speaking to you in absolute
+confidence," he added. "When you came you made me see things as they
+really were."
+
+"I was sent," she said simply.
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"I don't know. And do you remember when I came the second time?"
+
+"Yes, I remember. I shall never forget."
+
+"I never felt like it before or since. Something seemed to compel me to
+hasten to you. I got out the car in a few seconds, and I simply flew to
+you. I have thought since that you must have been angry, that you must
+have looked upon me as a mad girl to rush in on you the way I did. But I
+could not help myself. That evil man, Romanoff, was angry with me too;
+he would have killed me if he had dared. Do you remember that we talked
+about angels afterwards?"
+
+"I remember."
+
+"They were all around us. I felt sure of it. I seemed to see them.
+Afterwards, while I was sorry for you, I felt glad you had left
+Wendover, glad that you were no longer its owner. I had a kind of
+impression that while you were losing the world, you were saving your
+soul."
+
+She spoke with all a child's simplicity, yet with a woman's earnestness.
+She asked no questions as to what Romanoff had asked him to do in order
+to keep his wealth; that did not seem to come within her scope of
+things. Her thought was that Romanoff was evil, and she felt glad that
+Dick had resisted the evil.
+
+"Do you believe in angels?" she asked again.
+
+"Sometimes," replied Dick. "Do you?"
+
+"I have no doubt about them. I know my mother often came to me."
+
+"How? I don't quite understand. You never saw her--in this world I
+mean--did you?"
+
+"No. But she has come to me. For years I saw her in dreams. More than
+once, years ago, when I woke up in the night, I saw her hovering over
+me."
+
+"That must have been fancy."
+
+"No, it was not." She spoke with calm assurance, and with no suggestion
+of morbidness or fear. "Why should I not see her?" she went on. "I am
+her child, and if she had lived she would have cared for me, fended for
+me, because she loved me. Why should what we call death keep her from
+doing that still, only in a different way?"
+
+Dick was silent a few seconds. It did not seem at all strange.
+
+"No; there seems no real reason why, always assuming that there are
+angels, and that they have the power to speak to us. But there is
+something I would like to ask you. You said just now, 'I know that my
+mother often came to me.' Has she ceased coming?"
+
+Beatrice Stanmore's eyes seemed filled with a great wonder, but she
+still spoke in the same calm assured tones.
+
+"I have not seen her for three years," she said; "not since the day
+after you left Wendover. She told me then that she was going farther
+away for a time, and would not be able to speak to me, although she
+would allow no harm to happen to me. Since that time I have never seen
+her. But I know she loves me still. It may be that I shall not see her
+again in this life, but sometime, in God's own good time, we shall
+meet."
+
+"Are you a Spiritualist?" asked Dick, and even as he spoke he felt that
+he had struck a false note.
+
+She shook her head decidedly. "No, I should hate the thought of using
+mediums and that sort of thing to talk to my mother. There may be truth
+in it, or there may not; but to me it seems tawdry, sordid. But I've no
+doubt about the angels. I think there are angels watching over you. It's
+a beautiful thought, isn't it?"
+
+"Isn't it rather morbid?" asked Dick.
+
+"Why should it be morbid? Is the thought that God is all around us
+morbid? Why then should it be morbid to think of the spirits of those He
+has called home being near to help us, to watch over us?"
+
+"No," replied Dick; "but if there are good angels why may there not be
+evil ones?"
+
+"I believe there are," replied the girl. "I am very ignorant and simple,
+but I believe there are. Did not Satan tempt our Lord in the wilderness?
+And after the temptation was over, did not angels minister to Him?"
+
+"So the New Testament says."
+
+"Do you not believe it to be true?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+SIR GEORGE'S LOVE AFFAIR
+
+
+The great house stood out boldly against the wintry sky, and Dick
+Faversham could plainly see the window of the room where, years before,
+he had taken the pen to sign the paper which would have placed him in
+Count Romanoff's power. Like lightning his mind flashed back to the
+fateful hour. He saw himself holding the pen, saw the words which
+Romanoff had written standing clearly out on the white surface, saw
+himself trying to trace the letters of his name, and then he felt the
+hand on his wrist. It was only a light touch, but he no longer had the
+power to write.
+
+Was it a moral impulse which had come to him, or was it some force which
+paralysed his senses, and made him incapable of holding the pen? It
+seemed to be both. He remembered having a loathing for the thing
+Romanoff wanted him to do. Even then he felt like shuddering at the dark
+influences which sapped his will-power, and made wrong seem like right.
+But there was more than that. Some force _outside_ himself kept him from
+writing.
+
+And he was glad. True, he was a poor man, and instead of owning the
+stately mansion before him, he would presently return to his tiny flat,
+where he would have to calculate about every sixpence he spent. But he
+was free; he was master of his soul. He was a man of some importance
+too. He was the Labour Member for Eastroyd; he had secured the
+confidence of many thousands of working people, and his voice was
+listened to with much respect by Labour leaders, and in Labour
+conferences.
+
+But he was not quite satisfied. He did not want to be the representative
+of one class only, but of all classes. He remembered that he had been
+lately spoken of as being "too mealy-mouthed," and as "having too much
+sympathy with the employers."
+
+"A voting machine at four hundred a year!"
+
+Romanoff's words still stung him, wounded him. He longed for a larger
+life, longed to speak for all classes, longed to mingle with those of
+his own upbringing and education.
+
+"What are you thinking of?"
+
+For the moment he had forgotten the girl at his side, almost forgotten
+the subject they had been discussing.
+
+"Of many things," he replied.
+
+"You were thinking of that man, Count Romanoff."
+
+"Was I? Yes, I suppose I was. How did you know?"
+
+"Telepathy," she replied. "Shall we go back?"
+
+"If you will. Did you not say you wanted to go to the house?"
+
+"I don't think I do now. I'm afraid it would be painful to you. But, Mr.
+Faversham, I'm glad I helped you; glad you do not own Wendover Park."
+
+"So am I," he replied; "the price would have been too terrible."
+
+She looked at him questioningly. She did not quite understand his words.
+
+"I wonder if you would think it an impertinence if I asked you to
+promise me something," she said.
+
+"Nothing you could ask would be an impertinence," he responded eagerly;
+"nothing."
+
+"That Count Romanoff is evil," she said, "evil; I am sure he is. I know
+nothing about him, but I am sure of what I say. Will you promise to have
+nothing to do with him? I think you will meet him again. I don't know
+why, but I have a feeling that you will. That is why I wanted to say
+this, and I wanted to say it in sight of the house which you love."
+
+"I promise," replied Dick. "It is very good of you to have so much
+interest in me."
+
+"In a way, I don't know that I have very much interest," she said
+simply; "and I'm afraid I'm acting on impulse. Granddad says that that
+is my weakness."
+
+"I don't think it is a weakness. I'm not likely to see Count Romanoff
+again; but I promise, gladly promise, that if I do I'll yield to him in
+nothing. Is that what you mean?"
+
+"Yes, that's what I mean."
+
+Her humour suddenly changed. She seemed to have no further interest in
+Wendover Park, or its possessor, whoever it might be, and their
+conversation became of the most commonplace nature. They chatted about
+the possibilities of peace, the future of Germany, and the tremendous
+problems Britain would have to face, but all interest in the question
+which had engrossed her mind seemed to have left her. Dick was to her
+only an ordinary acquaintance who had casually crossed the pathway of
+her life, and who might never do so again. Indeed, as presently they
+reached the highroad, he thought she became cold and reserved, it might
+seem, too, that he somewhat bored her.
+
+Presently they heard the sound of horses' hoofs coming toward them, and
+they saw a lady on horseback.
+
+"That's Lady Blanche Huntingford," she said; "do you know her?"
+
+"I did know her slightly," replied Dick, who felt no excitement whatever
+on seeing her.
+
+"Oh yes, of course you did. She's a great beauty, isn't she?"
+
+"I suppose so." Dick remembered how, in London months before, she had
+refused to recognise him.
+
+For a moment Lady Blanche seemed surprised at seeing Dick. She
+scrutinised him closely, as if she was not quite sure it was he. Then
+her colour heightened somewhat, and with a nod which might have embraced
+them both, she passed on.
+
+"We must get back to the house," Beatrice said; "Granddad and Sir George
+will have returned by this time, and they will want their tea."
+
+"Sir George is leaving you to-morrow, isn't he?" asked Dick.
+
+"Yes," she replied, and Dick's heart grew heavy as he saw the look in
+her eyes. He did not know why.
+
+"He's a great soldier, I suppose? I think I've been told so."
+
+"The greatest and bravest man in the army," she replied eagerly. "He's
+simply splendid. It's not often that a soldier is a scholar, but
+Granddad says there are few men alive who are greater authorities on
+Egyptian questions."
+
+A feeling of antagonism rose in Dick's heart against Sir George Weston,
+he felt angry that Beatrice should think so highly of him.
+
+"He's a Devonshire man, isn't he?" he asked.
+
+"Yes; he has a lovely old place down there. The house is built of grey
+granite. It is very, very old, and it looks as though it would last for
+hundreds and hundreds of years. It is situated on a wooded hillside, and
+at the back, above the woods, is a vast stretch of moorland. In front is
+a lovely park studded with old oaks."
+
+"You describe the place with great enthusiasm." There was envy in his
+tones, and something more than envy.
+
+"Do I? I love Devonshire. Love its granite tors, its glorious hills and
+valleys. No wonder it is called 'Glorious Devon.'"
+
+By the time they reached the cottage Sir George Weston and Hugh Stanmore
+had returned, and tea was on the table. Sir George seemed somewhat
+excited, while old Hugh Stanmore was anything but talkative. It might
+seem as though, during the afternoon, the two had talked on matters of
+greater interest than the tombs of Egyptian kings.
+
+When the time came for Dick to depart, Hugh Stanmore said he would walk
+a little way with him. For a happy, and singularly contented man, he
+appeared much disturbed.
+
+"I am so glad you came, Mr. Faversham," said Beatrice as she bade him
+good-bye. "We had a lovely walk, hadn't we?"
+
+"Wonderful," replied Dick. "I shall never forget it."
+
+"And you'll not forget your promise, will you?"
+
+"No, I shall not forget it."
+
+"You will let us know, won't you, when you are going to speak in the
+House of Commons? I shall insist on Granddad taking me to hear you."
+
+Sir George Weston looked from one to the other suspiciously. He could
+not understand her interest in him.
+
+"What do you think of Weston?" asked Hugh Stanmore, when they had walked
+some distance together.
+
+"I suppose he's a very fine soldier," evaded Dick.
+
+"Oh yes, there's no doubt about that. But how did he strike
+you--personally?"
+
+"I'm afraid I didn't pay much attention to him. He seemed a pleasant
+kind of man." Dick felt very non-committal. "Do you know him well?"
+
+"Yes; fairly well. I met him before the war. He and I were interested in
+the same subjects. He has travelled a great deal in the East. Of course
+I've known of his family all my life. A very old family which has lived
+in the same house for generations. I think he is the eighth baronet. But
+I was not thinking of that. I was thinking of him as a man. You'll
+forgive my asking you, won't you, but do you think he could make my
+little girl happy?"
+
+Dick felt a strange weight on his heart. He felt bitter too.
+
+"I am afraid my opinion would be of little value," he replied. "You see
+I know nothing of him, neither for that matter am I well acquainted with
+Miss Stanmore."
+
+"No, I suppose that's true, and perhaps I ought not to have asked you. I
+often scold Beatrice for acting so much on impulse, while I am
+constantly guilty of the same offence. But I don't look on you as a
+stranger. Somehow I seem to know you well, and I wanted your opinion. I
+can speak freely to you, can't I?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"He has asked me this afternoon if I'll consent to Beatrice becoming his
+wife."
+
+Dick was silent. He felt he could not speak.
+
+"Of course, from a worldly standpoint it would be a good match," went on
+Hugh Stanmore. "Sir George is a rich man, and has a fine reputation, not
+only as a scholar and a soldier, but as a man. There has never been a
+blemish on his reputation. He stands high in the county, and could give
+my little girl a fine position."
+
+"Doubtless," and Dick hardly knew that he spoke.
+
+"I don't think I am a snob," went on the old man; "but such things must
+weigh somewhat. I am not a pauper, but, as wealth is counted to-day, I
+am a poor man. I am also old, and in the course of nature can't be here
+long. That is why I am naturally anxious about my little Beatrice's
+future. And yet I am in doubt."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"Whether he could make her happy. And that is everything as far as I am
+concerned. Beatrice, as you must have seen, is just a happy child of
+nature, and is as sensitive as a lily. To be wedded to a man who is
+not--how shall I put it?--her affinity, her soul comrade, would be
+lifelong misery to her. And unless I were sure that Sir George is that,
+I would not think of giving my consent."
+
+"Aren't you forgetful of a very important factor?" asked Dick.
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Miss Stanmore herself. In these days girls seem to take such matters
+largely into their own hands. The consent of relations is regarded as a
+very formal thing."
+
+"I don't think you understand, Faversham. Beatrice is not like the
+common run of girls, and she and I are so much to each other that I
+don't think for a moment that she would marry any man if I did not give
+my sanction. In fact, I'm sure she wouldn't. She's only my
+granddaughter, but she's all the world to me, while--yes, I am
+everything to her. No father loved a child more than I love her. I've
+had her since she was a little mite, and I've been father, mother, and
+grandfather all combined. And I'd do anything, everything in my power
+for her welfare. I know her--know her, Faversham; she's as pure and
+unsullied as a flower."
+
+"But, of course, Sir George Weston has spoken to her?"
+
+"No, he hasn't. For one thing, he has very strict ideas about
+old-fashioned courtesies, and, for another, he knows our relations to
+each other."
+
+"Do you know her mind?--know whether she cares for him--in that way?"
+asked Dick.
+
+"No, I don't. I do know that, a week ago, she had no thought of love for
+any man. But, of course, I couldn't help seeing that during the past
+week he has paid her marked attention. Whether she's been aware of it, I
+haven't troubled to ascertain."
+
+In some ways this old man was almost as much a child as his
+granddaughter, in spite of his long life, and Dick could hardly help
+smiling at his simplicity.
+
+"Of course, I imagine she'll marry sometime," and Dick's voice was a
+trifle hoarse as he spoke.
+
+"Yes," replied Hugh Stanmore. "That is natural and right. God intended
+men and women to marry, I know that. But if they do not find their true
+mate, then it's either sacrilege or hell--especially to the woman.
+Marriage is a ghastly thing unless it's a sacrament--unless the man and
+the woman feel that their unity is of God. Marriage ceremonies, and the
+blessing of the Church, or whatever it is called, is so much mockery
+unless they feel that their souls are as one. Don't you agree with me?"
+
+"Yes, I do. I suppose," he added, "you stipulate that whoever marries
+her--shall--shall be a man of wealth?"
+
+"No, I shouldn't, except in this way. No man should marry a woman unless
+he has the wherewithal to keep her. He would be a mean sort of fellow
+who would drag a woman into want and poverty. But, of course, that does
+not obtain in this case."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't help, or advise you," said Dick. "I'm afraid I'm a
+bit of an outsider," and he spoke bitterly. "Neither do I think you will
+need advice. Miss Stanmore has such a fine intuition that----"
+
+"Ah, you feel that!" broke in Hugh Stanmore almost excitedly. "Yes, yes,
+you are right! I can trust her judgment rather than my own. Young as she
+is, she'll choose right. Yes, she'll choose right! I think I'll go back
+now. Yes, I'll go back at once. Our conversation has done me good, and
+cleared my way, although I've done most of the talking. Good-night,
+Faversham. I wish you well. I think you can do big things as a
+politician; but I don't agree with you."
+
+"Don't agree with me? Why?"
+
+"I don't believe in these party labels. You are a party man, a Labour
+man. I have the deepest sympathy with the toilers of the world. I have
+been working for them for fifty years. Perhaps, too, the Labour Party is
+the outcome of the injustice of the past. But all such parties have a
+tendency to put class against class, to see things in a one-sided way,
+to foster bitterness and strife. Take my advice and give up being a
+politician."
+
+"Give up being a politician! I don't understand."
+
+"A politician in the ordinary sense is a party man; too often a party
+hack, a party voting machine. Be more than a politician, be a statesman.
+All classes of society are interdependent. We can none of us do without
+the other. Capital and labour, the employer and the employee, all depend
+on each other. All men should be brothers and work for the common
+interest. Don't seek to represent a class, or to legislate for a class,
+Faversham. Work for all the classes, work for the community as a whole.
+And remember that Utopia is not created in a day. Good-night. Come and
+see us again soon."
+
+Hugh Stanmore turned back, and left Dick alone. The young man felt
+strangely depressed, strangely lonely. He pictured Hugh Stanmore going
+back to the brightness and refinement of his little house, to be met
+with the bright smiles and loving words of his grandchild, while he
+plodded his way through the darkness. He thought, too, of Sir George
+Weston, who, even then, was with Beatrice Stanmore. Perhaps, most likely
+too, he was telling her that he loved her.
+
+He stopped suddenly in the road, his brain on fire, his heart beating
+madly. A thousand wild fancies flashed through his brain, a thousand
+undefinable hopes filled his heart.
+
+"No, it's impossible, blankly impossible!" he cried at length. "A
+will-o'-the-wisp, the dream of a madman--a madman! Why, even now she may
+be in his arms!"
+
+The thought was agony to him. Even yet he did not know the whole secret
+of his heart, but he knew that he hated Sir George Weston, that he
+wished he had urged upon old Hugh Stanmore the utter unfitness of the
+great soldier as a husband for his grandchild.
+
+But how could he? What right had he? Besides, according to all
+common-sense standards nothing could be more suitable. She was his equal
+in social status, and every way fitted to be his wife, while he would be
+regarded as the most eligible suitor possible.
+
+"A voting machine at four hundred a year!"
+
+Again those stinging words of Count Romanoff. And old Hugh Stanmore had
+spoken in the same vein. "A party hack, a party voting machine!"
+
+And he could not help himself. He was dependent on that four hundred a
+year. He dared ask no woman to be his wife. He had no right. He would
+only drag her into poverty and want.
+
+All the way back to town his mind was filled with the hopelessness of
+his situation. The fact that he had won a great victory at Eastroyd and
+was a newly returned Member of Parliament brought him no pleasure. He
+was a party hack, and he saw no brightness in the future.
+
+Presently Parliament assembled, and Dick threw himself with eagerness
+into the excitement which followed. Every day brought new experiences,
+every day brought new interests.
+
+But he felt himself hampered. If he only had a few hundreds a year of
+his own. If only he could be free to live his own life, think his own
+thoughts. Not that he did not agree with many of the ideas of his party.
+He did. But he wanted a broader world, a greater freedom. He wanted to
+love, and to be loved.
+
+Then a change came. On returning to his flat late one night he found a
+letter awaiting him. On the envelope was a coroneted crest, and on
+opening it he saw the name of Olga Petrovic.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+THE DAWN OF LOVE
+
+
+The letter from Olga ran as follows:
+
+     "DEAR MR. FAVERSHAM,--I have just discovered your address, and I
+     am writing to congratulate you on the fine position you have won.
+     It must be glorious to be a Member of the Mother of Parliaments,
+     to be a legislator in this great free country. I rejoice, too,
+     that you have espoused the cause of the toilers, the poor. It is
+     just what I hoped and expected of you. You will become great, my
+     friend; my heart tells me so. Your country will be proud of you.
+
+     "I wonder whether, if in spite of your many interests and duties,
+     you will have time to visit a lonely woman? There are so many
+     things I would like to discuss with you. Do come if you can. I
+     shall be home to-morrow afternoon, and again on Friday. Will you
+     not have pity on me?--Yours,
+
+     OLGA PETROVIC."
+
+Dick saw that her address was a fashionable street in Mayfair, and
+almost unconsciously he pictured her in her new surroundings. She was no
+longer among a wild-eyed, long-haired crew in the East End, but in the
+centre of fashion and wealth. He wondered what it meant. He read the
+letter a second time, and in a way he could not understand, he was
+fascinated. There was subtle flattery in every line, a kind of clinging
+tenderness in every sentence.
+
+No mention was made of their last meeting, but Dick remembered. She had
+come to him after that wonderful experience in Staple Inn--on the
+morning after his eyes had been opened to the facts about what a number
+of Bolshevists wanted to do in England. His mind had been bewildered,
+and he was altogether unsettled. He was afraid he had acted rudely to
+her. He had thought of her as being associated with these people. If he
+had yielded to her entreaties, and thrown himself into the plans she had
+made, might he not have become an enemy to his country, to humanity?
+
+But what a glorious creature she was! What eyes, what hair, what a
+complexion! He had never seen any woman so physically perfect. And,
+added to all this, she possessed a kind of charm that held him,
+fascinated him, made him think of her whether he would or not.
+
+And yet her letter did not bring him unmixed pleasure. In a way he could
+not understand he was slightly afraid of her, afraid of the influence
+she had over him. He could not mistake the meaning of her words at their
+last meeting. She had made love to him, she had asked him to marry her.
+It is true he had acted as though he misunderstood her, but what would
+have happened if old Hugh Stanmore and Beatrice had not come? The very
+mystery which surrounded her added to her charm. Who _was_ she? Why did
+she go to the East End to live, and how did she possess the means to
+live in Mayfair?
+
+He walked around his little room, thinking hard. For the last few days
+his parliamentary duties had excited him, kept him from brooding; but
+now in the quietness of the night he felt his loneliness, realised his
+longing for society. His position as a Labour Member was perfectly
+plain. His confrères were good fellows. Most of them were hard-headed,
+thoughtful men who took a real interest in their work. But socially they
+were not of his class. They had few interests in common, and he realised
+it, even as they did. That was why they looked on him with a certain
+amount of suspicion. What was to be his future then? A social gulf was
+fixed between him and others whose equal he was, and whatever he did he
+would be outside the circle of men and women whose tastes were similar
+to his own.
+
+No, that was not altogether true. Hugh Stanmore and Beatrice treated him
+as a friend. Beatrice!
+
+The very thought of her conjured up all sorts of fancies. He had not
+heard from her, or of her since his visit to Wendover. Was she engaged
+to Sir George Weston, he wondered?
+
+He knew now that he had never loved Lady Blanche Huntingford. He had
+been attracted to her simply because of her looks, and her social
+position. At the time she had appealed to him strongly, but that was
+because he had regarded her as a means whereby he could attain to his
+social ambitions. But a change had come over him since then--a subtle,
+almost indescribable change. The strange events of his life had led him
+to see deeper. And he knew he had no love for this patrician woman. When
+he had seen her last she had not caused one heart-throb, he was almost
+indifferent to her.
+
+But Beatrice! Why did the thought of her haunt him? Why was he angry
+with Sir George Weston, and bitter at the idea of his marrying this
+simple country girl? As for himself he could never marry.
+
+The following morning he wrote to Countess Olga Petrovic. It was a
+courteous note saying that at present he was too engaged to call on her,
+but he hoped that later he might have that pleasure. Then he plunged
+into his work again.
+
+About a fortnight after his visit to Hugh Stanmore, a letter came to him
+from the housekeeper at Wendover. He had told her his London address,
+and she had taken advantage of her knowledge by writing.
+
+"There are all sorts of rumours here about Mr. Anthony Riggleton," she
+wrote; "and we have all been greatly excited. Some soldiers have been in
+the neighbourhood who declare that they know of a certainty that he is
+dead. I thought it my duty to tell you this, sir, and that is my excuse
+for the liberty I take in writing.
+
+"Perhaps, sir, you may also be interested to learn that Sir George
+Weston and Miss Beatrice Stanmore are engaged to be married. As you may
+remember, I told you when you were here that I thought they would make a
+match of it. Of course she has done very well, for although the
+Stanmores are a great family, Mr. Stanmore is a poor man, and Miss
+Beatrice has nothing but what he can give her. It is said that the
+wedding will take place in June."
+
+The letter made him angry. Of course he understood the old lady's
+purpose in writing. She thought that if Anthony Riggleton died, the
+estate might again revert to him, and she hoped he would find out and
+let her know. She had grown very fond of him during his short sojourn
+there, and longed to see him there as master again. But the letter made
+him angry nevertheless. Then as he read it a second time he knew that
+his anger was not caused by her interest in his future, but because of
+her news about Beatrice Stanmore. The knowledge that she had accepted
+this Devonshire squire made his heart sink like lead. It seemed to him
+that the sky of his life had suddenly become black.
+
+Then he knew his secret; knew that he loved this simple country girl
+with a consuming but hopeless love. He realised, too, that no one save
+she had ever really touched his heart. That this was why Lady Blanche
+Huntingford had passed out of his life without leaving even a ripple of
+disappointment or sorrow.
+
+Oh, if he had only known before! For he had loved her as he had walked
+by her side through Wendover Park; loved her when he had almost calmly
+discussed her possible marriage with Sir George Weston. Even then he had
+hated the thought of it, now he knew why His own heart was aching for
+her all the time.
+
+But what would have been the use even if he had known? He was a
+homeless, penniless man. He could have done nothing. He was not in a
+position to ask any woman to be his wife.
+
+His mood became reckless, desperate. What mattered whatever he did? Were
+not all his dreams and hopes so much madness? Had he not been altogether
+silly about questions of right and wrong? Had he not been Quixotic in
+not fighting for Wendover? Supposing he had signed that paper, what
+could Romanoff have done? He almost wished--no, he didn't; but after
+all, who could pass a final judgment as to what was right and wrong?
+
+While he was in this state of mind another letter came from Olga
+Petrovic.
+
+"Why have you not visited me, my friend?" she wrote. "I have been
+expecting you. Surely you could have found time to drop in for half an
+hour. Besides, I think I could help you. Lord Knerdon was here yesterday
+with one or two other Members of the Government. He expressed great
+interest in you, and said he would like to meet you. Has he not great
+influence? I shall be here between half-past three and six to-morrow,
+and some people are calling whom I think you would like to know."
+
+Lord Knerdon, eh? Lord Knerdon was one of the most respected peers in
+the country, and a man of far-reaching power. He would never call at the
+house of an adventuress. Yes, he would go.
+
+The street in which Olga Petrovic had taken up her abode was made up of
+great houses. Only a person of considerable wealth could live there.
+This he saw at a glance. Also three handsome motor-cars stood at her
+door. He almost felt nervous as his finger touched the bell.
+
+She received him with a smile of welcome, and yet there was a suggestion
+of aloofness in her demeanour. She was not the woman he had seen at
+Jones' Hotel long months before, when she had almost knelt suppliant at
+his feet.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Faversham," she cried, and there was a suggestion of a foreign
+accent in her tones, "I am pleased to see you. It is good of such a busy
+man to spare a few minutes."
+
+A little later she had introduced him to her other visitors--men and
+women about whose position there could not be a suggestion of doubt. At
+least, such was his impression. She made a perfect hostess, too, and
+seemed to be a part of her surroundings. She was a great lady, who met
+on equal terms some of the best-known people in London. And she was
+queen of them all. Even as she reigned over the motley crew in that
+queer gathering in the East of London, so she reigned here in the
+fashionable West.
+
+In a few minutes he found himself talking with people of whom he had
+hitherto known nothing except their names, while Olga Petrovic watched
+him curiously. Her demeanour to him was perfectly friendly, and yet he
+had the feeling that she regarded him as a social inferior. He was
+there, not because he stood on the same footing as these people, but on
+sufferance. After all, he was a Labour Member. Socially he was an
+outsider, while she was the grand lady.
+
+People condoled with her because her Russian estates had been stolen
+from her by the Bolshevists, but she was still the Countess Olga
+Petrovic, bearing one of the greatest names in Europe. She was still
+rich enough to maintain her position in the wealthiest city in the
+world. She was still a mystery.
+
+Dick remained for more than an hour. Although he would not admit it to
+himself, he hoped that he might be able to have a few minutes alone with
+her. But as some visitors went, others came. She still remained kind to
+him; indeed, he thought she conveyed an interest in him which she did
+not show to others. But he was not sure. There was a suggestion of
+reserve in her friendliness; sometimes, indeed, he thought she was cold
+and aloof. There were people there who were a hundred times more
+important than he--people with historic names; and he was a nobody.
+Perhaps that was why a barrier stood between them.
+
+And yet there were times when she dazzled him by a smile, or the turn of
+a sentence. In spite of himself, she made him feel that it was a
+privilege of no ordinary nature to be the friend of the Countess Olga
+Petrovic.
+
+When at length he rose to go she made not the slightest effort to detain
+him. She was courteously polite, and that was all. He might have been
+the most casual stranger, to whom she used the most commonplace forms of
+speech. Any onlooker must have felt that this Polish or Russian
+Countess, whatever she might be, had simply a passing interest in this
+Labour Member, that she had invited him to tea out of pure whim or
+fancy, and that she would forget him directly he had passed the
+doorstep. And yet there was a subtle something in her manner as she held
+out her hand to him. Her words said nothing, but her eyes told him to
+come again.
+
+"Must you go, Mr. Faversham? So pleased you were able to call. I am
+nearly always home on Thursdays."
+
+That was all she said. But the pressure of her hand, the pleading of her
+eyes, the smile that made her face radiant--these somehow atoned for the
+coldness of her words.
+
+"Well, I've called," thought Dick as he left the house, "and I don't
+intend to call again. I don't understand her; she's out of my world, and
+we have nothing in common."
+
+But these were only his surface thoughts. At the back of his mind was
+the conviction that Olga Petrovic had an interest in him beyond the
+ordinary, that she thought of him as she thought of no other man. Else
+why that confession months before? Why did she ask him to call?
+
+She was a wonderful creature, too. How tame and uninteresting the other
+women were compared with her! Her personality dominated everything, made
+everyone else seem commonplace.
+
+She captivated him and fascinated him even while something told him that
+it was best for him that he should see nothing more of her. The mystery
+that surrounded her had a twofold effect on him: it made him long to
+know more about her even while he felt that such knowledge could bring
+him no joy.
+
+But this she did. She kept him from brooding about Beatrice Stanmore,
+for the vision of this unsophisticated English girl was constantly
+haunting him, and the knowledge that his love for her was hopeless made
+him almost desperate. He was a young man, only just over thirty, with
+life all before him. Must he for ever and ever be denied of love, and
+the joys it might bring to his life? If she had not promised herself to
+Sir George Weston, all might be different. Yes, with her to help him and
+inspire him, he would make a position for her; he would earn enough to
+make a home for her. But she was not for him. She would soon be the wife
+of another. Why, then, should he not crush all thoughts of her, and
+think of this glorious woman, compared with whom Beatrice Stanmore was
+only as a June rosebud to a tropical flower?
+
+A few days later he called on Olga Petrovic again. This time he spent a
+few minutes alone with her. Only the most commonplace things were said,
+and yet she puzzled him, bewildered him. One minute she was all smiles
+and full of subtle charm, another he felt that an unfathomable gulf lay
+between them.
+
+In their conversation, while he did not speak in so many words of the
+time she had visited him at his hotel, he let her know that he
+remembered it, and he quickly realised that the passionate woman who had
+pleaded with him then was not the stately lady who spoke to him now.
+
+"Every woman is foolish at times," she said. "In hours of loneliness and
+memory we are the creatures of passing fancies; but they are only
+passing. I have always to remember that, in spite of the tragic
+condition of my country, I have my duty to my race and my position."
+
+Later she said: "I wonder if I shall ever wed? Wonder whether duty will
+clash with my heart to such a degree that I shall go back to my own
+sphere, or stay here and only remember that I am a woman?"
+
+He wondered what she meant, wondered whether she wished to convey to him
+that it might be possible for her to forsake all for love.
+
+But something, he could not tell what, made him keep a strong hold upon
+himself. It had become a settled thought in his mind by this time that
+at all hazards he must fight against his love for Beatrice Stanmore. To
+love her would be disloyal to her; it would be wrong. He had no right to
+think thoughts of love about one who had promised to be the wife of
+another man.
+
+Yet his heart ached for her. All that was best in him longed for her.
+Whenever his love for her was strongest, he longed only for the highest
+in life, even while his conscience condemned him for thinking of her.
+
+Dick paid Olga Petrovic several visits. Nearly always others were there,
+but he generally managed to be alone with her for a few minutes, and at
+every visit he knew that she was filling a larger place in his life.
+
+His fear of her was passing away, too, for she was not long in showing
+an interest in things that lay dear to his heart. She evidenced a great
+desire to help him in his work; she spoke sympathetically about the
+conditions under which the toilers of the world laboured. She revealed
+fine intuitions, too.
+
+"Oh yes," she said on one occasion, "I love your country. It is
+home--home! I am mad, too, when I think of my insane fancies of a year
+ago. I can see that I was wrong, wrong, all wrong! Lawlessness, force,
+anarchy can never bring in the new day of life and love. That can only
+come by mutual forbearance, by just order, and by righteous discipline.
+I was mad for a time, I think; but I was mad with a desire to help. Do
+you know who opened my eyes, Mr. Faversham?"
+
+"Your own heart--your own keen mind," replied Dick.
+
+"No, my friend--no. It was you. You did not say much, but you made me
+see. I believe in telepathy, and I saw with your eyes, thought with your
+mind. Your eyes pierced the darkness, you saw the foolishness of my
+dreams. And yet I would give my last penny to help the poor."
+
+"I'm sure you would," assented Dick.
+
+"Still, we must be governed by reason. And that makes me think, my
+friend. Do you ever contemplate your own future?"
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"And are you always going to remain what you are now?"
+
+"I do not follow you."
+
+"I have thought much about you, and I have been puzzled. You are a man
+with great ambitions--high, holy ambitions--but if you are not careful,
+your life will be fruitless."
+
+Dick was silent.
+
+"Don't mistake me. I only mean fruitless comparatively. But you are
+handicapped, my friend."
+
+"Sadly handicapped," confessed Dick.
+
+"Ah, you feel it. You are like a bird with one wing trying to fly.
+Forgive me, but the best houses in London are closed to you; you are a
+paid Labour Member of Parliament, and thus you represent only a
+class--the least influential class. You are shut out from many of the
+delights of life. Channels of usefulness and power are closed to you.
+Oh, I know it is great to be a Labour Member, but it is greater to be
+independent of all classes--to live for your ideals, to have enough
+money to be independent of the world, to hold up your head as an equal
+among the greatest and highest."
+
+"You diagnose a disease," said Dick sadly, "but you do not tell me the
+remedy."
+
+"Don't I?" and Dick felt the glamour of her presence. "Doesn't your own
+heart tell you that, my friend?"
+
+Dick felt a wild beating of his heart, but he did not reply. There was a
+weight upon his tongue.
+
+A minute later she was the great lady again--far removed from him.
+
+He left the house dazzled, almost in love with her in spite of Beatrice
+Stanmore, and largely under her influence. He had been gone only a few
+minutes when a servant brought a card.
+
+"Count Romanoff," she read. "Show him here," she added, and there was a
+look in her eyes that was difficult to understand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE ETERNAL STRUGGLE
+
+
+Count Romanoff was faultlessly dressed, and looked calm and smiling.
+
+"Ah, Countess," he said, "I am fortunate in finding you alone. But you
+have had visitors, or, to be more exact, a visitor."
+
+"Yes; I have had visitors. I often have of an afternoon."
+
+"But he has been here."
+
+"Well, and what then?"
+
+The Count gazed at her steadily, and his eyes had a sinister gleam in
+them.
+
+"I have come to have a quiet chat with you," he said--"come to know how
+matters stand."
+
+"You want to know more than I can tell you."
+
+Again the Count scrutinised her closely. He seemed to be trying to read
+her mind.
+
+"Olga," he said, "you don't mean to say that you have failed? He has
+been in London some time now, and as I happen to know, he has been here
+often. Has not the fish leaped to the bait? If not, what is amiss?
+What?--Olga Petrovic, who has turned the heads of men in half the
+capitals of Europe, and who has never failed to make them her slaves,
+fail to captivate this yokel! I can't believe it."
+
+There was sullen anger in her eyes, and at that moment years seemed to
+have been added to her life.
+
+"Beaten!" went on the Count, with a laugh--"Olga Petrovic beaten! That
+is news indeed."
+
+"I don't understand," said the woman. "Something always seems to stand
+between us. He seems to fear me--seems to be fighting against me."
+
+"And you have tried all your wiles?"
+
+"Listen, Count Romanoff, or whatever your name may be," and Olga
+Petrovic's voice was hoarse. "Tell me what you want me to do with that
+man."
+
+"Do? Make him your slave. Make him grovel at your feet as you have made
+others. Make him willing to sell his soul to possess you. Weave your net
+around him. Glamour him with your fiendish beauty. Play upon his hopes
+and desires until he is yours."
+
+"Why should I?"
+
+"Because it is my will--because I command you."
+
+"And what if I have done all that and failed?"
+
+"You fail! I can't believe it. You have not tried. You have not
+practised all your arts."
+
+"You do not understand," replied the woman. "You think you understand
+that man; you don't."
+
+The Count laughed. "There was never a man yet, but who had his price,"
+he said. "With some it is one thing, with some it is another, but
+all--all can be bought. There is no man but whose soul is for sale; that
+I know."
+
+"And you have tried to buy Faversham's soul, and failed."
+
+"Because I mistook the thing he wanted most."
+
+"You thought he could be bought by wealth, position, and you arranged
+your plans. But he was not to be bought. Why? You dangled riches,
+position, and a beautiful woman before his eyes; but he would not pay
+the price."
+
+"I chose the wrong woman," said the Count, looking steadily at Olga,
+"and I did not reckon sufficiently on his old-fashioned ideas of
+morality. Besides, I had no control over the woman."
+
+"And you think you have control over me, eh? Well, let that pass. I have
+asked you to tell me why you wish to get this man in your power, and you
+will not tell me. But let me tell you this: there is a strange power
+overshadowing him. You say I must practise my arts. What if I tell you
+that I can't?"
+
+"I should say you lie," replied the Count coolly.
+
+"I don't understand," she said, as if talking to herself. "All the time
+when he is with me, I seem to be dealing with unseen forces--forces
+which make me afraid, which sap my power."
+
+The Count looked thoughtful.
+
+"I thought I had captivated him when that German man brought him to the
+East End of London," she went on. "I saw that I bewildered him--dazzled
+him. He seemed fascinated by my picture of what he could become. His
+imagination was on fire, and I could see that he was almost held in
+thrall by the thought that he could be a kind of uncrowned king, while I
+would be his queen. He promised to come to me again, but he didn't. Then
+I went to see him at his hotel, and if ever a woman tempted a man, I
+tempted him. I know I am beautiful--know that men are willing to become
+slaves to me. And I pleaded with him. I offered to be his wife, and I
+almost got him. I saw him yielding to me. Then suddenly he turned from
+me. A servant brought him a card, and he almost told me to go."
+
+"You saw who these visitors were?"
+
+"Yes; an old man and a slip of a girl. I do not know who they were.
+Since he has been living in London, I have watched my opportunities, and
+he has been here. I have flattered him; I have piqued his curiosity. I
+have been coy and reserved, and I have tried to dazzle him by smiles, by
+hand pressures, and by shy suggestions of love. But I cannot pierce his
+armour."
+
+"And you will give up? You will confess defeat?"
+
+The woman's eyes flashed with a new light. "You little know me if you
+think that," she cried angrily. "At one time I--yes, I, Olga
+Petrovic--thought I loved him. I confessed it to you, but now--now----"
+
+"Yes, now?" questioned the Count eagerly.
+
+"Now that thought is not to be considered. I will conquer him; I will
+make him my slave. He shall be willing to sacrifice name, position,
+future, anything, everything for me--_everything_."
+
+"Only, up to now, you've failed."
+
+"Because, because--oh, Romanoff, I don't understand. What is he? Only
+just a commonplace sort of man--a man vulnerable at a hundred
+points--and yet I cannot reach him."
+
+"Shall I tell you why?" asked the Count.
+
+"Tell me, tell me!" she cried. "Oh, I've thought, and thought. I've
+tried in a hundred ways. I've been the grand lady with a great position.
+I've been an angel of light who cares only for the beautiful and the
+pure. I've appealed to his ambition--to his love for beautiful things.
+I've tried to make him jealous, and I've nearly succeeded; but never
+altogether. Yes; he is just a clever man, and very little more; but I
+can't reach him. He baffles me. He does not drink, and so I cannot
+appeal to that weakness. Neither is he the fast man about town that can
+be caught in my toils. He honours, almost venerates, pure womanhood,
+and----"
+
+"Tah!" interrupted the Count scornfully.
+
+"You do not believe it?"
+
+"Woman is always man's weak point--always!"
+
+"But not his--not in the way you think. I tell you, he venerates ideal
+womanhood. He scorns the loud-talking, free-spoken women. He told me his
+thought of woman was like what Wordsworth painted. At heart I think he
+is a religious man."
+
+"Listen," said the Count, "I want to tell you something before I go. Sit
+here; that's it," and he drew a chair close to his side.
+
+He spoke to her half earnestly, half cynically, watching her steadily
+all the time. He noted the heaving of her bosom, the tremor of her lips,
+the almost haunted look in her eyes, the smile of satisfied desire on
+her face.
+
+"That is your plan of action," he concluded. "Remember, you play for
+great stakes, and you must play boldly. You must play to win. There are
+times when right and wrong are nothing to a man, and you must be willing
+to risk everything. As for the rest, I will do it."
+
+Her face was suffused half with the flush of shame, half with excited
+determination.
+
+"Very well," she said; "you shall be obeyed."
+
+"And I will keep my compact," said the Count.
+
+He left her without another word, and no sign of friendship passed
+between them.
+
+When he reached the street, however, there was a look of doubt in his
+eyes. He might have been afraid, for there was a kind of baffled rage on
+his face.
+
+He stopped a passing taxi, and drove straight to his hotel.
+
+"Is he here?" he asked his valet as he entered his own room.
+
+"He is waiting, my lord."
+
+A minute later the little man who had visited him on the day after Dick
+Faversham's return to Parliament appeared.
+
+"What report, Polonius?" asked Romanoff.
+
+"Nothing of great importance, I am afraid, my lord, but something."
+
+"Yes, what?"
+
+"He went to Wendover on the day I was unable to account for his
+whereabouts."
+
+"Ah, you have discovered that, have you?"
+
+"Yes; I regret I missed him that day, but I trust I have gained your
+lordship's confidence again."
+
+The Count reflected a few seconds. "Tell me what you know," he said
+peremptorily.
+
+"He went down early, and had a talk with an old man at the station. Then
+he walked to the house, and had a conversation with his old
+housekeeper."
+
+"Do you know what was said?"
+
+"There was not much said. She told him there were rumours that Anthony
+Riggleton was dead."
+
+The Count started as though a new thought had entered his mind; then he
+turned towards his spy again.
+
+"He did not pay much attention to it," added Polonius, "neither did he
+pay much attention to what she told him about Riggleton's doings at
+Wendover."
+
+"Did he go through the house?"
+
+"No; he only stayed a few minutes, but he was seen looking very hard at
+the front door, as though something attracted him. Then he returned by
+another route, and had lunch with that old man who has a cottage near
+one of the lodge gates."
+
+"Hugh Stanmore--yes, I remember."
+
+"After lunch he went through the park with the old man's granddaughter.
+They were talking very earnestly."
+
+The Count leapt to his feet.
+
+"You saw this girl?" he asked.
+
+"Yes. A girl about twenty, I should think. Very pretty in a simple,
+countrified way. She is very much loved among the cottage people. I
+should say she's a very religious girl. I'm told that she has since
+become engaged to be married to a Sir George Weston, who was a soldier
+in Egypt."
+
+"Sir George Weston. Let me think. Yes; I remember. Ah, she is engaged to
+be married to him, is she?"
+
+"That is the rumour. Sir George was staying at Stanmore's cottage at the
+time of Faversham's visit. He left the day after."
+
+"And Faversham has not been there since?"
+
+"No, my lord."
+
+"Well, go on."
+
+"That is all I know."
+
+"Then you can go; you know my instructions. Remember, they must be
+obeyed to the very letter."
+
+"They shall be--to the very letter."
+
+The Count entered another room, and opened a safe. From it he took some
+papers, and read carefully. Then he sat thinking for a long time.
+Presently he looked at his watch.
+
+Daylight had now gone, early as it was, for winter still gripped the
+land. Some days there were suggestions of spring in the air, but they
+were very few. The night was cold.
+
+The Count went to the window, and looked out over St. James's Park.
+Great, black ominous-looking clouds rolled across the sky, but here and
+there were patches of blue where stars could plainly be seen. He had
+evidently made up his mind about something.
+
+His servant knocked at the door.
+
+"What time will your lordship dine?"
+
+"I shall not dine."
+
+"Very good, my lord."
+
+Count Romanoff passed into the street. For some time he walked, and
+then, hailing a taxi-cab, drove to London Bridge. He did not drive
+across the bridge, but stopped at the Cannon Street end. Having paid
+the driver, he walked slowly towards the southern bank of the river.
+Once he stood for more than a minute watching while the dark waters
+rolled towards the sea.
+
+"What secrets the old river could tell if it could speak," he muttered;
+"but all dark secrets--all dark."
+
+He found his way to the station, and mingled with the crowd there.
+
+Hours later he was nearly twenty miles from London, and he was alone on
+a wide heath. Here and there dotted around the outskirts of the heath he
+saw lights twinkling.
+
+The sky was brighter here; the clouds did not hang so heavily as in the
+city, while between them he occasionally saw the pale crescent of a
+waxing moon. All around him was the heath.
+
+He paid no heed to the biting cold, but walked rapidly along one of the
+straight-cut roads through the heather and bushes. It was now getting
+late, and no one was to be seen. There were only a few houses in the
+district, and the inhabitants of these were doubtless ensconced before
+cosy fires or playing games with their families. It was not a night to
+be out.
+
+"What a mockery, what a miserable, dirty little mockery life is!" he
+said aloud as he tramped along. "And what pigmies men are; what paltry,
+useless things make up their lives! This is Walton Heath, and here I
+suppose the legislators of the British Empire come to find their
+amusement in knocking a golf-ball around. And men are applauded because
+they can knock that ball a little straighter and a little farther than
+someone else. But--but--and there comes the rub--these same men can
+think--think right and wrong, do right and wrong. That fellow
+Faversham--yes; what is it that makes him beat me?"
+
+Mile after mile he tramped, sometimes stopping to look at the sullen,
+angry-looking clouds that swept across the sky, and again looking around
+the heath as if trying to locate some object in which he was interested.
+
+Presently he reached a spot where the road cut through some woodland.
+Dark pine trees waved their branches to the skies. In the near distance
+the heath stretched away for miles, and although it was piercingly cold,
+the scene was almost attractive. But here it was dark, gloomy,
+forbidding. For some time he stood looking at the waving pine trees; it
+might have been that he saw more than was plainly visible.
+
+"What fools, what blind fools men are!" he said aloud. "Their lives are
+bounded by what they see, and they laugh at the spiritual world; they
+scorn the suggestion that belting the earth are untold millions of
+spirits of the dead. Here they are all around me. I can see them. I can
+see them!"
+
+His eyes burnt red; his features were contorted as if by pain.
+
+"An eternal struggle," he cried--"just an eternal struggle between right
+and wrong, good and evil--yes, good and evil!
+
+"And the good is slowly gaining the victory! Out of all the wild, mad
+convulsions of the world, right is slowly emerging triumphant, the
+savage is being subdued, and the human, the Divine, is triumphing."
+
+He lifted his right hand, and shook his fist to the heavens as if
+defiantly.
+
+"I had great hopes of the War," he went on. "I saw hell let loose; I saw
+the world mad for blood. Everywhere was the lust for blood; everywhere
+men cried, 'Kill! kill!' And now it is over, and wrong is being
+defeated--defeated!"
+
+He seemed to be in a mad frenzy, his voice shook with rage.
+
+"Dark spirits of hell!" he cried. "You have been beaten, beaten! Why,
+even in this ghastly war, the Cross has been triumphant! Those
+thousands, those millions of men who went out from this land, went out
+for an ideal. They did not understand it, but it was so. They felt dimly
+and indistinctly that they were fighting, dying, that others might live!
+And some of the most heroic deeds ever known in the history of the world
+were done. Men died for others, died for comradeship, died for duty,
+died for country. Everywhere the Cross was seen!
+
+"And those fellows are not dead! They are alive! they have entered into
+a greater life!
+
+"Why, even the ghastly tragedy of Russia, on which we built so much,
+will only be the birth-pains which precede a new life!
+
+"Everywhere, everywhere the right, the good, is emerging triumphant!"
+
+He laughed aloud, a laugh of almost insane mockery.
+
+"But men are blind, blind! They do not realise the world of spirits that
+is all around them, struggling, struggling. But through the ages the
+spirits of the good are prevailing!
+
+"That is my punishment, my punishment spirits of hell, my punishment!
+Day by day I see the final destruction of evil!"
+
+His voice was hoarse with agony. He might have been mad--mad with the
+torture of despair.
+
+"All around me, all around me they live," he went on. "But I am not
+powerless. I can still work my will. And Faversham shall be mine. I
+swore it on the day he was born, swore it when his mother passed into
+the world of spirits, swore it when his father joined her. What though
+all creation is moving upwards, I can still drag him down, down into
+hell! Yes, and she shall see him going down, she shall know, and then
+she shall suffer as I have suffered. Her very heaven shall be made hell
+to her, because she shall see her son become even what I have become!"
+
+He left the main road, and followed a disused drive through the wood.
+Before long he came to a lonely house, almost hidden by the trees. A
+dark gloomy place it was, dilapidated and desolate. Years before it had
+perchance been the dwelling-place of some inoffensive respectable
+householder who loved the quietness of the country. For years it was for
+sale, and then it was bought by a stranger who never lived in it, but
+let it fall into decay.
+
+Romanoff found his way to the main entrance of the house, and entered.
+He ascended a stairway, and at length found his way to a room which was
+furnished. Here he lit a curiously-shaped lamp. In half an hour the
+place was warm, and suggested comfort. Romanoff sat like one deep in
+thought.
+
+Presently he began to pace the room, uttering strange words as he
+walked. He might have been repeating incantations, or weaving some
+mystic charms. Then he turned out the lamp, and only the fire threw a
+flickering light around the room.
+
+"My vital forces seem to fail me," he muttered; "even here it seems as
+though there is good."
+
+Perspiration oozed from his forehead, and his face was as pale as death.
+
+Again he uttered wild cries; he might have been summoning unseen powers
+to his aid.
+
+"They are here!" he shouted, and there was an evil joy in his face. Then
+there was a change, fear came into his eyes. Looking across the room, he
+saw two streaks of light in the form of a cross, while out of the
+silence a voice came.
+
+"Cease!" said the Voice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+HIS GUARDIAN ANGEL
+
+
+Romanoff ceased speaking, and his eyes were fixed on the two streaks of
+light.
+
+"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked.
+
+"I am here to bid you desist."
+
+"And who are you?"
+
+Slowly, between him and the light, a shadowy figure emerged. Second
+after second its shape became more clearly outlined, until the form of a
+woman appeared. But the face was obscure; it was dim and shadowy.
+
+Romanoff's eyes were fixed on the figure; but he uttered no sound. His
+tongue was dry, and cleaved to the roof of his mouth. His lips were
+parched.
+
+The face became plainer. Its lineaments were more clearly outlined. He
+could see waves of light brown hair, eyes that were large and yearning
+with a great tenderness and pity, yet lit up with joy and holy resolve.
+A mouth tender as that of a child, but with all the firmness of mature
+years. A haunting face it was, haunting because of its spiritual beauty,
+its tenderness, its ineffable joy; and yet it was stern and strong.
+
+It was the face of the woman whom Dick Faversham had seen in the
+smoke-room of the outward-bound vessel years before, the face that had
+appeared to him at the doorway of the great house at Wendover.
+
+"You, you!" cried Romanoff at length. "You! Madaline?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Why are you here?"
+
+"To plead with you, to beseech you to let my son alone."
+
+A change came over Romanoff's face as he heard the words. A new
+strength seemed to have come to him. Confidence shone in his eyes, his
+every feature spoke of triumph.
+
+"Your son! His son!" he cried harshly. "The son of the man for whom you
+cast me into the outer darkness. But for him you might have been the
+mother of _my_ son, and I--I should not have been what I am."
+
+"You are what you are because you have always yielded to the promptings
+of evil," replied the woman. "That was why I never loved you--never
+could love you."
+
+"But you looked at me with eyes of love until he came."
+
+"As you know, I was but a child, and when you came with your great name,
+your great riches, you for a time fascinated me; but I never loved you.
+I told you so before he came."
+
+"But I loved you," said Romanoff hoarsely. "You, the simple country
+girl, fascinated me, the Russian noble. And I would have withheld
+nothing from you. Houses, lands, position, a great name, all--all were
+yours if you would have been my wife. But you rejected me."
+
+"I did not love you. I felt you were evil. I told you so."
+
+"What of that? I loved you. I swore I would win you. But you--you--a
+simple country girl, poor, ignorant of the world's ways, resisted me,
+me--Romanoff. And you married that insipid scholar fellow, leaving me
+scorned, rejected. And I swore I would be revenged, living or dead. Then
+your child was born and you died. I could not harm you, you were beyond
+me, but your son lived. And I swore again. If I could not harm you, I
+could harm him, I could destroy him. I gave myself over to evil for
+that. I, too, have passed through the doorway which the world calls
+death; but powers have been given me, powers to carry out my oath. While
+his father was alive, I could do nothing, but since then my work has
+been going forward. And I shall conquer, I shall triumph."
+
+"And I have come here to-night to plead with you on my son's behalf. He
+has resisted wrong for a long time. Leave him in peace."
+
+"Never," cried Romanoff. "You passed into heaven, but your heaven shall
+be hell, for your son shall go there. He shall become even as I am. His
+joy shall be in evil."
+
+"Have you no pity, no mercy?"
+
+"None," replied Romanoff. "Neither pity nor mercy have a place in me.
+You drove me to hell, and it is my punishment that the only joy which
+may be mine is the joy of what you call evil."
+
+"Then have pity, have mercy on yourself."
+
+"Pity on myself? Mercy on myself? You talk in black ignorance."
+
+"No, I speak in light. Every evil you do only sinks you deeper in mire,
+deeper in hell."
+
+"I cannot help that. It is my doom."
+
+"It is not your doom if you repent. If you turn your face, your spirit
+to the light."
+
+"I cannot repent. I am of those who love evil. I hate mercy. I despise
+pity."
+
+"Then I must seek to save him in spite of you."
+
+"You cannot," and a laugh of savage triumph accompanied his words. "I
+have made my plans. Nothing which you can do will save him. He has been
+given to me."
+
+For a few seconds there was tense unnatural silence. The room was full
+of strange influences, as though conflicting forces were in opposition,
+as though light and darkness, good and evil, were struggling together.
+
+"No, no, Madaline," went on Romanoff. "Now is my hour of triumph. The
+son you love shall be mine."
+
+"Love is stronger than hate, good is stronger than evil," she replied.
+"You are fighting against the Eternal Spirit of Good; you are fighting
+against the Supreme Manifestation of that Goodness, which was seen two
+thousand years ago on the Cross of Calvary."
+
+"The Cross of Calvary!" replied Romanoff, and his voice was hoarse; "it
+is the symbol of defeat, of degradation, of despair. For two thousand
+years it has been uplifted, but always to fail."
+
+"Always to conquer," was the calm reply. "Slowly but surely, age after
+age, it has been subduing kingdoms, working righteousness, lifting man
+up to the Eternal Goodness. It has through all the ages been overcoming
+evil with good, and bringing the harmonies of holiness out of the
+discord of sin."
+
+"Think of this war!" snarled Romanoff. "Think of Germany, think of
+Russia! What is the world but a mad hell?"
+
+"Out of it all will Goodness shine. I cannot understand all, for full
+understanding only belongs to the Supreme Father of Lights. But I am
+sure of the end. Already the morning is breaking, already light is
+shining out of the darkness. Men's eyes are being opened, they are
+seeing visions and dreaming dreams. They are seeing the end of war, and
+talking of Leagues of Nations, of the Brotherhood of the world."
+
+"But that does not do away with the millions who have died in battle. It
+does not atone for blighted and ruined homes, and the darkness of the
+world."
+
+"Not one of those who fell in battle is dead. They are all alive. I have
+seen them, spoken to them. And the Eternal Goodness is ever with them,
+ever bearing them up. They have done what they knew to be their duty,
+and they have entered into their reward."
+
+"What, the Evil and the Good together?" sneered Romanoff. "That were
+strange justice surely."
+
+"Shall not the Judge of all the Earth do Right? They are all in His
+care, and His pity and His love are Infinite. That is why I plead with
+you."
+
+"What, to spare your son? If what you say is true I am powerless. But I
+am not. Wrong is stronger than right. I defy you."
+
+"Then is it to be a fight between us?"
+
+"If you will. He must be mine."
+
+"And what then?" There was ineffable sorrow in the woman's voice. "Would
+you drag him into æons of pain and anguish to satisfy your revenge?"
+
+"I would, and I will. What if right is stronger than wrong, as you say?
+What if in the end right shall drag him through hell to heaven? I shall
+still know that he has lived in hell, and thus shall I have my
+revenge."
+
+"And I, who am his mother, am also his ministering angel, and it is my
+work to save him from you."
+
+"And you are powerless--powerless, I tell you?"
+
+"All power is not given to us, but God has given His angels power to
+help and save."
+
+"If you have such power, why am I not vanquished?"
+
+"Have you not been vanquished many times?"
+
+"Not once!" cried Romanoff. "Little by little I have been enveloping him
+in my toils."
+
+"Think," replied the other. "When he was tossing on the angry sea, whose
+arms bore him up? Think again, why was it when you and he were in the
+library together at Wendover, and you tempted him to sell his soul for
+gain;--whose hand was placed on his, and stopped him from signing the
+paper which would have made him your slave?"
+
+"Was it you?" gasped Romanoff.
+
+"Think again. When the woman you selected sought to dazzle him with wild
+dreams of power and ambition, and who almost blinded him to the truth,
+what led him to discard the picture that came to him as inventions of
+evil? Who helped to open his eyes?"
+
+"Then you--you," gasped Romanoff--"you have been fighting against me all
+the time! It was you, was it?"
+
+"I was his mother, I am his mother; and I, who never intentionally did
+you harm, plead with you again. I love him, even as all true mothers,
+whether on earth or in the land of spirits, love their children. And I
+am allowed to watch over him, to protect him, to help him. It is my joy
+to be his guardian angel, and I plead with you to let him be free from
+your designs."
+
+"And if I will--what reward will you give me?"
+
+"I will seek to help you from your doom--the doom which must be the lot
+of those who persist in evil."
+
+"That is not enough. No, I will carry out my plans; I will drag him to
+hell."
+
+"And I, if need be, will descend into hell to save him."
+
+"You cannot, you cannot!" and triumph rang in his voice. "I swore to
+drag him to hell, swore that his soul should be given over to evil."
+
+The woman's face seemed to be drawn with pain, her eyes were filled with
+infinite yearning and tenderness. She moved her lips as if in speech,
+but Romanoff could distinguish no words. Then her form grew dimmer and
+dimmer until there was only a shadowy outline of what had been clear and
+distinct.
+
+"What do you say? I cannot hear!" and his voice was mocking.
+
+The man continued to look at the place where he had seen her, but, as
+her form disappeared, the two shafts of light grew more and more
+luminous. He saw the bright shining Cross distinctly outlined, and his
+eyes burnt with a great terror. Then out of the silence, out of the wide
+spaces which surrounded the house, out of the broad expanse of the
+heavens, words came to him:
+
+"Underneath, _underneath_, UNDERNEATH are the Everlasting Arms."
+
+Fascinated, Romanoff gazed, seeing nothing but the shining outline of
+the Cross, while the air seemed to pulsate with the great words I have
+set down.
+
+Then slowly the Cross became more and more dim, until at length it
+became invisible. The corner of the room which had been illumined by its
+radiance became full of dark shadows. Silence became profound.
+
+"What does it mean?" he gasped. "She left me foiled, defeated, in
+despair. But the Cross shone. The words filled everything."
+
+For more than a minute he stood like one transfixed, thinking, thinking.
+
+"It means this," he said presently, and the words came from him in
+hoarse gasps, "it means that I am to have my way; it means that I shall
+conquer him--drag him to hell; but that underneath hell are the
+Everlasting Arms. Well, let it be so. I shall have had my revenge. The
+son shall suffer what the mother made me suffer, and she shall suffer
+hell, too, because she shall see her son in hell."
+
+He turned and placed more wood on the fire, then throwing himself in an
+arm-chair he sat for hours, brooding, thinking.
+
+"Yes, Olga will do it," he concluded after a long silence. "The story of
+the Garden of Eden is an eternal principle. 'The woman tempted me and I
+did eat,' is the story of the world's sin. He is a man, with all a man's
+passions, and she is a Venus, a Circe--a woman--and all men fall when a
+woman tempts."
+
+All through the night he kept his dark vigils; there in the dark house,
+with only flickering lights from the fire, he worked out his plans, and
+schemed for the destruction of a man's soul.
+
+In the grey dawn of the wintry morning he was back in London again; but
+although the servants looked at him questioningly when he entered his
+hotel, as if wondering where he had been, he told no man of his doings.
+All his experiences were secret to himself.
+
+During the next few days the little man Polonius seemed exceptionally
+busy; three times he went to Wendover, where there seemed to be many
+matters that interested him. Several times he made his way to the War
+Office, where he appeared to have acquaintances, and where he asked many
+questions. He also found his way to the block of buildings where Dick
+Faversham's flat was situated, and although Dick never saw him, he
+appeared to be greatly interested in the young man's goings out and his
+comings in. He also went to the House of Commons, and made the
+acquaintance of many Labour Members. Altogether Polonius's time was much
+engaged. He went to Count Romanoff's hotel, too, but always late at
+night, and he had several interviews with that personage, whom he
+evidently held in great awe.
+
+More than a week after Romanoff's experiences at Walton Heath, Olga
+Petrovic received a letter which made her very thoughtful. There was a
+look of fear in her eyes as she read, as though it contained disturbing
+news.
+
+And yet it appeared commonplace and innocent enough, and it contained
+only a few lines. Perhaps it was the signature which caused her cheeks
+to blanch, and her lips to quiver.
+
+This was how it ran:
+
+     "DEAR OLGA,--You must get F. to take you to dinner on Friday
+     night next. You must go to the Moscow Restaurant, and be there
+     by 7.45 prompt. Please look your handsomest, and spare no pains
+     to be agreeable. When the waiter brings you liqueurs be
+     especially fascinating. Act on the Berlin plan. This is very
+     important, as a danger has arisen which I had not calculated
+     upon. The time for action has now come, and I need not remind
+     you how much success means to you.
+
+     "ROMANOFF.
+
+     "P.S.--Destroy this as you have destroyed all other correspondence
+     from me. I shall know whether this is done.--R."
+
+
+This was the note which had caused Olga Petrovic's cheeks to pale. After
+reading it again, she sat thinking for a long time, while more than once
+her face was drawn as if by spasms of pain.
+
+Presently she went to her desk, and taking some scented notepaper, she
+wrote a letter. She was evidently very particular about the wording, for
+she tore up several sheets before she had satisfied herself. There was
+the look of an evil woman in her eyes as she sealed it, but there was
+something else, too; there was an expression of indescribable longing.
+
+The next afternoon Dick Faversham came to her flat and found Olga
+Petrovic alone. He had come in answer to her letter.
+
+"Have I done anything to offend you, Mr. Faversham?" she asked, as she
+poured out tea.
+
+"Offend me, Countess? I never thought of such a thing. Why do you ask?"
+
+"You were so cold, so distant when you were here last--and that was
+several days ago."
+
+"I have been very busy," replied Dick.
+
+"While I have been very lonely."
+
+"Lonely! You lonely, Countess?"
+
+"Yes, very lonely. How little men know women. Because a number of silly,
+chattering people have been here when you have called, you have
+imagined that my life has been full of pleasure, that I have been
+content. But I haven't a friend in the world, unless----" She lifted her
+great languishing eyes to his for a moment, and sighed.
+
+"Unless what?" asked Dick.
+
+"Nothing, nothing. Why should you care about the loneliness of a woman?"
+
+"I care a great deal," replied Dick. "You have been very kind to me--a
+lonely man."
+
+From that moment she became very charming. His words gave her the
+opening she sought, and a few minutes later she had led him to the
+channel of conversation which she desired.
+
+"You do not mind?" she said presently. "I know you are the kind of man
+who finds it a bore to take a woman out to dinner. But there will be a
+wonderful band at The Moscow, and I love music."
+
+"It will be a pleasure, a very great pleasure," replied Dick.
+
+"And you will not miss being away from the House of Commons for a few
+hours, will you? I will try to be very nice."
+
+"As though you needed to try," cried Dick. "As though you could be
+anything else."
+
+She looked half coyly, half boldly into his eyes.
+
+"To-morrow night then?" she said.
+
+"Yes, to-morrow night. At half-past seven I will be here."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+AT THE CAFÉ MOSCOW
+
+
+During the few days which had preceded Dick's visit to the Countess
+Olga's house, he had been very depressed. The excitement which he had at
+first felt in going to the House of Commons as the Member for Eastroyd
+had gone. He found, too, that the "Mother of Parliaments" was different
+from what he had expected.
+
+The thing that impressed him most was the difficulty in getting anything
+done. The atmosphere of the place was in the main lethargic. Men came
+there for the first time, enthusiastic and buoyant, determined to do
+great things; but weeks, months, years passed by, and they had done
+nothing. In their constituencies crowds flocked to hear them, and
+applauded them to the echo; but in the House of Commons they had to
+speak to empty benches, and the few who remained to hear them, yawned
+while they were speaking, and only waited because they wanted to catch
+the Speaker's eye.
+
+Dick had felt all this, and much more. It seemed to him that as a
+legislator he was a failure, and that the House of Commons was the most
+disappointing place in the world. Added to this he was heart-sore and
+despondent. His love for Beatrice Stanmore was hopeless. News of her
+engagement to Sir George Weston had been confirmed, and thus joy had
+gone out of his life.
+
+Why it was, Dick did not know; but he knew now that he had loved
+Beatrice Stanmore from the first time he had seen her. He was constantly
+recalling the hour when she first came into his life. She and her
+grandfather had come to Wendover when he was sitting talking, with
+Romanoff, and he remembered how the atmosphere of the room changed the
+moment she entered. His will-power was being sapped, his sense of right
+and wrong was dulled; yet no sooner did she appear than his will-power
+came back, his moral perceptions became keen.
+
+It was the same at her second visit. He had been like a man under a
+spell; he had become almost paralysed by Romanoff's philosophy of life,
+helpless to withstand the picture he held before his eyes; yet on the
+sudden coming of this bright-eyed girl everything had changed. She made
+him live in a new world. He remembered going outside with her, and they
+had talked about angels.
+
+How vivid it all was to him! Everything was sweeter, brighter, purer,
+because of her. Her simple, childish faith, her keen intuition had made
+his materialism seem so much foolishness. Her eyes pierced the dark
+clouds; she was an angel of God, pointing upward.
+
+He knew the meaning of it now. His soul had found a kindred soul, even
+although he had not known it; he had loved her then, although he was
+unaware of the fact. But ever since he had learnt the secret of his
+heart he had understood.
+
+But it was too late. He was helpless, hopeless. She had given her heart
+to this soldier, this man of riches and position. Oh, what a mockery
+life was! He had seen the gates of heaven, he had caught a glimpse of
+what lay beyond, but he could not enter, and in his disappointment and
+hopelessness, despair gnawed at his heart like a canker.
+
+Thus Dick Faversham was in a dangerous mood. That was why the siren-like
+presence of Olga Petrovic acted upon his senses like an evil charm. Oh,
+if he had only known!
+
+At half-past seven on the Friday night he called at her flat, and he had
+barely entered the room before she came to him. Evidently she regarded
+it as a great occasion, for she was resplendently attired. Yet not too
+much so. Either she, or her maid, instinctively knew what exactly suited
+her kind of beauty; for not even the most critical could have found
+fault with her.
+
+What a glorious creature she was! Shaped like a goddess, her clothes
+accentuated her charms. Evidently, too, she was intent on pleasing him.
+Her face was wreathed in smiles, her eyes shone with dangerous
+brightness. There was witchery, allurement in her presence--she was a
+siren.
+
+Dick almost gave a gasp as he saw her. A girl in appearance, a girl with
+all the winsomeness and attractiveness of youth, yet a woman with all a
+woman's knowledge of man's weakness--a woman bent on being captivating.
+
+"Do I please your Majesty?" and her eyes flashed as the words passed her
+lips.
+
+"Please me!" he gasped. "You are wonderful, simply wonderful."
+
+"I want you to be pleased," she whispered, and Dick thought he saw her
+blush.
+
+They entered the motor-car together, and as she sat by his side he felt
+as though he were in dreamland. A delicate perfume filled the air, and
+the knowledge that he was going to dine with her, amidst brightness and
+gaiety, made him forgetful of all else.
+
+They were not long in reaching The Moscow, one of the most popular and
+fashionable restaurants in London. He saw at a glance, as he looked
+around him, that the wealth, the beauty, the fashion of London were
+there. The waiter led them to a table from which they could command
+practically the whole room, and where they could be seen by all. But he
+took no notice of this. He was almost intoxicated by the brilliance of
+the scene, by the fascination of the woman who sat near him.
+
+"For once," she said, "let us forget dull care, let us be happy."
+
+He laughed gaily. "Why not?" he cried. "All the same, I wonder what my
+constituents at Eastroyd would say if they saw me here?"
+
+She gave a slight shrug, and threw off the light gossamer shawl which
+had somewhat hidden her neck and shoulders. Her jewels flashed back the
+light which shone overhead, her eyes sparkled like stars.
+
+"Let us forget Eastroyd," she cried; "let us forget everything sordid
+and sorrowing. Surely there are times when one should live only for
+gladness, for joy. Is not the music divine? There, listen! Did I not
+tell you that some of the most wonderful artists in London play here?
+Do you know what it makes me think of?"
+
+"I would love to know," he responded, yielding to her humour.
+
+"But I must not tell you--I dare not. I am going to ask a favour of you,
+my friend. Will you grant it, without asking me what it is?"
+
+"Of course I will grant it."
+
+"Oh, it is little, nothing after all. Only let me choose the wine
+to-night."
+
+"Why not? I am no wine drinker, and am no judge of vintages."
+
+"Ah, but you must drink with me to-night. To-night I am queen, and you
+are----"
+
+"Yes, what am I?" asked Dick with a laugh, as she stopped.
+
+"You are willing to obey your queen, aren't you?"
+
+"Who would not be willing to obey such a queen?" was his reply.
+
+The waiter hovered around them, attending to their slightest wants. Not
+only was the restaurant noted as being a rendezvous for the beauty and
+fashion of London, but it boasted the best _chef_ in England. Every dish
+was more exquisite than the last, and everything was served in a way to
+please the most captious.
+
+The dinner proceeded. Course followed course, while sweet music was
+discoursed, and Dick felt in a land of enchantment. For once he gave
+himself over to enjoyment--he banished all saddening thoughts. He was in
+a world of brightness and song; every sight, every sound drove away dull
+care. To-morrow he would have to go back to the grim realities of life;
+but now he allowed himself to be swept along by the tide of laughter and
+gaiety.
+
+"You seem happy, my friend," said the woman presently. "Never before did
+I see you so free from dull care, never did I see you so full of the joy
+of life. Well, why not? Life was given to us to be happy. Yes, yes, I
+know. You have your work to do; but not now. I should feel miserable for
+days if I thought I could not charm away sadness from you--especially
+to-night."
+
+"Why to-night?"
+
+"Because it is the first time we have ever dined together. I should pay
+you a poor compliment, shouldn't I, if when you took me to a place where
+laughter abounded I did not bring laughter to your lips and joy to your
+heart. Let us hope that this is the first of the many times we may dine
+together. Yes; what are you thinking about?"
+
+"That you are a witch, a wonder, a miracle of beauty and of charm.
+There, I know I speak too freely."
+
+He ceased speaking suddenly.
+
+"I love to hear you speak so. I would rather--but what is the matter?"
+
+Dick did not reply. His eyes were riveted on another part of the room,
+and he had forgotten that she was speaking. Seated at a table not far
+away were three people, two men and a woman. The men were Sir George
+Weston and Hugh Stanmore. The woman was Beatrice Stanmore. Evidently the
+lover had brought his fiancée and her grandfather there that night. It
+seemed to Dick that Weston had an air of proprietorship, as he acted the
+part of host. He watched while the baronet smiled on her and spoke to
+her. It would seem, too, that he said something pleasant, for the girl
+laughed gaily, and her eyes sparkled with delight.
+
+"You see someone you know?" and Olga Petrovic's eyes followed his gaze.
+"Ah, you are looking at the table where that pretty but rather
+countrified girl is sitting with the old man with the white hair, and
+the other who looks like a soldier. Ah yes, you know them, my friend?"
+
+"I have seen them--met them," he stammered.
+
+"Ah, then you know who they are? I do not know them, they are strangers
+to me; but I can tell you about them. Shall I?"
+
+"Yes." His eyes were still riveted on them, and he did not know he had
+spoken.
+
+"The girl is the younger man's fiancée. They have lately become engaged.
+Don't you see how he smiles on her? And look how she smiles back. She is
+deeply in love with him, that is plain. There, don't you see--she has a
+ring on her engagement finger. They are very happy. I think the man has
+brought the girl and the old man here as a kind of celebration dinner.
+Presently they will go to some place of amusement. She seems a poor
+simpering thing; but they are evidently deeply in love with each other.
+Tell me, am I not right?"
+
+Dick did not reply. What he had seen stung him into a kind of madness.
+He was filled with reckless despair. What matter what he did, what
+happened to him? Of course he knew of the engagement, but the sight of
+them together unhinged his mind, kept him from thinking coherently.
+
+"You seem much interested in them, my friend; do you know them well? Ah,
+they have finished dinner, I think. There, they are looking at us; the
+girl is asking who we are, or, perhaps, she has recognised you."
+
+For a moment Dick felt his heart stop beating; yes, she was coming his
+way. She must pass his table in order to get out.
+
+With a kind of despairing recklessness he seized the wineglass by his
+side and drained it. He was hardly master of himself; he talked rapidly,
+loudly.
+
+The waiter appeared with liqueurs.
+
+"Yes," cried the Countess, with a laugh; "I chose the wine--I must
+choose the liqueurs also. It is my privilege."
+
+The waiter poured out the spirits with a deft hand, while the woman
+laughed. Her eyes sparkled more brightly then ever; her face had a look
+of set purpose.
+
+"This is the only place in London where one can get this liqueur," she
+cried. "What is it? I don't know. But I am told it is exquisite. There!
+I drink to you!"
+
+She lifted the tiny glass to her lips, while her eyes, large, black,
+bold, seductive, dangerous, flashed into his.
+
+"Drink, my friend," she said, and her voice reached some distance around
+her; "it is the drink of love, of _love_, the only thing worth living
+for. Drain it to the bottom, and let us be happy."
+
+He lifted the glass, but ere it reached his lips he saw that Beatrice
+Stanmore and her companions were close to him, and that she must have
+heard what Olga Petrovic had said. In spite of the fact that he had
+drunk of rich, strong wine, and that it tingled through his veins like
+some fabled elixir, he felt his heart grow cold. He saw a look on the
+girl's face which startled him--frightened him. But she was not looking
+at him; her eyes were fixed on his companion.
+
+And he saw the expression of terror, of loathing, of horror. It made him
+think of an angel gazing into the pit of hell. But Olga Petrovic seemed
+unconscious of her presence. Her eyes were fixed on Dick's face. She
+seemed to be pleading with him, fascinating him, compelling him to think
+only of her.
+
+Meanwhile Hugh Stanmore and Sir George Weston hesitated, as if doubtful
+whether they should speak.
+
+Dick half rose. He wanted to speak to Beatrice. To tell her--what, he
+did not know. But he was not master of himself. He was dizzy and
+bewildered. Perhaps it was because he was unaccustomed to drink wine,
+and the rich vintage had flown to his head--perhaps because of
+influences which he could not understand.
+
+"Beatrice--Miss Stanmore," he stammered in a hoarse, unnatural voice, so
+hoarse and unnatural that the words were scarcely articulated,
+"this--this _is_ a surprise."
+
+He felt how inane he was. He might have been intoxicated. What must
+Beatrice think of him?
+
+But still she did not look at him. Her eyes were still fixed on Olga's
+face. She seemed to be trying to read her, to pierce her very soul. Then
+suddenly she turned towards Dick, who had dropped into his chair again,
+and was still holding the tiny glass in his hand.
+
+"You do not drink, Dick," said Olga Petrovic, and her voice, though low
+and caressing, was plainly to be heard. "You must drink, because I chose
+it, and it is the drink of love--the only thing worth living for," and
+all the time her eyes were fixed on his face.
+
+Almost unconsciously he turned towards her, and his blood seemed turned
+to fire. Madness possessed him; he felt a slave to the charms of this
+bewitching woman, even while the maiden for whom his heart longed with
+an unutterable longing was only two or three yards from him. He lifted
+the glass again, and the fiery liquid passed his lips.
+
+Again he looked at Beatrice, and it seemed to him that he saw horror and
+disgust in her face. Something terrible had happened; it seemed to him
+that he was enveloped in some form of black magic from which he could
+not escape.
+
+Then rage filled his heart. The party passed on without further notice
+of him, and he saw Beatrice speak to Sir George Weston. What she said to
+him he did not know, but he caught a part of his reply.
+
+"I heard of her in Vienna. She had a curious reputation. Her _salon_ was
+the centre of attraction to a peculiar class of men. Magnificent,
+but----"
+
+That was all he heard. He was not sure he heard even that. There was a
+hum of voices, and the sound of laughter everywhere, and so it was
+difficult for him to be sure of what any particular person said. Neither
+might the words apply to the woman at his side.
+
+Bewildered, he turned towards Olga again, caught the flash of her eyes'
+wild fire, and was again fascinated by the bewildering seductiveness of
+her charms. What was the matter with him? He did not seem master of
+himself. Everything was strange--bewildering.
+
+Perhaps it was because of the wine he had drunk, perhaps because that
+fiery liquid had inflamed his imagination; but it seemed to him that
+nothing mattered. Right! Wrong! What were they? Mere abstractions, the
+fancies of a diseased mind. Wild recklessness filled his heart. He had
+seen Beatrice Stanmore smile on Sir George Weston, and he had heard the
+woman at his side say that she, Beatrice, wore this Devonshire squire's
+ring.
+
+Well, what then? Why should he care?
+
+And all the time Olga Petrovic was by his side. She had seemed
+unconscious of Beatrice's presence; she had not noticed the look of
+horror and loathing in the girl's eyes. She was only casting a spell on
+him--a spell he could not understand.
+
+Then he had a peculiar sensation. This mysterious woman was bewitching
+him. She was sapping his will even as Romanoff had sapped it years
+before. Why did he connect them?
+
+"Countess," he said, "do you know Count Romanoff?"
+
+The woman hesitated a second before replying.
+
+"Dick," she said, "you must not call me Countess. You know my name,
+don't you? Count Romanoff? No, I never heard of him."
+
+"Let us get away from here," he cried. "I feel as though I can't
+breathe."
+
+"I'm so sorry. Let us go back home and spend the evening quietly. Oh, I
+forgot. Sir Felix and Lady Fordham are calling at ten o'clock. You don't
+mind, do you?"
+
+"No, no. I shall be glad to meet them."
+
+A few minutes later they were moving rapidly towards Olga Petrovic's
+flat, Dick still excited, and almost irresponsible, the woman with a
+look of exultant triumph on her face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+THE SHADOW OF A GREAT TERROR
+
+
+"Sit down, my friend. Sir Felix and Lady Fordham have not come; but what
+matter? There, take this chair. Ah, you look like yourself again. Has it
+ever struck you that you are a handsome man? No; I do not flatter. I
+looked around The Moscow to-night, and there was not a man in the room
+to compare with you--not one who looked so distinguished, so much--a
+man. I felt so glad--so proud."
+
+He felt himself sink in the luxuriously upholstered chair, while she sat
+at his feet and looked up into his face.
+
+"Now, then, you are king; you are seated on your throne, while I, your
+slave, am at your feet, ready to obey your will. Is not that the story
+of man and woman?"
+
+He did not answer He was struggling, struggling and fighting, and yet he
+did not know against what he was fighting. Besides, he had no heart in
+the battle. His will-power was gone; his vitality was lowered; he felt
+as though some powerful narcotic were in his blood, deadening his
+manhood, dulling all moral purpose. He was intoxicated by the influences
+of the hour, careless as to what might happen to him, and yet by some
+strange contradiction he was afraid. The shadow of a great terror rested
+on him.
+
+And Olga Petrovic seemed to know--to understand.
+
+She started to her feet. "You have never heard me sing, have you? Ah no,
+of course you have not. And has it not ever been in song and story that
+the slave of her lord's will discoursed sweet music to him? Is there not
+some old story about a shepherd boy who charmed away the evil spirits of
+the king by music?"
+
+She sat at a piano, and began to play soft, dreamy music. Her fingers
+scarcely touched the keys, and yet the room was filled with peculiar
+harmonies.
+
+"You understand French, do you not, my friend? Yes; I know you do."
+
+She began to sing. What the words were he never remembered afterwards,
+but he knew they possessed a strange power over him. They dulled his
+fears; they charmed his senses; they seemed to open up long vistas of
+beauty and delight. He seemed to be in a kind of Mohammedan Paradise,
+where all was sunshine and song.
+
+How long she sung he could not tell; what she said to him he hardly
+knew. He only knew that he sat in a luxuriously appointed room, while
+this wonder of womanhood charmed him.
+
+Presently he knew that she was making love to him, and that he was
+listening with eager ears. Not only did he seem to have no power to
+resist her--he had no desire to do so. He did not ask whether she was
+good or evil; he ceased to care what the future might bring forth. And
+yet he had a kind of feeling that something was wrong, hellish--only it
+did not matter to him. This woman loved him, while all other love was
+impossible to him.
+
+Beatrice! Ah, but Beatrice had looked at him with horror; all her smiles
+were given to another man--the man to whom she had promised to give
+herself as his wife. What mattered, then?
+
+But there was a new influence in the room! It seemed to him as if a
+breath of sweet mountain air had been wafted to him--air full of the
+strength of life, sweet, pure life. The scales fell from his eyes and he
+saw.
+
+The woman again sat at his feet, looking up at him with love-compelling
+eyes, and he saw her plainly. But he saw more: the wrappings were torn
+from her soul, and he beheld her naked spirit.
+
+He shuddered. What he saw was evil--evil. Instead of the glorious face
+of Olga Petrovic, he saw a grinning skull; instead of the dulcet tones
+of her siren-like voice, he heard the hiss of snakes, the croaking of a
+raven.
+
+He was standing on the brink of a horrible precipice, while beneath him
+was black, unfathomable darkness, filled with strange, noisome sounds.
+
+What did it mean? He still beheld the beauty--the somewhat Oriental
+beauty of the room; he was still aware of the delicate odours that
+pervaded it, while this woman, glorious in her queenly splendour, was at
+his feet, charming him with words of love, with promises of delight; but
+it seemed to him that other eyes, other powers of vision, were given to
+him, and he saw beyond.
+
+Was that Romanoff's cynical, evil face? Were not his eyes watching them
+with devilish expectancy? Was he not even then gloating over the loss of
+his manhood, the pollution of his soul?
+
+"Hark, what is that?"
+
+"What, my friend? Nothing, nothing."
+
+"But I heard something--something far away."
+
+She laughed with apparent gaiety, yet there was uneasiness in her voice.
+
+"You heard nothing but my foolish confession, Dick. I love you, love
+you! Do you hear? I love you. I tried to kill it--in vain. But what
+matter? Love is everything--there is nothing else to live for. And you
+and I are all the world. Your love is mine. Tell me, is it not so? And I
+am yours, my beloved, yours for ever."
+
+But he only half heard her; forces were at work in his life which he
+could not comprehend. A new longing came to him--the longing for a
+strong, clean manhood.
+
+"Do you believe in angels?" he asked suddenly.
+
+Why the question passed his lips he did not know, but it sprung to his
+lips without thought or effort on his part. Then he remembered. Beatrice
+Stanmore had asked him that question weeks before down at Wendover Park.
+
+Angels! His mind became preternaturally awake; his memory flashed back
+across the chasm of years.
+
+"Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them
+who shall be heirs of salvation?"
+
+Yes; he remembered the words. The old clergyman had repeated them years
+before, when he had seen the face of the woman which no other man could
+see.
+
+Like lightning his mind swept down the years, and he remembered the
+wonderful experiences which had had such a marked influence on his life.
+
+"Angels!" laughed the woman. "There are no angels save those on earth,
+my friend. There is no life other than this, so let us be happy."
+
+"Look, look!" he cried, pointing to a part of the room which was only
+dimly lit. "She is there, there! Don't you see? Her hand is pointing
+upward!"
+
+Slowly the vision faded, and he saw nothing.
+
+Then came the great temptation of Dick Faversham's life. His will-power,
+his manhood, had come back to him again, but he felt that he had to
+fight his battle alone. His eyes were open, but because at his heart was
+a gnawing despair, he believed there was nothing to live for save what
+his temptress promised.
+
+She pleaded as only a woman jealous for her love, determined to triumph,
+can plead. And she was beautiful, passionate, dangerous. Again he felt
+his strength leaving him, his will-power being sapped, his horror of
+wrong dulled.
+
+Still something struggled within him--something holy urged him to fight
+on. His manhood was precious; the spark of the Divine fire which still
+burnt refused to be extinguished.
+
+"Lord, have mercy upon me! Christ, have mercy upon me!"
+
+It was a part of the service he had so often repeated in the old school
+chapel, and it came back to him like the memory of a dream.
+
+"Countess," he said, "I must go."
+
+"No, no, Dick," cried the woman, with a laugh. "Why, it is scarcely ten
+o'clock."
+
+"I must go," he repeated weakly.
+
+"Not for another half an hour. I am so lonely."
+
+He was hesitating whether he should stay, when they both heard the sound
+of voices outside--voices that might have been angry. A moment later the
+door opened, and Beatrice Stanmore came in, accompanied by her
+grandfather.
+
+"Forgive me," panted the girl, "but I could not help coming. Something
+told me you were in great danger--ill--dying, and I have come."
+
+She had come to him just as she had come to him that night at Wendover
+Park, and at her coming the power of Romanoff was gone. It was the same
+now. As if by magic, he felt free from the charm of Olga Petrovic. The
+woman was evil, and he hated evil.
+
+Again the eyes of Beatrice Stanmore were fixed on the face of Olga
+Petrovic. She did not speak, but her look was expressive of a great
+loathing.
+
+"Surely this is a strange manner to disturb one's privacy," said the
+Countess. "I am at a loss to know to what I am indebted for this
+peculiar attention. I must speak to my servants."
+
+But Beatrice spoke no word in reply to her. Turning towards Dick again,
+she looked at him for a few seconds.
+
+"I am sorry I have disturbed you," she said. "Something, I do not know
+what, told me you were in some terrible danger, and I went back to the
+restaurant. A man there told us you had come here. I am glad I was
+mistaken. Forgive me, I will go now."
+
+"I am thankful you came," said Dick. "I--I am going."
+
+"Good-night, Countess," he added, turning to Olga, and without another
+word turned to leave the room. But Olga Petrovic was not in the humour
+to be baffled. She rushed towards him and caught his arm.
+
+"You cannot go yet," she cried. "You must not go like this, Dick; I
+cannot allow you. Besides, I want an explanation. These people, who are
+they? Dick, why are they here?"
+
+"I must go," replied Dick sullenly. "I have work to do."
+
+"Work!" she cried. "This is not the time for work, but love--our love,
+Dick. Ah, I remember now. This girl was at The Moscow with that soldier
+man. They love each other. Why may we not love each other too? Stay,
+Dick."
+
+But she pleaded in vain. The power of her spell had gone. Something
+strong, virile, vital, stirred within him, and he was master of
+himself.
+
+"Good-night, Countess," he replied. "Thank you for your kind invitation,
+but I must go."
+
+He scarcely knew where he was going, and he had only a dim remembrance
+of refusing to take the lift and of stumbling down the stairs. He
+thought he heard old Hugh Stanmore talking with Beatrice, but he was not
+sure; he fancied, too, that they were close behind him, but he was too
+bewildered to be certain of anything.
+
+A few minutes later he was tramping towards his own humble flat, and as
+he walked he was trying to understand the meaning of what had taken
+place.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Olga Petrovic had been alone only a few seconds, when Count Romanoff
+entered the room. Evidently he had been in close proximity all the time.
+In his eyes was the look of an angry beast at bay; his face was
+distorted, his voice hoarse.
+
+"And you have allowed yourself to be beaten--beaten!" he taunted.
+
+But the woman did not speak. Her hands were clenched, her lips
+tremulous, while in her eyes was a look of unutterable sorrow.
+
+"But we have not come to the end of our little comedy yet, Olga," went
+on Romanoff. "You have still your chance of victory."
+
+"Comedy!" she repeated; "it is the blackest tragedy."
+
+"Tragedy, eh? Yes; it will be tragedy if you fail."
+
+"And I must fail," she cried. "I am powerless to reach him, and yet I
+would give my heart's blood to win his love. But go, go! Let me never
+see your face again."
+
+"You will not get rid of me so easily," mocked the Count. "We made our
+pact. I will keep my side of it, and you must keep yours."
+
+"I cannot, I tell you. Something, something I cannot understand, mocks
+me."
+
+"You love the fellow still," said Romanoff. "Fancy, Olga Petrovic is
+weak enough for that."
+
+"Yes, I love him," cried the woman--"I admit it--love him with every
+fibre of my being. But not as you would have me love him. I have tried
+to obey you; but I am baffled. The man's clean, healthy soul makes me
+ashamed. God alone knows how ashamed I am! And it is his healthiness of
+soul that baffles me."
+
+"No, it is not," snarled Romanoff. "It is because I have been opposed by
+one of whom I was ignorant. That chit of a girl, that wayside flower,
+whom I would love to see polluted by the filth of the world, has been
+used to beat me. Don't you see? The fellow is in love with her. He has
+been made to love her. That is why you have failed."
+
+Mad jealousy flashed into the woman's eyes. "He loves her?" she asked,
+and her voice was hoarse.
+
+"Of course he does. Will you let him have her?"
+
+"He cannot. Is she not betrothed to that soldier fellow?"
+
+"What if she is? Was there not love in her eyes as she came here
+to-night? Would she have come merely for Platonic friendship? Olga, if
+you do not act quickly, you will have lost him--lost him for ever."
+
+"But I have lost him!" she almost wailed.
+
+"You have not, I tell you. Go to her to-night. Tell her that Faversham
+is not the man she thinks he is. Tell her--but I need not instruct you
+as to that. You know what to say. Then when he goes to her to explain,
+as he will go, she will drive him from her, Puritan fool as she is, with
+loathing and scorn! After that your turn will come again."
+
+For some time they talked, she protesting, he explaining, threatening,
+cajoling, promising, and at length he overcame. With a look of
+determination in her eyes, she left her flat, and drove to the hotel
+where Romanoff told her that Hugh Stanmore and Beatrice were staying.
+
+Was Miss Beatrice Stanmore in the hotel? she asked when she entered the
+vestibule.
+
+Yes, she was informed, Miss Stanmore had returned with her grandfather
+only half an hour before.
+
+She took one of her visiting cards and wrote on it hastily.
+
+"Will you take it to her at once," she commanded the servant, and she
+handed him the card. "Tell her that it is extremely urgent."
+
+"But it is late, your ladyship," protested the man; "and I expect she
+has retired."
+
+Nevertheless he went. A look from the woman compelled obedience. A few
+minutes later he returned.
+
+"Will you be pleased to follow me, your ladyship?" he said. "Miss
+Stanmore will see you."
+
+Olga Petrovic followed him with a steady step, but in her eyes was a
+look of fear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+THE TRIUMPH OF GOOD
+
+
+Beatrice Stanmore was sitting in a tiny room as the Countess Olga
+Petrovic entered. It was little more than a dressing-room, and adjoined
+her bedroom. She rose at Olga's entrance, and looked at the woman
+intently. She was perfectly calm, and was far more at ease than her
+visitor.
+
+"I hope you will pardon the liberty I have taken," and Olga spoke in
+sweet, low tones; "but I came to plead for your forgiveness. I was
+unutterably rude to you to-night, and I felt I could not sleep until I
+was assured of your pardon."
+
+"Won't you sit down?" and Beatrice pointed to a chair as she spoke. "I
+will ask my grandfather to come here."
+
+"But, pardon me," cried Olga eagerly, "could we not remain alone? I have
+much to say to you--things which I can say to you only."
+
+"Then it was not simply to ask my pardon that you came?" retorted
+Beatrice. "Very well, I will hear you."
+
+She was utterly different from the sensitive, almost timid girl whom
+Dick Faversham had spoken to at Wendover. It was evident that she had no
+fear of her visitor. She spoke in plain matter-of-fact terms.
+
+For a few seconds the older woman seemed to be at a loss what to say.
+The young inexperienced girl disturbed her confidence, her
+self-assurance.
+
+"I came to speak to you about Mr. Faversham," she began, after an
+awkward silence.
+
+Beatrice Stanmore made no remark, but sat quietly as if waiting for her
+to continue.
+
+"You know Mr. Faversham?" continued the woman.
+
+"Yes, I know him."
+
+"Forgive me for speaking so plainly; but you have an interest in him
+which is more than--ordinary?" The words were half a question, half an
+assertion.
+
+"I am greatly interested in Mr. Faversham--yes," she replied quietly.
+
+"Even though, acting on the advice of your grandfather, you have become
+engaged to Sir George Weston? Forgive my speaking plainly, but I felt I
+must come to you to-night, felt I must tell you the truth."
+
+Olga Petrovic paused as if waiting for Beatrice to say something, but
+the girl was silent. She fixed her eyes steadily on the other's face,
+and waited.
+
+"Mr. Faversham is not the kind of man you think he is." Olga Petrovic
+spoke hurriedly and awkwardly, as though she found the words difficult
+to say.
+
+Still Beatrice remained silent; but she kept her eyes steadily on the
+other's face.
+
+"I thought I ought to tell you. You are young and innocent; you do not
+know the ways of men. Mr. Faversham is not fit for you to associate
+with."
+
+"And yet you dined with him to-night. You took him to your flat
+afterwards."
+
+"But I am different from you. I am a woman of the world, and your
+Puritan standard of morals has no weight or authority with me. Of
+course," and again she spoke awkwardly, "I have no right to speak to
+you, your world is different from mine, and you are a stranger to me;
+but I have heard of you."
+
+"How? Through whom?"
+
+"Need you ask?"
+
+"I suppose you mean Mr. Faversham. Why should he speak to you about me?"
+
+"Some men are like that. They boast of their conquests, they glory
+in--in----; but I need not say more. Will you take advice from a woman
+who--who has suffered, and who, through suffering, has learnt to know
+the world? It is this. Think no more of Richard Faversham. He--he is not
+a good man; he is not fit to associate with a pure child like you."
+
+Beatrice Stanmore looked at the other with wonder in her eyes. There was
+more than wonder, there was terror. It might be that the older woman had
+frightened her.
+
+"Forgive me speaking like this," went on Olga, "but I cannot help
+myself. Drive him from your mind. Perhaps there is not much romance in
+the thought of marrying Sir George Weston, but I beseech you to do so.
+He, at least, will shield you from the temptations, the evil of the
+world. As for Faversham, if he ever tries to see you again, remember
+that his very presence is pollution for such as you. Yes, yes, I know
+what you are thinking of--but I don't matter. I live in a world of which
+I hope you may always remain ignorant; but in which Faversham finds his
+joy. You--you saw us together----"
+
+In spite of her self-control Beatrice was much moved. The crimson
+flushes on her cheeks were followed by deathly pallor. Her lips
+quivered, her bosom heaved as if she found it difficult to breathe. But
+she did not speak. Perhaps she was too horrified by the other's words.
+
+"I know I have taken a fearful liberty with you," went on Olga; "but I
+could not help myself. My life, whatever else it has done has made me
+quick to understand, and when I watched you, I saw that that man had
+cast an evil spell upon you. At first I felt careless, but as I watched
+your face, I felt a great pity for you. I shuddered at the thought of
+your life being blackened by your knowledge of such a man."
+
+"Does he profess love to you?" asked Beatrice quietly.
+
+Olga Petrovic gave a hard laugh. "Surely you saw," she said.
+
+"And you would warn me against him?"
+
+"Yes; I would save you from misery."
+
+For some seconds the girl looked at the woman's face steadily, then she
+said, simply and quietly:
+
+"And are you, who seek to save me, content to be the woman you say you
+are? You are very, very beautiful--are you content to be evil?"
+
+She spoke just as a child might speak; but there was something in the
+tones of her voice which caused the other to be afraid.
+
+"You seem to have a kind heart," went on Beatrice; "you would save me
+from pain, and--and evil. Have you no thought for yourself?"
+
+"I do not matter," replied the woman sullenly.
+
+"You think only of me?"
+
+"I think only of you."
+
+"Then look at me," and the eyes of the two met. "Is what you have told
+me true?"
+
+"True!"
+
+"Yes, true. You were innocent once, you had a mother who loved you, and
+I suppose you once had a religion. Will you tell me, thinking of the
+mother who loved you, of Christ who died for you, whether what you say
+about Mr. Faversham is true?"
+
+A change came over Olga Petrovic's face; her eyes were wide open with
+terror and shame. For some seconds she seemed fighting with a great
+temptation, then she rose to her feet.
+
+"No," she almost gasped; "it is not true!" She simply could not persist
+in a lie while the pure, lustrous eyes of the girl were upon her.
+
+"Then why did you tell me?"
+
+"Because, oh, because I am mad! Because I am a slave, and because I am
+jealous, jealous for his love, because, oh----!" She flung herself into
+the chair again, and burst into an agony of tears.
+
+"Oh, forgive me, forgive me for deceiving you!" she sobbed presently.
+
+"You did not deceive me at all. I knew you were lying."
+
+"But--but you seemed--horrified at what I told you!"
+
+"I was horrified to think that one so young and beautiful like you
+could--could sink so low."
+
+"Then you do not know what love is!" she cried. "Do you understand? I
+love him--love him! I would do anything, anything to win him."
+
+"And if you did, could you make him happy?"
+
+"I make him happy! Oh, but you do not know."
+
+"Tell me," said Beatrice, "are you not the tool, the slave of someone
+else? Has not Mr. Faversham an enemy, and are you not working for that
+enemy?"
+
+Her clear, childlike eyes were fixed on the other's face; she seemed
+trying to understand her real motives. Olga Petrovic, on the other hand,
+regarded the look with horror.
+
+"No, no," she cried, "do not think that of me! I would have saved Dick
+from him. I--I would have shielded him with my life."
+
+"You would have shielded him from Count Romanoff?"
+
+"Do not tell me you know him?"
+
+"I only know of him. He is evil, evil. Ah yes, I understand now. He sent
+you here. He is waiting for you now."
+
+"But how do you know?"
+
+"Listen," said Beatrice, without heeding her question, "you can be a
+happy woman, a good woman. Go back and tell that man that you have
+failed, and that he has failed; then go back to your own country, and be
+the woman God meant you to be, the woman your mother prayed you might
+be."
+
+"I--I a happy woman--a good woman!"
+
+"Yes--I tell you, yes."
+
+"Oh, tell me so again, tell me--O great God, help me!"
+
+"Sit down," said Beatrice quietly; "let us talk. I want to help you."
+
+For a long time they sat and talked, while old Hugh Stanmore, who was
+close by, wondered who his grandchild's visitor could be, and why they
+talked so long.
+
+It was after midnight when Olga Petrovic returned to her flat, and no
+sooner did she enter than Count Romanoff met her.
+
+"Well, Olga," he asked eagerly, "what news?"
+
+"I go back to Poland to-morrow, to my old home, to my own people."
+
+She spoke slowly, deliberately; her voice was hard and cold.
+
+He did not seem to understand. He looked at her questioningly for some
+seconds without speaking.
+
+"You are mad, Olga," he said presently.
+
+"I am not mad."
+
+"This means then that you have failed. You understand the consequences
+of failure?"
+
+"It means--oh, I don't know what it means. But I do know that that child
+had made me long to be a good woman."
+
+"A good woman? Olga Petrovic a good woman!" he sneered.
+
+"Yes, a good woman. I am not come to argue with you. I only tell you
+that you are powerless to hinder me."
+
+"And Faversham? Does Olga Petrovic mean that she confesses herself
+beaten? That she will have her love thrown in her face, and not be
+avenged?"
+
+"It means that if you like, and it means something more. Isaac Romanoff,
+or whatever your real name may be, why you have sought to ruin that man
+I don't know; but I know this: I have been powerless to harm him, and so
+have you."
+
+"It means that you have failed--_you_!" he snarled.
+
+"Yes, and why? There has been a power mightier than yours against which
+you have fought. Good, GOOD, has been working on his side, that is why
+you have failed, why I have failed. O God of Goodness, help me!"
+
+"Stop that, stop that, I say!" His voice was hoarse, and his face was
+livid with rage.
+
+"I will not stop," she cried. "I want to be a good woman--I will be a
+good woman. That child whom I laughed at has seen a thousand times
+farther into the heart of truth than I, and she is happy, happy in her
+innocence, in her spotless purity, and in her faith in God. And I
+promised her I would be a new woman, live a new life."
+
+"You cannot, you dare not," cried the Count.
+
+"But I will. I will leave the old bad past behind me."
+
+"And I will dog your every footstep. I will make such madness
+impossible."
+
+"But you cannot. Good is stronger than evil. God is Almighty."
+
+"I hold you, body and soul, remember that."
+
+The woman seemed possessed of a new power, and she turned to the Count
+with a look of triumph in her eyes.
+
+"Go," she cried, "in the name of that Christ who was the joy of my
+mother's life, and who died that I might live--I bid you go. From
+to-night I cease to be your slave."
+
+The Count lifted his hand as if to strike her, but she stood before him
+fearless.
+
+"You cannot harm me," she cried. "See, see, God's angels are all around
+me now! They stretch out their arms to help me."
+
+He seemed to be suffering agonies; his face was contorted, his eyes were
+lurid, and he appeared to be struggling with unseen powers.
+
+"I will not yield," he cried; "not one iota will I yield. You are mine,
+you swore to serve me--I claim my own."
+
+"The oath I took was evil, evil, and I break it. O eternal God, help me,
+help me. Save me, save me, for Christ's sake."
+
+Romanoff seemed to hesitate what to do, then he made a movement as if to
+move towards her, but was powerless to do so. The hand which he had
+uplifted dropped to his side as if paralysed; he was in the presence of
+a Power greater than his own. He passed out of the room without another
+word.
+
+The next day the flat of Countess Olga Petrovic was empty, but no one
+knew whither she had gone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For more than a month after the scenes I have described, Dick Faversham
+was confined to his room. He suffered no pain, but he was languid, weak,
+and terribly depressed. An acquaintance who called to see him, shocked
+by his appearance, insisted on sending for a doctor, and this gentleman,
+after a careful examination, declared that while he was organically
+sound, he was in a low condition, and utterly unfit for work.
+
+"You remind me of a man suffering from shell-shock," he said. "Have you
+had any sudden sorrow, or anything of that sort?"
+
+Dick shook his head.
+
+"Anyhow, you are utterly unfit for work, that is certain," went on the
+doctor. "What you need is absolute rest, cheerful companionship, and a
+warm, sunny climate."
+
+"There's not much suggestion of a warm, sunny climate here," Dick said,
+looking out of the window.
+
+"But I daresay it would be possible to arrange for a passport, so that
+you might get to the South of France, or to Egypt," persisted the
+doctor.
+
+"Yes; I might get a passport, but I've no money to get there."
+
+So Dick stayed on at his flat, and passed the time as best he could. By
+and by the weather improved, and presently Dick was well enough to get
+out. But he had no interest in anything, and he quickly grew tired. Then
+a sudden, an almost overmastering desire came to him to go to Wendover.
+There seemed no reason why he should go there, but his heart ached for a
+sight of the old house. He pictured it as it was during the time he
+spent there. He saw the giant trees in the park, the gay flowers in the
+gardens, the stateliness and restfulness of the old mansion. The thought
+of it warmed his heart, and gave him new hope.
+
+"Oh, if it were only mine again!" he reflected.
+
+He had heard that the rumours of Tony Riggleton's death were false, and
+he was also told that although he had been kept out of England for some
+time he would shortly return; but concerning that he could gather
+nothing definite.
+
+Of Beatrice Stanmore he had heard nothing, and he had no heart to make
+inquiries concerning her. He had many times reflected on her sudden
+appearance at Olga Petrovic's flat, and had he been well enough he would
+have tried to see her. More than once he had taken a pen in hand to
+write to her, but he had never done so. What was the use? In spite of
+her coming, he felt that she must regard him with scorn. He remembered
+what Olga Petrovic had said in her presence. Besides, he was too weak,
+too ill to make any effort whatever.
+
+But with the sudden desire to go to Wendover came also the longing to
+see her--to explain. Of course she was the affianced wife of Sir George
+Weston, but he wanted to stand well in her eyes; he wanted her to know
+the truth.
+
+It was a bright, balmy morning when he started for Surrey, and
+presently, when the train had left Croydon behind, a strange joy filled
+his heart. After all, life was not without hope. He was a young man, and
+in spite of everything he had kept his manhood. He was poor, and as yet
+unknown, but he had obtained a certain position. Love was not for him,
+nor riches, but he could work for the benefit of others.
+
+When the train stopped at Wendover station, he again found himself to be
+the only passenger who alighted. As he breathed the pure, balmy air, and
+saw the countryside beginning to clothe itself in its mantle of living
+green, it seemed to him that new life, new energy, entered his being.
+After all, it was good to be alive.
+
+Half an hour later he was nearing the park gates--not those which he had
+entered on his first visit, but those near which Hugh Stanmore's cottage
+was situated. He had taken this road without thinking. Well, it did not
+matter.
+
+As he saw the cottage nestling among the trees, he felt his heart
+beating wildly. He wondered if Beatrice was at home, wondered--a
+thousand things. He longed to call and make inquiries, but of course he
+would not. He would enter the park gates unseen, and make his way to the
+great house.
+
+But he did not pass the cottage gate. Before he could do so the door
+opened, and Beatrice appeared. Evidently she had seen him coming, for
+she ran down the steps with outstretched hand.
+
+"I felt sure it was you," she said, "and--but you look pale--ill; are
+you?"
+
+"I'm ever so much better, thank you," he replied. "So much so that I
+could not refrain from coming to see Wendover again."
+
+"But you must come in and rest," she cried anxiously. "I insist on it.
+Why did you not tell us you were ill?"
+
+Before he could reply he found himself within the cottage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+THE MINISTERING ANGEL
+
+
+"Are you alone?" he managed to ask.
+
+"Yes; Granddad went out early. He'll be back in an hour or so. He has
+been expecting to hear from you."
+
+How sweet and fair she looked! There was no suggestion of the exotic
+beauty of Olga Petrovic; she adopted no artificial aids to enhance her
+appearance. Sweet, pure air and exercise had tinted her cheeks; the
+beauty of her soul shone from her eyes. She was just a child of nature,
+and to Dick she was the most beautiful thing on God's earth.
+
+For a moment their eyes met, and then the love which Dick Faversham had
+been fighting against for weeks surged like a mighty flood through his
+whole being.
+
+"I must go--I must not stay here," he stammered.
+
+"But why? Granddad will be back soon."
+
+"Because----" Again he caught the flash of her eyes, and felt that the
+whole world without her was haggard hopelessness. Before he knew what he
+was saying he had made his confession.
+
+"Because I have no right to be here," he said almost angrily--"because
+it is dishonourable; it is madness for me to stay."
+
+"But why?" she persisted.
+
+He could not check the words that passed his lips; he had lost control
+over himself.
+
+"Don't you understand?" he replied passionately. "I have no right to be
+here because I love you--love you more than my own life. Because you are
+everything to me--_everything_--and you have promised to marry Sir
+George Weston."
+
+"But I've not." She laughed gaily as she uttered the words.
+
+"You've not promised to----But--but----"
+
+"No, of course not. How could I? I do not love him. He is awfully nice,
+and I'm very fond of him; but I don't love him. I could never think of
+such a thing."
+
+She spoke quite naturally, and in an almost matter-of-fact way. She did
+not seem to realise that her words caused Dick Faversham's brain to
+reel, and his blood to rush madly through his veins. Rather she seemed
+like one anxious to correct a mistake, but to have no idea of what the
+correction meant to him.
+
+For a few seconds Dick did not speak. "She is only a child," he
+reflected. "She does not understand what I have said to her. She does
+not realise what my love for her means."
+
+But he was not sure of this. Something, he knew not what, told him she
+_did_ know. Perhaps it was the flush on her cheeks, the quiver on her
+lips, the strange light in her eyes.
+
+"You have not promised to marry Sir George Weston?" he asked hoarsely.
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"But--he asked you?"
+
+"That is scarcely a fair question, is it?"
+
+"No, no, forgive me; it is not. But do you understand--what your words
+mean to me?"
+
+She was silent at this.
+
+"I love you--love you," he went on. "I want you to be my wife."
+
+"I'm so glad," she said simply.
+
+"But do you understand?" cried Dick. He could not believe in his own
+happiness, could not help thinking there must be some mistake. "This
+means everything to me."
+
+"Of course I understand. I've known it for a long time, that is, I've
+felt it must be so. And I've wondered why you did not come and tell me."
+
+"And you love me?" His voice was hoarse and tremulous.
+
+"Love you? Why--why do you think I--could be here like this--if I
+didn't?"
+
+Still she spoke almost as a child might speak. There was no suggestion
+of coquetry, no trying to appear surprised at his avowal. But there was
+something more, something in the tone of her voice, in the light of her
+eyes, in her very presence, that told Dick that deep was calling unto
+deep, that this maiden, whose heart was the heart of a child, had
+entered into womanhood, and knew its glory.
+
+"Aren't you glad, too?" she asked.
+
+"Glad! It seems so wonderful that I can't believe it! Half an hour ago
+the world was black, hopeless, while now----; but there are things I
+must tell you, things I've wanted to tell you ever since I saw you
+last."
+
+"Is it about that woman?"
+
+"Yes, I wanted to tell you why I was with her; I wanted you to know that
+she was nothing to me."
+
+"I knew all the time. But you were in danger--that was why I could not
+help coming to you. You understand, don't you? I had the same kind of
+feeling when that evil man was staying with you at the big house. He was
+trying to harm you, and I came. And he was still trying to ruin you, why
+I don't know, but he was using that woman to work his will. I felt it,
+and I came to you."
+
+"How did you know?" asked Dick. He was awed by her words, solemnised by
+the wondrous intuition which made her realise his danger.
+
+"I didn't know--I only felt. You see, I loved you, and I couldn't help
+coming."
+
+Another time he would have asked her many questions about this, but now
+they did not seem to matter. He loved, and was loved, and the fact
+filled the world.
+
+"Thank God you came," he said reverently. "And, Beatrice, you will let
+me call you Beatrice, won't you?"
+
+"Why, of course, you must, Dick."
+
+"May I kiss you?" he asked, and held out his arms.
+
+She came to him in all the sweet freshness of her young life and offered
+him her pure young lips. Never had he known what joy meant as he knew it
+then, never had he felt so thankful that in spite of dire temptation he
+had kept his manhood clean.
+
+Closer and closer he strained her to his heart, while words of love and
+of thankfulness struggled for expression. For as she laid her head on
+his shoulder, and he felt the beating of her heart, his mind swept like
+lightning over the past years, and he knew that angels of God had
+ministered to him, that they had shielded him from danger, and helped
+him in temptation. And this he knew also: while he had been on the brink
+of ruin through a woman, it was also by a woman that he had been saved.
+The thought of Beatrice Stanmore had been a power which had defied the
+powers of evil, and enabled him to keep his manhood clean.
+
+Even yet the wonder of it all was beyond words, for he had come there
+that morning believing that Beatrice was the promised wife of Sir George
+Weston, and now, as if by the wave of some magician's wand, his beliefs
+had been dispelled, and he had found her free.
+
+An hour before, he dared not imagine that this unspoilt child of nature
+could ever think of him with love, and yet her face was pressed against
+his, and she was telling him the simple story of her love--a love
+unsullied by the world, a love unselfish as that of a mother, and as
+strong as death.
+
+"But I am so poor," he stammered at length; "just a voting machine at
+four hundred a year."
+
+"As though you could ever be that," she laughed. "You are going to do
+great things, my love. You are going to live and work for the betterment
+of the world. And I--I shall be with you all the time."
+
+He had much to tell her--a story so wonderful that it was difficult to
+believe. But Beatrice believed it. The thought of an angel who had come
+to him, warned him, guided him, and strengthened him, was not strange to
+her. For her pure young eyes had pierced the barriers of materialism,
+just as the light of the stars pierces the darkness of night. Because
+her soul was pure, she knew that the angels of God were never far away,
+and that the Eternal Goodness used them to minister to those who would
+listen to their voices.
+
+Dick did not go to the great house that day. There seemed no reason why
+he should. By lunch time old Hugh Stanmore returned and was met by the
+two lovers.
+
+Of all they said to each other, and of the explanations that were made,
+there is no need that I should write. Suffice to say that Hugh Stanmore
+was satisfied. It is true he liked Sir George Weston, while the thought
+that Beatrice might be mistress of his house was pleasant to him; true,
+too, that Dick Faversham was poor. But he had no fears. He knew that
+this young man's love was pure and strong, that he would never rest
+until he had provided a home worthy of her, and that his grandchild's
+future would be safe in his hands.
+
+When Dick left the cottage that night, it was on the understanding that
+he would come back as soon as possible. Beatrice pleaded hard with him
+not to go to London, but to stay at the cottage and be nursed back to
+health and strength. But Dick had to make arrangements for a lengthened
+stay away from his work, and to see some of his confrères, so, while his
+heart yearned to remain near her, he looked joyfully forward to his
+return.
+
+"And you go away happy, my love?"
+
+"The happiest man on earth. And you, my little maid?"
+
+"Oh, Dick, everything is as I hoped and prayed for."
+
+"And you loved me all the time?"
+
+"All the time; but I did not know it until----"
+
+"Until when?"
+
+"Until another man told me he wanted me."
+
+Dick was in dreamland as he returned to London. No sooner had he boarded
+the train at Wendover than, as it seemed to him, he had arrived at
+Victoria. As for the journey between that station and his flat he has no
+remembrance to this day.
+
+"Oh, the wonder of it, the glad wonder of it!" he repeated again and
+again. "Thank God--thank God!"
+
+Then, as if in fulfilment of an old adage, no sooner had he entered his
+flat than another surprise awaited him. On his writing-table lay a long
+blue envelope, which had been brought by hand that afternoon. Dick
+broke the seal almost indifferently. What did he care about letters?
+Then he saw the name of Bidlake, and his attention was riveted.
+
+This is what he read:
+
+     "MY DEAR FAVERSHAM,--Forgive this unceremonious manner of writing,
+     but I fancy I am a little excited. Riggleton is dead, and thus it
+     comes about that the Faversham estates--or what is left of
+     them--revert to you. How it was possible for a man to squander so
+     much money and leave things in such a terrible mess in such a short
+     time it is difficult to say. But there it is. Still, a good deal is
+     left. Wendover Park, and all the lands attached remain untouched,
+     and a good deal of money can be scraped up. Will you call as soon
+     as possible on receipt of this, and I'll explain everything to you,
+     as far as I can.--With heartiest congratulations, yours faithfully,
+
+     "JOHN BIDLAKE."
+
+Again and again Dick read this letter. He felt something like the lad of
+the Eastern Story must have felt as he read. He would not have been
+surprised if the Slave of the Lamp appeared, asking what his desires
+were, so that they might be performed without delay. December had
+changed into June in a single day.
+
+His joy can be better imagined than described. To know that this old
+homestead was his again, to realise that he was no longer homeless and
+poor was a gladness beyond words. But he no longer felt as he had felt
+when he first saw Wendover. Then his thought had been of his own
+aggrandisement, and the satisfaction of his ambitions. Now he rejoiced
+because he could offer a home to the maiden he loved, and because he
+could do for the world what for years he had dreamt of doing.
+
+But he was early at Mr. Bidlake's office the following morning.
+
+"No, no, there's no mistake this time," Mr. Bidlake assured him. "You
+can enter into possession with a confident mind. Money! Yes, the fellow
+wasted it like water, but you need not fear. You'll have more than you
+need, in spite of increased income-tax and super-tax. Talk about romance
+though, if ever there was a romance this is one."
+
+After spending two hours with the lawyer Dick went to the House of
+Commons, where he made the necessary arrangements for a couple of weeks'
+further absence.
+
+"Yes, we can manage all right," assented the Labour Member with whom he
+spoke. "Not but what we shall be glad to have you back. There are big
+things brewing. The working people must no longer be hewers of wood and
+drawers of water. We must see to that."
+
+"Yes, we _will_ see to that," cried Dick. "But we must be careful."
+
+"Careful of what?"
+
+"Careful that we don't drift to Bolshevism, careful that we don't abuse
+our power. We must show that we who represent the Democracy understand
+our work. We must not think of one class only, but all the classes. We
+must think of the Empire, the good of humanity."
+
+The other shook his head, "No mercy on capitalists," he cried.
+
+"On the other hand we must make capitalists do their duty," Dick
+replied. "We must see to it that Capital and Labour work together for
+the good of the whole community. There lies the secret of stable
+government and a prosperous nation."
+
+It was late in the evening when Dick arrived at Hugh Stanmore's cottage,
+so late indeed that the old man had given up hope of his coming; but
+Beatrice rushed to him with a glad laugh.
+
+"I knew you would come," she said. "And now I am going to begin my work
+as nurse right away. You must have a light supper and go to bed at once,
+and to-morrow you must stay in bed all day."
+
+Dick shook his head. "And I am going to rebel," was his reply. "I am
+going to sit up for at least two hours, while first thing to-morrow
+morning I am going to take you to a house I have in my mind."
+
+"What house?"
+
+"A house I've settled on for our future home."
+
+"Dick, don't be foolish. You know we must not think of that for
+months--years."
+
+"Mustn't we?" laughed Dick. "There, read that," and he handed her Mr.
+Bidlake's letter.
+
+"But, Dick!" she cried as she read, "this, this is----"
+
+"Beautiful, isn't it?" Dick replied joyously. "Will you read it, sir?"
+and he placed it in old Hugh Stanmore's hands.
+
+After that Beatrice no longer insisted that her lover must be treated as
+an invalid. Hour after hour they sat talking, while the wonder of it all
+never left them.
+
+The next morning broke bright and clear. Spring had indeed come,
+gladsome joyous spring, heralded by the song of birds, by the
+resurrection of a new life everywhere.
+
+"Will you go with us, Granddad?" asked Beatrice, as they prepared for
+their visit.
+
+"No," said Hugh Stanmore; "I'll come across alone in a couple of hours."
+He was a wise man.
+
+Neither of them spoke a word as they walked up the avenue towards the
+great house. Perhaps their minds were both filled by the same
+thoughts--thoughts too great for utterance. Above them the sun shone in
+a great dome of cloudless blue, while around them all nature was putting
+on her beautiful garments.
+
+Presently the old house burst upon their view. There it stood on a
+slight eminence, while behind it great trees rose. Away from the front
+of the building stretched grassy lawns and flower gardens, while beyond
+was parkland, studded by giant trees.
+
+And still neither spoke. Hand in hand they walked towards the entrance
+door, Dick gazing at it earnestly, as if looking for something. When
+they had come within a dozen yards of it both, as if by mutual consent,
+stood still.
+
+Was it fancy or was it real? Was it because expectancy was in both their
+hearts, and their imagination on fire, or did they really see?
+
+This is what both of them told me they saw.
+
+Standing in the doorway, with hands outstretched as if in the attitude
+of welcoming them, was the luminous figure of a woman. Her face was lit
+up with holy joy, while in her eyes was no sorrow, no doubt, but a look
+of ineffable happiness.
+
+For a few seconds she stood gazing on them, and Dick saw the look of
+love in her eyes, saw the rapture that seemed to pervade her being. It
+was the same face he had seen there before, the same love-lit eyes.
+
+She lifted her hands as if in benediction, and then slowly the figure
+faded away.
+
+"It is my mother," whispered Dick. He had no remembrance of his mother,
+but he knew it was she. He felt no fear, there was nothing to be fearful
+about, rather a great joy filled his life. God had sent his angel to
+tell him that all was well.
+
+The door stood open, and they entered the great silent hall together. No
+one was in sight. He opened his arms, and she came to him.
+
+"Welcome home, my wife," he said.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED, EDINBURGH
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_JOSEPH HOCKING'S GREAT WAR STORIES_
+
+    ALL FOR A SCRAP OF PAPER
+    THE CURTAIN OF FIRE
+    DEARER THAN LIFE
+    THE PATH OF GLORY
+    "THE POMP OF YESTERDAY"
+    TOMMY
+    TOMMY AND THE MAID OF ATHENS
+    THE PRICE OF A THRONE
+
+
+_OTHER STORIES BY JOSEPH HOCKING_
+
+    FACING FEARFUL ODDS
+    O'ER MOOR AND FEN
+    THE WILDERNESS
+    ROSALEEN O'HARA
+    THE SOUL OF DOMINIC WILDTHORNE
+    FOLLOW THE GLEAM
+    DAVID BARING
+    THE TRAMPLED CROSS
+    THE MAN WHO ROSE AGAIN
+
+
+    HODDER AND STOUGHTON
+    WARWICK SQUARE, LONDON, E.C.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING ARMS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 39218-8.txt or 39218-8.zip *******
+
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Everlasting Arms, by Joseph Hocking</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The Everlasting Arms</p>
+<p>Author: Joseph Hocking</p>
+<p>Release Date: March 20, 2012  [eBook #39218]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING ARMS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by<br />
+    David T. Jones, Mary Meehan, Al Haines,<br />
+    and the Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdpcanada.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>THE EVERLASTING ARMS</h1>
+
+<h2>BY JOSEPH HOCKING</h2>
+
+<h3>AUTHOR OF "All FOR A SCRAP OF PAPER," "THE TRAMPLED CROSS," ETC., ETC.</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center">HODDER AND STOUGHTON<br />
+LONDON&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;    NEW YORK&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;    TORONTO</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<h3>PROLOGUE</h3>
+
+<table width="80%" summary="Prologue">
+<col width="100" />
+<col width="200" />
+<col width="50" />
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER I </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">A Woman's Face</span> </a></td><td align="right">1</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER II </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">The Marconigram</span> </a></td><td align="right">8</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER III</td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">The Shipwreck</span> </a></td><td align="right">15</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER IV </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">"<span class="smcap">The Enemy of Your Soul</span>" </a></td><td align="right">&nbsp;23</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<h3>PART I.&mdash;THE FIRST TEMPTATION</h3>
+
+<table width="80%" summary="Part I">
+<col width="100" />
+<col width="200" />
+<col width="50" />
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER V </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap">The Only Surviving Relative</span> </a></td><td align="right">29</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER VI </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap">Wendover Park</span> </a></td><td align="right">39</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER VII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">Lady Blanche makes her Appearance</span> </a></td><td align="right">52<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER VIII</td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><span class="smcap">Count Romanoff's Gospel</span> </a></td><td align="right">60</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER IX </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><span class="smcap">Beatrice Stanmore</span> </a></td><td align="right">69</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER X </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><span class="smcap">Uncertainty</span> </a></td><td align="right">78</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XI </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><span class="smcap">The Real Heir</span> </a></td><td align="right">86</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><span class="smcap">The Day of Destiny</span> </a></td><td align="right">94</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XIII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><span class="smcap">The Invisible Hand</span> </a></td><td align="right">102</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XIV </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><span class="smcap">A Scrap of Paper</span> </a></td><td align="right">113</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XV </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><span class="smcap">Count Romanoff's Departure</span> </a></td><td align="right">118</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XVI </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><span class="smcap">Riggleton's Homecoming</span> </a></td><td align="right">125</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XVII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><span class="smcap">Faversham's Resolution</span> </a></td><td align="right">132</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<h3>PART II.&mdash;THE SECOND TEMPTATION</h3>
+
+<table width="80%" summary="Part II">
+<col width="100" />
+<col width="200" />
+<col width="50" />
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XVIII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><span class="smcap">Mr. Brown's Prophecy</span> </a></td><td align="right">140<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XIX </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><span class="smcap">An Amazing Proposal</span> </a></td><td align="right">151</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XX </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">"<span class="smcap">The Country for the People</span>" </a></td><td align="right">157</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXI </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><span class="smcap">The Midnight Meeting</span> </a></td><td align="right">165</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">"<span class="smcap">You and I Together</span>" </a></td><td align="right">173</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXIII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><span class="smcap">The So-called Dead</span> </a></td><td align="right">181</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXIV </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><span class="smcap">Visions of Another World</span> </a></td><td align="right">190</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXV </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><span class="smcap">Romanoff's Philosophy</span> </a></td><td align="right">199</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXVI </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><span class="smcap">A Voice from Another World</span> </a></td><td align="right">209</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXVII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><span class="smcap">Olga makes Love</span> </a></td><td align="right">218</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<h3>PART III.&mdash;THE THIRD TEMPTATION</h3>
+
+<table width="80%" summary="Part III">
+<col width="100" />
+<col width="200" />
+<col width="50" />
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXVIII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><span class="smcap">The Count's Confederate</span> </a></td><td align="right">227</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXIX </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><span class="smcap">In Quest of a Soul</span> </a></td><td align="right">236<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXX </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><span class="smcap">Voices in the Night</span> </a></td><td align="right">245</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXXI </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI"><span class="smcap">Dick hears Strange News</span> </a></td><td align="right">254</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXXII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII"><span class="smcap">Beatrice Confesses</span> </a></td><td align="right">263</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXXIII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII"><span class="smcap">Sir George's Love Affair</span> </a></td><td align="right">272</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXXIV </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV"><span class="smcap">The Dawn of Love</span> </a></td><td align="right">281</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXXV </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV"><span class="smcap">The Eternal Struggle</span> </a></td><td align="right">291</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXXVI </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI"><span class="smcap">His Guardian Angel</span> </a></td><td align="right">301</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXXVII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII"><span class="smcap">At the Café Moscow</span> </a></td><td align="right">310</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXXVIII </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII"><span class="smcap">The Shadow of a Great Terror</span></a></td><td align="right"> 319</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XXXIX </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX"><span class="smcap">The Triumph of Good</span> </a></td><td align="right">327</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">CHAPTER XL </td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XL"><span class="smcap">The Ministering Angel</span> </a></td><td align="right">336</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PROLOGUE</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Woman's Face</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"There may be a great deal in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Undoubtedly there is. Imagination, superstition, credulity," said Dick
+Faversham a little cynically.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can't dismiss it in that fashion," replied the other. "Where
+there's smoke there's fire, and you can't get men from various parts of
+the world testifying that they saw the Angels at Mons unless there is
+some foundation of truth in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Again I say imagination. Imagination can do a great deal. Imagination
+can people a churchyard with ghosts; it can make dreams come true, and
+it can also make clever men foolish."</p>
+
+<p>"Admit that. You still haven't got to the bottom of it. There's more
+than mere imagination in the stories of the Angels at Mons, and at other
+places. Less than three weeks ago I was at a hospital in London. I was
+talking with a wounded sergeant, and this man told me in so many words
+that he saw the Angels. He said there were three of them, and that they
+remained visible for more than an hour. Not only did he see them, but
+others saw them. He also said that what appeared like a great calamity
+was averted by their appearance."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence after this somewhat lengthy speech, and something
+like an uncanny feeling possessed the listeners.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation took place in the smoke-room of a steamship bound for
+Australia, and at least a dozen men were taking part in it. The subject
+of the discussion was the alleged appearance of the Angels at Mons, and
+at other places in France and Belgium, and although at least half of the
+little party was not convinced that those who accepted the stories had a
+good case, they could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> not help being affected by the numerous instances
+that were adduced of the actual appearance of spiritual visitants. The
+subject, as all the world knows, had been much discussed in England and
+elsewhere, and so it was not unnatural that it should form the topic of
+conversation in the smoke-room of the outgoing vessel.</p>
+
+<p>One of the strongest opponents to the supernatural theory was a young
+man of perhaps twenty-seven years of age. From the first he had taken up
+an antagonistic attitude, and would not admit that the cases given
+proved anything.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me," he urged, "but, really, it won't do. You see, the whole
+thing, if it is true, is miraculous, and miracles, according to Matthew
+Arnold, don't happen."</p>
+
+<p>"And who is Matthew Arnold, or any other man, to say that what we called
+miracles don't happen?" urged Mr. Bennett, the clergyman, warmly. "In
+spite of Matthew Arnold and men of his school, the world still believes
+in the miracles of our Lord; why, then, should miracles happen in
+Palestine and not in France?"</p>
+
+<p>"If they did happen," interpolated Faversham.</p>
+
+<p>"Either they happened, or the greatest movement, the mightiest and
+noblest enthusiasms the world has ever known, were founded on a lie,"
+said the clergyman solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"That may be," retorted Faversham, "but don't you see where you are
+leading us? If, as you say, we accept the New Testament stories, there
+is no reason why we may not accept the Angels at Mons and elsewhere. But
+that opens up all sorts of questions. The New Testament tells of people
+being possessed by devils; it tells of one at least being tempted by a
+personal devil. Would you assert that a personal devil tempts men
+to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe that either the devil or his agents tempt men to-day,"
+replied the clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you would, I suppose, also assert that the old myth of guardian
+angels is also true."</p>
+
+<p>"Accepting the New Testament, I do," replied Mr. Bennett.</p>
+
+<p>Dick Faversham laughed rather uneasily.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Think," went on the clergyman; "suppose someone who loved you very
+dearly in life died, and went into the great spirit world. Do you not
+think it natural that that person should seek to watch over you? Is it
+not natural that he or she who loved you in life should love you after
+what we call death? A mother will give her life for her child in life.
+Why should she not seek to guard that same child even although she has
+gone to the world of spirits?"</p>
+
+<p>"But the whole thing seems so unreal, so unnatural," urged Faversham.</p>
+
+<p>"That is because we live in a materialistic age. The truth is, in giving
+up the idea of guardian angels and similar beliefs we have given up some
+of the greatest comforts in life. Because we have become so
+materialistic, we have lost that grand triumphant conviction that there
+is no death. Why&mdash;why&mdash;"&mdash;and Mr. Bennett rose to his feet
+excitedly&mdash;"there is not one of those splendid lads who has fallen in
+battle, who is dead. God still cares for them all, and not one is
+outside His protection. I can't explain it, but I <i>know</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"You know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know. And I'll tell you why I know. My son Jack was killed at
+Mons, but he's near me even now. Say it's unreal if you like, say it's
+unnatural if you will, but it's one of the great glories of life to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like to cast a doubt upon a sacred conviction," ventured
+Faversham after a silence that was almost painful, "but is not this
+clearly a case of imagination? Mr. Bennett has lost a son in the war. We
+are all very sorry for him, and we are all glad that he gets comfort
+from the feeling that his son is near him. But even admitting the truth
+of this, admitting the doctrine that a man's spirit does not die because
+of the death of the body, you have proved nothing. The appearance of the
+Angels in France and Belgium means something more than this. It declares
+that these spirits appear in visible, tangible forms; that they take an
+interest in our mundane doings; that they take sides; that they help
+some and hinder others."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," assented Mr. Bennett.</p>
+
+<p>"You believe that?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I believe it most fervently," was the clergyman's solemn answer. "I am
+anything but a spiritualist, as the word is usually understood; but I
+see no reason why my boy may not communicate with me, why he may not
+help me. I, of course, do not understand the mysterious ways of the
+Almighty, but I believe in the words of Holy Writ. 'Are they not all
+ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs
+of salvation?' says the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews. While our
+Lord Himself, when speaking of little children, said, 'I say unto you
+that their angels do always behold the face of My Father who is in
+heaven.'"</p>
+
+<p>Again there was a silence which was again broken by Dick Faversham
+turning and speaking to a man who had not spoken during the whole
+discussion, but who, with a sardonic, cynical smile upon his face, had
+been listening intently.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your opinion, Count Romanoff?" asked Faversham.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I must be ruled out of court," he replied. "These stories
+smack too much of the nursery."</p>
+
+<p>"You believe that they are worn-out superstitions?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should shock you all if I told you what I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Shock us by all means."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I will spare you. I remember that we have a clergyman present."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray do not mind me," urged Mr. Bennett eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then surely you do not accept the fables recorded in the New
+Testament?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not admit your description. What you call fables are the greatest
+power for righteousness the world has ever known. They have stood the
+test of ages, they have comforted and inspired millions of lives, they
+stand upon eternal truth."</p>
+
+<p>Count Romanoff shrugged his shoulders, and a smile of derision and
+contempt passed over his features.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he replied, and again lapsed into silence.</p>
+
+<p>The man had spoken only a very few commonplace words, and yet he had
+changed the atmosphere of the room. Perhaps this was because all felt
+him utterly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> antagonistic to the subject of discussion. He was different
+from Dick Faversham, who in a frank, schoolboy way had declared his
+scepticism. He had been a marked man ever since the boat had left
+England. There were several reasons for this. One was his personal
+appearance. He was an exceedingly handsome man of perhaps forty years of
+age, and yet there was something repellent in his features. He was
+greatly admired for his fine physique and courtly bearing, and yet but
+few sought his acquaintance. He looked as though he were the repository
+of dark secrets. His smile was cynical, and suggested a kind of
+contemptuous pity for the person to whom he spoke. His eyes were deeply
+set, his mouth suggested cruelty.</p>
+
+<p>And yet he could be fascinating. Dick Faversham, who had struck up an
+acquaintance with him, had found him vastly entertaining. He held
+unconventional ideas, and was widely read in the literature of more than
+one country. Moreover, he held strong views on men and movements, and
+his criticisms told of a man of more than ordinary intellectual acumen.</p>
+
+<p>"You refuse to discuss the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is but little use for an astronomer to discuss the stars with an
+astrologer. A chemist would regard it as waste of time to discuss his
+science with an alchemist. The two live in different worlds, speak a
+different language, belong to different times."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you will call me a fanatic," cried the clergyman; "but I
+believe. I believe in God, and in His Son Jesus Christ who died for our
+sins, and who rose from the dead. On that foundation I build all the
+rest."</p>
+
+<p>A change passed over the Count's face. It might be a spasm of pain, and
+his somewhat pale face became paler; but he did not speak. For some
+seconds he seemed fighting with a strong emotion; then, conquering
+himself, his face resumed its former aspect, and a cynical smile again
+passed over his features.</p>
+
+<p>"The gentleman is too earnest for me," he remarked, taking another cigar
+from his case.</p>
+
+<p>Dick Faversham did not see the change that passed over the Count's face.
+Indeed, he had ceased to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> interest in the discussion. The truth was
+that the young man was startled by what was an unusual occurrence. The
+room, as may be imagined, bearing in mind that for a long time a number
+of men had been burning incense to My Lady Nicotine, was in a haze of
+tobacco smoke, and objects were not altogether clearly visible; but not
+far from the door he saw a woman standing. This would not have been
+remarkable had not the lady passengers, for some reason known to
+themselves, up to the present altogether avoided the smoke-room. More
+than this, Dick did not recognise her. He had met, or thought he had met
+during the voyage, every lady passenger on the boat; but certainly he
+had never seen this one before. He was perfectly sure of that, for her
+face was so remarkable that he knew he could not have forgotten her.</p>
+
+<p>She was young, perhaps twenty-four. At first Dick thought of her as only
+a girl in her teens, but as, through the thick smoky haze he watched her
+face, he felt that she had passed her early girlhood. What struck him
+most forcibly were her wonderful eyes. It seemed to him as though, while
+they were large and piercing, they were at the same time melting with an
+infinite tenderness and pity.</p>
+
+<p>Dick Faversham looked at her like a man entranced. In his interest in
+her he forgot the other occupants of the room, forgot the discussion,
+forgot everything. The yearning solicitude in the woman's eyes, the
+infinite pity on her face, chained him and drove all other thoughts
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Faversham."</p>
+
+<p>He came to himself at the mention of his name and turned to the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you good for a stroll on deck for half an hour before turning in?"</p>
+
+<p>It was the Count who spoke, and Dick noticed that nearly all the
+occupants of the room seemed on the point of leaving.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he replied, "but I think I'll turn in."</p>
+
+<p>He looked again towards the door where he had seen the woman, but she
+was gone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"By the way," and he touched the sleeve of a man's coat as he spoke,
+"who was that woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"What woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"The woman standing by the door."</p>
+
+<p>"I saw no woman. There was none there."</p>
+
+<p>"But there was, I tell you. I saw her plainly."</p>
+
+<p>"You were wool-gathering, old man. I was sitting near the door and saw
+no one."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was puzzled. He was certain as to what he had seen.</p>
+
+<p>The smoke-room steward appeared at that moment, to whom he propounded
+the same question.</p>
+
+<p>"There was no lady, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;are you sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, sir. I've been here all the evening, and saw everyone who
+came in."</p>
+
+<p>Dick made his way to his berth like a man in a dream. He was puzzled,
+bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure I saw a woman," he said to himself.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Marconigram</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>He had barely reached his room when he heard a knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are Mr. Faversham, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; what do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wireless for you, sir. Just come through."</p>
+
+<p>A few seconds later Dick was reading a message which promised to alter
+the whole course of his life:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<i>Your uncle, Charles Faversham, Wendover Park, Surrey, just died.
+Your immediate return essential. Report to us on arrival.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</i><span class="smcap">Bidlake
+&amp; Bilton</span>, <i>Lincoln's Inn</i>."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The words seemed to swim before his eyes. His uncle, Charles Faversham,
+dead! There was nothing wonderful about that, for Dick had heard quite
+recently that he was an ailing man, and not likely to live long. He was
+old, too, and in the course of nature could not live long. But what had
+Charles Faversham's death to do with him? It was true the deceased man
+was his father's stepbrother, but the two families had no associations,
+simply because no friendship existed between them.</p>
+
+<p>Dick knew none of the other Favershams personally. His own father, who
+had died a few years before, had left him practically penniless. His
+mother, whose memory his father adored, had died at his, Dick's, birth,
+and thus when he was a little over twenty he found himself alone in the
+world. Up to that time he had spent his life at school and at college.
+His father, who was a man of scholarly instincts, had made up his mind
+that his son should adopt one of the learned professions, although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
+Dick's desires did not lean in that direction. At his father's death,
+therefore, he set to work to carve out a career for himself. He had good
+abilities, a determined nature, and great ambitions, but his training,
+which utterly unfitted him for the battle of life, handicapped him
+sorely. For three years nothing went well with him. He obtained
+situation after situation only to lose it. He was impatient of control,
+he lacked patience, and although he had boundless energies, he never
+found a true outlet for them.</p>
+
+<p>At length fortune favoured him. He got a post under a company who did a
+large business in Austria and in the Balkan States, and he made himself
+so useful to his firm that his progress was phenomenal.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that Dick began to think seriously of a great career. It was
+true he had only climbed a few steps on fortune's ladder, but his
+prospects for the future were alluring. He pictured himself becoming a
+power in the commercial world, and then, with larger wealth at his
+command, he saw himself entering Parliament and becoming a great figure
+in the life of the nation.</p>
+
+<p>He had social ambitions too. Although he had had no serious love
+affairs, he dreamed of himself marrying into an old family, by which
+means the doors of the greatest houses in the land would be open to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing shall stop me," he said to himself again and again; and the
+heads of his firm, realising his value to them, gave him more and more
+responsibility, and also pointed hints about his prospects.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of 1913, however, Dick had a serious disagreement with his
+chiefs. He had given considerable attention to continental politics, and
+he believed that Germany would force war. Because of this he advocated a
+certain policy with regard to their business. To this his chiefs gave a
+deaf ear, and laughed at the idea of England being embroiled in any
+trouble with either Austria or the Balkan States. Of course, Dick was
+powerless. He had no capital in the firm, and as his schemes were rather
+revolutionary he was not in a position to press them.</p>
+
+<p>On the outbreak of war in 1914 Dick's firm was ruined.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> What he had
+predicted had come to pass. Because they had not prepared for this
+possible contingency, and because large sums of money were owing them in
+Austria and Serbia, which they could not recover, all their energies
+were paralysed. Thus at twenty-seven years of age, with only a few
+hundreds of pounds in his possession, Dick had to begin at the bottom
+again.</p>
+
+<p>At length a firm who knew something of his associations with his
+previous employers offered to send him to Australia to attend to matters
+in which they believed he could render valuable service, but payment for
+which would depend entirely on his own success. Dick accepted this offer
+with avidity.</p>
+
+<p>This in bare outline was his story up to the commencement of the history
+which finds him on his way to Australia with the momentous marconigram
+in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Again and again he read the wireless message which had been handed to
+him. It was so strange, so unexpected, so bewildering. He had never seen
+or spoken to his uncle, never expected to. He was further removed from
+this representative of his family than the Jews from the Samaritans. It
+is true he had seen Wendover Park from the distance. He remembered
+passing the lodge gates some year or two before when cycling through
+Surrey. From a neighbouring hill he had caught sight of the old house
+standing in its broad park-lands, and a pang of envy had shot through
+his heart as he reflected that although its owner and his father were
+stepbrothers he would never be admitted within its walls.</p>
+
+<p>But this message had altered everything: "<i>Your uncle, Charles
+Faversham, Wendover Park, just died. Your immediate return essential.
+Report to us on arrival.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>The words burnt like fire into his brain. A wireless message, sent to
+him in mid-ocean, must be of more than common purport. Men of Bidlake &amp;
+Bilton's standing did not send such messages as a pastime. They would
+not urge his immediate return without serious reasons.</p>
+
+<p>It must mean&mdash;it could only mean&mdash;one thing. He must in some way be
+interested in the huge fortune which Charles Faversham had left behind
+him. Perhaps,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> perhaps&mdash;and again he considered the probable outcome of
+it all.</p>
+
+<p>Hour after hour he sat thinking. Was his future, after all, to become
+great, not simply by his own energies, but because of a stroke of good
+fortune? Or, better still, was his uncle's death to be the means whereby
+he could climb to greatness and renown? After all he had not longed so
+much for money for its own sake, but as a means whereby he could get
+power, distinction, high position. With great wealth at his command he
+could&mdash;and again a fascinating future spread before him.</p>
+
+<p>He could not sleep; of course, he couldn't! How could he sleep when his
+brain was on fire with wild imaginings and unknown possibilities?</p>
+
+<p>He reflected on the course of his voyage, and considered where the
+vessel would first stop. Yes, he knew they were to call at Bombay, which
+was a great harbour from which ships were frequently returning to
+England. In three days they would be there, and then&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Should he take anyone into his confidence? Should he give reasons for
+leaving the ship? Oh, the wonder, the excitement of it all! The
+discussion about the Angels at Mons, and the talk about visitants from
+the spirit world caring for the people who lived on earth, scarcely
+entered his mind. What need had he for such things?</p>
+
+<p>But who was that woman? For he was sure he had seen her. Tyler, to whom
+he had spoken, and the smoke-room steward might say that no woman was
+there, but he knew better. He could believe his own eyes anyhow, and the
+wonderful yearning look in her eyes still haunted him in spite of the
+disturbing message.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until towards morning that sleep came to him, and then he was
+haunted by dreams. Strange as it may seem, he did not dream of Bidlake &amp;
+Bilton's message nor of his late uncle's mansion. He dreamt of his
+father and mother. He had never seen his mother; she had died at his
+birth. He had never seen a picture of her, indeed. He believed that his
+father possessed her portrait, but he had never shown it to him. His
+father seldom spoke of his mother, but when he did it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> was in tones of
+awe, almost of worship. She was like no other woman, he said&mdash;a woman
+with all the possible beauty and glory of womanhood stored in her heart.</p>
+
+<p>And she was with his father in his dream. They stood by his bedside
+watching over him. His father's face he remembered perfectly. It was
+just as he had seen it when he was alive, except that there was an added
+something which he could not describe. His mother's face was strange to
+him. Yet not altogether so. He knew instinctively that she was his
+mother&mdash;knew it by the look on her almost luminous face, by the yearning
+tenderness of her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Neither of them spoke to him. They simply stood side by side and watched
+him. He wished they would speak; he felt as though he wanted guidance,
+advice, and each looked at him with infinite love in their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Where had he seen eyes like those of his mother before? Where had he
+seen a face like the face in his dream? He remembered asking himself,
+but could recall no one.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, mother," he tried to say, but he could not speak. Then his
+mother placed her hand on his forehead, and her touch was like a
+benediction.</p>
+
+<p>When he woke he wondered where he was; but as through the porthole he
+saw the sheen of the sea he remembered everything. Oh, the wonder of it
+all!</p>
+
+<p>A knock came to the door. "Your bath is ready, sir," said a steward, and
+a minute later he felt the welcome sting of the cold salt water.</p>
+
+<p>He scarcely spoke throughout breakfast; he did not feel like talking. He
+determined to find some lonely spot and reflect on what had taken place.
+When he reached the deck, however, the longing for loneliness left him.
+The sky was cloudless, and the sun poured its warm rays on the spotless
+boards. Under the awning, passengers had ensconced themselves in their
+chairs, and smoked, or talked, or read just as their fancy led them.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the heat the morning was pleasant. A fresh breeze swept
+across the sea, and the air was pure and sweet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Acquaintances spoke to him pleasantly, for he had become fairly popular
+during the voyage.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if they have heard of that wireless message?" he reflected.
+"Do they know I have received news of Charles Faversham's death, and
+that I am probably a rich man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Holloa, Faversham."</p>
+
+<p>He turned and saw Count Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"You look rather pale this morning," went on the Count; "did you sleep
+well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not very well," replied Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Your mind exercised about the discussion, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"That and other things."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the 'other things' that make the great interest of life," remarked
+the Count, looking at him intently.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I suppose they do," was Dick's reply. He was thinking about the
+wireless message.</p>
+
+<p>"Still," and the Count laughed, "the discussion got rather warm, didn't
+it? I'm afraid I offended our clerical friend. His nod was very cool
+just now. Of course, it's all rubbish. Years ago I was interested in
+such things. I took the trouble to inform myself of the best literature
+we have on the whole matter. As a youth I knew Madame Blavatsky. I have
+been to seances galore, but I cease to trouble now."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" queried Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"I found that the bottom was knocked out of all these so-called
+discoveries by the first touch of serious investigation and criticism.
+Nothing stood searching tests. Everything shrivelled at the first touch
+of the fire."</p>
+
+<p>"This talk about angels, about a hereafter, is so much empty wind," went
+on the Count. "There is no hereafter. When we die there is a great black
+blank. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Then life is a mockery."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it? It all depends how you look at it. Personally I find it all
+right."</p>
+
+<p>Dick Faversham looked at his companion's face intently. Yes, it was a
+handsome face&mdash;strong, determined, forceful. But it was not pleasant.
+Every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> movement of his features suggested mockery, cynicism, cruelty.
+And yet it was fascinating. Count Romanoff was not a man who could be
+passed by without a thought. There was a tremendous individuality behind
+his deep-set, dark eyes&mdash;a personality of great force suggested by the
+masterful, mobile features.</p>
+
+<p>"You have nerves this morning, Faversham," went on the Count. "Something
+more than ordinary has happened to you."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I feel it. I see it. No, I am not asking you to make a confidant of me.
+But you want a friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," cried Dick, speaking on impulse; "I do."</p>
+
+<p>The other did not speak. He simply fixed his eyes on Faversham's face
+and waited.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Shipwreck</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>For a moment Dick was strongly tempted to tell his companion about the
+wireless he had received. But something, he could not tell what, seemed
+to forbid him. In spite of the fact that he had spent a good deal of
+time with Count Romanoff he had given him no confidences. There was
+something in his presence, in spite of his fascination, that did not
+inspire confidence.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way," ventured Dick, after an awkward silence, "I have often
+been on the point of asking you, but it felt like a liberty. Are you in
+any way connected with the great Russian family of your name?"</p>
+
+<p>The Count hesitated before replying. "I do not often speak of it," he
+told him presently, "but I come of a Royal Family."</p>
+
+<p>"The Romanoffs of Russia?"</p>
+
+<p>The Count smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not imagine that they would admit me into their family circle," he
+replied. "I make no claims to it, but I have the right."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was duly impressed.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, of course, you are a Russian. You were born there?"</p>
+
+<p>"A Russian!" sneered the other. "A vast conglomeration of savagery,
+superstition, and ignorance! I do not claim to be a Russian. I have
+estates there, but I am a citizen of the world. My sympathies are not
+national, insular, bounded by race, paltry landmarks, languages. I live
+in a bigger world, my friend. Yes, I am a Romanoff, if you like, and I
+claim kinship with the greatest families of the Russian Empire&mdash;but la
+la, what is it? Thistledown, my friend, thistledown."</p>
+
+<p>"But you were educated in Russia?" persisted Dick.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Educated! What is it to be educated? From childhood I have been a
+wanderer. I have taken my degrees in the University of the world. I have
+travelled in China, Japan, Egypt, America, the Antipodes. In a few days
+we shall call at Bombay. If you will accompany me I will take you to
+people in that city, old Indian families whose language I know, whose
+so-called mysteries I have penetrated, and who call me friend. Ecco! I
+owe my education to all countries, all peoples."</p>
+
+<p>He did not speak boastfully; there was no suggestion of the boaster, the
+braggadocio, in his tones; rather he spoke quietly, thoughtfully, almost
+sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me this," asked Dick: "you, who I judge to be a rich man, do you
+find that riches bring happiness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and no. With wealth you can buy all that this world can give you."</p>
+
+<p>Dick wondered at the strange intonation of his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the only thing that can bring happiness," added Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"I fancy our friend Mr. Bennett would not agree with you," laughed Dick.
+"He would say that a clear conscience meant happiness. He would tell you
+that a good life, a clean mind, and a faith in God were the secrets of
+happiness."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes a clear conscience? It is a feeling that you have done what
+is right. But what is right? What is right in China is wrong in England.
+What makes the Chinaman happy makes the Englishman miserable. But why
+should the Englishman be miserable because he does the thing that makes
+the Chinaman happy? No, no, it won't do. There is no right; there is no
+wrong. The Germans are wise there. What the world calls morality is a
+bogy to frighten foolish people. 'It is always right to do the thing you
+<i>can</i> do,' says Brother Fritz. Personally I believe it to be right to do
+what satisfies my desires. It is right because it brings happiness.
+After all, you haven't long to live. A few years and it is all over. A
+shot from a pistol and <i>voilà!</i> your brains are blown out&mdash;you are dead!
+Therefore, take all that life can give you&mdash;there is nothing else."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I wonder?" said Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"That is why money is all-powerful. First of all, get rid of
+conventional morality, rid your mind of all religious twaddle about
+another life, and then suck the orange of this life dry. You, now, you
+are keen, ardent, ambitious; you love beautiful things; you can enjoy to
+the full all that life can give you. Nature has endowed you with a
+healthy body, ardent desires, boundless ambitions&mdash;well, satisfy them
+all. You can buy them all."</p>
+
+<p>"But I am not rich," interposed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you?" queried the other. "Who knows? Anyhow, you are young&mdash;make
+money. 'Money talks,' as the Americans say."</p>
+
+<p>Again Dick was on the point of telling him about the wireless message,
+but again he refrained.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, Count Romanoff," he said, "did you see that woman in the
+smoke-room last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Woman! what woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I never saw her before. But while you were talking I saw
+a woman's face through the haze of tobacco smoke. She was standing near
+the door. It was a wonderful face&mdash;and her eyes were beyond description.
+Great, pure, yearning, loving eyes they were, and they lit up the face
+which might have been&mdash;the face of an angel."</p>
+
+<p>"You were dreaming, my friend. I have seen every woman on board, and not
+one of them possesses a face worth looking at twice."</p>
+
+<p>"I asked another man," admitted Dick, "and he told me I was dreaming. He
+had been sitting near the door, he assured me, and he had seen no woman,
+while the smoke-room steward was just as certain."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course there was no woman."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet I saw a woman, unless&mdash;&mdash;" He stopped suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Unless what, my friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Unless it was a kind of rebuke to my scepticism last night; unless it
+was the face of an angel."</p>
+
+<p>"An angel in mid-ocean!" Romanoff laughed. "An angel in the smoke-room
+of a P. &amp; O. steamer!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> Faversham, you are an example of your own
+arguments. Imagination can do anything."</p>
+
+<p>"But it would be beautiful if it were so. Do you know, I'm only half a
+sceptic after all. I only half believe in what I said in the smoke-room
+last night."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I can say the same thing," said Romanoff, watching his face
+keenly.</p>
+
+<p>"I say!" and Dick laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, laugh if you will; but I told you just now that the world
+contained no mystery. I was wrong; it does. My residence in India has
+told me that. Do you know, Faversham, what has attracted me to you?&mdash;for
+I have been attracted, I can assure you."</p>
+
+<p>"Flattered, I'm sure," murmured Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"I was attracted, because the moment I saw your face I felt that your
+career would be out of the ordinary. I may be wrong, but I believe that
+great things are going to happen to you, that you are going to have a
+wonderful career. I felt it when I saw you come on deck a little while
+ago. If you are wise you are going to have a great future&mdash;a <i>great</i>
+future."</p>
+
+<p>"Now you are laughing."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm not. I'm in deadly earnest. I have something of the power of
+divination in me. I feel the future. Something's going to happen to you.
+I think great wealth's coming to you."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent, and a far-away look came into his eyes. He was thinking
+of the wireless message, thinking whether he should tell Romanoff about
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"I started out on this voyage&mdash;in the hope that&mdash;that I should make
+money," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"In Australia."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll not go to Australia."</p>
+
+<p>"No? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know&mdash;something's going to happen to you. I feel it."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was again on the point of taking him into his confidence when two
+acquaintances came up and the conversation ended. But Dick felt that
+Romanoff knew his secret all the time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The day passed away without further incident, but towards afternoon
+there was a distinct change in the weather. The sky became overclouded,
+and the gentle breeze which had blown in the morning strengthened into a
+strong, boisterous wind. The smooth sea roughened, and the passengers no
+longer sat on deck. The smoke-room was filled with bridge players, while
+other public rooms became the scenes of other amusements.</p>
+
+<p>But Dick preferred being alone. He was still hugging his news to his
+heart, still reflecting on the appearance of the strange woman's face in
+the smoke-room, and all the time he was under the influence of Count
+Romanoff's conversation.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the great, dark, heaving waste of waters excited his nerves and
+made him feel something of the mysterious and resistless forces around
+him. After all, he asked himself, how small the life of a man, or a
+hundred men, appeared to be amidst what seemed infinite wastes of ocean.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner, in spite of the fact that the weather remained boisterous,
+he again went on deck. The sky had somewhat cleared now, and although
+there were still great black angry clouds, spaces of blue could be seen
+between them. Here the stars appeared, and shone with great brilliancy.
+Then the moon rose serene, majestic. Now it was hidden by a great storm
+cloud, and again it showed its silvery face in the clear spaces.</p>
+
+<p>"Great heavens!" cried Dick, "how little a man knows of the world in
+which he lives, and what rot we often talk. The air all around me may be
+crowded with visitants from the unseen world! My dream last night may
+have an objective reality. Perhaps my father and my mother were there
+watching over me! Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>It is said that atheists are bred in slums, and amidst brick walls and
+unlovely surroundings. It is also said that there are few sailors but
+who are believers&mdash;that the grandeur of the seas, that the wonder of
+great star spaces create a kind of spiritual atmosphere which makes it
+impossible for them to be materialists. Whether that is so I will not
+argue. This I know: Dick Faversham felt very near the unseen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> world as
+he leaned over the deck railings that night and gazed across the
+turbulent waters.</p>
+
+<p>But this also must be said. The unseen world seemed to him not good, but
+evil. He felt as though there were dark, sinister forces around
+him&mdash;forces which were inimical to what he conceived to be best in him.</p>
+
+<p>Before midnight he turned in, and no sooner did he lay his head on his
+pillow than he felt himself falling asleep. How long he slept he did not
+know. As far as he remembered afterwards, his sleep was dreamless. He
+only knew that he was awakened by a tremendous noise, and that the ship
+seemed to be crashing to pieces. Before he realised what had taken place
+he found himself thrown on the floor, while strange grating noises
+reached his ears. After that he heard wild shouts and despairing
+screams. Hastily putting on a coat over his night clothes, he rushed out
+to see what had happened; but all seemed darkness and confusion.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" he cried, but received no answer.</p>
+
+<p>Stumblingly he struggled towards the companion-way, where he saw a dark
+moving object.</p>
+
+<p>"What's happened?" he gasped again.</p>
+
+<p>"God only knows, except the vessel going down!"</p>
+
+<p>"Vessel going down?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; struck a mine or something!"</p>
+
+<p>Even as the man spoke the ship seemed to be splitting asunder. Harsh,
+grating, bewildering noises were heard everywhere, while above the
+noises of timber and steel were to be faintly heard the cries of frantic
+women and excited men.</p>
+
+<p>Then something struck him. He did not know what it was, but he felt a
+heavy blow on his head, and after that a great darkness fell upon him.</p>
+
+<p>How long the darkness lasted he could not tell. It might have been
+minutes, it might have been hours; but he knew that he suddenly came to
+consciousness through the touch of icy-cold water. The cold seemed to
+pierce his very marrow, to sting him with exquisite pain. Then he was
+conscious that he was struggling in the open sea.</p>
+
+<p>He had been a strong swimmer from early boyhood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> and he struck out now.
+He had no idea which way to swim, but swim he did, heedless of direction
+or purpose. A kind of instinct forced him to get as far away as possible
+from the spot where he came to consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>There was still a heavy sea running. He found himself lifted on the
+crest of huge waves, and again sinking in the depths. But he held on. He
+had a kind of instinct that he was doing something to save his life.</p>
+
+<p>Presently his mind became clear. The past came vividly before him&mdash;the
+talk in the smoke-room, the wireless message&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Yes, he must live! Life held out so much to him. His immediate return to
+England was essential. Bidlake &amp; Bilton had told him so.</p>
+
+<p>Where were the other passengers? He had heard women's cries, the wild
+shouts of men, the creaking of timbers, the grating of steel; he had
+felt that the great steamship was being torn to pieces. But now there
+was nothing of this. There was nothing but the roar of waters&mdash;great,
+heaving, turbulent waters.</p>
+
+<p>He still struggled on, but he knew that his strength was going. It
+seemed to him, too, as though some power was paralysing his limbs,
+sapping his strength. He still had the desire to save himself, to live;
+but his will power was not equal to his desire.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, the sea was cruel, cruel! Why could not the waves cease roaring and
+rolling if only for five minutes? He would have time to rest then, to
+rest and regain his strength.</p>
+
+<p>Still he struggled on. Again he felt himself carried on the crest of
+waves, and again almost submerged in the great troughs which seemed to
+be everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>"O God, help me!" he thought at length. "My strength is nearly gone. I'm
+going to be drowned!"</p>
+
+<p>A sinister power seemed to surround him&mdash;a power which took away hope,
+purpose, life. He thought of Count Romanoff, who had said there was
+nothing after death&mdash;that death was just a great black blank.</p>
+
+<p>The thought was ghastly! To cease to be, to die there amidst the wild
+waste of the sea, on that lonely night! He could not bear the thought of
+it.</p>
+
+<p>But his strength was ebbing away; his breath came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> in panting sobs; his
+heart found it difficult to beat. He was going to die.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, if only something, someone would drive away the hateful presence
+which was following him, surrounding him! He could still struggle on
+then; he could live then. But no, a great black shadow was surrounding
+him, swallowing him up. Yes, and the ghastly thing was taking shape. He
+saw a face, something like the face of&mdash;no, he could liken it to no one
+he knew.</p>
+
+<p>The waves still rolled on; but now he heard what seemed like wild,
+demoniacal laughter. Once, when a boy, he had seen Henry Irving in
+<i>Faust</i>; he saw the devils on the haunted mountain; he heard their
+hideous cries. And there was a ghastly, evil influence with him now. Did
+it mean that devils were there waiting to snatch his soul directly it
+left his body?</p>
+
+<p>Then he felt a change. Yes, it was distinct, definite. There was a
+light, too&mdash;a pale, indistinct light, but still real, and as his tired
+eyes lifted he saw what seemed to be a cross of light shining down upon
+him from the clouds. What could it mean?</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to him that the sinister presence was somehow losing power,
+that there was something, someone in the light which grew stronger.</p>
+
+<p>Then a face appeared above him. At first it was unreal, intangible,
+shadowy; but it grew clearer, clearer. Where had he seen it before?
+Those great, tender, yearning eyes&mdash;where had he seen them? Then the
+form of a woman became outlined&mdash;a woman with arms outstretched. Her
+face, her lips, her eyes seemed to bid him hope, and it felt to him as
+though arms were placed beneath him&mdash;arms which bore him up.</p>
+
+<p>It was all unreal, as unreal as the baseless fabric of a dream; and yet
+it was real, wondrously real.</p>
+
+<p>"Help me! Save me!" he tried to say, but whether he uttered the words he
+did not know. He felt that his grip on life became weaker and
+weaker&mdash;then a still, small voice seemed to whisper, "The Eternal God is
+thy refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting Arms."</p>
+
+<p>The roar of the waves grew less, and he knew no more.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>"<span class="smcap">The Enemy of Your Soul</span>"</h3>
+
+
+<p>When again Dick Faversham regained something like consciousness he had a
+sensation of choking, of a hard struggle to breathe, which ended in
+partial failure.</p>
+
+<p>He did not know where he was, but he had a sense of warmth, of
+restfulness. He thought he heard the ripple of waves on a sunlit shore,
+and of wide-spreading trees which grew close to the edge of the sea.</p>
+
+<p>But it was all indistinct, unreal, and he did not care very much. He was
+trying to breathe, trying to overcome the awful sense of choking, and
+after a while, dazed, bewildered though he was, he felt his breath come
+easier and the weight on his chest grow lighter. But he was terribly
+tired&mdash;so tired that he had no desire to struggle, so languid that his
+very efforts to breathe were the result not of his own will, but of some
+claims of nature over which he had no control. He was just a piece of
+machinery, and that was all.</p>
+
+<p>He felt himself going to sleep, and he was glad. He had no curiosity as
+to where he was, no desire to know how he came to be there, no
+remembrance of the past; he only knew that warm air wrapped him like a
+garment, and that he was deliciously tired and sleepy.</p>
+
+<p>How long he slept he did not know, but presently when he woke he saw the
+sun setting in a blaze of glory. Scarcely a breath of wind stirred the
+warm, fragrant air, and all was silent save the lapping of the waves and
+the screaming of birds in the distance.</p>
+
+<p>He sat up and looked around him. Great tropical trees grew in wild
+profusion, while gorgeous vegetation abounded. It was like some land of
+dreams.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly memory asserted itself, and the past flashed before his
+mind. Everything became clear, vivid.</p>
+
+<p>"I am saved! I am alive!" he exclaimed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>Again he saw the wild upheaving sea; he felt himself struggling in the
+deep, while his strength, strength of body, of mind, and will were
+failing him. He recalled the dark, fearful presence that surrounded him,
+and then the coming of the light, and in the light the outline of a
+woman's form. Nothing would ever destroy that memory! The face, the
+lips, the eyes! No, he should never forget! And he had seen her arms
+outstretched, felt her arms placed beneath him&mdash;the arms that bore him
+up, brought him to safety.</p>
+
+<p>"I was saved," he murmured&mdash;"saved by an angel!"</p>
+
+<p>He was startled by the sound of a footstep, and, turning, he saw
+Romanoff, and with him came back something of the feeling that some evil
+presence surrounded him.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right, Faversham. I was afraid, hours ago, that I should never
+bring you round, but at length you made good, and then, like a sensible
+fellow, went to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff spoke in the most matter-of-fact way possible, banishing the
+mere thought of angels or devils.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are we? How did we get here?" gasped Faversham. Up to now he had
+not given a thought to the other passengers.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are we? On an island in the Pacific, my dear fellow. How did we
+get here? After the accident&mdash;or whatever it was&mdash;the boats were
+lowered, and all hands were got away. I looked out for you, but could
+not find you. There was a great commotion, and it was easy to miss
+anyone in the darkness. I was among the last to leave the sinking
+vessel, and the boat was pretty full. We had got perhaps half a mile
+away from the scene of the wreck, when I saw someone struggling in the
+sea. It was by the purest chance possible that I saw. However, I managed
+to get hold of&mdash;what turned out to be you. You were nearly gone&mdash;I never
+thought you'd&mdash;live."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But how did I get here?" asked Dick, "and&mdash;and where are the others?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was this way," and Romanoff still continued to speak in the same
+matter-of-fact tones. "As I told you, the boat was jammed
+full&mdash;overweighted, in fact&mdash;so full that your weight was a bit of a
+danger. More than one said you were dead, and suggested that&mdash;that it
+was no use endangering the safety of the others. But I felt sure you
+were alive, so I held out against them."</p>
+
+<p>"And then?" asked Dick. He was only giving half his mind to Romanoff's
+story; he was thinking of what he saw when he felt his strength leaving
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"You see the bar out yonder?" and Romanoff pointed towards a ridge of
+foam some distance out at sea. "It's mighty rough there&mdash;dangerous to
+cross even when the sea is smooth; when it is rough&mdash;you can guess. I
+was holding you in my arms in order to&mdash;give room. The oarsmen were
+making for land, of course; you see, we had been many hours in a mere
+cockleshell, and this island promised safety. But in crossing the bar we
+were nearly upset, and I suddenly found myself in the sea with you in my
+arms. It was fairly dark, and I could not see the boat, but I was
+fortunate in getting you here. That's all."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; what should there be else?"</p>
+
+<p>"But the others?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I expect they've landed somewhere else on the island&mdash;sure to, in
+fact. But I've not looked them up. You see, I did not want to leave
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you&mdash;you've saved me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right, my dear fellow. You are here, and you are looking
+better every minute; that's the great thing. See, I've brought you some
+food&mdash;fruit. Delicious stuff. I've tried it. Lucky for us we got to this
+place."</p>
+
+<p>Dick ate almost mechanically. He was still wondering and trying to
+square Romanoff's story with his own experiences. Meanwhile, Romanoff
+sat near him and watched him as he ate.</p>
+
+<p>"How long have we been here?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ten hours at least. Look, my clothes are quite dry. By Jove, I was
+thankful for the hot sun."</p>
+
+<p>"You saved me!" repeated Dick. "I owe my life to you, and yet even
+now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What, my dear fellow?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I was saved in another way."</p>
+
+<p>"Another way? How?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick hesitated a few seconds, and then told him, while Romanoff listened
+with a mocking smile on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you were delirious; it was pure hallucination."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it? It was very real to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Such things don't happen, my friend. After all, it was a very
+matter-of-fact, mundane affair. You were lucky, and I happened to see
+you&mdash;that's all&mdash;and if there was an angel&mdash;I'm it."</p>
+
+<p>The laugh that followed was anything but angelic!</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose that's it," and with a sigh Dick assented to Romanoff's
+explanation. Indeed, with this strange, matter-of-fact man by his side,
+he could not believe in anything miraculous. That smile on his face made
+it impossible.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how to thank you," he said fervently. "You've done me the
+greatest service one man can do for another. I can't thank you enough,
+and I can never repay you, but if we ever get away from here, and I have
+an opportunity to serve you&mdash;all that I have shall be yours."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll remember that," replied Romanoff quietly, "and I accept what you
+offer, my friend. Perhaps the time will come when I can take advantage
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will&mdash;you must!"&mdash;Dick's mind had become excited&mdash;"and I
+want to tell you something," he continued, for he was strangely drawn
+towards his deliverer. "I want to live. I want to get back to England,"
+he went on. "I have not told you before, but I feel I must now."</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon he told him the story of the wireless message and what it
+possibly might mean.</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff listened gravely, and Dick once again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> experienced that uncanny
+feeling that he was telling the other a story he already knew.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I tell you on the boat that something big was in store for you?"
+he said, after many questions were asked and answered. "I shall
+certainly look you up when I go to England again, and it may be I shall
+be able to render you some&mdash;further service."</p>
+
+<p>Night came on, and Dick slept. He was calm now and hopeful for the
+future. Romanoff had told him that as the island was on the great trade
+route it was impossible for them to be left there long. Vessels were
+always passing. And Dick trusted Romanoff. He felt he could do no other.
+He was so strong, so wise, so confident.</p>
+
+<p>For hours he slept dreamlessly, but towards morning he had a vivid
+dream, and in his dream he again saw the face of the angel, just as he
+had seen on the wild, heaving sea.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me," she said to him. "That man Romanoff is your enemy&mdash;the
+enemy of your soul. Do you realise it?&mdash;your soul. He is an emissary of
+the Evil One, and you must fight him. You must not yield to him. You
+will be tempted, but you must fight. He will be constantly near you,
+tempting you. He is your enemy, working for your downfall. If you give
+way to him you will be for ever lost!"</p>
+
+<p>Dick heard her words quite plainly. He watched her face as she spoke,
+wondered at the yearning tenderness in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"How can he be my enemy?" he asked. "He risked his life to save mine; he
+brought me to safety."</p>
+
+<p>"No," she replied; "it was the arms of another that were placed beneath
+you, and bore you up. Don't you know whose arms? Don't you remember my
+face?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>Then, as it seemed to him in his dream, Romanoff came, and there was a
+battle between him and the angel, and he knew that they were fighting
+for him, for the possession of his soul.</p>
+
+<p>He could see them plainly, and presently he saw the face of Romanoff
+gloat with a look of unholy joy. His form became more and more clearly
+outlined, while that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> of the angel became dimmer and dimmer. The evil
+power was triumphant. Then a change came. Above their heads he saw a
+luminous cross outlined, and he thought Romanoff's face and form became
+less and less distinct. But he was not sure, for they were drifting away
+from him farther and farther&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Again he saw the angel's face, and again she spoke. "You will be
+tempted&mdash;tempted," she said, "in many ways you will be tempted. But you
+will not be alone, for the angel of the Lord encampeth around them that
+fear Him. You will know me by the same sign. Always obey the angel."</p>
+
+<p>He awoke. He was lying where he had gone to sleep hours before. He
+started to his feet and looked around him.</p>
+
+<p>Near him, passing under the shadows of the great trees, he thought he
+saw a woman's face. It was the face he had seen on the outgoing vessel,
+the face he had seen when he was sinking in the deep waters, the face
+that had come to him in his dreams.</p>
+
+<p>He was about to speak to her, to follow her, when he heard someone
+shouting.</p>
+
+<p>"Faversham! Faversham!" It was Romanoff's voice. "Come quickly. We've
+hailed a vessel; our signal has been seen. Come to the other side of the
+island."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PART I.&mdash;THE FIRST TEMPTATION</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Only Surviving Relative</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Dick Faversham made his way to the offices of Messrs. Bidlake &amp; Bilton,
+Solicitors, Lincoln's Inn Fields, with a fast-beating heart. He felt
+like a man whose fortune depended on the turn of a die. If the lawyers
+had sent him a message for the purpose he hoped, all was well; if
+not&mdash;&mdash;And for the hundredth time he considered the pros and cons of
+the matter.</p>
+
+<p>His rescue from the island had turned out to be one of the prosiest
+matters imaginable. The captain of an English-bound steamer had seen the
+signals made from the island, and had sent boats. Thus Dick was saved
+without difficulty. There were others who had a similar fortune, but
+Dick had no chance to speak with them. No sooner did he reach the
+steamer than he was taken ill, and remained ill during the whole of the
+homeward voyage.</p>
+
+<p>After he reached Plymouth he began to recover rapidly, but he found on
+making inquiries that all who were rescued from the island had
+disembarked at the western seaport. This was very disappointing to him,
+as he wanted to make inquiries concerning the manner of their escape. Of
+Romanoff he neither heard nor saw anything. No one knew anything of him
+on the steamer, neither was he known to board it.</p>
+
+<p>Dick was both glad and sorry because of this. Glad because, although
+Romanoff possessed a strange fascination for him, he had never been
+altogether comfortable in his presence. The man repelled him even while
+he fascinated him, and he felt relieved that he was not on board. On the
+other hand, he was sorry, because he had a feeling that this strange,
+saturnine man might have been a great help to him in his peculiar
+circumstances.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It may be all a will-o'-the-wisp fancy," he reflected as he walked
+along Fleet Street towards the Law Courts, "and yet it must mean
+something."</p>
+
+<p>His mind was in a whirl of bewilderment, for in spite of Romanoff's
+explanation he could not drive from his mind the belief that his
+experiences after the vessel was wrecked had been real. Indeed, there
+were times when he was <i>sure</i> that he had seen an angel's form hovering
+while he was struggling in the sea, sure that he felt strong arms
+upholding him.</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, this is real," he said to himself as he turned into
+Lincoln's Inn Fields. "I am here on dry land. I wear a suit of clothes
+which Captain Fraser gave me, and I have twenty-four shillings in my
+pocket. Whatever happens, I will at the first opportunity pay the
+captain for his kindness."</p>
+
+<p>He entered the office and gave his name.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you wish to see Mr. Bidlake or Mr. Bilton?" asked the clerk.</p>
+
+<p>"Either, or both," replied Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you state your business, please?" The clerk did not seem to be
+sure of him.</p>
+
+<p>"I will state my business to your principals," replied Dick. "Please
+take in my name."</p>
+
+<p>When the clerk returned his demeanour was changed. He was obsequious and
+anxious to serve.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you come this way, please, sir?" he said. "Mr. Bilton is in Mr.
+Bidlake's room, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He did not finish the sentence, for the door of an office opened and a
+man of about fifty years of age appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, Mr. Faversham," he invited. "Do you know, I've been on
+tenterhooks for days about you."</p>
+
+<p>"I landed at Tilbury only a few hours ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that so? But it was this way: we, of course, heard that your boat
+had been mined, and we also heard that a number of the passengers and
+crew were rescued; but news about you was contradictory. In one list of
+the saved your name appeared, while in another you were not mentioned.
+Tell us all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Another time," replied Dick. He was in a fever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> to know why this very
+respectable firm of lawyers should have sent a wireless to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, of course," assented Mr. Bidlake, leading the way to an inner
+room. "Bilton, you may as well come too. My word, Mr. Faversham, I <i>am</i>
+glad to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Dick felt light-hearted. Mr. Bidlake would not receive him in this
+fashion had there not been important reasons for doing so.</p>
+
+<p>"Well now, to come to business right away," said Mr. Bidlake the moment
+they were seated&mdash;"you got my message?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-four hours before I was wrecked," replied Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Just so. You'll tell us all about that presently. My word, you must
+have had a terrible time! But that's by the way. You got my message, and
+therefore you know that your uncle, Mr. Charles Faversham, is dead?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick nodded. He tried to appear calm, but his heart was thumping like a
+sledge-hammer.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you know that Mr. Charles Faversham was a bachelor, and&mdash;by
+the way, Mr. Bilton, will you find the Faversham papers? You've had them
+in hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my uncle was a bachelor," repeated Dick as Mr. Bidlake hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"You've never had any communications with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never."</p>
+
+<p>"A peculiar man. A genius for business, but, all the same, a peculiar
+man. However, I think it's all plain enough."</p>
+
+<p>"What is plain enough?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you the papers, Bilton? That's good. Yes, I have everything here.
+This is the last will of Mr. Faversham&mdash;a plain, straightforward will in
+many ways, although slightly involved in others. However&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer untied some tape, and began scanning some documents.</p>
+
+<p>"However what?" asked Dick, who by this time was almost beside himself
+with impatience.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, you can easily put your hand on your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> birth certificate, as
+well as the death certificate of your father, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite easily."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you can. The fact that I have known you for some time makes
+things far easier, far less&mdash;complicated. Otherwise a great many
+formalities would have to be gone into before&mdash;in short, Mr. Richard
+Faversham, I have great pleasure in congratulating you on being the heir
+to a fine fortune&mdash;a <i>very</i> fine fortune."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bidlake smiled benignly.</p>
+
+<p>"My uncle's fortune?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your uncle's estate&mdash;yes. He was a very rich man."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;" stammered Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, of course, you wish for some details. This is the position.
+Your uncle made a will&mdash;a rather peculiar will in some ways."</p>
+
+<p>"A peculiar will?" queried Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;as you know, I did a great deal of work for him; but there were
+others. Triggs and Wilcox attended to some things, while Mortlake and
+Stenson also did odd jobs; but I have made all inquiries, and this is
+the last will he made. He wrote it himself, and it was duly witnessed. I
+myself have interviewed the witnesses, and there is no flaw anywhere,
+although, of course, this document is by no means orthodox."</p>
+
+<p>"Orthodox? I don't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that it is not in legal form. As a matter of fact, it is utterly
+informal."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that there is some doubt about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"On no, by no means. It would stand good in any court of law, but, of
+course, all such documents are loosely worded. In case of a lawsuit it
+would offer occasion for many wordy battles," and Mr. Bidlake smacked
+his lips as though he would enjoy such an experience. "But here is the
+will in a nutshell," he went on. "You see, his own brother died many
+years ago, while your father, his stepbrother, died&mdash;let me see&mdash;how
+long ago? But you know. I need not go into that. As you may have heard,
+his sister Helen married and had children; she was left a widow, and
+during her widowhood she kept house for your uncle; so far so good. This
+is the will:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> all his property, excepting some small sums which are
+plainly stated, was left equally to his sister Helen's children, and to
+their heirs on their decease."</p>
+
+<p>"But where do I come in?" gasped Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, my dear sir. There is a clause in the will, which I'll read:
+'Should not my sister Helen's children be alive at the time of my
+decease, all my property is to be equally divided between my nearest
+surviving relatives.' Now, here," went on the lawyer, "we see the
+foolishness of a man making his own will, especially a man with such
+vast properties as Mr. Charles Faversham had. First of all, suppose his
+sister Helen's children married and had children who were alive at the
+time of Mr. Charles Faversham's death. These children might not inherit
+a penny if his sister's children had been dead. Again, take the term
+'equally divided.' Don't you see what a bill of costs might be run up in
+settling that? What is an equal division? Who is to assess values on an
+estate that consists of shipping interests, lands, mines, and a host of
+other things? Still, we need not trouble about this as it happens. We
+have inquired into the matter, and we find that your Aunt Helen's
+children are dead, and that none of them was married."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are the nearest surviving relative, my dear sir, and not only
+that&mdash;you are the only surviving relative of the late Mr. Charles
+Faversham of Wendover Park, Surrey."</p>
+
+<p>Dick Faversham still appeared outwardly calm, although his brain was
+whirling with excitement. The words, 'shipping interests, lands, mines,
+and a host of other things,' were singing in his ears. And he&mdash;<i>he</i> was
+heir to it all! But was there some doubt about it? Was everything so
+definite as the lawyer had stated?</p>
+
+<p>"I believe my Aunt Helen had three children," Dick said after a
+silence&mdash;"two girls and a boy, or two boys and a girl, I have forgotten
+which. Do you mean to say they are all dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certain. Directly on Mr. Faversham's death I went into the matter. Two
+of the children died in England. The third, a son, died in Australia. I
+was very anxious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> about that, and spent quite a little fortune in
+cablegrams. Still, I got everything cleared up satisfactorily."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me how." Dick was very anxious about this. It seemed to him as the
+crux of the whole question.</p>
+
+<p>"It was naturally a little difficult," and Mr. Bidlake smiled
+complacently. "Australia is some little distance away, eh? But I managed
+it. For one thing, an old articled clerk of mine went to Melbourne some
+years ago, and succeeded in getting a practice there. He was very
+anxious to oblige me, and got on the track almost immediately.
+Fortunately for us, the death of Mr. Anthony Riggleton was somewhat
+notorious."</p>
+
+<p>"And Mr. Anthony Riggleton was my Aunt Helen's son?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. He was not a young man of high character, and I am given to
+understand that Mr. Charles Faversham threatened more than once, when he
+was in England, never to leave him a penny. However, he paid his debts,
+gave him a sum of money, and told him to go away and never to return
+again during his life. It seems, too, that Mr. Anthony Faversham
+Riggleton considerably reformed himself during the time he was in
+Australia, so much so that favourable reports were sent to his uncle
+concerning his conduct. That, I imagine, accounts for his inclusion in
+the will. Whether he went wild again, I don't know, but it is certain
+that he met his death in a very suspicious way. It seems that he and
+some other men met in a house of bad repute not far from Melbourne, and
+in a brawl of some sort he came to an untimely end. His body was found
+more than twenty-four hours after his death, in the harbour at
+Melbourne. Evidently the affair was most unsavoury. His face was much
+bashed. A pistol-shot had passed through his brain, and there were some
+knife-stabs in his body."</p>
+
+<p>"And his companions?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"They had cleared out, and left no traces behind. You see, they had
+plenty of time to do so before the police were able to get to work.
+According to the latest reports I have heard, there is not the slightest
+chance of finding them."</p>
+
+<p>"But the body&mdash;was it identified?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It was. Letters were found on the body addressed to Mr. Anthony
+Faversham Riggleton, and there were also private papers on his person
+which left no doubt. Added to this, the evidence of the cashier and of a
+clerk of the Bank of Australia was most explicit. You see, he had called
+at the bank on the morning of the night of the brawl, and drew what
+little money he had. When the body was brought to the mortuary, both the
+cashier and the clerk swore it was that of the man who had called for
+the money."</p>
+
+<p>"That was settled definitely, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just so. Oh, you can make your mind quite easy. Directly I got news of
+Mr. Charles Faversham's death I naturally took steps to deal with his
+estate, and I assured myself of your interest in the matter before
+seeking to communicate with you. I would not have sent you that wireless
+without practical certainty. Since then I have received newspapers from
+Melbourne giving details of the whole business."</p>
+
+<p>"And my Aunt Helen?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"She died before the will was made. I gather that her death caused him
+to make the new will&mdash;the one we are discussing&mdash;in a hurry."</p>
+
+<p>"And my two other cousins?" Dick persisted. He wanted to assure himself
+that there could be no shadow of doubt.</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer smiled. "Things do happen strangely sometimes," he said. "If
+anyone had told me at the time this will was made that you would come in
+for the whole estate, I should have laughed. There were three healthy
+people in your way. And yet, so it is. They are dead. There is not a
+shadow of doubt about it."</p>
+
+<p>"But didn't my uncle know of their decease?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you that. He was a strange man. As I have said, he had a
+regular genius for making money, and he lived for his business. He
+simply revelled in it; not because he cared about money as such, but
+because the accumulation of wealth fascinated him. He was, as you know,
+unmarried, and up to the time of his making this will, his sister, of
+whom he seemed to have been fond, kept house for him. But he would not
+have her children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> around him. He gave them large sums of money, but he
+had no personal knowledge of them. It is quite probable, therefore, that
+he, being in failing health for more than a year before his death, would
+have no knowledge that they died some time before he did. You would
+understand if you had known him. A most eccentric man."</p>
+
+<p>Dick reflected a few seconds. The way seemed perfectly plain, and yet
+everything seemed intangible, unreal.</p>
+
+<p>"In proof of that," went on the lawyer, "he did not tell either Mr.
+Bilton or myself that he had made this will. He simply gave a letter to
+the housekeeper he had secured after his sister's death, and told her
+that this letter was to be given to me at his decease. That letter,"
+went on Mr. Bidlake, "contained the key of a safe and instructions to me
+to deal with the contents of the safe immediately after his death. Of
+course, I opened the safe, and among the first things I found was this
+will. The rest I have explained to you."</p>
+
+<p>"And you say I am very wealthy?" asked Dick almost fearfully. Even yet
+it seemed too good to be true.</p>
+
+<p>"Wealthy!" and the lawyer smiled. "Wealthy, my dear sir! I cannot yet
+tell you <i>how</i> wealthy. But if a controlling interest in one of the most
+prosperous shipping companies in the world, if the principal holding in
+one of our great banks, if landed estates in more than three counties,
+if important mining interests, if hundreds of houses in London and hosts
+of other things mean great wealth&mdash;then I can truly say that you are a
+very wealthy man. Of course, I cannot as yet estimate the value of the
+whole estate, but the death duties will make a nice fortune&mdash;a <i>very</i>
+nice fortune. Still, if you decide to entrust your legal business to us,
+as we hope you will, we shall be able in a few weeks to give you an
+approximate idea of what you are worth."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I will do that," replied Dirk hastily; "naturally there is no
+question about the matter. That must be settled here and now."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Mr. Bidlake. "Naturally Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> Bilton and myself
+appreciate this mark of your confidence. You may depend that neither of
+us will spare himself in order to serve you. Eh, Mr. Bilton?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," replied Mr. Bilton. It was the only word he had as yet spoken
+throughout the interview.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said Dick, "I want your advice."</p>
+
+<p>"Our advice? Certainly. What about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, owing to the wreck, I am at this moment in borrowed clothes. I
+have only a few shillings in my pocket&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear sir," interrupted the lawyer, "that presents no difficulties.
+Let me give you an open cheque for two hundred&mdash;five hundred&mdash;pounds
+right away. Naturally, too, you will want to get clothes. You lost
+everything in the&mdash;the wreck; naturally you did. I had almost forgotten
+such things in the&mdash;the bigger matter. But that's all right. I have a
+private sitting-room here, and my tailor would be only too glad to come
+here right away. A most capable man. He would rig you out, temporarily,
+in a few hours, and afterwards&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," interrupted Dick; "but what next?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take possession at once, my dear sir&mdash;at once."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want anything to get into the papers."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not&mdash;if we can help it. And I think we can. Shall I ring up
+my tailors? Yes?" And Mr. Bidlake took a telephone receiver into his
+hand. "That's all right," he added two minutes later. "Hucknell will be
+here in less than half an hour, and you can trust him to fix you up and
+tide you over the next few days. Yes, he will be glad to do so&mdash;very
+glad. Terrible business this industrial unrest, isn't it? I'm afraid
+it's going to take some settling. Of course, it's world wide, but I say,
+thank goodness our people have got more sense and more balance than
+those poor Russians."</p>
+
+<p>The words were simple enough, and the expression was almost a
+commonplace, but Dick Faversham felt a sudden pain at his heart. He
+thought of the dark, mysterious man who claimed kinship with the great
+Russian House of Romanoff, and in a way he could not understand; the
+thought seemed to take away from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> joyous excitement which filled his
+being at that moment. He wished he had never seen, never heard of Count
+Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>With an effort he shook off the cloud.</p>
+
+<p>"You suggest that I go to Wendover Park at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, say to-morrow morning. It is your right; in a way, it's your duty.
+The property is undeniably yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Would&mdash;would you&mdash;could you go with me?" stammered Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"I was on the point of suggesting it myself, my dear sir. Yes, I could
+go to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Are there any servants there, or is the house empty?" asked Dick. Again
+he had a sense of unreality.</p>
+
+<p>"Most of the servants are there," replied the lawyer. "I thought it best
+to keep them. I am not sure about a chauffeur, though. I have an idea I
+discharged him. But it can easily be managed. The housekeeper whom your
+uncle engaged on your aunt's death is there, and she, it appears, has a
+husband. Rather a capable man. He can get a chauffeur. I'll ring up
+right away, and give instructions. You don't mind, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's awfully good of you," Dick assured him. "I shall feel lost without
+you."</p>
+
+<p>At half-past one Dick accompanied Mr. Bidlake to his club for lunch,
+attired in a not at all badly fitting ready-made suit of clothes, which
+Mr. Hucknell had secured for him, and spent the afternoon with the
+lawyer discussing the new situation.</p>
+
+<p>"Nine-thirty-five Victoria," said Mr. Bidlake to him as he left him that
+night.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be there."</p>
+
+<p>Dick went to his hotel like a man in a dream. Even yet everything was
+unreal to him. He had received assurances from one of the most
+trustworthy and respectable lawyers in London that his position was
+absolutely safe, and yet he felt no firm foundation under his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect it's because I've seen nothing yet," he reflected. "When I go
+down to-morrow and get installed as the owner of everything, I shall see
+things in a new light."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Wendover Park</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>The end of April had now come, and a tinge of green had crept over what
+in many respects is one of the loveliest counties in England. The train
+in which Mr. Bidlake and Dick Faversham sat had left Redhill and was
+passing through a rich, undulating countryside.</p>
+
+<p>"You feel a bit excited, I expect?" and Mr. Bidlake looked up from his
+copy of <i>The Times</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a bit."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll soon get over your excitement, although, of course, you'll find
+the change very great. A rich man has many responsibilities."</p>
+
+<p>"If I remember aright, there are several other big houses within a few
+miles of Wendover Park? Was my uncle on good terms with his neighbours?"</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer coughed. "He did not go much into society. As I told you, he
+was a very eccentric man."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was quick to notice the tone in which the other spoke. "You mean
+that he was not well received?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that he lived his own life. Mr. Faversham was essentially a
+business man, and&mdash;and perhaps he could not understand the attitude of
+the old county families. Besides, feeling against him was rather strong
+when he bought Wendover Park."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay you'll learn all about it in time. Enough to say now that Sir
+Guy Wendover, the previous owner, was in money difficulties, and the
+feeling was that your uncle took advantage of them in order to get hold
+of the place. Personally I don't pay much attention to such stories; but
+undoubtedly they affected your uncle's position. Possibly they may
+affect yours&mdash;for a time."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> The lawyer appeared to utter the last
+sentence as an afterthought.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the train stopped at a wayside station, where the two
+alighted. The sun was now high in the heavens, and the birds were
+singing gaily. Wooded hills sloped up from the station, while westward
+was a vast panorama of hill and dale.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you could find a fairer sight in all England," remarked
+Mr. Bidlake. "Ah, that's right. I see a motor-car is waiting for us."</p>
+
+<p>Dick felt as thought a weight rolled from his shoulders the moment he
+stood beneath the open sky. Yes, this was glorious! The air was laden
+with the perfume of bursting life. The chorus of the birds exhilarated
+him; the sight of the rich loamy meadows, where lambkins sported and
+cows fed lazily, made him feel that he was not following some chimera of
+the mind, but tangible realities.</p>
+
+<p>A chauffeur touched his cap. "Mr. Faversham and Mr. Bidlake, sir?" he
+inquired.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later the car was moving swiftly along beautiful country
+lanes, the like of which only a few English counties can show. Yes, Dick
+had to admit it. Beautiful as he thought the whole district to be when
+cycling through it years before, he had no idea it was like this. Every
+corner they turned revealed new loveliness. All nature seemed bent on
+giving him a great welcome to his new home.</p>
+
+<p>They had covered perhaps half the journey between the station and the
+house when the chauffeur jammed his foot on the brake suddenly and
+brought the car to a standstill. In front of them stood a small
+two-seater, by the open bonnet of which stood a young lady with hand
+uplifted. Evidently something had gone wrong with her machine, and the
+lane at this point was not wide enough for them to pass.</p>
+
+<p>Dick immediately alighted.</p>
+
+<p>"I am awfully sorry to inconvenience you," protested the girl, "but my
+engine has stopped, and, try as I may, I can't get it to start again."</p>
+
+<p>Her face was slightly flushed, partly with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> endeavours to start the
+engine and partly with impatience; but this did not detract from her
+more than usually handsome appearance. For she was handsome; indeed,
+Dick thought he had never seen such a striking girl. And this was no
+wonder. It is only rare that nature produces such a perfect specimen of
+young womanhood as he saw that morning&mdash;perfect, that is, in face and
+form, perfect in colouring, in stature, in bearing. She was a
+brunette&mdash;great black flashing eyes, full red lips, raven-black hair,
+skin suffused with the glow of buoyant health. More than ordinarily
+tall, she was shaped like a Juno, and moved with all the grace and
+freedom of an athlete.</p>
+
+<p>"Help the lady, my man," said Mr. Bidlake to the chauffeur.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, sir," replied the man, "but I don't know anything about engines.
+I've only just learnt to drive. You see, sir, Mrs. Winkley didn't quite
+know what to do when&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," interrupted Dick, with a laugh; "perhaps I can help you."</p>
+
+<p>"If you only could," laughed the girl. "I haven't had the thing long,
+but it never went wrong until to-day. I know how to drive pretty well,
+but as for understanding the engine, I'm a mere baby."</p>
+
+<p>She had a frank, pleasant voice, and laughed as she spoke, revealing
+perfect teeth.</p>
+
+<p>Dick, who had quite a gift for mechanism, quickly found some tools, and
+commenced testing the sparking-plugs like a man conversant with his
+work.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have to take off my coat if you'll excuse me," he said presently.
+"I see you start the thing on a battery, and have no magneto. I'm sorry
+I don't know this class of car well, but I think I can see what's the
+matter."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it? Do tell me," she cried, with an eager laugh. "I've been
+studying motor manuals and all that sort of thing ever since I commenced
+to drive, but diagrams always confuse me."</p>
+
+<p>"The distributor seems to be wrong, and some wires have become
+disconnected. Have you been held up long?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a quarter of an hour&mdash;more."</p>
+
+<p>"And running the battery all the time?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid so."</p>
+
+<p>"You must be careful or your battery'll run out of electricity; that
+would mean your being hung up for two days."</p>
+
+<p>"They told me that at the garage a little time ago. But what must I do?"
+and she laughed at him pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>"If she doesn't start at once, get someone to adjust the parts. There, I
+wonder if she'll go now."</p>
+
+<p>He touched a switch, and the engine began to run.</p>
+
+<p>"She seems all right," he said, after watching the moving mass of
+machinery for some seconds.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you are good&mdash;and&mdash;thank you ever so much."</p>
+
+<p>"It's been quite a pleasure," replied Dick, putting on his coat. "It was
+lucky I came by."</p>
+
+<p>"It was indeed; but look at your hands. They are covered with oil. I
+<i>am</i> sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to be sorry for. Oil breaks no bones. Besides, I shall be able
+to wash them in a few minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not going far, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only to Wendover Park. Do you know it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Know it! Why&mdash;&mdash;" She checked herself suddenly, and Dick thought she
+seemed a little confused. "But I must be going now. Thank you again."</p>
+
+<p>She got into the car, and in a few seconds was out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>"Remarkably handsome young lady, isn't she?" remarked Mr. Bidlake. "Do
+you know who she is?" he asked the chauffeur.</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Blanche Huntingford, sir," replied the chauffeur.</p>
+
+<p>"Whew!" whistled Mr. Bidlake.</p>
+
+<p>"Anybody special?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer smiled. "The incident is decidedly interesting," he replied.
+"First, she is cousin to Sir Guy Wendover who used to own Wendover Park,
+and second, she is the daughter of Lord Huntingford, the proudest and
+most exclusive aristocrat in Surrey."</p>
+
+<p>"No? By Jove, she is handsome!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is said that the Huntingfords rule Social Surrey.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> If they take you
+up, your social status is assured; if they boycott you&mdash;&mdash;" and the
+lawyer shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent a few seconds. Evidently he was thinking deeply. "Isn't
+she glorious?" he cried presently. "I never saw such a dazzling girl.
+Did you notice her eyes&mdash;her complexion? I&mdash;I wouldn't have missed it
+for anything."</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer did not reply. Perhaps he had reasons for his silence.</p>
+
+<p>The car dashed on for another mile, and then Dick gave a cry of delight.</p>
+
+<p>"That's it, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; that's it."</p>
+
+<p>They were looking at a lovely old mansion which stood on the slope of a
+hill. Stretching away from it were fine park-lands, and beyond these
+were wide-stretching woods. Looked at on that fair spring day, it was
+indeed a place to be proud of, to rejoice in.</p>
+
+<p>"I never dreamt it was so fine!" gasped Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"One of the finest places in England," was the lawyer's complacent
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>Dick looked like one fascinated. It appealed to and satisfied him
+altogether.</p>
+
+<p>"It's old, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Three hundred years. It is said that the gardens are a wonder."</p>
+
+<p>The car passed through some heavily wrought gates, and then rolled under
+an avenue of old trees. Dick could not speak; the thought of possessing
+such a place made him dumb. A few minutes later they drew up before the
+main entrance.</p>
+
+<p>Dick was the first to leap out. He was eager to enter, to claim
+possession, to examine every nook and corner of his new home. He put his
+foot on the bottom step leading to the door, and then stopped suddenly.
+He felt himself rooted to the ground, felt afraid to move.</p>
+
+<p>"I congratulate you again," said the lawyer. "I feel proud that I have
+the privilege to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you see? There! Don't you see?" gasped Dick.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"See?" repeated the lawyer. "Of course I see one of the most beautiful
+houses in England."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but nothing else?" he asked excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" queried the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>But Dick did not reply. Although the lawyer had seen nothing, he saw in
+dim outline the face and form which had appeared to him when he was
+sinking in the turbulent waters of the Indian Ocean. Was this a warning
+that trouble was to overwhelm him again?</p>
+
+<p>Dick Faversham had no doubts. Whatever he might think later, he was at
+that time certain of what he saw. The sun was shining brightly, and
+there was nothing in the various objects by which he was surrounded to
+suggest the supernatural, and yet he saw the face of the angel. She
+seemed to be hovering over the steps which led to the main entrance of
+the house, and for the moment she looked as though she would forbid his
+entrance. But only for the moment. Slowly she faded away, slowly he lost
+sight of her, and by the time the servant, who had evidently seen the
+approach of the car, had reached the door she had gone.</p>
+
+<p>But he was sure he had seen her. The form he had seen hovering over him
+on the wild, turbulent sea was plainly visible to him at the door of
+this old Surrey mansion. The face, too, could not be mistaken. The same
+calm, benign expression, the same tender mouth. Goodness, purity,
+guardianship, all found their expression in those features. But there
+was something more. The eyes which had riveted his attention and haunted
+his memory for months seemed to convey something different to him now
+from what they had then. There was still the same yearning gaze, the
+same melting tenderness, but there was something more. They seemed to
+suggest fear, warning. Dick Faversham felt as though she wanted to tell
+him something, to warn him against some unknown danger. It is true the
+feeling was indefinite and difficult to put into words; but it was
+there. She might, while not forbidding him to enter the house which had
+so unexpectedly come into his possession, be trying to tell him of
+dangers, of possible calamity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And do you say that you can see&mdash;that&mdash;that you saw nothing?" he almost
+gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"I can see a great deal," replied Mr. Bidlake. "I can see one of the
+loveliest scenes in England. I can see you standing at the entrance
+of&mdash;but what do you mean? You look pale&mdash;frightened. Aren't you well?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick opened his mouth to tell what he had seen, but he checked himself.
+Somehow the thought of opening his heart to this matter-of-fact lawyer
+seemed like sacrilege. He would not understand. He would tell him, just
+as Romanoff had told him weeks before, that his mind was unbalanced by
+the experiences through which he had passed, that the natural excitement
+caused by the news he had heard were too much for him, and caused him to
+lose his mental balance.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am quite well, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what do you mean? What do you think you saw?"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the door opened, and the housekeeper, who had hurried to
+meet them, appeared, and the lawyer did not listen to his stammering
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-day, Mr. Bidlake," smiled the housekeeper. "I am glad you got here
+all right. Winkley had quite a difficulty in getting a chauffeur. I hope
+the one provided was satisfactory?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, Mrs. Winkley," and the lawyer was very patronising as
+he spoke; "the man brought us here safely. This," and he turned towards
+Dick, "is Mr. Richard Faversham, the new owner of&mdash;hem&mdash;Wendover Park,
+and your new&mdash;master."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, sir," and Mrs. Winkley turned and looked nervously towards
+Dick, "I hope you'll be very&mdash;happy here, sir. I bid you welcome, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Dick smiled with frank pleasure and shook hands&mdash;a familiarity which
+pleased the housekeeper, but not the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>"You got my letter, Mrs. Winkley?" Mr. Bidlake said hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, also your telephone message yesterday. Wendover Park is a
+lovely place, Mr. Faversham."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is, indeed, Mrs. Winkley. This Surrey air has given me an appetite,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was so nervous that he hardly knew what he was saying. As he
+glanced around the spacious hall and tried to realise that it was his
+own, and as he called to mind that for the last mile he had been passing
+through his own property, it seemed to be too wonderful to be true.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the air is very good, and I am glad you are hungry. Lunch will be
+ready in half an hour. I have prepared a bedroom for you, Mr. Faversham.
+I have assumed you are&mdash;staying here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather!" and Dick laughed as he spoke. "You must excuse me if I'm a
+little abrupt, Mrs. Winkley. You see, I imagine it will take me some
+little time to settle down to the new order of things."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I understand; it must be a wonderful experience for you. But I
+think you'll find everything all right. I have taken great care of
+everything since the late Mr. Faversham died. It's all just as he left
+it. No doubt you'll want to look over the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Presently, Mrs. Winkley; but, first of all, I want to come to an
+understanding with you. I am a bachelor, and I don't think I have a
+relation in the world, so, for a time, I&mdash;shall make no changes in the
+place at all. What I mean to say is, that I hope you'll continue to be
+my housekeeper, and&mdash;and look after me generally. Mr. Bidlake has said
+all sorts of good things about you, so much so that I shall regard
+myself very fortunate if&mdash;if you'll remain in your present position."</p>
+
+<p>Dick didn't know at all why he said this, except that he had a feeling
+that something of the sort was expected from him.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure it's very kind of you to say so, sir," and Mrs. Winkley smiled
+radiantly. "Of course I've been a little bit anxious, not knowing what
+kind of&mdash;of gentleman the new owner would be, or what plans he might
+have. But, if you think I'll suit you, sir, I'll do my utmost to make
+you comfortable and look after your interests. I was housekeeper to Dr.
+Bell of Guildford when the late Mr. Faversham's sister died, and&mdash;&mdash;"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I've heard about that," interrupted Dick. "I'm sure he was lucky
+to get you."</p>
+
+<p>"I did my best for him, sir, and he never grumbled. I lived in these
+parts as a girl, so I can get you plenty of references as to the
+respectability of my family."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you can," Dick assented. He was glad that Mrs. Winkley was of
+the superior servant order rather than some superior person who had
+pretensions to being a fine lady. "By the way, of course you know the
+house well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Know the house well?" repeated Mrs. Winkley. She was not quite sure
+that she understood him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; know all the rooms?" laughed Dick nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly, sir. I know every room from the garret to the cellar,"
+replied Mrs. Winkley wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"And there are no ghosts, are there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ghosts, sir? Not that I ever heard of."</p>
+
+<p>"I was only wondering. It's an old house, and I was thinking that there
+might be a family ghost."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Winkley shook her head. "Nothing of the sort, sir, to my knowledge.
+Wait a minute, though; I did hear when I was a girl that the elm grove
+was haunted. There's a lake down there, and there was a story years ago
+that a servant who had drowned herself there used to wander up and down
+the grove wringing her hands on Michaelmas Eve."</p>
+
+<p>"And where is the elm grove?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's away towards the North Lodge. You wouldn't see it the way you
+came, and it's hidden from here."</p>
+
+<p>"But the house? There's no legend that that has ever been haunted?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. I suppose some of the Wendovers were very wild generations
+ago, but I never heard that any of their spirits ever came back again."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Winkley was pleased that her new master kept talking so long,
+although she came to the conclusion that he was somewhat eccentric.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, it was foolish of me to ask," Dick said somewhat awkwardly;
+"but the thought struck me. By the way, how long did you say it was to
+lunch-time?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not quite half an hour, sir," replied Mrs. Winkley, looking at an old
+eight-day clock. "I'll speak to the cook and get it pushed forward as
+fast as possible. Perhaps you'd like a wash, sir? I'll show you to your
+room, if you would."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. After that I&mdash;I think, Mr. Bidlake, I'd like to go into the
+gardens."</p>
+
+<p>He was afraid he was making a bad impression upon his housekeeper, and
+he was angry with himself for not acting in a more natural manner. But
+he seemed to be under a strange influence. Although the thought of the
+supernatural had left him, his experience of a few minutes before
+doubtless coloured his mind.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later they were out in the sunlight again, and they had
+scarcely reached the gardens when a man of about fifty years of age made
+his way towards them.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, sir," he said, with a strong Scotch accent. "Have I the
+honour to speak to the new master?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; my name is Faversham."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm M'Neal, your second gardener, sir. I thought when I saw you I'd
+make bold to speak, sir. I've been here for thirty years, sir, and have
+always borne a good character."</p>
+
+<p>"I've no doubt you have," laughed Dick. "You look it."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, sir. I gave satisfaction to the late Mr. Faversham, and to
+Sir Guy Wendover before him, and I hope&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That we shall get on well together. Of course we shall. I like the look
+of you."</p>
+
+<p>He felt better now. The sight of the broad expanse of the park and the
+smell of the sweet, pure air made him light-hearted again.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed," he continued, "I may as well tell you right away that I intend
+to keep everybody that was here in my uncle's days. You can tell the
+others that."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, sir. But I'd like to remark that this war has made food
+dear."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bear that in mind; you'll not find me unjust. All who serve me
+shall be well paid."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We've all done our best, sir," persisted M'Neal, who was somewhat of a
+character, "but I'll not deny that we shall all be the better for a
+master. Personally I'm not satisfied with the way things are looking."</p>
+
+<p>"No? I thought they looked beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but nothing to what they can look. We are, as you may say, in a
+kind of between time now. We've not planted out the beds, although we've
+prepared them. If you'll&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I will," Dick interrupted him, with a laugh, "but you must
+give me time before making definite promises."</p>
+
+<p>"If I might show you around," suggested M'Neal, "I think I could
+explain&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Later, later," laughed Dick, moving away. "Mr. Bidlake, will you come
+over here with me? I want to speak to you privately."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," Mr. Bidlake told him, "that your uncle discharged M'Neal
+several times during the time he lived here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he followed him like a dog whenever he came into the grounds,
+and insisted on talking to him. He said the fellow gave him no rest."</p>
+
+<p>"But why did he take him on again?"</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't. But M'Neal took no notice of the discharges. He always
+turned up on the following morning, and went on with his work as though
+nothing had happened."</p>
+
+<p>"And my uncle paid him his wages?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. You see, the fellow is as faithful as a dog, although he's a
+nuisance. My word, what a view!"</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer made this exclamation as a turn in the path revealed a
+landscape they had not hitherto seen. It was one of those stretches of
+country peculiar to that part of Surrey, and as Dick looked he did not
+wonder at the lawyer's enthusiasm. Beyond the park, which was studded
+with giant oaks, he saw a rich, undulating country. Here and there were
+farmsteads nestling among the trees; again he saw stretches of
+woodland,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> while in the distance rose fine commanding hills. The foliage
+had far from reached its glory, but the tinge of green which was
+creeping over every hedgerow and tree contained a promise, and a charm
+that no poet could describe. And the whole scene was all bathed in
+spring sunlight, which the birds, delighting in, made into a vast
+concert hall.</p>
+
+<p>"My word, it is ripping!" cried Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"It's glorious! it's sublime!" cried the lawyer. "You are a fortunate
+man, Mr. Richard Faversham. Do you know, sir, that all you can see is
+yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"All mine?" Dick almost gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, all this and much more."</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Dick had a real feeling of possession, and something
+to which he had hitherto been a stranger entered his life. Up to now he
+had been poor. His life, ever since his father died, had been a
+struggle. He had dreamed dreams and seen visions, only to be
+disappointed. In spite of ambition, endeavour, determination, everything
+to which he had set his hand had failed him. But now, as if some fabled
+genii had come to his aid, fortune had suddenly poured her favours into
+his lap.</p>
+
+<p>And here was the earnest of it!</p>
+
+<p>This glorious countryside, containing farms, houses, villages, and
+wide-spreading lands, was his. All his! Gratified desire made his heart
+beat wildly. At last life was smiling and joyous. What a future he would
+have! With wealth like his, nothing would be impossible!</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and much more," repeated the lawyer. "On what chances a man's
+fortunes turn."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" asked Dick, who scarce knew what he was saying.</p>
+
+<p>"Only this," said Mr. Bidlake. "If that fellow had not been killed in a
+drunken brawl, none of this would be yours. As it is, you are one of the
+most fortunate men in England."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, by Jove, I am."</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer looked at his watch. "Excuse me, Mr. Faversham, but it is
+lunch-time, and I must leave you at five o'clock."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry you can't stay a few days."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible, my dear sir, much as I'd like to. But I've made a little
+programme for you this afternoon, if it is quite convenient to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" queried Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I've arranged for your steward, your head gamekeeper, and the
+other principal men on the estate to call here. I thought you might like
+to see them. There, I hear the lunch-gong."</p>
+
+<p>Dick went back to the house like a man in a dream.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Lady Blanche makes her Appearance</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>At six o'clock that evening Dick Faversham was alone. He had had
+interviews with his steward, his bailiff, his gamekeeper, his forester,
+his head gardener, and his head stableman, and now he was left to
+himself. Mr. Bidlake, after promising to come again in three days, had
+gone back to London, while the others had each gone to their respective
+homes to discuss the new master of Wendover Park and the changes which
+would probably take place.</p>
+
+<p>Dick had also gone over the house, and had taken note of the many
+features of his new dwelling-place. He had examined the library, the
+billiard-room, the dancing-room, the minstrels' gallery, the banqueting
+hall, and the many other apartments belonging to this fine old mansion.
+Evidently many of the rooms had for years been unused, but, as Mrs.
+Winkley had said, everything was "in perfect condition."</p>
+
+<p>His uncle belonged to that order of men who could not bear to let
+anything deteriorate for lack of attention, and he had spent his money
+freely. In a way, too, Charles Faversham had a sense of fitness. In all
+the improvements he had made, he saw to it that the character and spirit
+of the old place should in no way be disturbed. Thus, while every room
+was hygienic, and every fireplace fitted according to the most modern
+ideas, the true character of everything was maintained. Electric light
+was installed, but not a single fitting was out of accord with the age
+of the building. Modern science had in everything been perfectly blended
+with the spirit of the men who had erected this grand old pile centuries
+before.</p>
+
+<p>And Dick felt it all. He was enough of an artist to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> realise that
+nothing was out of place, that it was a home to rejoice in, to be proud
+of. If John Ruskin had been alive, and had accompanied him on his tour
+of inspection, there was little that the author of <i>The Seven Lamps of
+Architecture</i> would have found fault with.</p>
+
+<p>Most of the furniture, too, was old, and had belonged to the Wendovers.
+When Mr. Charles Faversham had bought the estate, he had taken over
+everything practically as it stood. Pictures, tapestry, antique articles
+of furniture which had been in the house for centuries still remained.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything has such a homely, cosy feeling!" he exclaimed to himself,
+again and again. "The place is not one of those great, giant, homeless
+barracks; it's just an ideal home. It's perfect!"</p>
+
+<p>And it was all his! That was the thought that constantly came to his
+mind. This fact was especially made real to him during his interview
+with Mr. Boase, the steward. That worthy gentleman, a lawyer who lived
+in a little town, most of which belonged to the Wendover estate, made
+this abundantly plain by every word he spoke, by every intonation of his
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Boase unrolled maps and plans in abundance. He placed before him
+lists of tenants, with nature and condition of their tenancy. He told
+him how much each farmer paid in rent, how much the house property was
+worth, what amount was spent each year in repairs, and finally the net
+amount of his rent-roll. And this was all apart from his investments
+elsewhere. It was simply fabulous. He who had always been poor, and had
+often been hard put to it to pay for food and clothes, found himself
+ridiculously wealthy. He had money to burn. Aladdin of romantic renown
+was not so much filled with wonder when the slave of the lamp appeared,
+ready to do his bidding, as was Dick as he realised his position.</p>
+
+<p>And he revelled in thought of it all. He was not of a miserly nature,
+but he gloried in the influence of the power of wealth, and he painted
+glowing pictures of his future. He saw the doors of the rich and the
+great open to him; he saw himself courted by people possessing old names
+and a great ancestry; he fancied himself occupying positions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> of
+eminence in the life of the nation; he saw proud beauties smiling on
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing was impossible! He knew he had more than an average share of
+brains; his late employers had admitted as much to him. He also had the
+gift of oratory. On the few occasions he had attempted to address his
+fellows this had been abundantly proved. In the past he had been
+handicapped, but now&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>After dinner that night he walked out alone. He wanted to see his
+possessions, to feel his own earth beneath his feet, to feast his eyes
+on the glorious countryside.</p>
+
+<p>"It will take me a week," he reflected, "to get used to it all, to fully
+realise that it is all mine. I want to feel my feet, to formulate my
+plans, to sketch my future. Of course, I shall be alone for a time, but
+in a few days the neighbours will be sure to call on me. After that I
+must give a ball. Of course, it is a bad time just now, and it is a
+nuisance that so many of the young fellows have been called into the
+Army; but I'll be able to manage it," and then he pictured the great
+ballroom filled with laughter and gaiety.</p>
+
+<p>Then the memory of Lady Blanche Huntingford came to him. He saw her as
+she had appeared to him that morning. What a glorious creature she was!
+What great flashing eyes, what a complexion, what a figure! And she
+belonged to one of the oldest families in England. The Huntingfords were
+a great people before half the titled nobility of the present day were
+ever heard of.</p>
+
+<p>He called to mind what Mr. Bidlake had told him. If the Huntingfords
+recognised him, his social position was assured, for Lord Huntingford
+was the social magnate of the county. He was almost half in love with
+her already. He remembered her silvery laugh, the gleaming whiteness of
+her teeth. What a mistress she would make for Wendover Park! And he
+could win her love! He was sure he could, and when he did&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He blessed the failure of her car to run that morning; blessed the
+knowledge he possessed whereby he had been able to render her a service.
+Of course, she would find out who he was, and then&mdash;yes, he would find
+the Open Sesame for every door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>For the next few days things happened as Dick expected. He was given
+time to view his possessions, to take stock of his new position, and
+then the neighbours began to call. By this time Dick knew full
+particulars of all the old families in Surrey, and he was gratified at
+their appearance. Evidently he suffered from none of the antipathy which
+had been felt towards his uncle. He was young, he was good looking, he
+had the education and appearance of a gentleman, and people accepted him
+at his face value.</p>
+
+<p>One day his heart gave a great bound, for a servant told him that Lord
+and Lady Huntingford, accompanied by Lady Blanche Huntingford, were in
+the drawing-room. He knew then that his position in the society of the
+county would be assured. It was true that Lord Huntingford was
+poor&mdash;true, too, that his uncle had practically ejected Sir Guy Wendover
+from his old home, and that Sir Guy was a relative of the Huntingfords.
+But that would count for nothing, and the Huntingfords were the
+Huntingfords!</p>
+
+<p>"This is good of you, Lord Huntingford!" he cried, as he entered the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"I came to give you a welcome," said Lord Huntingford somewhat
+pompously. "I trust you will be very happy here."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I shall!" cried Dick, with the laugh of a boy. "Wendover Park
+feels like Paradise to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I know the place well," said the peer. "My Cousin Guy, as you may have
+heard, used to live here."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have heard of it, and I'm afraid you must feel rather bitterly
+towards me as a consequence."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," replied Huntingford. "Of course, it is all ancient history
+now. We <i>did</i> feel cut up about it at the time, but&mdash;but I congratulate
+you on possessing such a fine old place."</p>
+
+<p>"But for the fact that I so love it already," said Dick, "I should wish
+my uncle had secured some other place; but, for the life of me, I can't.
+It's too lovely. Anyhow, I'll try to be not an unworthy successor of Sir
+Guy. I hope you'll help me, Lord Huntingford, and you, Lady Huntingford
+and Lady Blanche. You see,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> I'm handicapped. I'm a bachelor, and I'm
+entirely ignorant of my duties. I shall look to you for help."</p>
+
+<p>This was sound policy on Dick's part. Lord Huntingford was a vain man,
+and loved to patronise.</p>
+
+<p>"You began all right," laughed Lady Blanche. "You helped a poor,
+forlorn, helpless motorist out of a difficulty."</p>
+
+<p>"You recognise me, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I do. I positively envied the way you tackled that engine of
+mine and put it right. Of course, I felt angry when I knew who you were.
+No, no, there was nothing personal about it. I only hated the thought
+that anyone other than a Wendover should live here. A family feeling,
+you know."</p>
+
+<p>"All that Wendover Park has is yours to command!" and Dick looked very
+earnest as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, that's good of you. But don't be too liberal with your promises. I
+may take you at your word."</p>
+
+<p>"Try me!" cried Dick. "I should like to do something to atone. Not that
+I can give it up," he added, with a laugh. "I simply couldn't, you know.
+But&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And how are you going to spend your time?" asked Lord Huntingford. "We
+are living in a critical age."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall make something turn up!" Dick cried heartily, "as soon as I
+know where I am."</p>
+
+<p>"And, meanwhile, I suppose you motor, ride, shoot, golf, and all the
+rest of it?" asked Lady Blanche.</p>
+
+<p>"I have all the vices," Dick told her.</p>
+
+<p>"You say you golf?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a little. Would you give me a match?" he ventured.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd love to," and her eyes flashed into his.</p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon Dick met Lady Blanche on the golf links, and before
+the match was over he believed that he was in love with her. Never
+before had he met such a glorious specimen of physical womanhood. To him
+her every movement was poetry, her lithe, graceful body a thing in which
+to rejoice.</p>
+
+<p>After the match Dick motored her back to her home.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> He was in Arcadia as
+she sat by his side. The charm of her presence was to him like some
+fabled elixir. On their way they caught a glimpse of Wendover Park. The
+old house stood out boldly on the hillside, while the wide-stretching
+park-lands were plainly to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a perfect place," said the girl. "It just wants nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, it does," laughed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you think? If you were a bachelor you would," and he watched her
+face closely as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>He was afraid lest he might offend her, and he wondered if she saw his
+meaning. He thought he saw a flush surmount her face, but he was not
+sure. They were passing a cart just then, and he had to fix his
+attention on the steering-wheel.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," he went on, "it's a bit lonely there. I haven't many
+friends. And then, being a bachelor, I find it difficult to entertain.
+Not but what I shall make a start soon," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you are to be envied," she remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I am. I'm one of the luckiest fellows in the world. By the
+way, I want to give a dance or something of that sort as a kind of
+house-warming."</p>
+
+<p>"How delightful."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it? But then, you see, I'm so ignorant that I don't know how to
+start about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you? That's a pity. You must get help."</p>
+
+<p>"I must. I say, will you help me? There is no one I'd so soon have."</p>
+
+<p>He was sure this time. He saw the rosy tint on her face deepen. Perhaps
+she heard the tremor in his voice. But she did not answer him; instead,
+she looked away towards the distant landscape.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you?" he persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"What could I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everything. You know the people, know who I should invite, and what I
+should do. You are accustomed to that kind of thing. I am not."</p>
+
+<p>Still she was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you?" he asked again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps. If you really wish me to."</p>
+
+<p>She almost whispered the words, but he heard her, and to him there was
+something caressing in her tone.</p>
+
+<p>They passed up a long avenue of trees leading to her home, and a few
+seconds later the car stood at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll come in and have some tea, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"May I?" he asked eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you may. Mother will be expecting you."</p>
+
+<p>As he rode back to Wendover Park that evening Dick was in Paradise.
+Nothing but the most commonplace things had been said, but the girl had
+fascinated him. She had appealed to his ambition, to his pride, to his
+admiration for perfect, physical womanhood. She was not very clever, but
+she was handsome. She was instinct with redundant health; she was
+glorious in her youth and vitality.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm in love," he said to himself more than once. "And she's
+wonderful&mdash;simply, gloriously wonderful. What eyes, what a complexion,
+what a magnificent figure! I wonder if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>I am dwelling somewhat on this part of Dick Faversham's life because I
+wish the reader to understand the condition of his mind, to understand
+the forces at work. Uninteresting as it may be, it is still important.
+For Dick passed through some wonderful experiences soon
+after&mdash;experiences which shook the foundations of his life, and which
+will be more truly understood as we realise the thoughts and feelings
+which possessed him.</p>
+
+<p>As I have said, he was in a state of bliss as he drove back to Wendover
+Park that evening, but as he neared his lodge gates a curious feeling of
+depression possessed him. His heart became heavy, forebodings filled his
+mind. It seemed to him that he was on the edge of a dreadful calamity.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with me?" he asked himself again and again. "The sun
+is shining, the world is lovely, and I have all that heart can wish
+for."</p>
+
+<p>Still the feeling possessed him. Something was going to
+happen&mdash;something awful. He could not explain it, or give any reason for
+it, but it was there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly his heart stood still. As the car drew up to his own door
+he again saw the face of the angel. She was hovering over the entrance
+just as he had seen her on the day he came to take possession. She
+seemed to dread something; there was pain almost amounting to agony in
+the look she gave him.</p>
+
+<p>He had alighted from the car, and he had a dim idea that a man was
+approaching to take it to the garage, but he paid no attention to him;
+he stood like one transfixed, looking at the apparition. He was aware
+that the car had gone, and that he was alone. In a vague way he supposed
+that the chauffeur, like the lawyer, had seen nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you? What do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>The words escaped him almost in spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>But he heard no voice in reply. He thought he saw her lips trying to
+formulate words, but were not able.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," he persisted&mdash;"tell me who you are, why you appear to me.
+What do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>Again the apparition seemed to be trying to become audible, only to
+fail. Then, although he could hear no distinct voice, her answer seemed
+to come to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Fight, fight; pray, pray," she seemed to be saying. "Beware of the
+tempter. Fight, fight; pray, pray. Promise me."</p>
+
+<p>He was not afraid, but it seemed to him that he was face to face with
+eternal realities. He knew then that there were depths of life and
+experience of which he was ignorant.</p>
+
+<p>He heard steps in the hall, and then someone opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>There stood, smiling, debonair, sardonic, and&mdash;yes&mdash;wicked, Count
+Romanoff.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Count Romanoff's Gospel</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Count Romanoff!</p>
+
+<p>A weight seemed to settle on Dick Faversham's heart as he saw the
+sinister face of his visitor. During the excitement of the last few days
+he had scarcely given him a thought. The dark, saturnine stranger had
+shrunk away into the background of his life, and no longer seemed of
+importance to him. It is true he had now and then wondered whether he
+should ever see him again, but as there seemed no present likelihood of
+his doing so, he had practically dismissed him from his mind.</p>
+
+<p>His sudden appearance came to him like a shock. Besides, he was nervous,
+excited at what he had just experienced. Every nerve was tingling, every
+sense preternaturally awake. What did this apparition mean? Why should
+the same face and form appear to him again and again?&mdash;first in the
+smoke-room of the ship, then on the island, then as he first put foot
+into the new inheritance, and now again. What did it mean? Then during
+that awful struggle in the stormy sea.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha, Faversham. You see, I have taken you at your word."</p>
+
+<p>Dick's thoughts came to earth as the Count's voice reached him.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad to see you," he said cordially, and as he led the way to the
+library he was all that a host should be.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, I was in England, and, having a little spare time, I thought I
+would look you up. I hope I'm not taking too great a liberty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Liberty, my dear fellow! I should be annoyed beyond words if you had
+not come to see me. I have hosts of things to discuss with you.
+Besides," and Dick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> spoke like one deeply moved, "I cannot help
+remembering that but for you it is not likely I should be here. I should
+have been lying somewhere at the bottom of the Indian Ocean."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come now; let's have no more of that. Of course, I had the good
+luck to be of service to you, and jolly glad I am; no decent fellow
+could have done less than I did."</p>
+
+<p>"All the same, I cannot forget that I owe my life to you," cried Dick
+fervently. "Do you know, I wondered no end what happened to you; tell me
+about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Not until I hear about you. Of course, I can guess a great deal. The
+fact that you are here tells me that the wireless you got on the ship
+was not only <i>bona fide</i> but important. You are master here, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been told that your uncle was a very rich man. Is that so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are his heir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I congratulate you. By Jove, it's a lovely place. I didn't know when
+I've seen anything I like so much. And I've seen a few houses, I can
+tell you. But really, now, and I hope I'm not impertinent, do you mean
+to tell me that you have entered into all old Charles Faversham's
+wealth?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so."</p>
+
+<p>"Shake hands on it. I can think of no one more fitted to own 'big
+money,' as the Americans say. I'm glad of the privilege of seeing you in
+possession."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to Dick that it was a new Romanoff that he saw. He was no
+longer pessimistic, cynical, saturnine. He looked younger, too, and no
+one could help admitting that he had that grand air that denotes birth
+and breeding.</p>
+
+<p>"I only arrived in London last night," went on Romanoff. "I got into
+Tilbury late in the afternoon, and after I got fixed up at my hotel I
+began to wonder about you. Presently I called to mind what you told me,
+and&mdash;here I am."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Of course you'll stay with me a bit?"</p>
+
+<p>"May I?"</p>
+
+<p>"May you? Why, of course you must, if you can. That goes without
+saying."</p>
+
+<p>"I say, you are awfully good. I should love to stay a bit. This is one
+of the loveliest corners in the world at the loveliest time of the year.
+Surrey in May! What can be more attractive!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have your room prepared at once, and, by the way, I'll send a man
+to London for your luggage."</p>
+
+<p>"That is good of you, Faversham. I may as well confess it now. I did
+bring a suit-case with me in the hope that you could put me up for the
+night, but of course&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You might have known that I'd want you for a long time," Dick
+interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>A servant entered, and Dick gave his instructions. "Now tell me," he
+went on; "what did you do on leaving the island? I know practically
+nothing about anything. I was very ill, and got no better till the boat
+landed at Plymouth."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff hesitated for a few seconds, then he replied:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I caught a boat bound for Australia."</p>
+
+<p>"Australia, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Our signals were seen by two vessels, one returning to England,
+and the other going to Australia, which, as luck would have it, stopped
+at Bombay for a few hours. So I took that."</p>
+
+<p>"And you didn't stay long in the Antipodes?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I did not like the country, and I found it necessary to return to
+England."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm jolly glad."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, here I am anyhow. Isn't life a topsy-turvy business? Who would
+have thought when we exchanged commonplaces on that boat a short time
+ago we should forgather like this in a lovely old Surrey house? Facts
+beat fiction all to bits. Fiction is commonplace, tame, prosy; but
+facts&mdash;real life&mdash;are interesting. Now, tell me about your experiences."</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet. It's nearly dinner-time. I suppose you brought no evening
+clothes?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Romanoff laughed. "As a matter of fact, I did. Of course, I was not sure
+you were here; but I thought you might be, so I took the liberty of&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Splendid," interrupted Dick. "There, the dressing-bell is ringing. I'll
+show you your room. My word, I'm awfully glad you've come. To tell you
+the truth, I was feeling a bit depressed."</p>
+
+<p>"You depressed! I say! Fancy the heir of all this being depressed."</p>
+
+<p>"But I was. The idea of spending the evening alone dismayed me. You see,
+a fellow can't be out every night, and&mdash;and there you are. But you've
+come."</p>
+
+<p>"And no one will call to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't expect so. Young Clavering, who is home on leave, might come
+over for a game of billiards, but I can't think of anyone else likely to
+turn up."</p>
+
+<p>"Clavering&mdash;Clavering. I don't think I know the name."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is a good name in Surrey, I can assure you. It's a very old
+family, although I suppose it is frightfully poor. I've only met young
+Clavering once, but I liked him very much. Most of the young fellows
+around here are in the Army, and the older men are frightful old
+fossils. Here's your room. I hope you'll be comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff looked around the room with evident pleasure. He walked to the
+window and gazed steadily at the landscape; then he turned to Dick and
+gave him a keen, searching glance.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a fortunate man, Faversham. Speaking as a Russian and also as
+one who has travelled all over the world, I say, commend me to England
+for comfort. Yes, I'll be all right, my friend."</p>
+
+<p>When Dick had gone Romanoff threw himself in a chair and gazed into
+vacancy. A change passed over his face. He was no longer cheerful and
+pleasant; the old sinister, threatening look had come into his eyes,
+while his mouth was cruel. Once an expression swept over his features
+which suggested a kind of mocking pity, but it was only for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>During dinner he was in a gay humour. Evidently he had thrown care to
+the winds, and lived for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> pleasure of the moment. Dick found him
+fascinating. He talked pleasantly&mdash;at times brilliantly. His
+conversation scintillated with sardonic humour. He told stories about
+many countries. He related anecdotes about the Imperial House of the
+Romanoffs, and described the influence which Rasputin had on the Tzar
+and the Tzarina.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot understand it," remarked Dick after one of these stories.</p>
+
+<p>"Understand what?"</p>
+
+<p>"How a man like the Tzar could allow a dirty charlatan like Rasputin to
+have such influence. After all, Nicholas was an educated man, and a
+gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"As well Rasputin as the others," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"What others?"</p>
+
+<p>"The priests of the Holy Orthodox Church. Let me give you a bit of
+advice, Faversham; keep clear of all this religious rot. It's true that
+you in England pretend to be more advanced than the poor Russians, but
+at bottom there's no difference. Wherever religion creeps in, it's the
+same story. Religion means credulity, and credulity means lies,
+oppression, cant, corruption."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you meet Rasputin?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," replied Romanoff, with a sigh of resignation. "On the whole, I
+admired him."</p>
+
+<p>"I say, that's a bit too thick."</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow, the fellow was interesting. He had a philosophy of his own. He
+recognised the fact that the world was populated by fools, and he
+determined to make the most of his chances. He interpreted religion in a
+way that would give the greatest possible gratification to his senses.
+His policy was to suck the orange of the world dry. 'Salvation through
+sin,' eh?" and Romanoff laughed as he spoke. "Well, it's about the most
+sensible religion I ever heard of."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me devilish and dirty," Dick spoke warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, my dear fellow. Of course, all religion is foolishness&mdash;that
+is, religion as is usually understood. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> if there is to be a religion
+at all, Rasputin got hold of the true one."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean that?"</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff looked at Dick steadily for a few seconds. He seemed to be
+thinking deeply as though he were trying to understand his man.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I don't," he admitted presently. "Sometimes one exaggerates in
+order to convey what is actually true. Still, there is a substratum of
+truth in the dirty monk's philosophy, as you'll find out before you are
+much older. By the way, the evening has turned cold, hasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you find it so? The air of a night is often cold in the early
+summer. Have you finished? Then we'll go into my little den where I
+always have a fire of an evening."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later Romanoff was sprawling in a large easy-chair with
+his feet close to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"How long have you been here?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite a month."</p>
+
+<p>"Been well received by your neighbours?"</p>
+
+<p>"On the whole, yes."</p>
+
+<p>Again Romanoff looked steadily at his companion. "Will you forgive me if
+I ask you a few questions?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Go ahead."</p>
+
+<p>"First, then, how do you like being a rich man?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick glanced around the room, and then gave a look towards the
+wide-spreading park-lands.</p>
+
+<p>"How can one help liking it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. You do not find money to be the root of all evil, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Heavens, no!"</p>
+
+<p>"You would not like to be a poor man again?"</p>
+
+<p>"What in the world are you driving at? Of course, the very thought of it
+is horrible."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so. I am in my way a student of human nature, and I was a bit
+curious. Now for a second question. Who is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course she exists."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"In my way I have the power of divination. When I look at a man I know
+something, not much perhaps, but something of his hopes. I felt sure
+before I spoke that you were in love. You've been quick about it, my
+young friend."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that I am in love."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you are. Who is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's no one. At least not yet. I don't suppose she's given me a
+second's thought."</p>
+
+<p>"But you do. Is she young, beautiful? Is she rich, well connected?"</p>
+
+<p>"Young! beautiful!" laughed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I see. Not a rustic beauty, by any chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rustic beauty, eh? There's nothing rustic about Lady Blanche
+Huntingford."</p>
+
+<p>"Huntingford! That's one of the best known names in England."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who doesn't? It's the biggest name in Debrett. But the Huntingfords are
+as poor as church mice."</p>
+
+<p>"What does that matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have enough for both, eh? Of course, that's your hope."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" and Dick turned rather sharply on his interlocutor.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing personal, my friend. I'm only speaking from a long
+experience. The Huntingfords are poor and proud. I do not know of a more
+unpleasant combination. I've heard of Lady Blanche&mdash;she is about
+twenty-four, a great beauty, and so far has not succeeded in the
+marriage market. She's had several seasons in London, but the rich
+aristocrat has not turned up. That's why she may smile on a commoner&mdash;a
+newcomer&mdash;providing he's rich enough."</p>
+
+<p>"If you'd seen her, spoken with her, you would not talk like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Shouldn't I? Who knows? But it's nothing to worry about, my dear
+fellow. All talk about the love of women goes for nothing. It doesn't
+exist. Of course, there is such a thing as sexual attraction, but
+nothing else."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are a terrible cynic, Romanoff."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a citizen of the world, and I've gone around the world with my eyes
+open. But, as I said, you can have an easy mind. The ball is at your
+feet, my dear fellow. Whatever you want you can have."</p>
+
+<p>"Do be serious." Dick spoke lightly; all the same, he felt uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>am</i> serious," replied Romanoff. "With wealth like yours, you are
+master of the world; you can get all the world has to give."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could."</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you you can. Money is all-powerful. Just think, if you were
+poor, not a hope, not an ambition could be realised."</p>
+
+<p>"That won't do. Hosts of poor fellows have&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Risen to position and power. Just so; but it's been a terrible
+struggle, a ghastly grind. In most cases, too, men don't get money until
+they are too old to enjoy it. But you are young, and the world's at your
+feet. Do you want titles? You can buy them. Power? fame? Again you can
+get them. Beautiful women? Love? Yes, even love of a sort you can buy,
+if you have money. Poverty is hell; but what heaven there is in this
+world can be bought."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you think the poor can't be happy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me be careful in answering that. If a man has no ambitions, if he
+has no desire for power, then, in a negative way, he may be happy
+although he's poor. But to you, who are ambitious through and
+through&mdash;you, who see visions and dream dreams&mdash;poverty would be hell.
+That's why I congratulate you on all this. And my advice to you is, make
+the most of it. Live to enjoy, my dear fellow. Whatever your eyes
+desire, take it."</p>
+
+<p>Dick realised that Romanoff was talking cheap cynicism, that, to use a
+journalistic term, it was "piffle" from thread to needle, and yet he was
+impressed. Again he felt the man's ascendancy over him, knew that he was
+swayed and moulded by a personality stronger than his own.</p>
+
+<p>Dick did not try to answer him, for at that moment there was a knock at
+the door and a servant entered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Mr. and Miss Stanmore have called, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think I know them, do I?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, sir. They live not far from the South Park gates. They
+are old residents, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Whether there was something in the tone of the man's voice, or whether
+he desired company other than Romanoff's, I cannot tell. Certain it is
+that, acting on impulse and scarcely realising what he was doing, he
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"Show them in here, Jenkins, will you?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Beatrice Stanmore</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"You don't mind, do you?" asked Dick, turning to Romanoff when the man
+had left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all, my dear fellow. Why should I?"</p>
+
+<p>Again the servant returned and ushered in an old man and a young girl.
+The former was a striking-looking figure, and would be noticed in any
+crowd. Although old, he stood perfectly upright, and was evidently
+healthy and vigorous. His face was ruddy and almost unlined. His white
+beard and moustache were allowed to grow long, while his almost massive
+head was covered with a wealth of wavy white hair. Perhaps, too, his
+attire helped to make his appearance attractive, and his velvet
+dinner-jacket suggested the artist or the poet.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you'll forgive me calling, Mr. Faversham," he said, taking
+Dick's outstretched hand, "but I'm an old man, as well as a man of
+moods. I've thought several times of dropping in to see you, but
+refrained. I was afraid you would have no use for an old buffer such as
+I. But to-night I felt I must, and here I am. This is my granddaughter,
+Beatrice."</p>
+
+<p>"It's awfully good of you to call, Mr. Stanmore, and you, too, Miss
+Stanmore."</p>
+
+<p>Dick looked at the girl full in the face as he spoke, and then all
+further words were frozen on his lips. The sight of Beatrice Stanmore
+caused his heart to beat wildly, and made him feel that a new influence
+had entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, at first sight, there was nothing remarkable in her presence.
+Picture a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl of eighteen&mdash;a girl with a sweet,
+winsome, yet mischievous smile, and a perfect complexion; a girl with
+well-formed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> features and an evident sense of humour&mdash;and you see
+Beatrice Stanmore. And yet your picture would be incomplete. What I have
+said suggests a somewhat commonplace girl, such as can be seen by the
+score in any country town. But she was not commonplace. Her blue eyes
+were large and haunting; sometimes they were sad, and yet there was a
+world of mirth and gladness stored in their liquid depths. She was only
+eighteen or nineteen years of age, and she did not look older than her
+years; but, if you took a second look at her, you would know that her
+thoughts were not always a child's thoughts&mdash;that she had longings too
+deep for words.</p>
+
+<p>She was dressed very simply. I cannot describe her apparel, but to Dick
+it was something light and diaphanous, which set oft a figure which was
+at once girlish and yet perfect in its proportions. I do not suppose
+that a connoisseur would call her beautiful, but she suggested
+health&mdash;health of body, of mind, of soul. It would be impossible to
+associate her with anything impure, rather a flash from her mirth-loving
+eyes would destroy all thought of such a thing.</p>
+
+<p>"I've seen her before," thought Dick, "but where?"</p>
+
+<p>No, it was only fancy. She was an utter stranger to him, and yet he was
+haunted with the thought that somewhere, at some time, they had met and
+known each other, that she had been with him in some crisis.</p>
+
+<p>"Please forgive us, Mr. Faversham," she said, with a laugh; "it's not my
+fault. I should never have had the courage to beard the lion in his
+den."</p>
+
+<p>"What lion? What den?" asked Dick, as he looked into the girl's sunny
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you are the lion. You've been the talk of the countryside
+for weeks; and&mdash;and isn't this your den?"</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with all the simplicity and frankness of a child, and seemed
+to be perfectly unimpressed by the fact that she was talking with one
+who was spoken of as one of the richest young men in England.</p>
+
+<p>"It's I who am the culprit, Mr. Faversham," broke in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> the old man. "The
+impulse came upon me suddenly. I said to Beatrice, 'I am going to call
+on young Faversham,' and she jumped at the idea of a walk through the
+park, and that's why she's here with me. Please tell me if we are in the
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"In the way? I'm just delighted. And&mdash;but let me introduce you to Count
+Romanoff."</p>
+
+<p>Both Hugh Stanmore and his granddaughter looked towards Count Romanoff,
+who had risen to his feet. The light was shining fully upon his face,
+and Dick could not help feeling what a striking appearance he had. He
+half held out his hand to the newcomers and then suddenly withdrew it.</p>
+
+<p>Old Hugh Stanmore looked at the Count steadily for a few seconds, and
+then bowed in silence. It might seem as though something had frozen his
+urbanity and cheerfulness. He did not appear to notice the
+half-outstretched hand, and Dick felt as though there was an instinctive
+antipathy between them. As for Beatrice, she gave the Count a cold nod,
+and then, with a perfunctory, "How d'ye do?" turned to Dick again.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so glad you've come here to live, Mr. Faversham," she said, with
+girlish enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't be gladder than I," replied Dick; "but, is there a special
+reason for your gladness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course there is. I've wanted for years to see the inside of this
+house, but I was frightfully afraid of your&mdash;your uncle. He always
+looked so stern, and so&mdash;so forbidding that I hadn't the courage to ask
+him. But you are different."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why haven't you called before?" asked Dick. "I've been here nearly
+a month, and yet I've never seen you before."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you must understand," and it was old Hugh Stanmore who
+replied, "that we are quite unimportant people. We live in that cottage
+not far from your South Lodge, and, not knowing you, we felt rather
+sensitive about calling."</p>
+
+<p>"But your name seems familiar. I'm sure I've heard it somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Not among the people around here, I imagine?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, I think not; but I seem to have heard of it, or seen it, years
+ago."</p>
+
+<p>"I fancy you are mistaken, although what you say is just possible. When
+I was at Cambridge I had tremendous ambitions, and, like thousands of
+other callow youths, I made up my mind to win fame. I was something of a
+linguist, and had a great longing to win renown as an Egyptologist and
+as an Assyrian scholar. However, I had no money to indulge in such
+luxuries, so on leaving Cambridge I looked to journalism for a living. I
+even wrote a novel," and he laughed merrily.</p>
+
+<p>"Splendid!" cried Dick. "What was the title of the novel?"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't tell you that," replied the old man. "I've drawn a very thick
+curtain over that effort. However, I might have done something if I'd
+persevered; but, luckily or unluckily for me, I had some money left to
+me. Not much, but enough to enable me to travel in the East."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm afraid I did not shine as an Egyptologist, although I had some
+wonderful experiences and made some interesting acquaintances. I also
+contributed to that phase of literature."</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw your name in that connection," Dick confessed.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect not. You see, that was many years ago. Still, although my
+health would not stand the Eastern climate, I've kept up my interest in
+my early love. But I've been somewhat of a butterfly. On my return to
+England I conceived a passion for throwing paint in the eyes of the
+public, to quote John Ruskin. I even went so far as to get a few
+pictures hung in the Academy. But, in spite of that, I achieved no fame.
+Since then I've contributed occasional articles to the reviews, while
+such papers as <i>The Spectator</i> and <i>The Times</i> have printed some
+effusions of mine which I in my vanity have called poetry. Please
+forgive me for talking about myself in this way. I know it is frightful
+egotism on my part, but, as I'm one of your nearest neighbours, I'm in a
+way introducing myself."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's awfully good of you," replied Dick. "I hope we shall see a good
+deal of each other."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope we shall," replied Hugh Stanmore. "I may as well confess it, Mr.
+Faversham, that although I am an old man, I am a creature of impulses. I
+do things without being able to give a reason for them. I talk without
+knowing why. Do you know that I've never spoken so much about myself to
+anyone in this district as I have to-night, and I've lived here for
+eighteen years?"</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;at the cottage you spoke of?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, at the cottage. I took up my residence there when my son died. He
+was an artist who would have won fame if he had lived; but it pleased
+the good God to take him away. I determined that I would try to bring
+what comfort I could into the life of his young wife. But I was not with
+her long. She died at the birth of this little girl here, three months
+later."</p>
+
+<p>A silence fell upon the little company.</p>
+
+<p>"There, there," laughed Hugh Stanmore, "there's nothing to be sad about.
+This life is only a beginning. Actual life comes next, as Browning says.
+Besides, I've been very happy looking after my little maid here. It's
+rather hard on her, having to see so much of an old man like myself. All
+the same, we've had a jolly time."</p>
+
+<p>"Old man!" cried Beatrice indignantly. "I assure you, Mr. Faversham,
+he's the youngest man in Surrey. Sometimes I am quite ashamed of his
+frivolity. I'm quite a staid, elderly person compared to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow," said the old man, rising, "we must be going now. But be
+assured of this, Mr. Faversham: no one wishes you joy in your new home
+more than I. We give you a glad welcome to the district, and if an old
+man's prayer and an old man's blessing are worth anything, you have
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"But please don't go yet," cried Dick. "It's only a little after nine
+o'clock, and&mdash;and I'm so glad to have you here. You see, you've only
+just come."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I know. But we'll be going now. Some other time, when you
+happen to be alone, I'll be glad to come and smoke a pipe with you&mdash;if I
+may?"</p>
+
+<p>"May! Of course. Besides, Miss Stanmore said she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> wanted to look over
+the house. When will you come, Miss Stanmore?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think it must be when you can let Granddad know that you are alone
+and have nothing to do," was the girl's reply. "I shall look forward to
+it tremendously."</p>
+
+<p>"So shall I," cried Dick. Then, forgetful of Romanoff, he added, "And I
+can assure you, you won't have long to wait."</p>
+
+<p>Throughout their conversation, only a part of which I have recorded,
+Romanoff had not spoken a word. Had Dick been watching him he would have
+seen that he was not at all pleased at the presence of the visitors.
+There was a dark, lowering look in his eyes, and almost a scowl on his
+face. It was evident that a strong feeling of antagonism existed.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, Mr. Faversham," said old Hugh Stanmore, holding out his
+hand; then, bowing gravely to Romanoff, he passed out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but I'll see you to the door, if you <i>will</i> go," insisted Dick, as
+for a moment he held Beatrice Stanmore's hand in his. "Allow me."</p>
+
+<p>He passed through the hall by her side and opened the door. As he did
+so, he could barely repress an exclamation of wonder and delight, while
+both the old man and the young girl stood as if spellbound.</p>
+
+<p>It was one of those rare nights which constantly recur to one's
+remembrance in after days. It was now the end of May, and while the
+summer had not reached its full glory, the fullness of spring made the
+earth like a paradise. The sky was cloudless and the silver rays of a
+nearly full moon lit up the scene with an unearthly beauty. All around
+giant trees stood, while the flowers, which grew in rich profusion, were
+plainly to be seen. Away through the leafy trees could be seen the
+outline of the country. Here and there the birds, which had barely gone
+to rest, were chirping, while away in the distance a cuckoo proclaimed
+the advent of summer.</p>
+
+<p>For a few seconds they stood in silence, then Hugh Stanmore said
+quietly, "One can understand Charles Kingsley's dying words on such a
+night, Mr. Faversham."</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say?" asked Dick.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'How beautiful God must be,'" quoted Hugh Stanmore.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a bird burst forth into song&mdash;rich-noted, mellow, triumphant.</p>
+
+<p>"A nightingale!" cried the girl. "Look, Granddad, it is over on that
+tree." She went down the drive under the long avenue of trees as she
+spoke, leaving Hugh Stanmore and Dick together.</p>
+
+<p>"They can't be far away on such a night as this," murmured the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"Who can't be far away?"</p>
+
+<p>"The angels. The heavens are full of them. Ah, if we could only see!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe in angels?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do I believe in them? How can I help believing? It is nearly nineteen
+years ago since my boy and his wife died. But they didn't leave me
+altogether. They come to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen them?" and Dick's eager question was uttered almost
+unconsciously.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not with my natural eyes. Why? I wonder. But I have felt them near
+me. I know they are watching over me. You see, they did not cease to
+love us when God took them away for some higher service. Naturally, too,
+they watch over Beatrice. They could not help it."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke quietly, and in an almost matter-of-fact way, yet with a
+suggestion of reverence in his tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Who knows who is watching over us now?" continued the old man. "Ah, if
+we could only see! 'Are they not all ministering spirits sent to
+minister to those who are heirs of Salvation?'"</p>
+
+<p>Dick felt a shiver pass through him. He reflected that on that very
+spot, only a few hours before, he had seen something, <i>something</i>&mdash;a
+luminous figure, a pale, sad face&mdash;sad almost to agony!</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Faversham," asked Hugh Stanmore suddenly, "who is Count Romanoff?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know much about him," replied Dick. "He was a fellow-passenger
+on board the boat on which I was bound for Australia some time ago. Why
+do you ask?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You know nothing else? Excuse me."</p>
+
+<p>"Only that he saved my life."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. Only he will have a great influence on your life."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?" Dick was greatly excited.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no reason to give you. I only know."</p>
+
+<p>"Good or bad?" asked the young man eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. But did you notice that Beatrice didn't like him? And
+I've never once known her wrong in her estimate of people. There, look
+at her now, amongst the moon's rays under the trees. Doesn't she look
+like an angel? Yes, and she <i>is</i> an angel&mdash;one of God's sweetest and
+purest and best. But as human as every woman ought to be. Good-night,
+Mr. Faversham. Yes, my darling, I'm coming," and the old man went down
+the drive with the activity of a boy.</p>
+
+<p>Dick watched them until they were out of sight. He was influenced more
+than he knew by their visit. Their presence, after Count Romanoff's
+cynicism, was like some sweet-scented balm; like a breeze from the
+mountains after the fetid atmosphere of a cavern.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what did you think of them?" he asked of Romanoff on his return.</p>
+
+<p>The Count shrugged his shoulders. "There's not much to think, is there?"
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I think there is a great deal. I found the old man more interesting
+than almost any caller I have had."</p>
+
+<p>"A dull, prosy, platitudinous old Polonius; as for the girl, she's just
+a badly behaved, unformed, bread-and-butter miss."</p>
+
+<p>Dick did not speak. The Count's words grated on him.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way," went on Romanoff, "I should like to meet Lady Blanche
+Huntingford. I think I knew the old Lord."</p>
+
+<p>"I promised to call to-morrow afternoon," replied Dick. "I'll take you
+over." But he was not so enthusiastic as the Count expected.</p>
+
+<p>After they had retired to their rooms that night, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> Count sat long in
+soliloquy. Of what he was thinking it would be difficult to say. His
+face was like a mask.</p>
+
+<p>When he rose from his chair, however, there was a look of decision in
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"The time has come sooner than I thought," he said aloud. "I must bring
+the matter to a head at once. Otherwise I shall lose him."</p>
+
+<p>And then he laughed in his grim, sardonic way, as if something had made
+him merry.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Uncertainty</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Dick rose early the following morning, and went for a walk in the park.
+When he returned he found the Count in the breakfast-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite a pattern young countryman," he laughed. "I saw you reflecting on
+the beauties of your own domains. Did you sleep well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Like a healthy dog. And you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never sleep. I dream sometimes&mdash;that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Still play-acting," laughed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"No, there's not a more serious man in England than I, as a rule; but
+I'm not going to be serious to-day while the sun shines. When the sun
+goes down I shall be tragic. There, Richard is himself again!"</p>
+
+<p>He threw back his shoulders as he spoke, as though he would shift a
+weight from them. "I am hungry, Faversham," he laughed. "Let us eat.
+After breakfast I would love a ride. Have you a horse in your stables
+that you could lend me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I have."</p>
+
+<p>"Good. Then we'll have a gallop till lunch. After that a-wooing we will
+go. I'm feverish to see the glorious Lady Blanche, the flower of the
+age, the beauty of the county. I say, Faversham, prepare to be jealous.
+I can be a most dangerous rival."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't think of you as a marrying man, Count. Domesticity and you are
+oceans apart."</p>
+
+<p>The Count laughed. "No, a man such as I never marries," he said.
+"Marriage! What an idiotic arrangement. But such things always follow
+religion. But for religion, humanity would be natural, happy."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Come, now. That won't do."</p>
+
+<p>"It is true, my friend. Ever and always the result of religion has been
+to raise unnatural barriers, to create sin. The man who founds a
+religion is an enemy to the race. The greatest enemy to the world's
+happiness was the Founder of Christianity."</p>
+
+<p>"In Heaven's name, why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because He labelled natural actions as sins, because He was for ever
+emphasising a distinction between right and wrong. When there is no
+right, no wrong. The evolution of religion, and of so-called morality,
+is a crime, because it strikes at the root of human enjoyment. But,
+there, I'm getting serious, and I won't be serious. This is a day to
+laugh, to rejoice in, and I've an appetite like a hunter."</p>
+
+<p>Throughout the morning they carried out the programme Romanoff had
+suggested. Two of the best horses in the stables were saddled, and they
+rode till noon. During all this time the Count was in high spirits, and
+seemed to revel in the brightness of the day and the glory of the
+scenery.</p>
+
+<p>"After all, give me a living thing to deal with," he cried. "This craze
+for motor-cars is a sign of decadence. 'Enjoyment by machinery' should
+be the motto of every motorist. But a horse is different. A horse is
+sentient, intelligent. He feels what his rider feels; he enters into the
+spirit of whatever is going on."</p>
+
+<p>"But motoring can be jolly good sport," Dick rejoined.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it can. But a motor is impersonal; it is a thing, not a
+being. You cannot make it your slave. It is just a matter of steel, and
+petrol, and oil. It never becomes afraid of you."</p>
+
+<p>"What of that?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Without fear there is no real mastery," replied Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"But surely the mastery which is obtained through fear is an
+unsatisfactory sort of thing."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff looked at Dick as though on the point of replying, but he was
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow, I love a horse," he ventured presently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> "I love to feel his
+body alive beneath me, love to feel him spurn the ground beneath his
+feet."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I, too, love a horse," replied Dick, "and do you know, although
+I've only been here a month, this chap loves me. He whines a welcome
+when I go to the stable, and he kind of cries when I leave."</p>
+
+<p>"And he isn't afraid of you?" asked Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid!" cried Dick. "I hope not. I should hate to feel that a thing I
+loved was afraid of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait till you are married," laughed Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see what that has to do with it."</p>
+
+<p>"But it has everything to do with it. A wife should obey, and no woman
+obeys unless she fears. The one thing man has to do when he marries is
+to demand obedience, and until he has mastered the woman he gets none."</p>
+
+<p>"From the little experience I have, a woman is a difficult thing to
+master."</p>
+
+<p>"Everything can be mastered," replied Romanoff. "It sometimes requires
+patience, I'll admit, but it can always be done. Besides, a woman never
+respects her husband until he's mastered her. Find me a man who has not
+mastered his wife, and I'll show you a man whose wife despises him. Of
+course, every woman strives for mastery, but in her heart of hearts
+she's sorry if she gets it. If I ever married&mdash;&mdash;" He ceased speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; if you married?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd have obedience, obedience, obedience," and Romanoff repeated the
+word with increasing emphasis. "As you say, it might be difficult, but
+it can always be obtained."</p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, if you go among the lower orders of people, the man obtains
+his wife's obedience by brute force. If she opposes him he knocks her
+down, thrashes her. But as you rise in the scale of humanity, the
+methods are different. The educated, cultured man never loses his
+temper, seldom utters an angry word. He may be a little sarcastic,
+perhaps, but nothing more. But he never yields. The wife cries, pleads,
+protests, goes into hysterics perhaps, threatens, but he never yields.
+He is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> polite, cold, cruel if you like, but he never shows a sign of
+weakness, and in the end he's master. And mastery is one of the great
+joys of life."</p>
+
+<p>"You think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure of it."</p>
+
+<p>Dick felt slightly uncomfortable. "You said you wouldn't be serious
+to-day, Romanoff," he laughed nervously, "and yet you talk as though
+something tragic were in the air."</p>
+
+<p>"I can assure you I'm in one of my light moods," replied the Count.
+"After all, of what account is a woman in a man's life? A diversion if
+you like&mdash;a creature necessary to his pleasure, but nothing more. When a
+man regards a woman as indispensable to his happiness, he's lost. Always
+look on a woman, whoever she may be, as a diversion, my friend," and
+Romanoff laughed quietly.</p>
+
+<p>After lunch, however, Romanoff's mood seemed changed. He spoke of his
+early days, and of his experiences in St. Petersburg and Moscow.</p>
+
+<p>"People talk about Paris being the great centre of pleasure," he said a
+little indignantly, "but it is nothing compared with St. Petersburg, or
+Petrograd, as it is called now. Some day, my friend, I must take you
+there; I must show you the sights; I must take you behind the scenes.
+Oh, I envy you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should you?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Because you are young, because you have the world at your feet."</p>
+
+<p>"And haven't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I suppose so. But, then, you go to everything fresh. You will
+drink the cup of life for the first time; you will drink deep and enjoy.
+But I can never again drink for the first time&mdash;there lies the
+difference."</p>
+
+<p>"But if the cup of life is good and sweet, why may not one drink it
+again, and again, and still find enjoyment?"</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff did not reply. He sat for a few seconds in silence, and then
+started up almost feverishly.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us away, my friend," he cried. "I am longing to see Lady Blanche
+Huntingford. How did you describe her? Velvety black eyes, rosy lips,
+hair as black as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> raven's wing, tall, stately, shaped like a Juno
+and a Venus combined&mdash;was that it? Please don't let's waste any time.
+I'm anxious to be off."</p>
+
+<p>"Even although we are going in a motor."</p>
+
+<p>"Motors are useful, my friend. I may not like them, but I use them. For
+the matter of that, I use everything. I discard nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Except religion," laughed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I have my religion," replied Romanoff. "Some time I'll tell you
+about it, but not now. The sunlight is the time for adventure, for love,
+for happiness. Let us be off."</p>
+
+<p>Evidently the Count was impressed by Lady Blanche. Directly he entered
+her presence he seemed to forget his cynicism, and to become
+light-hearted and gay.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, Lady Blanche," he said, "that I had an idea I had seen you
+somewhere. Your name was familiar, and when Faversham spoke of you, I
+felt I should be renewing an old acquaintance. Of course, I was
+mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>"Why 'of course'?"</p>
+
+<p>"The true reply would be too obvious, wouldn't it? Besides, it would be
+as trite and as clumsy as the repartee of an Oxford undergraduate."</p>
+
+<p>"You are beyond me," she sighed.</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff smiled. "Of course, you are laughing at me; all the same. I'll
+say this: I shall have no doubt from this time on as to whether I've met
+you. Do you know who I regard as the most favoured man in England?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"My friend Faversham, of course," and Romanoff glanced towards Dick, who
+sat listening and looking with a kind of wonder at the face of the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, Wendover is just lovely," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"And only a very short motor-run from here," remarked Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>The girl pouted as though she were vexed at his words, but it was easy
+to see she was not. There could be little doubt that she loved flattery,
+and although she felt slightly uncomfortable under the Count's ardent
+gaze, she was pleased at his admiration.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She was also bent on being agreeable, and Dick felt that surely no
+handsomer woman ever lived than this glorious creature with whom he
+chatted and laughed. More than once he felt his heart beating wildly as
+her eyes caught his, and while he wished that Romanoff was not there, he
+felt it to be one of the happiest days of his life.</p>
+
+<p>"If Romanoff were not here I'd ask her to-day," he reflected. "It's true
+she's almost a stranger to me; but, after all, what does it matter? Love
+does not depend on a long acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>For Dick felt sure he was in love. It is true there seemed a kind of
+barrier between them, a certain something that kept them apart. But that
+he put down to their different upbringing. She was a patrician, the
+child of long generations of aristocratic associations, while he,
+although his father and mother were gentlefolk, was a commoner. All his
+life, too, he had been poor, while during the last few years he had had
+to struggle constantly with poverty. It was no wonder, therefore, that
+there should be a kind of barrier between them. But that would break
+down. Already he was feeling more as if "he belonged" to his new
+surroundings, while his neighbours had received him with the utmost
+kindness. It was only a matter of time before he would feel at one with
+them all. Meanwhile, Lady Blanche charmed him, fascinated him. She
+appealed to him as a glorious woman, regal in her carriage, wondrous in
+her youth and beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Once during the afternoon they were alone together, and he was almost on
+the point of declaring his love. But something kept him back. What it
+was he could not tell. She was alluring, gracious, and seemed to offer
+him opportunities for telling her what was in his heart. And yet he did
+not speak. Perhaps he was afraid, although he could not have told what
+he feared.</p>
+
+<p>"When are you going to give me another game of golf?" he asked, as they
+parted.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like threesomes," she laughed, looking towards Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"I share your antipathy," said Romanoff, "but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> could you not suggest
+someone who might bear with me while you and Faversham break the
+record?"</p>
+
+<p>"Please manage it," pleaded Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a telephone at Wendover, isn't there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course there is. You'll ring me up and let me know, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>Her smile was bewildering, and as he felt the warm pressure of her hand
+he was in Arcadia.</p>
+
+<p>"I congratulate you, Faversham," remarked Romanoff, as they neared
+Wendover Park. "She's a glorious creature, simply glorious. Cleopatra
+was plain compared with her. My word, what a mistress for your new home.
+Such eyes, such hair, such a complexion&mdash;and what a magnificent figure.
+Yes, Faversham, you are a lucky man."</p>
+
+<p>"If I get her," sighed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Get her! Of course you'll get her. Unless&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Unless what?" asked Dick as the other hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff looked at him for some seconds very searchingly; then he
+sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, what is it?" persisted Dick, who felt uncomfortable under
+Romanoff's look.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm wondering."</p>
+
+<p>"Why and at what?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you are a wise man or a fool."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I don't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but you will presently."</p>
+
+<p>There seemed to be something so ominous in his words that a feeling like
+fear possessed Dick's heart. He had always felt somewhat uncomfortable
+in Romanoff's presence, but now the feeling was so intensified that he
+dreaded what he might mean.</p>
+
+<p>"The sun is still shining," went on the Count, "and I told you that I
+should be in a festive mood until dark. In another hour the king of day
+will have disappeared; then I shall have some serious things to say to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's have no more play-acting," and Dick laughed nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"I can assure you, there'll be no play-acting. Everything will be
+real&mdash;desperately real. But I'm going to say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> no more now. After dinner
+I am going to be serious. But not until. See! Aren't you proud of it
+all? Don't you revel in it? Was there ever such a lovely old house,
+standing amidst such gorgeous surroundings? Look at those giant trees,
+man! See the glorious landscape! Was there ever such a lucky man! What a
+mistress Lady Blanche will make!"</p>
+
+<p>They were now passing up the long avenue which led to the house. Away in
+the distance they could see the mansion nestling amidst giant trees
+centuries old. From the house stretched the gardens, which were glorious
+in the beauty of early summer. And Dick saw it all, gloried in it all;
+but fear haunted him, all the same.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the meaning of this strange mood of yours, Romanoff?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"After dinner, my friend," laughed the other. "I'll tell you after
+dinner."</p>
+
+<p>Throughout dinner the Count was apparently light-hearted, almost to
+flippancy, but directly the servants had left them to their coffee and
+cigars his mood changed.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you I was going to be serious, didn't I?" he said slowly. "The
+time for laughter has ceased, Faversham. The next hour will be critical
+to you&mdash;ay, and more than critical; it will be heavy with destiny."</p>
+
+<p>"What in Heaven's name do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever considered," and Romanoff enunciated every word with
+peculiar distinctness, "whether you are <i>really</i> the owner of all
+this?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Real Heir</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Dick Faversham could not repress a shudder as the other spoke. The
+Count's words were so ominous, so full of sinister meaning that for the
+moment he felt like crying out with fear. He mastered himself after a
+few seconds, however, and his reply was calm.</p>
+
+<p>"I see what you mean," he said quietly. "A few weeks ago I was poor, and
+without great expectation. Now&mdash;&mdash;Naturally you wonder whether it is
+real to me, whether I can believe in my good fortune."</p>
+
+<p>"It goes deeper than that, Faversham," was the Count's rejoinder&mdash;"very
+much deeper than that."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"You believe that you are the owner of all this. You regard yourself as
+the lawful possessor of the Wendover Park estate, with all its farms,
+cottages, and villages; you also think of yourself as the owner of
+mining rights, shipping interests, and a host of other things, added to
+a very magnificent credit balance at your bankers'. Isn't that so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I do. What have you to say against it?" Dick spoke almost
+angrily. He was greatly excited, not only by the Count's words, but by
+his manner of speech.</p>
+
+<p>"On the strength of it you have cast eyes of love on one of the most
+beautiful women in England; you have dreamed of marrying Lady Blanche
+Huntingford, who bears one of the oldest names in the land?"</p>
+
+<p>"And if I have, what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Has it ever occurred to you that your fortune rests on a very slender,
+a very unsafe, foundation?"</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Count Romanoff&mdash;&mdash;"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't be angry, my friend, and, above all, look at everything calmly."</p>
+
+<p>"Really, this is a trifle thick, isn't it? I'm afraid I must ask for an
+explanation of this peculiar manner of speech."</p>
+
+<p>"I deeply regret that I shall have to give an explanation," and there
+was curious vibration in Romanoff's voice. "But please, <i>please</i>,
+Faversham, don't think unkindly of me because of what I have to tell
+you. Perhaps I have been very clumsy, but I have been trying all day to
+prepare you for&mdash;for what you will regard as bad news."</p>
+
+<p>"Trying to prepare me? Bad news?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my friend. I told you this morning that I was not going to be
+serious while the sun shone, but that after the sun went down I was
+going to be tragically in earnest. The time has come."</p>
+
+<p>"You spoke of my having no right here!" and a gleam of anger shot from
+Dick's eyes. "Might I suggest, Count, that it is a little out of the
+common for a guest to tell his host that he has no right to give him
+hospitality?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid you might take it like that," and Romanoff spoke almost
+gently. "Doubtless I have been very clumsy, very gauche; all the same, I
+have come only in kindness."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I to understand, then, that you came here for the purpose of telling
+me that I am an impostor, an interloper? That, indeed, is interesting."</p>
+
+<p>"I came as a friend, a well-wisher&mdash;as one deeply, very deeply,
+interested in your welfare. I came as one who wants you to enjoy what
+you believe is your good fortune, and to marry the most beautiful woman
+in England. If, after you have heard me, you wish me to leave you, I
+will do so&mdash;sadly, I will admit, but I will leave you."</p>
+
+<p>"At least, do not deal in hints, in innuendoes. Tell me exactly what you
+mean, and perhaps you will also tell me what particular interest you
+have in the matter, and by what right you&mdash;you&mdash;talk in this way."</p>
+
+<p>"Faversham, let me first of all admit frankly that I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> took a great
+liking to you during the voyage that ended so&mdash;tragically. I am no
+longer a boy, and I do not take to people easily; but I felt an
+unaccountable interest in you. There were traits in your character that
+attracted me. I said to myself, 'I should like to know that young
+fellow, to cultivate his acquaintance.' That must be my reason for
+taking what interest I have in you. It would have been easy to let you
+drown, to&mdash;to listen to the appeal of the other occupants of the boat,
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," interrupted Dick impulsively, "I have behaved like a cad. I
+forgot that I owed my life to you. But I was excited&mdash;angry. You see,
+the suggestion that I am here under false pretences naturally upsets me.
+But tell me what you mean. I do not understand you&mdash;I am bewildered by
+your hints."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I understand your feelings, and am not in the least
+offended. I think I know you too well not to take offence easily;
+besides, my desire, and my only desire, being to help you makes me
+impervious to ordinary emotions."</p>
+
+<p>"Still," cried Dick, "tell me what you mean. You say my position as
+owner of my Uncle Faversham's estates rests on a very slender, a very
+unsafe foundation. That is surely a serious statement to make. How do
+you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your uncle's will&mdash;yes, I will admit I went to Somerset House and paid
+a shilling for the right of reading it&mdash;states that he gave his fortune
+to his sister's sons, and after them to the next-of-kin."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"Presently it came to pass that only one person stood between you and
+possession."</p>
+
+<p>"That is so. I did not know it at the time, but such, I am informed, was
+the case."</p>
+
+<p>"This person's name was Mr. Anthony Riggleton, at that time the only
+surviving son of your uncle's sister!"</p>
+
+<p>"That is so."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff lay back in his chair and quietly smoked his cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"But why these questions?" persisted Dick.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I was only thinking, my friend, on what small issues fortune or poverty
+may rest."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but really&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the case as I understand it. Your lawyer told you that Mr.
+Anthony Riggleton, the only man who stood between you and all your
+uncle's possessions, was killed in a drunken brawl in Melbourne, and
+that on his death you became heir. That was why he sent you that
+wireless; that was why he summoned you back to England."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"But what if Mr. Anthony Riggleton is not dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no doubt about that," replied Dick, in tones of relief. "Mr.
+Bidlake realised the importance of this, and sent to a lawyer in
+Melbourne to make investigations. Every care was taken, every possible
+loophole of mistake was investigated. I saw all the documents, all the
+newspaper reports."</p>
+
+<p>"Has it ever struck you that mistakes might be made about this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. As a consequence I questioned Bidlake closely, and he told
+me that doubt was impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me understand," and Romanoff continued to speak quietly. "Your
+position is that Anthony Riggleton, the then heir to all your Uncle
+Faversham's fortune, was living in Australia; that he was known in
+Melbourne; that he went to a house near Melbourne with some boon
+companions; that there was a night of orgy; that afterwards there was a
+quarrel; and that Mr. Anthony Riggleton was killed."</p>
+
+<p>"Evidently you've worked up the case," and there was a sneer in Dick's
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm right, am I not?"</p>
+
+<p>"As far as you've gone, you are roughly right. Of course, his body was
+afterwards identified by&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"By the cashier of the bank from which he had drawn money, and by
+others," interrupted Romanoff. "But what if that cashier made a mistake?
+What if it paid him to make it? What if the others who identified the
+body were paid to do so? What if Mr. Anthony Riggleton is still alive?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What if a hundred things are true?" cried Dick angrily. "One can ask
+such questions for ever. Of course, if Mr. Anthony Riggleton is still
+alive, I have no right here. If he is alive, I clear out."</p>
+
+<p>"And does the prospect please you?" and the Count looked at Dick like
+one anxious.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, it doesn't please me. If it's true, I'm a pauper, or next
+door to one. If it's true, I should have to leave everything and go out
+into the world to begin again."</p>
+
+<p>"And give up all thought of Lady Blanche Huntingford," added the Count.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Romanoff, if you've anything definite to tell me, tell it. I
+tell you honestly, I don't enjoy all this."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you don't. The thought of giving up all this is like thinking
+of having your eyes pulled out, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"But of course it's all rubbish. Of course you are imagining an ugly
+bogey man," and Dick laughed nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm imagining nothing, Faversham."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you mean to tell me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That Mr. Anthony Riggleton is alive? Yes, I do."</p>
+
+<p>Dick gave the Count an angry look, then started to his feet and began to
+pace the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it's all nonsense," he cried after a few seconds. "Please
+don't imagine that I'm going to accept a cock-and-bull sort of story
+like that. Do you think that Bidlake would be deceived? Do you imagine
+that the man he employed in Melbourne would be duped? No, no, I'm not
+such a fool as to accept that. Besides, what have you to do with it? Why
+did you come here in such a fashion, and with such a story? It does not
+look very friendly, does it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why I came here, and why I have told you the truth, will leak out
+presently. You will see then that I came not as an enemy, but as a
+friend."</p>
+
+<p>"As a friend!" and there was an angry sneer in Dick's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"As a friend," repeated Romanoff. "Of course," he went on quietly, "I
+expected that you would take it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> in this way; but you will soon see that
+my motives are&mdash;not unworthy of a friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me then how you came to know of this. Perhaps you will also give
+me some proofs that Mr. Anthony Riggleton, who was found dead, whose
+body was identified by responsible witnesses, has so miraculously come
+to life again. Believe me, this hearsay, this wonderful story does not
+appeal to me. Do you come to me with this&mdash;this farrago of nonsense with
+the belief that I am going to give up all this?" and he looked out of
+the window towards the far-spreading parks as he spoke, "without the
+most absolute and conclusive proof? If Mr. Anthony Riggleton is alive,
+where is he? Why does he not show himself? Why does he not come here and
+claim his own?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I have stopped him from coming," replied Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"You have stopped him from coming?" cried Dick excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have seen him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen him."</p>
+
+<p>"But how do you know it was he? Are Mr. Bidlake's inquiries to go for
+nothing? No, no, it won't do. I can't be deceived like that."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it was he because I have the most absolute proofs&mdash;proofs which
+I am going to submit to you."</p>
+
+<p>"You saw him, you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw him."</p>
+
+<p>"But where?"</p>
+
+<p>"In Australia. I told you, didn't I, that&mdash;after leaving you I went to
+Australia? I told you, too, that I left Australia quickly because I did
+not like the country. That was false. I came because I wanted to warn
+you, to help you. You asked me just now why, if Mr. Anthony Riggleton
+was alive, he did not show himself. I will tell you why. If I had
+allowed him to do so, if he knew that he was heir to all you now
+possess, you would be a poor man. And I did not want you to be a poor
+man. I did not want your life to be ruined, your future sacrificed, your
+hopes destroyed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> That's why, Faversham. That's why I left Australia and
+came here without wasting an hour. That's why I examined your uncle's
+will; that's why I came to warn you."</p>
+
+<p>"To warn me?"</p>
+
+<p>"To warn you."</p>
+
+<p>"Against what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Against dangers&mdash;against the dangers which might engulf you&mdash;ruin you
+for ever."</p>
+
+<p>"You speak in a tragic tone of voice."</p>
+
+<p>"I speak of tragic things. I told you that this was your hour of
+destiny. I told you the truth. This night will decide your future. You
+are a young fellow with your life all before you. You were born for
+enjoyment, for pleasure, for ease. You, unlike your uncle, who made all
+the wealth we are thinking of, are not a business genius; you are not a
+great master personality who can forge your way through difficult
+circumstances. You are not cast in that mould. But you can enjoy. You
+have barely felt your feet since you came into possession of great
+wealth, but already you have dreamt dreams, and seen visions. You have
+already made plans as to how you can suck the orange of the world dry.
+And to-night will be the time of decision."</p>
+
+<p>Dick laughed uneasily. "How?" he asked, and his face was pale to the
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a photograph of Mr. Anthony Riggleton in the house?" asked
+Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I came across one the other day. Would you like to see it?" He
+went to a drawer as he spoke and took a packet from it. "Here is the
+thing," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Just so," replied Romanoff; "now look at this," and he took a
+photograph from his pocket. "It's the same face, isn't it? The same man.
+Well, my friend, that is the photograph of a man I saw in Australia,
+weeks after you got your wireless from Mr. Bidlake&mdash;months after the
+news came that Mr. Anthony Riggleton was dead. I saw him; I talked with
+him. He told me a good deal about himself, told me of some of his
+experiences in this house. There are a number of people in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> this
+neighbourhood who knew him, and who could identify him."</p>
+
+<p>"You are sure of this?" gasped Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely."</p>
+
+<p>"And does he know&mdash;that&mdash;that his uncle is dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet. That's why I hurried here to see you. But he has made up his
+mind to come to England, and of course he intends coming here."</p>
+
+<p>"He told you this, did he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I came across him in a little town about five hundred miles from
+Melbourne, and when I found out who he was I thought of you."</p>
+
+<p>"But how do you explain the news of his death, the inquest, and the
+other things?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll come to that presently. It's easily explained. Oh, there's no
+doubt about it, Faversham. I have seen the real heir to all the wealth
+you thought your own."</p>
+
+<p>"But what do you mean by saying that you stopped him from coming here?"
+and Dick's voice was husky.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to tell you why I stopped him. I'm going to tell you how you
+can keep everything, enjoy everything. Yes, and how you can still marry
+the woman you are dreaming of."</p>
+
+<p>"But if the real heir is alive&mdash;I&mdash;I can't," stammered Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm here to show you how you can," persisted Romanoff. "Did I not tell
+you that this was the hour of destiny?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Day of Destiny</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Dick Faversham wiped away the beads of perspiration that stood thick
+upon his forehead. It seemed to him that he was surrounded by peculiar
+influences, that forces were at work which he could not understand. In
+one sense he did not at all believe in the story that Count Romanoff had
+told him. It appeared to him chimerical, unconvincing.</p>
+
+<p>It did not seem at all likely that a man of Mr. Bidlake's experience and
+mental acumen could have been so deceived. This subtle-minded lawyer,
+who had lived in London for so many years and had been spoken of as one
+of the most astute and level-headed men in the profession, would not be
+likely to communicate news of such great importance to him without being
+absolutely certain of his ground. He had shown him details of
+everything, too, and Mr. Bidlake was absolutely certain that Mr. Anthony
+Riggleton was dead, that he was murdered near Melbourne. The proofs of
+this were demonstrated in a hundred ways. No, he did not believe in
+Romanoff's story.</p>
+
+<p>Besides, it was absurd, on the face of it. Who was this Count Romanoff?
+He knew little or nothing of him. Though he owed his life to him, he
+knew nothing of his history or antecedents. He was afraid of him, too.
+He did not like his cynical way of looking at things, nor understand his
+mockery of current morality. And should he believe the bare word of such
+a man?</p>
+
+<p>And yet he did believe him. At the back of his mind he felt sure that he
+had spoken the truth.</p>
+
+<p>It came to him with ghastly force that he was not the owner of this fine
+old house, and of all the wealth that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> during the last few weeks he had
+almost gloated over. There was something in the tones of Romanoff's
+voice&mdash;something in his mocking yet intense way of speaking that
+convinced him in spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>And the fact maddened him. To be poor now after these few brief weeks of
+riches would drive him mad. He had not begun to enjoy yet. He had not
+carried out the plans which had been born in his mind. He had only just
+entered into possession, and had been living the life of a pattern young
+man. But he had meant to enjoy, to drink the cup of pleasure to the very
+dregs.</p>
+
+<p>His mind swept like lightning over the conversation which had taken
+place, and every word of it was burnt into his brain. What did the Count
+mean by telling him that he could retain everything? Why did he persist
+in urging that he had hurried from Australia to England to save him from
+losing everything? What did he mean by telling him that this was his
+hour of destiny&mdash;that on his decision would depend the future of his
+life?</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;to say then, that&mdash;that&mdash;&mdash;" he stammered, after a long,
+painful silence.</p>
+
+<p>"That Anthony Riggleton, the legal heir of old Charles Faversham, is
+alive," interrupted Romanoff. "I myself have seen him, have talked with
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Does he know that he is&mdash;is the rightful heir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet," and Romanoff smiled. "I took good care of that."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that I did not save your life for nothing. When I had fully
+convinced myself that he was&mdash;who he said he was&mdash;I of course reflected
+on what it meant. I called to mind what you had told me on that island,
+and I saw how his being alive would affect you."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know? I did not tell you the terms of the will. I did not
+know them myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it matter how I knew? Anyhow, he&mdash;Riggleton&mdash;would guess."</p>
+
+<p>"How did he know?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Romanoff shrugged his shoulders. "How should I know, my dear fellow? But
+one can easily guess. He knew he was next-of-kin to old Charles
+Faversham, and would naturally think he would inherit his wealth. But
+that is not all. Australia, although a long way from England, is not
+away from the lines of communication. Melbourne is quite a considerable
+city. It has newspapers, telephones, cablegrams, and a host of other
+things. But one thing Anthony Riggleton did not know: he did not know
+that the terms of the will were published in the Melbourne newspapers.
+He was afraid to go near Melbourne, in fact. He thought it best for the
+world to think of him as dead. Indeed, he paid a man to personate him in
+Melbourne, and that man paid the penalty of his deceit by his life."</p>
+
+<p>"It's anything but clear to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll make it clear. Riggleton had enemies in Melbourne whom it was
+necessary for him to see, but whom he was personally afraid to meet. He
+had served them very shabbily, and they had threatened him with
+unpleasant things. He had as a friend a man who resembled him very
+closely, and he offered this friend a sum of money if he would go to
+Melbourne and personate him. This man, ignorant of his danger, accepted
+the offer&mdash;now, do you see?"</p>
+
+<p>After he had asked many questions about this&mdash;questions which Romanoff
+answered freely&mdash;Dick looked long and steadily at a picture of old
+Charles Faversham which hung on the wall. He was trying to co-ordinate
+the story&mdash;trying to understand it.</p>
+
+<p>"And where is Anthony Riggleton now?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is in England."</p>
+
+<p>"In England! Then&mdash;then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," interrupted Romanoff. "You see what I meant when I said that
+the foundations of your position were very insecure. I do not imagine
+that Lady Blanche Huntingford would think very seriously about Dick
+Faversham if she knew the whole truth."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but&mdash;in England?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. In England."</p>
+
+<p>"But you say he does not know&mdash;the truth?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No. He may guess it, though. Who knows?"</p>
+
+<p>"But why did you not tell me this last night? Why wait till now before
+letting me know?"</p>
+
+<p>Again Romanoff smiled; he might be enjoying himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I like you, my friend. Because I wanted to see the state of
+your mind, and to know whether it was possible to help you."</p>
+
+<p>"To help me?"</p>
+
+<p>"To help you. I saw the kind of man you were. I saw what such wealth as
+you thought you possessed would mean to you. I saw, too, to what uses
+you could turn the power that riches would give you. So I made my
+plans."</p>
+
+<p>"But you say he is in England. If so, he will know&mdash;all!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he does not. I took good care of that."</p>
+
+<p>"But he will find out."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff laughed. "No, my friend, I have taken care of everything. As I
+told you, I like you, and I want you to be a great figure in the life of
+your country. That is why you are safe&mdash;for the present."</p>
+
+<p>Again Dick wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. It seemed
+to him as though he were standing on a precipice, while beneath him were
+yawning depths of darkness. All he had hoped for was mocking him, and he
+saw himself sinking under the stress of circumstances, just as on that
+terrible night he felt himself sinking in the deep waters. But there
+were no arms outstretched to save him, nor friendly help near him. He
+looked around the room, noble in its proportions, and handsomely
+appointed, and thought of all it suggested. He remembered his last
+interview with Mr. Bidlake, when that gentleman gave him an account of
+his possessions, and told him of the approximate amount of his fortune.
+And now it would all go to this man who was not even aware of the truth.
+It was all bewildering, maddening. Before he had properly begun to taste
+of the sweets of fortune they were being dashed from his lips. He felt
+as though he were losing his senses,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> that his brain was giving way
+under the stress of the news he had heard.</p>
+
+<p>Then his innate manhood began to assert itself. If what Romanoff had
+said were true, he must bear it. But, of course, he would not yield
+without a struggle. He would take nothing on the bare word of a man who,
+after all, was a stranger. Everything should be proved up to the hilt
+before he relinquished possession.</p>
+
+<p>"Safe for the present!" Dick repeated, and there was a note of angry
+scorn in his voice. "Of course, if&mdash;if you are not mistaken, there is no
+question of safety."</p>
+
+<p>"No question of safety?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. If Anthony Riggleton is alive, and if he is the true
+heir to old Charles Faversham, he must make his claim, as I assume he
+will."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will yield without a struggle?" and there was a peculiar
+intonation in Romanoff's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"No," cried Dick, "I shall not yield without a struggle. I shall place
+the whole matter in Bidlake's hands, and&mdash;and if I'm a pauper, I
+am&mdash;that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"I know a better way than that."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but you will in a minute. Faversham, there's no need for you to fix
+up anything, no need for anyone to know what only you and I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," and Dick's voice trembled. "Are you sure that this fellow
+you talk about is Anthony Riggleton&mdash;and that he is the lawful heir?"</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff gave Dick a quick, searching glance; then he gave a peculiar
+laugh. "Am I sure that the man is Anthony Riggleton? Here's the
+photograph he gave me of himself. I compared the photograph with the
+man, and I'm not likely to be mistaken. The photograph is the exact
+representation of the man. You have photographs of Riggleton in this
+house; compare them. Besides, he's been here repeatedly; he's known, I
+imagine, to the servants, to the neighbours. If he is allowed to make a
+claim, it will not be a question of Roger Tichborne and Arthur Orton
+over again, my friend. He will be able to prove his rights."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by saying, 'if he is allowed to make his claim'?"
+asked Dick hoarsely. "Of course he'll be allowed."</p>
+
+<p>"Why of course?</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally he will."</p>
+
+<p>"That depends on you. Did I not tell you that this was your hour of
+destiny?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then the matter is settled. I will not usurp another man's rights. If
+he's the lawful owner, he shall have his own. Of course, he will have to
+prove it."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I do. Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because it would be criminal madness&mdash;the act of a fool!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is the only attitude for a decent fellow."</p>
+
+<p>Again Romanoff let his piercing eyes fall on Dick's face. He seemed to
+be studying him afresh, as though he were trying to read his innermost
+thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, my dear fellow," and the Count calmly cut the end of a fresh
+cigar. "I want to discuss this matter with you calmly, and I want our
+discussion to be entirely free from sentimental rubbish. To begin with,
+there is no doubt that the man Anthony Riggleton is alive, and that he
+is the legal owner of all Charles Faversham's fabulous fortune. Of that
+I've no doubt. If he came here everyone would recognise him, while there
+is not a lawyer, not a judge or jury in the land, who would not acclaim
+him the owner of all which you thought yours. But, as I said, I like
+you. You were meant to be a rich man; you were meant to enjoy what
+riches can give you. And of this I am sure, Faversham: poverty after
+this would mean hell to you. Why, man, think what you can have&mdash;titles,
+position, power, the love of beautiful women, and a thousand things
+more. If you want to enter public life the door is open to you. With
+wealth like yours a peerage is only a matter of arrangement. As for Lady
+Blanche Huntingford&mdash;&mdash;" and the Count laughed meaningly.</p>
+
+<p>"But what is the use of talking like that if nothing really belongs to
+me?" cried Dick.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"First of all, Faversham," went on the Count, as though Dick had not
+spoken, "get rid of all nonsense."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense? I don't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean all nonsense about right and wrong, about so-called points of
+honour and that sort of thing. There is no right, and no wrong in the
+conventional sense of the word. Right! wrong! Pooh, they are only bogys
+invented by priests in days of darkness, in order to obtain power. It is
+always right to do the thing that pays&mdash;-the thing that gives you
+happiness&mdash;power. The German philosophy is right there. Do the thing you
+can do. That's common sense."</p>
+
+<p>"It's devilish!" exclaimed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Your mind's unhinged, excited, or you wouldn't say so," replied
+Romanoff. "Now, look at me," and he fastened Dick's eyes by his intense
+gaze. "Do I look like a fanatic, a fool? Don't I speak with the
+knowledge of the world's wisdom in my mind? I've travelled in all the
+countries in the world, my friend, and I've riddled all their
+philosophies, and I tell you this: there is no right, no wrong. Life is
+given to us to enjoy, to drink the cup of pleasure to its depths, to
+press from the winepress all its sweets, and to be happy."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke in low, earnest tones, and as he did so, Dick felt as though
+his moral manhood were being sapped. The glitter of the Count's eyes
+fascinated him, and while under their spell he saw as the Count saw,
+felt as he felt.</p>
+
+<p>And yet he was afraid. There was something awesome in all
+this&mdash;something unholy.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here!" and Dick started to his feet. "What do you mean by coming
+to me in this way? Why should you so coolly assert that the moralities
+of the centuries are nonsense? Who are you? What are you?"</p>
+
+<p>Again the Count laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Who am I? What am I?" he repeated. "You remember Napoleon Bonaparte's
+famous words: 'I am not a man. I am a thing. I am a force. Right and
+wrong do not exist for me. I make my own laws, my own morals.' Perhaps I
+could say the same, Faversham."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon found out his mistake, though," protested Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Did he? Who knows? Besides, better taste the sweets of power, if only
+for a few years, than be a drudge, a nonentity, a poor, struggling worm
+all your days."</p>
+
+<p>"But what do you want? What have you in your mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"This, Faversham. If you will listen to me you will treat Anthony
+Riggleton as non-existent&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"As non-existent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you can with safety&mdash;absolute safety; and then, if you agree to my
+proposal, all you hope for, all you dream of, shall be yours. You shall
+remain here as absolute owner without a shadow of doubt or a shadow of
+suspicion, and&mdash;enjoy. You shall have happiness, my friend&mdash;happiness.
+Did I not tell you that this was your day of destiny?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Invisible Hand</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Again Dick felt as though he were gripped by an irresistible power, and
+that this power was evil. It was true that the Count sat in the chair
+near him, faultlessly dressed, urbane, smiling, with all the outward
+appearance of a polished man of the world; all the same, Dick felt that
+an evil influence dominated the room. The picture which Romanoff made
+him see was beautiful beyond words, and he beheld a future of sensuous
+ease, of satisfied ambition, of indescribable delights. And what he saw
+seemed to dull his moral sense, to undermine his moral strength.
+Moreover, the man had by his news undermined the foundations of life,
+shattered the hopes he had nourished, and thus left him unable to fight.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me that this is a&mdash;a joke on your part," Dick said at length. "Of
+course it's not true."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is true."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll have it proved, anyhow. Everything shall be sifted to the
+bottom."</p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go and see Bidlake to-morrow. I'll tell him what you've said."</p>
+
+<p>"You will do no such thing." The Count spoke in the most nonchalant
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? Indeed, I shall."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not. I'll tell you why. First, because it would be criminally
+insane, and second, because you would be cutting your own throat."</p>
+
+<p>"Please explain."</p>
+
+<p>"Understand," replied Romanoff, "that this is really nothing to me after
+all. I do not benefit by your riches, or lose by your poverty. Why, I
+wonder, am I taking an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> interest in the matter?" And for the moment he
+seemed to be reflecting. "I suppose it is because I like you&mdash;of course
+that is it. Besides, I saved your life, and naturally one has an
+interest in the life one has saved. But to explain: accept for the
+moment the conventional standards of right and wrong, good and evil, and
+what is the result? Suppose you give up everything to Riggleton&mdash;what
+follows? You give up all this to an unclean beast. You put power in the
+hands of a man who hasn't an elevated thought or desire. You, now&mdash;if
+you are wise, and retain what you have&mdash;can do some good with your
+money. You can bring comfort to the people on your estates; you can help
+what you believe worthy causes. You, Faversham, are a gentleman at
+heart, and would always act like one. Mind, I <i>don't</i> accept
+conventional morality; it is no more to me than so much sawdust. But I
+do respect the decencies of life. My education has thrown me among
+people who have a sense of what's fit and proper. Anyhow, judging from
+your own standards, you would be doing an <i>immoral</i> thing by handing
+this great fortune to Riggleton."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me about him," and Dick felt a tightening at the throat.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell you about him! An unsavoury subject, my friend. A fellow with the
+mind of a pig, the tastes of a pig. What are his enjoyments? His true
+place is in a low-class brothel. If he inherited Wendover Park, he would
+fill these beautiful rooms with creatures of his own class&mdash;men and
+women."</p>
+
+<p>The Count did not raise his voice, but Dick realised its intensity; and
+again he felt his influence&mdash;felt that he was being dominated by a
+personality stronger than his own.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," he continued, and he laughed quietly as he spoke; "copy-book
+morality has no weight with me. But I trust I am a gentleman. If, to use
+your own term, I sin, I will sin like a gentleman; I will enjoy myself
+like a gentleman. But this man is dirty. He wallows in filth&mdash;wallows in
+it, and rejoices in it. That is Anthony Riggleton. Morality! I scorn it.
+But decency, the behaviour of a gentleman, to act as a gentleman under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
+every circumstance&mdash;that is a kind of religion with me! Now, then,
+Faversham, would it not be criminal madness to place all this in the
+hands of such a loathsome creature when you can so easily prevent it?"</p>
+
+<p>Of course, the argument was commonplace enough. It was a device by which
+thousands have tried to salve their consciences, and to try to find an
+excuse for wrong-doing. Had some men spoken the same words, Dick might
+not have been affected, but uttered by Romanoff they seemed to undermine
+the foundations of his reasoning power.</p>
+
+<p>"But if he is in England?" he protested weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"He is, but what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"He must know; he must. He is not an idiot, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; he is cunning with a low kind of cunning&mdash;the cunning of a sensual
+beast. Some would say he is clever."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he must find out the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"Not if you say he must not."</p>
+
+<p>"What have I to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everything," and Romanoff's eyes seemed to be searching into Dick's
+innermost soul.</p>
+
+<p>"But how? I do not understand," and he nervously wiped his moist hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Say so, and he must be got rid of."</p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff laughed quietly. "These are good cigars, Faversham," he said,
+like one who was vastly enjoying himself. "Oh, you can do that easily
+enough," he continued.</p>
+
+<p>"How?" asked Dick. He felt his eyes were hot as he turned them towards
+the other.</p>
+
+<p>"I said treat him as though he were non-existent. Well, let him <i>be</i>
+non-existent."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;you mean&mdash;&mdash;" and Dick's voice could scarcely be recognised.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" asked the Count carelessly. "The fellow is vermin&mdash;just dirty
+vermin. But he is a danger&mdash;a danger to the community, a danger to you.
+Why, then, if it can be done easily, secretly, and without anyone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
+having the slightest chance of knowing, should you not rid the world of
+such a creature? Especially when you could save all this," and he looked
+around the room, "as well as marry that divine creature, and live the
+life you long to live."</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" cried Dick. "What?&mdash;murder! Not for all the wealth ever known.
+No, no&mdash;my God, no!"</p>
+
+<p>"If there are good deeds in the world, that would be a good deed,"
+persisted Romanoff. "You would be a benefactor to your race, your
+country," and there was a touch of pleading in his voice. "Why, man,
+think; I have him safe&mdash;safe! No one could know, and it would be a
+praiseworthy deed."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why not do it yourself?" cried Dick. There was a sneer as well as
+anger in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not the next heir to the Faversham estates," replied Romanoff.
+"What does it matter to me who owns all that old Charles Faversham
+gained during his life?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then why suggest such a thing? Why, it's devilish!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't&mdash;please, don't be melodramatic," the Count drawled. "Would you
+not kill a rat that ate your corn? Would you not shoot any kind of
+vermin that infested your house? Well, Riggleton is vermin, human vermin
+if you like, but still vermin, and he is not fit to live. If I,
+Romanoff, were in your position, I would have no more hesitation in
+putting him out of existence than your gamekeeper would have in shooting
+a dog with rabies. But, then, I am not in your position. I have nothing
+to gain. I only take a friendly interest in you. I have hurried to you
+with all speed the moment I knew of your danger, and I have told you how
+you can rid the world of a coarse, dirty-minded animal, and at the same
+time save for yourself the thing nearest your heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he come in the same vessel with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Suffice to say that I know he is in England, and in safe keeping."</p>
+
+<p>"Where? How? England has laws to protect everyone."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That does not matter. I will tell you if you like; but you would be
+none the wiser."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have arranged this?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you like&mdash;yes."</p>
+
+<p>"But why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Still the same silly question. Have you no sense of proportion,
+Faversham? Haven't I told you again and again?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick was almost gasping for breath, and as he buried his head in his
+hands, he tried to understand, to realise. In calmer moments his mind
+would doubtless have pierced the cheap sophistry of the Count, and
+discarded it. But, as I have said, he was greatly excited, bewildered.
+Never as now did he desire wealth. Never as now had the thought of
+winning Lady Blanche seemed the great thing in life to be hoped for. And
+he knew the Count was right&mdash;knew that without his money she would no
+more think of marrying him than of marrying the utmost stranger. And yet
+his heart craved after her. He longed to possess her&mdash;to call her his
+own. He saw her as he had never seen her before, a splendid creature
+whose beauty outshone that of any woman he had ever seen, as the sun
+outshone the moon.</p>
+
+<p>And this Anthony Riggleton, whom the Count described as vermin, stood in
+his way. Because of a quibble on his part this loathsome thing would
+ruin his future, dash his hopes to the ground, blacken his life.</p>
+
+<p>But the alternative!</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course not!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"You refuse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly I do. I'm not a murderer."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, go your own way. Go to your Mr. Bidlake, see him shrug his
+shoulders and laugh, and then watch while your cousin&mdash;your
+<i>cousin</i>!&mdash;turns this glorious old place into a cesspool."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; rather than stain my hands in&mdash;&mdash;I say, Romanoff," and the words
+passed his lips almost in spite of himself, "there must be some deep
+reason why you&mdash;you say and do all this. Do you expect to gain anything,
+in any way, because of my&mdash;retaining possession of my uncle's wealth?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>For the first time the Count seemed to lose possession over himself. He
+rose to his feet, his eyes flashing.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" he cried; "do you mean that I, Romanoff, would profit by your
+poor little riches? What is all this to me? Why, rich as you thought you
+were, I could buy up all the Faversham estates&mdash;all&mdash;all, and then not
+know that my banking account was affected. I, Romanoff, seek to help a
+man whom I had thought of as my friend for some paltry gain! Good-night,
+Mr. Richard Faversham, you may go your own way."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" cried Dick, almost carried away by the vehemence of the other;
+"of course, I did not mean&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Enough," and the Count interrupted him by a word and a laugh. "Besides,
+you do not, cannot, understand. But to rid your mind of all possible
+doubt I will show you something. Here is my account with your Bank of
+England. This is for pocket-money, pin-money, petty cash as your
+business men call it. There was my credit yesterday. In the light of
+that, do you think that I need to participate in your fortune, huge as
+you regard it?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick was startled as he saw the amount. There could be no doubt about
+it. The imprimatur of the Bank of England was plainly to be seen, and
+the huge figures stood out boldly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I apologise," stammered Dick. "I only thought that&mdash;that&mdash;you
+see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," laughed the Count, "let it be forgotten. Besides, have I
+not told you more than once that I am interested in you? I have shown
+you my interest, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you have," cried Dick. "I owe you my life; but for you I
+should not be alive to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so. I want to see you happy, Faversham. I want you to enjoy life's
+sweetness. I want you to be for ever free from the haunting fear that
+this Anthony Riggleton shall ever cross your path. That is why&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated, as though he did not know what to say next.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," asked Dick, "why what?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is why I want to serve you further."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Serve me further? How?"</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I get rid of Riggleton for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I offer to get rid of Riggleton for you? Suppose without your
+having anything to do with him, without knowing where he is, I offer to
+remove him for ever from your path&mdash;would you consent?"</p>
+
+<p>"I consent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I must have that. Would you give it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you&mdash;that is, you ask me if I will consent to&mdash;to his&mdash;his
+murder?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just that, my friend. That must be&mdash;else why should I do it? But&mdash;but I
+love you, Faversham&mdash;as if you were my son, and I would do it for your
+happiness. Of course, it's an unpleasant thing to do, even although I
+have no moral scruples, but I'll do it for you."</p>
+
+<p>Again Dick felt as though the ground were slipping from under his feet.
+Never before was he tempted as he was tempted now, never did it seem so
+easy to consent to wrong. And he would not be responsible. He had
+suggested nothing, pleaded nothing. His part would be simply to be
+blindly quiescent. His mind was confused to every issue save one. He had
+only to consent, and this man Riggleton, the true owner of everything,
+would be removed for ever.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I do not?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Then nothing more need be said. But look at me, Faversham, and tell me
+if you will be such a fool. If there is any guilt, I bear it; if there
+is any danger, I face it; do you refuse, Faversham? I only make the
+offer for your sake."</p>
+
+<p>Again Dick felt the awful eyes of the Count piercing him; it was as
+though all his power of judgment, all his volition were ebbing away. At
+that moment he felt incapable of resistance.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I consent?" he asked weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you will, you <i>will</i>, you <span class="smcap">will</span>," and the words were repeated
+with peculiar intensity, while the eyes of the two met. "I only make one
+stipulation, and I must make it because you need a friend. I must make
+it binding for your sake."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He took a piece of paper from a desk and scribbled a few words.</p>
+
+<p>"There, read," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Dick read:</p>
+
+<p>"I promise to put myself completely under the guidance of Count Romanoff
+with regard to the future of my life."</p>
+
+<p>"There, sign that, Faversham," and the Count placed the pen in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Without will, and almost without knowledge, Dick took the pen.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want me to do?" asked Dick dully.</p>
+
+<p>"Sign that paper. Just put 'Richard Faversham' and the date. I will do
+the rest."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but if I do this, I shall be signing away my liberty. I shall make
+myself a slave to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, my dear fellow. Why should I interfere with your liberty?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know; but this paper means that." He was still able to think
+consecutively, although his thoughts were cloudy and but dimly realised.</p>
+
+<p>"Think, Faversham. I am undertaking a dirty piece of work for your sake.
+Why? I am doing it because I want you to be free from Anthony Riggleton,
+and I am doing it because I take a deep interest in you."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should I sign this?"</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the Count's influence over him, he had a dull feeling that
+there was no need for such a thing. Even although he had tacitly
+consented to Romanoff's proposal he saw no necessity for binding
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you why. It's because I know you&mdash;because I read your mind
+like a book. I want to make you my protégé, and I want you to cut a
+figure in the life of the world. After all, in spite of Charles
+Faversham's wealth, you are a nobody. You are a commoner all compact.
+But I can make you really great. I am Romanoff. You asked me once if I
+were of the great Russian family, and I answered yes. Do you know what
+that means? It means that no door is closed to me&mdash;that I can go where I
+will, do what I will. It means that if I desire a man's aggrandisement,
+it is an accomplished fact.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> Not only are the delights of this country
+mine for the asking, but my name is an <i>Open Sesame</i> in every land. My
+name and my influence are a key to unlock every door; my hand can draw
+aside the curtain of every delight. And there are delights in the world
+that you know nothing of, never dreamt of. As my protégé I want them to
+be yours. A great name, great power, glorious pleasures, the smile of
+beautiful women, delights such as the author of <i>The Arabian Nights</i>
+only dimly dreamt of&mdash;it is my will that you shall have them all.
+Charles Faversham's money and my influence shall give you all this and
+more. But I am not going to have a fretful, puling boy objecting all the
+time; I am not going to have my plans for your happiness frustrated by
+conscience and petty quibbles about what is good and evil. That is why I
+insist on your signing that paper."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff spoke in low tones, but every word seemed to be laden with
+meanings hitherto unknown to Dick. He saw pictures of exquisite
+delights, of earthly paradises, of joys that made life an ecstasy.</p>
+
+<p>And still something kept his hand still. He felt rather than reasoned
+that something was wrong&mdash;that all was wrong. He was in an abnormal
+state of mind; he knew that the influences by which he was surrounded
+were blinding him to truth, and giving him distorted fancies about
+life's values.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said doggedly; "I won't sign, and I won't consent to this
+devilish deed."</p>
+
+<p>Again Romanoff laughed. "Look at me, Dick, my boy," he said. "You are
+not a milksop; you were made to live your whole life. Fancy you being a
+clerk in an office, a store&mdash;a poor little manikin keeping body and soul
+together in order to do the will of some snivelling tradesman! Think of
+it! Think of Anthony Riggleton living here, or in London, in Paris, in
+India&mdash;or wherever he pleases&mdash;squandering his money, and satiated with
+pleasure, while you&mdash;you&mdash;&mdash;Pooh! I know you. I see you holding Lady
+Blanche in your arms. I see you basking in the smiles of beautiful women
+all over the world. I see the name of Faversham world-wide<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> in its
+power. I see&mdash;&mdash;" and the Count laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>All the while, too, he kept Dick's eyes riveted on his own&mdash;eyes which
+told him of a world of sensuous delights, and which robbed him of his
+manhood. No, he could not bear to become poor again, and he would not
+give up the delights he had dreamt of. Right! Wrong! Good! Evil! They
+were only words. The Count was right. It was his right to enjoy.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, I'll sign," he said.</p>
+
+<p>He dipped the pen into the ink, and prepared to inscribe his name, but
+the moment he placed his hand on the paper it felt as though it were
+paralysed.</p>
+
+<p>"There is something here!" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Something here? Nonsense."</p>
+
+<p>"But there is. Look!"</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to him that a ray of light, brighter than that of the electric
+current that burnt in the room, streamed towards him. Above him, too, he
+saw the face that was now becoming familiar to him. Strange that he had
+forgotten it during the long conversation, strange that no memory of the
+evening before, when over the doorway he had seen an angel's face
+beaming upon him and warning him, had come to him.</p>
+
+<p>But he remembered now. The night on the heaving sea, the vision on the
+island, the luminous form over the doorway of the house, all flashed
+before him, and in a way he could not understand Romanoff's influence
+over him lessened&mdash;weakened.</p>
+
+<p>"Sign&mdash;sign there!" urged the Count, pointing towards the paper.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter with your eyes?" gasped Dick. "They burn with the
+light of hell fire."</p>
+
+<p>"You are dreaming, boy. Sign, and let's have a bottle of wine to seal
+the bargain."</p>
+
+<p>"I must be dreaming," thought Dick. "An angel's face! What mad, idiotic
+nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p>He still held the pen in his hand, and it seemed to him that strength
+was again returning to his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Where must I sign?" he muttered. "I can't see plainly."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There&mdash;right at the point of your pen," was the Count's reply.</p>
+
+<p>But Dick did not sign, for suddenly he saw a white, shadowy hand appear,
+which with irresistible strength gripped his wrist.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Scrap of Paper</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Suddenly the spell, or whatever had enchained him, was broken. There was
+a noise of wheels on the gravel outside, and the sound of footsteps in
+the hall. He heard the Count mutter a savage oath, and a moment later
+the door opened and he heard a happy, clear, girlish voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Faversham, forgive me for coming; but I really couldn't help
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>It was Beatrice Stanmore who, unheralded and unaccompanied, stood by his
+side.</p>
+
+<p>He muttered something, he knew not what, although he felt as though a
+weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and strength came back to his
+being.</p>
+
+<p>"I really couldn't," the girl went on. "Granddad left me just after a
+very early dinner, and then I felt awfully miserable and depressed. I
+didn't know why. It was just ghastly. Nothing had happened, and yet I
+knew&mdash;why, I couldn't tell&mdash;that something was terribly wrong. Then
+something told me that you were in danger, that unless I came to help
+you, you would be&mdash;oh, I can't put it into words! You are not in danger,
+are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was very kind of you to come," muttered Dick. "I'm no end glad to
+see you."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but I'm afraid!" she said in her childish way. "I don't know what
+Granddad will say to me. You see, you are a stranger to me, and I had no
+right to come. But I couldn't help it&mdash;I really couldn't. Someone seemed
+to be saying to me all the time, 'Mr. Faversham is in deadly peril; go
+to him&mdash;go to him quick! quick!' And I couldn't help myself. I kept
+telling myself that I was very silly, and all that sort of thing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> but
+all the time I heard the voice saying, 'Quick, quick, or you'll be too
+late!' But I'm afraid it's all wrong. You are all right. You are in no
+danger, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm no end glad to see you," he repeated. "And it is awfully good of
+you to come."</p>
+
+<p>He still seemed to be under strange influences, but he no longer felt as
+though his strength was gone. His heart was strangely light, too. The
+presence of the girl by his side gave him comfort.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not angry with me, then? I've not done wrong, have I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wrong? No! You have done quite right&mdash;quite. Thank you very, very
+much."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad of that. When I had left our house I wanted to run to you.
+Then I thought of the car. I've learnt to drive, and Granddad thinks I'm
+very clever at it. I simply flew through the park. But I'm glad you are
+in no danger. I must go now."</p>
+
+<p>She had not once looked at Romanoff; she simply stood gazing at Dick
+with wide-open, childish-looking eyes, and her words came from her
+almost pantingly, as though she spoke under the stress of great
+excitement. Then she looked at the paper before him.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not going to write your name on that, are you?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he replied; "I'm not."</p>
+
+<p>"You must not," she said simply. "It would be wrong. When I heard the
+words telling me to come to you I&mdash;I saw&mdash;but no, I can't recall it. But
+you must not sign that. I'll go now. Good-night, and please forgive me
+for coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't go yet."</p>
+
+<p>"But I must. I could not stay here. There's something wrong, something
+evil. I'm sure there is."</p>
+
+<p>She glanced nervously towards Romanoff, and shivered. "Good-night," she
+said, holding out her hand. "I really must go now. I think the danger is
+over&mdash;I feel sure it is; and Granddad will be anxious if he comes back
+and does not find me."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see you to the door," said Dick. "I shall never cease to thank you
+for coming."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Leaving the paper on the table, and without looking at Romanoff, he
+opened the door to her, and passed into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I shall never cease to thank you," he repeated&mdash;"never. You have
+saved me."</p>
+
+<p>"What from?" and she looked at him with a strangely wistful smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," he replied&mdash;"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>When they stood together on the gravel outside the door, he gave a deep
+sigh. It seemed to him as though the pure, sweet air enabled him to lift
+every weight from himself. He was free&mdash;wonderfully, miraculously free.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is heavenly, just heavenly here!" and she laughed gaily. "I
+think this is the most beautiful place in the world, and this is the
+most beautiful night that ever was. Isn't the avenue just lovely? The
+trees are becoming greener and greener every day. It is just as though
+the angels were here, hanging their festoons. Do you like my car? Isn't
+it a little beauty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Dick. "May&mdash;may I drive you back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you? Then you can explain to Granddad. But no, you mustn't. You
+must go back to your friend."</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't my friend," replied Dick almost involuntarily; "he's just&mdash;but
+perhaps you wouldn't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't a good man," she cried impulsively. "I don't like him. I know
+I ought not to say this. Granddad often tells me that I let my tongue
+run away with me. But he's not a good man, and&mdash;and I think he's your
+enemy."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he staying with you long?" she went on.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not long."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad of that. He isn't nice. He's&mdash;he's&mdash;I don't know what. I shall
+tell Granddad I've been here."</p>
+
+<p>"He won't be angry, will he?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; he's never angry. Besides, I think he'll understand. You'll come
+and see us soon, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I shall not be able to. I'm going away."</p>
+
+<p>"Going away?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I'm leaving Wendover Park. At least, I expect so."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean for always?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; for always. To-night has decided it."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him wistfully, questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>"Has that man anything to do with it? Is he driving you away?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; he wants me to stay."</p>
+
+<p>She again scanned his features in a puzzled, childish way. "Of course, I
+don't understand," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I hardly understand myself," and he spoke almost involuntarily.
+"Thank you very much for coming."</p>
+
+<p>She clasped his hand eagerly. "I shall be very sorry if you go," she
+said, "but please don't do anything that man asks you. Please don't."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't," replied Dick.</p>
+
+<p>He started the car for her, and then watched her while she drove down
+the avenue. Then he stood for a few seconds looking at the great
+doorway. He might have been expecting to see there what had been so
+plainly visible before, but there was nothing.</p>
+
+<p>The grey old mansion was simply bathed in the light of the dying day,
+while the silvery moon, which was just rising behind the tree-tops, sent
+its rays through the fast-growing leaves. But as Beatrice Stanmore had
+said, it was a most wondrous night. All nature was glorying in life,
+while the light breezes seemed to bring him distant messages. The birds,
+too, even although the sun had set, perhaps an hour before, sent their
+messages one to another, and twittered their love-songs as they settled
+to their rest.</p>
+
+<p>He waited on the steps for perhaps five minutes, then he found his way
+back to Romanoff. For some seconds neither said anything; each seemed to
+have a weight upon his lips. Then Romanoff spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"You refuse, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I refuse."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you refuse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everything. I refuse to allow you to do that devilish deed. I refuse to
+obey you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Romanoff laughed as his eyes rested on Dick's face.</p>
+
+<p>"You know what this means, of course?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;then I interfere no further."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff waited a few seconds before he spoke again. "Of course, you are
+very silly, Faversham," he said. "Soon you'll be sorry for this, and
+some time you'll need my help. Meanwhile I'm tired, and will go to bed."</p>
+
+<p>He passed out of the room as he spoke, and Dick noticed that the scrap
+of paper was gone.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Count Romanoff's Departure</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>The next morning when Dick came downstairs he found Romanoff evidently
+prepared for a journey. His luggage had been brought into the hall, and
+he was looking at a time-table.</p>
+
+<p>"Faversham, I am sorry that we part in this way," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>The Count looked at him steadily, as if trying to divine his state of
+mind&mdash;to know if he had changed his purposes since the previous evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"You have settled on your train?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I go by the 10.43."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will see that a car is in readiness."</p>
+
+<p>As may be imagined, Dick had spent a well-nigh sleepless flight, and he
+was in a nervous condition; but upon one thing he had decided. He would
+be studiously polite to the Count, and would in no way refer to the
+happenings of the previous night. Even yet he had not made up his mind
+about his visitor, except that he agreed with Beatrice Stanmore. The man
+still fascinated him; but he repelled him also. There was something
+mysterious, evil, about him; but the evil was alluring; it was made to
+seem as though it were not evil.</p>
+
+<p>"Should you alter your mind," said the Count on leaving, "this address
+will find me. After to-night at ten o'clock, it will be useless to try
+to find me."</p>
+
+<p>Dick looked at the card he had placed in his hand, and found the name of
+one of the best hotels in London.</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone, the young man felt strangely lonely and fearfully
+depressed. The air seemed full of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> foreboding; everything seemed to tell
+him of calamity. As the morning passed away, too, he, more than once,
+found himself questioning his wisdom. After all, the Count had asked
+nothing unreasonable. Why should he not promise to be guided by a man
+who was so much older and wiser than himself? One, too, who could so
+greatly help him in the future.</p>
+
+<p>Again and again he wandered around the house, and through the gardens.
+Again and again he feasted his eyes upon the beauty of the park and the
+glory of the district. And it was his no longer! Could he not even
+now&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>No; he could not! If Anthony Riggleton were alive, and was the true heir
+to old Charles Faversham's wealth, he should have it. The thought of
+doing what Romanoff had proposed made him shudder.</p>
+
+<p>But he would not give up without a struggle. After all, he was in
+possession, and he was accepted as the owner of Wendover Park as well as
+heir to enormous wealth. Why, then, should he give it up? No; he would
+fight for what he held.</p>
+
+<p>The day passed slowly away. He ate his lonely lunch in silence, and
+then, taking a two-seater car, ran it in the direction of Lord
+Huntingford's house. Just as he was passing the gates Lady Blanche
+appeared, accompanied by a girl of about her own age.</p>
+
+<p>Almost unconsciously he lifted his foot from the accelerator and pressed
+down the brake.</p>
+
+<p>"Alone, Mr. Faversham?" she asked, with a radiant smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite alone, Lady Blanche."</p>
+
+<p>"Your guest is gone, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"He left this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;then please excuse the informality&mdash;but then we are neighbours;
+won't you come to dinner <i>en famille</i> on Thursday night? Father will be
+delighted to see you. And, oh, I want to introduce you to my friend
+here."</p>
+
+<p>He did not catch the girl's name, but it did not matter. He had only
+eyes and ears for this glorious woman. Her face was wreathed with
+smiles, while her eyes shone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> brightly. Surely such a woman was never
+known before. In a moment he had forgotten the previous night&mdash;forgotten
+the great crisis in his life.</p>
+
+<p>"Thursday! I shall be delighted!" he cried, lifting his cap.</p>
+
+<p>The two passed on, and he resumed his drive. Why did he not ask them to
+accompany him? Why? Why?</p>
+
+<p>His mind was in a turmoil. The sight of Lady Blanche had set his nerves
+tingling, and caused his blood to course madly through his veins. Her
+smile, her look, her attitude could only mean one thing: she thought
+kindly of him&mdash;she thought more than kindly of him.</p>
+
+<p>Then he remembered. Wendover Park was not his&mdash;nothing was his. If
+Romanoff told him truly, he was a pauper. All&mdash;all would have to be
+sacrificed.</p>
+
+<p>Where he went that afternoon he had no recollection. He only knew that
+he drove the car at its utmost speed, and that the country through which
+he was passing was strange to him. He wanted to get away from himself,
+from his thoughts, from everything that reminded him of the truth.</p>
+
+<p>He returned to Wendover Park in time for dinner, and from eight to ten
+o'clock he sat alone. On his arrival he had asked whether there had been
+any callers, any message, and on receiving an answer in the negative, he
+had heaved a sigh of relief. In the library after dinner, however, the
+whole ghastly position had to be faced, and for two hours his mind was
+torn first this way and then that.</p>
+
+<p>But he did nothing. He could not do anything. How could he?</p>
+
+<p>The evening&mdash;the night passed, and there was no happening. Everything
+was orderly, quiet, commonplace. He might never have seen the luminous
+figure at the doorway, never felt that awesome gripping of his wrist;
+indeed, the whole experience might have been a dream, so unreal was it.</p>
+
+<p>The next day passed, and still nothing happened. More than once he was
+on the point of ringing up Mr. Bidlake, but he refrained. What could he
+say to the keen old lawyer?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He did not leave the house during the whole day. Almost feverishly he
+listened to every sound. No footstep passed unnoticed, no caller but was
+anxiously scanned. Every time the telephone bell rang, he rushed to it
+with fast-beating heart, only to heave a sigh of relief when he
+discovered that there was no message concerning the things which haunted
+his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Still another night passed, and still nothing happened. He was beginning
+to hope that Romanoff had been playing a practical joke on him, and that
+all his fears were groundless.</p>
+
+<p>Then just before noon the blow came.</p>
+
+<p>The telephone bell tinkled innocently near him, and on putting the
+instrument to his ear he heard Mr. Bidlake's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Mr. Faversham?</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Faversham speaking. You are Mr. Bidlake, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>This was followed by a cough; then the lawyer spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be home this afternoon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see you very particularly. A strange thing has happened.
+Grotesque, in fact, and I want you to be prepared for&mdash;for anything."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like telling you over the telephone. I'm tremendously upset. I
+can hardly speak collectedly."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I know. It has to do with Anthony Riggleton and the Faversham
+estates, hasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know? Yes; it has. It's terribly serious, I'm afraid. I'd
+better see you at once. Some arrangement, some compromise might be
+made."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that Riggleton is not dead? That you've seen him?"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke quite calmly and naturally. Indeed, he was surprised at his
+command over himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; he's just left me. He's been here for two hours. Of course, I
+tried at first to take his visit as a joke, but&mdash;&mdash;"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are convinced that it <i>was</i> Riggleton?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can have no doubt about it&mdash;no possible doubt. He's deadly in earnest
+too, and his case is overwhelming&mdash;simply overwhelming. Never, outside
+the realms of the wildest romance, did I ever come across a case where a
+lawyer could be so completely mistaken. But I can't help it, and I'm
+afraid that&mdash;that your prospects for the future are materially altered.
+Of course you might&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are coming down here, you say. There's a good train from Victoria
+at 1.45. Can you catch it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye&mdash;s. I think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll send a car to meet you at this end."</p>
+
+<p>He rang the bell, altered the time of lunch, and then sat down to think.
+But not for long. Calmly as he had talked to the lawyer, his every nerve
+was quivering with excitement, every faculty was in tension.</p>
+
+<p>He went to the window and looked out.</p>
+
+<p>All he saw was his no longer. He had no doubt about it, and it seemed to
+him that an icy hand was placed upon his heart as he realised it.</p>
+
+<p>And he might have retained it!</p>
+
+<p>Was he glad or sorry because of what he had done? Every particle of his
+being was crying out for the life he longed to live, and yet&mdash;&mdash;As he
+thought of the price he would have to pay, as he remembered Romanoff's
+words, he did not repent.</p>
+
+<p>He calmly waited for the lawyer's arrival.</p>
+
+<p>By four o'clock Mr. Bidlake was on his way back to London again, and
+Dick knew that his own fate was sealed. The lawyer had proved to him
+that he had no right to be there, and while he advised him to put on a
+bold face, and in the last extremity to try and compromise with Anthony
+Riggleton, he held out no hope. Anthony Riggleton was beyond doubt the
+true heir of old Charles Faversham, and he had undisputable proofs of
+the fact.</p>
+
+<p>"I am more upset than I can say, Faversham," said the lawyer, when he
+had described Riggleton's visit, "but we can't help ourselves. He is
+perfectly sure of his ground, and he has reason to be."</p>
+
+<p>"He convinced you entirely, then?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely&mdash;absolutely."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was still calm. Perhaps the experiences of the last few days left
+him almost incapable of feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of fellow is he?"</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer puckered up his face, and shook his head dismally. "He will
+not be a Society favourite," was all he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But he has no doubts as to his plans?"</p>
+
+<p>"He says he's going to take possession immediately. If you offer any
+opposition, he will apply for an injunction."</p>
+
+<p>"Has he any money?"</p>
+
+<p>"He appeared to be quite well off. His clothes are quite new," added the
+lawyer, "and he sported some very flashy jewellery. I was impressed by
+the thought that he had someone behind him."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he say so?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not definitely, but I formed that impression. Anyhow, you can be
+certain of this. He will lose no time in making his claim. Indeed, I
+should not be at all surprised if the papers don't contain some notice
+of his advent and his claims to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>"You said something about a compromise."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you see"&mdash;and the lawyer coughed almost nervously&mdash;"this will be
+very awkward for you. You've no right here; you've been spending money
+which has not been your own. Still, your case is not without its good
+points. You are in possession, you have been accepted as the owner
+of&mdash;all this, and even although he has the prior claim, you would have
+great sympathy from a jury&mdash;should it come to that. I told him so. I
+don't promise anything, but it might be that he might be disposed to&mdash;do
+something considerable to persuade you to leave him in possession
+quietly."</p>
+
+<p>"As a kind of salve for my disappointment?" and there was an angry light
+in Dick's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"If you like to put it that way, yes. But, bless my soul, it is close on
+four o'clock, and I must be going. I can't say how sorry I am, and&mdash;and
+if I can do anything&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is the fellow married?" interrupted Dick.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;nothing of that sort. After all, no one but he stands in the way of
+possession."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I do?" Dick asked himself. "I'm worse off than I was before.
+At any rate I was in the way of earning a few hundred pounds when that
+wireless came. But now everything is altered, and I don't know where to
+turn. Still&mdash;&mdash;" and there was a grim, hard look in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly he walked down the avenue towards the lodge gates. Away in the
+distance, as though coming towards him, he saw a young girl. It was
+Beatrice Stanmore. He took a few steps towards her, and then turned
+back. Something forbade his speaking to her; somehow she seemed closely
+connected with the black calamity which had fallen on him.</p>
+
+<p>He had barely returned to the house when he heard the tooting of a motor
+horn, and, looking out, he saw a large, powerful motor-car coming
+rapidly up the avenue. A minute later he heard voices in the
+hall&mdash;voices which suggested recognition. Then the door opened.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Anthony Riggleton!" said the servant excitedly.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Riggleton's Homecoming</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>A young fellow about twenty-eight years of age entered the room. He was
+a round-faced, thickly built man, and he carried himself with a swagger.
+Evidently it had been his desire to get himself up for the occasion. His
+clothes were new, and shouted aloud of his tastes. They suggested a
+bookmaker. He smoked a large cigar, and wore an aggressive buttonhole.
+He did not take off his hat on entering, but, having advanced a couple
+of steps, took a survey of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, and his voice was somewhat thick; "I remember the old
+place well. It's as natural as life." Then, coming up to where Dick was,
+he continued, "Of course you know who I am?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick, who had difficulty in repressing his excitement, mentioned
+something about never having seen him before.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, stow that!" said the newcomer. "I'm Tony Riggleton, I am. You know
+that well enough."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why I should," and Dick's voice was a little angry. He
+instinctively disliked Tony Riggleton.</p>
+
+<p>"I do, though. Why, Bidlake hasn't been gone half an hour. Hopper has
+just told me."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent. He did not see at the moment what there was for him to
+say.</p>
+
+<p>"You guess why I'm here?" he went on.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not good at guessing." Dick felt that Riggleton had the whip hand
+of him, and while he did not intend to make any concessions to his
+whilom cousin, he felt sure what the upshot of their meeting would be.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say, Faversham," and Riggleton moved farther into the room, "it's
+no use taking the high hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> with me. Of course I don't blame you, and
+naturally you're cut up. Anyone would be in your place. But there's
+nothing green about me. All this show belongs to me, and I mean to
+finger the coin. That's straight. Mind, I've come down here in a
+friendly way, and I don't want to be unreasonable. See? I'm old
+Faversham's heir. Old Bidlake was obliged to own it, although he
+wriggled like a ferret in a hole. I can see, too, that you're a bit of a
+swell, and would suit his book better than I can; but I can make the
+money go. Don't you make any mistake."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed as he spoke, and made a pretence of re-lighting his cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"Come now," he went on, "let's have a bottle of champagne, and then we
+can talk over things quietly."</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing to talk over as far as I can see," interposed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by that?" In spite of his assertive attitude, he did
+not appear at ease, and was constantly casting furtive and suspicious
+glances towards Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean," replied Dick, "that if you are old Charles Faversham's heir,
+and if you can prove it, there's nothing more to be said."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that you'll clear out quietly?"</p>
+
+<p>There was evident astonishment in his voice. Apparently he had expected
+bluster, and perhaps a scene.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I shall clear out quietly. Naturally there are formalities
+with which you'll have to comply; but, if you are the true owner, you
+are, and there's no more to be said."</p>
+
+<p>Riggleton looked at him with open-mouthed wonder, evidently staggered
+that Faversham was taking the matter so calmly.</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent. The fellow was getting on his nerves, and he had
+difficulty in keeping calm.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you don't mean to fight it out?" he continued.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I?" asked Dick quietly. "You have placed your papers in Mr.
+Bidlake's hands, and left everything for his examination. Your identity
+will have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> to be proved, and all that sort of thing; but I hope I've too
+much self-respect to try to hold anything that isn't mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Put it there!" cried Anthony Riggleton, holding out his hand. "That's
+what I call acting like a gentleman, that is. I sort of thought you'd
+get your monkey up, and&mdash;but there. It's all right. There's nothing
+fishy about me. I don't pretend to be a saint, I don't. In fact, I don't
+believe old Uncle Charlie ever meant me to come in for all his wad.
+S'welp me bob, I don't. I was never his sort, and I don't mind telling
+you that he as good as kicked me out from here. You see, I was always
+fond of a bit of life, and I've gone the whole hog in my time. But
+that's all over now."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that you're going to reform?"</p>
+
+<p>"Reform! Not 'alf. No, Faversham; I'm going to have the time of my life.
+I'm going to&mdash;but&mdash;I say, have you been here ever since you thought you
+came in for the old man's whack?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; why?"</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>are</i> a plaster saint. By gosh, you are! But you don't see me
+burying myself in this hole. Of course it's very grand, and all that
+sort of thing; but, no, thank you! Tony Riggleton is going the whole
+hog. What's the use of money else? Of course I shall use the place now
+and then. When I feel my feet a bit I shall get some music-hall people
+down here for week-ends, and all that sort of thing. But, as for living
+here like Bidlake says you have!&mdash;no, thank you. London's my mark! I
+tell you, I mean to paint the town red. And then, if I can get passports
+and that sort of tommy-rot, I'll do Paris and Madrid and Rome. You don't
+catch me burying myself like a hermit. Not a little bit. Now I've got
+the money, I mean to make it fly. I <i>should</i> be a fool if I didn't!"</p>
+
+<p>The man was revealing himself by every word he spoke. His tastes and
+desires were manifested by his sensual lips, his small, dull eyes and
+throaty voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, look here, Faversham," he went on, "I'll admit you are different
+from what I expected you to be. I was prepared for a bit of a shindy,
+and that's straight.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> But you've taken a knock-down blow in a sporting
+way, and I want to do the thing handsome. Of course I own this show just
+as I own all the rest of the old man's estates; but there's nothing mean
+about me. Live and let live is my motto. You can stay on here for a week
+or a fortnight if you like. I don't want to be hard. For that matter,
+although I'm going back to town to-night, I'll come back on Saturday and
+bring some bits of fluff from the Friv, and we'll make a week-end of it.
+I expect you've plenty of fizz in the house, haven't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent. The conversation, only a part of which I have recorded,
+so disgusted him that, although he was not a Puritan by nature, he felt
+almost polluted by the man's presence. It seemed like sacrilege, too,
+that this fellow should turn Wendover Park into a sty, as he evidently
+meant to do, and he found himself wondering whether, after all, he would
+not have been justified in accepting Romanoff's offer.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, what do you say?" went on Riggleton. "I tell you&mdash;&mdash;" and then he
+went on to give details of his programme. "There's no need for you to be
+so down in the mouth," he concluded. "There's plenty of money, as you
+know, and I'll not be hard on you."</p>
+
+<p>The fellow was so coarsely patronising that Dick with difficulty kept
+himself from starting up and rushing from the room. At that moment,
+however, a servant entered and brought him a telegram, and a moment
+later his brain seemed on fire as he read:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Riggleton's claim undoubtedly valid, but can still save situation
+if you accept my terms.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Romanoff</span>, Hotel Cosmopolitan."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The words burnt into his brain; he felt as he had felt a few nights
+before when Romanoff had placed the paper before him to sign.</p>
+
+<p>"Any answer, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked towards a pen which lay on the table before him. Why should he
+not send back an acceptance?</p>
+
+<p>"I say," said Riggleton, "is that about the estate? Because if it is, I
+demand to see it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His tone was loud and arrogant. The sight of the telegram had evidently
+aroused his suspicions and his desire to assert his mastery.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I mean it," he went on. "I'm an easy chap to get on with, but I'm
+master here. I tell you that straight."</p>
+
+<p>Dick felt as though his nerves were raw; the man's presence was
+maddening. And he had to give up everything to him!</p>
+
+<p>"It's a purely personal telegram," he replied. "I'm only considering how
+I shall answer it."</p>
+
+<p>He seized a telegraph form, and dipped a pen into an inkstand, but he
+did not write a word. His mind again flew back to the night when
+Romanoff tempted him, and when he had felt a hand grip his wrist.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's get out," he said, cramming the telegram into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; let's," assented Riggleton; "but let's have a drink before we go.
+I say, my man," and he turned to the servant, who still waited, "bring a
+bottle of fizz. Yes; do as you're told. I'm your new master. Everything
+belongs to me. See?"</p>
+
+<p>The servant turned to Dick. Doubtless there had been a great deal of
+excited conversation in the servants' quarters, and he awaited
+confirmation of what he had heard.</p>
+
+<p>"Do as he tells you," assented Dick, and then he left the room.</p>
+
+<p>But he could not help hearing what took place between Riggleton and the
+servant.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by looking to him?" asked Riggleton angrily. "Any of
+your nonsense and it'll be right about face with you. I'm master here
+and no error. It was all a mistake about Faversham. Everything belongs
+to me. See? And look here, there's going to be a change here. I ain't no
+milksop, I can tell you, and the whole lot of you'll have to get a move
+on, or out you go. It isn't much time that I shall spend in this gloomy
+hole, but when I am here there'll be something doing. I shall get the
+place full of a jolly lot of girls, and Wendover Park won't be no mouldy
+church, nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> no bloomin' nunnery. You can bet your life on that.
+There'll be plenty of booze, and plenty of fun. Now then, get that fizz,
+and be quick about it."</p>
+
+<p>The man's raucous, throaty voice reached him plainly, and every word
+seemed to scrape his bare nerves. He left the hall, and went out on the
+lawn where the sun shone, and where the pure spring air came to him like
+some healing balm.</p>
+
+<p>This, then, was his cousin! This was the man who was the heir of old
+Charles Faversham's great wealth!</p>
+
+<p>The whole situation mocked him. He believed he had done the thing that
+was right, and this was the result of it.</p>
+
+<p>Like lightning his mind swept over his experiences, and again he
+wondered at all that had taken place. He tried to understand his strange
+experiences, but he could not. His thoughts were too confused; his brain
+refused to grasp and to co-ordinate what he could not help feeling were
+wonderful events.</p>
+
+<p>He looked towards the great doorway, where, on the day of his coming to
+Wendover Park, he had seen that luminous figure which had so startled
+him. But there was nothing to be seen now. He wondered, as he had
+wondered a hundred times since, whether it was an objective reality, or
+only the result of a disordered imagination. There, in the bright
+sunlight, with Anthony Riggleton's raucous voice still grating on his
+ears, he could not believe it was the former. But if it were pure
+imagination, why&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;And again his mind fastened on the things
+which in spite of everything were beginning to revolutionise his life.</p>
+
+<p>Then a thought startled him. He realised that a change had come over
+him. If he had met Tony Riggleton a few months before, neither the man's
+presence nor his language would have so disgusted him. He had writhed
+with anger when Riggleton had unfolded his plans to him, and yet a
+little while before he himself had contemplated a future which was not,
+in essence, so far removed from what his cousin had so coarsely
+expressed. Yes; he could not blind himself to the fact that
+since&mdash;since&mdash;&mdash;But no, nothing was clear to him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I say, Faversham."</p>
+
+<p>He turned and saw that Riggleton had joined him.</p>
+
+<p>"Show me around a bit, will you? You see, the old man wouldn't have me
+here much, and&mdash;I should like to talk things over."</p>
+
+<p>"I think, when Mr. Bidlake has got everything in order&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hang Bidlake! Besides, it's no use your talking about Bidlake. I've
+settled with him. You don't feel like talking, eh? Very well, let's go
+for a walk."</p>
+
+<p>Almost instinctively Dick turned down the drive which led to the cottage
+where Beatrice Stanmore lived.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," reflected Riggleton, after they had walked some time in silence;
+"I suppose this kind of thing appeals to a poetical bloke like you seem
+to be. But it doesn't do for Tony R. I love a bit of life, I do. I
+always did. Did you ever hear that I ran away from school, and went off
+on my own when I was fifteen? Went to sea, I did, and knocked about the
+world. I had a rough time, too; that's why I've no polish now. But I
+know the value of money, I do, and you may bet your bottom dollar that
+I'll make things hum. Ah, here we are at the lodge gates."</p>
+
+<p>Dick looked across a meadow, and saw old Hugh Stanmore's cottage. Even
+although it was some little distance away he could see the gaily
+coloured flowers in the garden and the pleasant quaintness of the
+cottage. But it was no longer his. In future it would belong to this
+clown by his side, and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a motor, and a few seconds
+later he caught sight of Lady Blanche Huntingford in her two-seater car.
+His heart gave a leap as he saw her put her foot on the clutch, while
+the car slowed down by his side.</p>
+
+<p>The girl smiled into his face. "You've not forgotten your promise for
+to-morrow night, Mr. Faversham?" she said, and then, stopping the
+engine, she stepped lightly into the lane.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Faversham's Resolution</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>It seemed to Dick that nothing could have happened more unfortunately.
+Painfully aware as he was that Anthony Riggleton was standing by his
+side, and devouring every detail of the girl's appearance, he felt
+ashamed that she should see him. He wanted to run away, longed to disown
+all knowledge of the vulgar creature who accompanied him.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I've not forgotten, Lady Blanche," he managed to say.</p>
+
+<p>"And we may expect you?" There was eagerness in her voice, expectancy in
+the gladness of her bright eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm afraid not," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>The girl flashed a quick look upon him&mdash;a look partly of questioning,
+partly of disappointment. "Really, Mr. Faversham&mdash;&mdash;" she protested, and
+then stopped. Perhaps she felt that something untoward had taken place.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," he went on confusedly, "while I'd just love to come, things
+have happened since I saw you. I did not know&mdash;&mdash;" and almost
+unconsciously he glanced towards Riggleton.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Faversham," and Riggleton put on his most fascinating smile,
+"introduce me to your lady friend, won't you? I don't think, when I've
+been in the neighbourhood before, that I've had the pleasure of meeting
+the young lady."</p>
+
+<p>But Dick was silent. He simply could not speak of the fellow as his
+cousin. Evidently, too, Riggleton felt something of what was passing in
+Dick's mind; perhaps, too, he noticed the haughty glance which the girl
+gave him, for an angry flush mounted his cheeks, and his small eyes
+burnt with anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you don't feel like it!" he exclaimed aloud.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> "And no wonder. Well,
+miss, I'll tell you who I am. I'm the owner of this place, that's what I
+am. My name's Anthony Riggleton, and I'm what the lawyers call
+next-of-kin to old Charles Faversham. That's why I'm boss here. There's
+been a big mistake, that's what there's been, and Dick Faversham got
+here, not under false pretences&mdash;I don't say that&mdash;but because people
+thought I was dead. But I ain't dead by a long chalk. I'm jolly well
+alive, and I'm the heir. That's the situation, miss. I thought I'd tell
+you straight, seeing we may be neighbours. As for Dick here, of course
+he's jolly well disappointed. Not that I mayn't do the handsome thing by
+him, seeing he means to be reasonable. I may make him my steward, or I
+might make him an allowance. See?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl made no response whatever. She listened in deadly silence to
+Riggleton, although the flush on her cheek showed that the man's words
+had excited her. Also she looked at Dick questioningly. She seemed to be
+demanding from him either an affirmation or a denial of what the man
+said. But Dick remained silent. Somehow he felt he could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't seem to take me, miss," went on Riggleton, who might have
+been under the influence of the champagne he had been drinking, "but
+what I'm telling you is gospel truth. And it may interest you to know
+that I mean to paint this part of the country red. Oh, I'll shake things
+up, never fear. Might you be fond of hunting, and that kind of thing,
+miss? Because after the war I mean to go in for it strong."</p>
+
+<p>Still Lady Blanche did not speak to him. The only reply she made was to
+get into her car and turn on the engine. "Good afternoon, Mr.
+Faversham," she said. "Then must I tell my father that you'll not be
+able to come to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you'd better," replied Dick, "but&mdash;I'll explain later."</p>
+
+<p>Almost unconsciously he lifted his hat, while the car passed out of
+sight.</p>
+
+<p>"By gosh!" exclaimed Riggleton, "she's a stunner, she is!&mdash;a regular
+stunner. Who is she?"</p>
+
+<p>But Dick turned and hurried up the drive towards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> the house. He felt
+that he could no longer bear to be near the creature who had robbed him
+of everything worth living for.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, you needn't be so huffy," cried Riggleton, who again joined him.
+"Why didn't you introduce me? I don't know when I've seen such a
+stunning bit of fluff. She looks regular top-hole stuff too! And hasn't
+she got a figure? And I say, Faversham, seeing that I said I was
+prepared to do the handsome by you, you might have done the correct
+thing. What! Oh, I suppose you were riled because I told her how things
+are. But the truth was bound to come out, man! Do you think I would be
+such a ninny as not to let her know I was the bloomin' owner of this
+show? Tell me, who is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Blanche Huntingford."</p>
+
+<p>He uttered the name curtly, savagely. He was angry with himself for
+having spoken at all.</p>
+
+<p>"Whew! She's Lord Huntingford's daughter, is she?" and he gave a hoarse
+laugh. "Well, she's a beauty, she is&mdash;just a beauty!"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed again in high good-humour, indeed, he seemed to be enjoying
+himself vastly.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a deep one, Faversham, you are," he shouted, as he slapped Dick
+on the back. "Here was I calling you a fool for staying in this hole
+instead of going to London and gay Paree. But I see the reason now.
+Dining with her to-morrow night, were you? And it seems that I've spoilt
+your little game. Well, she's a bit of all right, that's what she is. A
+regular bit of all right. I don't know but after all I shall do the
+country squire touch, and make up to her. What are you looking like that
+for?"</p>
+
+<p>For Dick's face was crimson with rage. The fellow's coarse vulgarity was
+driving him mad.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you in love with her?" persisted Riggleton. "Is that it?"</p>
+
+<p>Still Dick did not speak. He was walking rapidly towards the house&mdash;so
+rapidly that Riggleton had difficulty in keeping up with him.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, don't be huffy," went on Tony. "I'm sorry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> if I didn't do the
+correct thing. I didn't mean anything wrong, and I'm not up to the ways
+of the swells. As I told you, I ran away from school, and got in with a
+rough set. That was why, when I came back here, Uncle Charlie cleared me
+out. But I don't believe in grudges, I don't, and I'm sorry if I've put
+your nose out. I can't say fairer than that, can I?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick felt slightly ashamed of himself. He was beginning to understand
+Riggleton better now, and to appreciate his coarse kindness.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, Riggleton," he said, "and no doubt you've done the
+natural thing. But&mdash;but I don't feel like talking."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you don't," said Tony, "and of course my coming is a regular
+knock-out blow to you. If it was me, I'd have&mdash;well, I don't know what I
+wouldn't have done. But I'm not such a bad chap after all. And look
+here, I meant what I said, and I'm prepared to do the handsome thing.
+You play fair with me, and I'll play fair with you. See? I shall make an
+unholy mess of things if I'm left alone, and if you like I'll keep you
+on here. You shall be my steward, and I'll make you a good allowance.
+Then you can stay here, and I'll give you my word of honour that I'll
+not try to cut you out with Lady Blanche, although she takes the fancy
+of yours truly more than any bit of fluff I've seen for years."</p>
+
+<p>"For Heaven's sake, drop it!" cried Dick, exasperated.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," laughed Tony. "I don't mind. There's plenty of girls to be
+had. Besides, she's not my sort. She's too high and mighty for me.
+Besides," and he laughed raucously, "it all comes back to me now. Once
+when I was here before, I nearly got into trouble with her. I was
+trespassing on her father's grounds, and she came along and saw me. She
+told me to clear out or she'd set the dogs on me. Good Lord! I'd
+forgotten all about it, and I never thought I'd see her again. So if
+you're gone on her, I'll give you a clear field, my boy. I can't say
+fairer than that, now can I?"</p>
+
+<p>They had reached the house, and Dick again, almost unconsciously, looked
+at the great doorway. He dreaded,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> yet he almost longed to see the great
+haunting eyes of the figure which, whether imaginary or real, had become
+such a factor in his existence.</p>
+
+<p>But there was nothing. No suggestion of the luminous form appeared.</p>
+
+<p>Of course it was all a mad fancy&mdash;all the result of exciting and
+disturbing experiences.</p>
+
+<p>"Riggleton," he said, when they had reached the library, "I want to be
+quiet; I want to think. You don't mind, do you? I'll explain presently."</p>
+
+<p>"As you like, my boy. Think as much as you bloomin' well want to. I see
+the servant hasn't taken away the fizz, so I'll have another drink."</p>
+
+<p>Dick threw himself on a chair and covered his face with his hands. He
+tried to think, tried to co-ordinate events, tried to understand the
+true bearings of the situation. But he could not. His mind was either a
+blank or it was filled with mad, confusing thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>What should he do?</p>
+
+<p>He thought he had decided on his course of action before Riggleton's
+advent, but now everything was a wild chaos; he seemed to be in a
+maelstrom. Should he accept Riggleton's offer? The fellow was a fool;
+there could be no doubt about that&mdash;a coarse-minded, vulgar, gullible
+fool. With careful treatment, he, Dick, could still remain master of
+Wendover Park; he could have all the money he wanted; he could&mdash;and a
+vista of probabilities opened up before him. He was sure he could play
+with his cousin as a cat plays with a mouse. He could get him in his
+power, and then he could do what he liked with him.</p>
+
+<p>And why not?</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps, perhaps&mdash;&mdash;He turned towards Riggleton, who was pouring out a
+glass of champagne and humming a popular music-hall song. Yes; he could
+mould the fellow like clay; he could make him do anything&mdash;<i>anything</i>!</p>
+
+<p>He was on the point of speaking, of starting a conversation which would
+naturally lead to the thing he had in his mind, but no words passed his
+lips. It seemed to him as though two distinct, two antagonistic forces<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+were in the room. Almost unconsciously he took Romanoff's telegram from
+his pocket, and as he did so, he felt as though the sender was by his
+side; but even while he thought of the man he remembered something else.
+He remembered the night when he had unfolded his plans to him, and when
+he had pointed to the paper which he had prepared for him.</p>
+
+<p>Again he felt the grip of the hand upon his wrist, again he felt a
+presence which he could not explain&mdash;a presence which forbade him to
+sign away his liberty&mdash;his soul.</p>
+
+<p>He thought, too, how immediately afterwards that guileless child
+Beatrice Stanmore had rushed into the room, and had told him that she
+had been impelled to come to him.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a prayer came to his lips: "O God, help me! For Christ's sake,
+help me!"</p>
+
+<p>It was strange, bewildering. He was not a praying man. He had not prayed
+for years, and yet the prayer, unbidden, almost unthought of, had come
+into his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, have you made up your mind?"</p>
+
+<p>It was Tony Riggleton's voice, and he felt like a man wakened out of a
+trance.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Good. You take me on, eh? We'll be pals, and you'll stay on here as my
+steward?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to London."</p>
+
+<p>"To London, eh? But when?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-night."</p>
+
+<p>"To-night! Well, I'm&mdash;&mdash;But&mdash;but, all right. I'll drive you there in my
+car, and we'll make a night of it."</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you. Look here, Riggleton, I'm very much obliged to you, and
+I appreciate all you have said; but our paths must lie apart."</p>
+
+<p>"Lie apart?" Tony's mind was a little confused. "You mean to say that
+you don't accept the allowance I'm willing to make you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that. I thank you very much, but I don't accept."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but what are you going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any money?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Yes, I have, though. I've a few pounds which I saved before I
+thought I&mdash;I was&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Old Uncle Charlie's heir," concluded Tony as Dick hesitated. "But what
+about the estate?"</p>
+
+<p>"The lawyer must settle all that. I'm sorry I'm intruding here. I'll go
+and pack my things right away. Some day I'll repay you for the money
+I've spent while I've been here."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," and Tony came to Dick's side, "don't you be a fool. You
+just take things sensibly. Pay me money! Money, be blowed! You just&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you. I'll go now if you don't mind."</p>
+
+<p>He left the room as he spoke, and a few minutes later he had packed a
+small suit-case. He returned to the room where Tony still remained.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Riggleton; I'm off."</p>
+
+<p>"But you&mdash;you're mad."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I am. Good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>"But where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"To the station. If I make haste I shall catch the next train to
+London."</p>
+
+<p>Riggleton looked at him in open-mouthed wonder. "Well, you <i>are</i> a
+fool!" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Dick rushed out of the house without a word to the servants. He felt as
+though he dared not speak to them. Something in his heart&mdash;something
+which he could not explain&mdash;was telling him to fly, and to fly quickly.</p>
+
+<p>When he reached the doorway he turned and looked. He wanted to see
+if&mdash;if&mdash;&mdash;But there was nothing. The westering sun shed its bright rays
+not only on the house, but on the flowers which bloomed in glorious
+profusion; but there was no suggestion of anything beyond the ordinary
+to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I <i>am</i> a fool," he reflected; "perhaps I am mad," and then he
+again tried to understand the experiences which had so bewildered him.
+But he could not. All was confusion.</p>
+
+<p>He hurried along the drive which led to the lodge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> near which Beatrice
+Stanmore lived. He had a strange longing to see once more the home of
+the child who had come to him in the hour of his dire temptation.</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone some distance he turned to have a last look at the
+house. Never had it seemed so fair; never as now did he realise what he
+was leaving. What a future he was giving up! What a life he was
+discarding! Yes; he had been a fool&mdash;an egregious fool! Oh, the folly of
+his actions!&mdash;the mad folly!</p>
+
+<p>"Holloa, Mr. Faversham!"</p>
+
+<p>He turned and saw Beatrice Stanmore.</p>
+
+<p>"You are going away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I'm going to London."</p>
+
+<p>"And walking to the station? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I've no conveyance."</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked at him wonderingly. Questions seemed to hang upon her
+lips&mdash;questions which she dared not ask.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going away," he went on, "because nothing is mine. There's been a
+great mistake&mdash;and so I'm going away. Do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him with childlike wonder. In years she was nearly a
+woman, but she was only a child in spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"But surely you need not go and leave everything?" she queried.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I need not go." He hardly knew what he was saying. He seemed like a
+man under a spell.</p>
+
+<p>"Then what makes you go?"</p>
+
+<p>"You," he replied. "Don't you remember? Good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>He hurried on without another word. He felt he was going mad, even if he
+were not mad already. And yet he had a kind of consciousness that he was
+doing right.</p>
+
+<p>"But I will come back some day," he said between his set teeth. "I'll
+not be beaten! Somehow&mdash;somehow I'll make my way. I'll conquer&mdash;yes,
+I'll conquer! At all hazards, I'll conquer!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a grim determination in his heart as he set his face towards
+the unknown.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PART II.&mdash;THE SECOND TEMPTATION</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Mr. Brown's Prophecy</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"Yes, Mr. Faversham; I see such a future before you as was never
+possible to any other Englishman."</p>
+
+<p>The speaker was a man about fifty years of age, short, stout, well fed,
+seemingly prosperous. A smile played around his lips&mdash;-a smile which to
+a casual observer suggested a kindly, almost a childlike, innocence. He
+might have been interested in orphan schools, charity organisations, or
+any other philanthropic movement. His voice, too, was sympathetic and
+somewhat caressing, and his whole appearance spoke of a nature full of
+the milk of human kindness.</p>
+
+<p>The two men were sitting in the corner of a smoking-room in a London
+club. A most respectable club it was, whose members were in the main
+comprised of financiers, prosperous merchants, and men of the upper
+middle classes. Money was writ large everywhere, while comfort, solid
+comfort, was proclaimed by the huge, softly cushioned chairs, the
+thickly piled carpets, and the glowing fires. Any stranger entering the
+club would have said that its members were composed of men who, having
+plenty of this world's goods, meant to enjoy the comforts which their
+gains justly entitled them to.</p>
+
+<p>Dick Faversham, to whom the words were spoken, smiled, and the smile was
+not without incredulity and a sense of wonder.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," went on the speaker, "you smile; you say in your heart that I am
+a bad example of my theories;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> but one mustn't be deceived by
+appearances. You think, because I am fat and prosperous, that I take no
+interest in my fellow-creatures, that I do not dream dreams, see
+visions, eh? Is not that so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," replied Dick; "but your views are so out of accord with
+all this," and he looked around the room as he spoke, "that I am
+naturally a bit puzzled."</p>
+
+<p>"It is because I have accustomed myself to this, because I have seen
+inside the minds of rich men, and thus understand their prejudices and
+points of view, that I also see the other things. You have seen me in
+places different from this, my friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Dick; "I have."</p>
+
+<p>"Little as you have realised it," went on the other, "I have watched you
+for years. I have followed you in your career; I have seen your
+sympathies expand; I have been thrilled with your passion too. You did
+not suspect, my friend, three years ago, that you would be where you are
+to-day, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," assented Dick; "I didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"You have thought much, learnt much, suffered much, seen much."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I suppose so," and a wistful look came into his eyes, while his
+face suggested pain.</p>
+
+<p>"It is said," went on the stout man, "that there is no missioner so
+ardent, so enthusiastic, as the new convert; but, as I have told you,
+you do not go far enough."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"You are spoken of by many as a man with advanced ideas, as one who has
+an intense passion for justice, as one, too, who has advanced daring
+plans for the world's betterment; but I, the fat old Englishman, the
+respectable millionaire, the man whom Governments have to consider&mdash;mark
+that&mdash;the man whom Governments have to consider and consult, tell you
+that your scheme, your plans are mere palliatives, mere surface things,
+mere sticking-plasters on the great, gaping sores of our times. That if
+all your ideas were carried out&mdash;yes, carried out to the full&mdash;you would
+not advance the cause of humanity one iota. In a few months the old
+anachronisms, the old abuses, would again prevail, while you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> would be a
+back number, a byword, a fellow who played at reform because you neither
+had the vision to see the world's real needs nor the courage to attempt
+real reform. A back number, my dear sir, and a mere play-actor to boot."</p>
+
+<p>The fat man watched the flush on Dick's face as he spoke, and was
+apparently gratified.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," he went on, still watching Dick's face closely, "I am getting
+on in life, and I have shed my illusions. I have my own philosophy of
+life, too. I do not believe that the reformer, that the man who lives to
+relieve the woes of others must of necessity be a monk, a Peter the
+Hermit, a Francis of Assisi. The labourer is worthy his hire; the great
+worker should have a great reward. Why should honour, riches, fall into
+the lap of kings who do nothing, of an aristocracy which is no
+aristocracy? Youth is ambitious as well as altruistic. Thus ambitions
+should be ministered unto, realised. Shakespeare was only a shallow
+parrot, when he wrote the words, 'Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away
+ambition.' The man who flings away ambition becomes a pulpy reed. He
+lacks driving force, lacks elemental passions. If one opposes primitive
+instincts, one is doomed to failure."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me if I fail to see what you are driving at," interposed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll see in a minute," asserted the other. "What I urge is this: the
+man who sets up a new kingdom should be a king. It is his right. The man
+who sees a new earth, a more glorious earth, an earth where justice and
+right abound, and where neither poverty nor discontent is known&mdash;I say
+the man who sees that new earth and brings it to pass should rule over
+it as king. He should have, not the pomp and empty pageantry of a paltry
+hereditary king, but the honour, the power, the riches of the true
+king."</p>
+
+<p>The man paused as if he expected Dick to reply, but no reply was
+forthcoming. Still, the stout man was evidently satisfied by his survey
+of Dick's face, and he noted the flash of his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"That is why, to come back to where we were a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> few minutes ago," he went
+on, "I see such a future for you as was never possible to any other
+Englishman. I see you, not only as the man who will revolutionise the
+life of this starved and corrupt country, not only as the man who will
+bring in a new era of prosperity and happiness for all who are citizens
+of the British Empire, but as the man who can enjoy such a position,
+such honours, such riches as no man ever enjoyed before. Do you follow
+me? The people who are redeemed will make haste to heap glory and honour
+upon their redeemer."</p>
+
+<p>"History does not bear that out," was Dick's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"No, and why, my friend? I will tell you. It is because the men who have
+aimed to be saviours have been fools. It is because they have been blind
+to the elemental facts of life. The first business of the saviour is not
+self-interest&mdash;I do not say that&mdash;but to regard his own welfare as
+essential to the welfare of others. The man who allows himself to be
+crucified is no true saviour, because by allowing it he renders himself
+powerless to save. No, no, I see you, not only as one who can be a great
+reformer, and as one who can strike death-blows at the hoary head of
+abuse, but as one who can lift himself into such fame and power as was
+never known before. The plaudits of the multitudes, the most glorious
+gifts of the world, the love of the loveliest women&mdash;all, all, and a
+thousand times more, can be yours. That is your future as I see it, my
+friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what I think of you?" asked Dick, with a nervous laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be interesting to know," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"That your imaginative gifts are greater than your logical powers."</p>
+
+<p>The stout man laughed heartily. "I suppose I puzzle you," he replied.
+"You think it strange that I, the financier, the millionaire if you
+like, who eats well, drinks good wine, smokes good cigars, and who is a
+member of the most expensive clubs in London, should talk like this, eh?
+You think it strange that I, who two hours hence will be hobnobbing with
+financiers and Cabinet ministers, should be talking what some would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
+call rank treason with an advanced labour leader, eh? But do not judge
+by outward appearances, my friend; do not be misled by the world's
+opinions. It is not always the ascetic who feels most acutely or
+sympathises most intensely.</p>
+
+<p>"As I told you, I have watched you for months&mdash;years. For a long time I
+did not trust you; I did not believe you were the man who could do what
+I saw needed doing. Even when I heard you talking to the masses of the
+people&mdash;yes, carrying them away with the passion of your words&mdash;I did
+not altogether believe in you. But at length I have come to see that you
+are the man for my money, and for the money of others."</p>
+
+<p>Again he looked at Dick keenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I astonish you, don't I? You have looked upon such as I as enemies
+to the race. You have not realised that there are dozens of millionaires
+in this city of millionaires who almost hate the money they have made,
+because they see no means whereby it can be used for the uplifting and
+salvation of the oppressed and downtrodden. They do not talk about it,
+yet so it is. I tell you frankly, I would at this moment give
+half&mdash;two-thirds&mdash;of all I possess if thereby I could carry out the
+dream of my life!"</p>
+
+<p>The man spoke with passion and evident conviction. There was a tremor in
+his voice, and his form became almost rigid. His eyes, too, flashed with
+a strange light&mdash;a light that spoke almost of fanaticism.</p>
+
+<p>"You already have in your mind what burns in mine like a raging
+furnace," he went on. "You see from afar what has become a fixed,
+settled conviction with me. You behold as a hazy vision what I have
+contemplated for a long time, until it is clearly outlined, thoroughly
+thought out. I will tell you what it is directly. And if that great
+heart of yours, if that fine quick mind of yours does not grasp it,
+assimilate it, and translate it into actuality, it will be one of the
+greatest disappointments of my life. I shall for evermore put myself
+down as a blind fool, and my faith in human nature will be lost for
+ever."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me what it is," and Dick's voice was tense with eagerness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Months, years had passed since Dick had left Wendover Park, and both his
+life and thoughts had become revolutionised. Perhaps this was not
+altogether strange. His manner of life had been altered, his outlook
+altogether new.</p>
+
+<p>Even now as he looked back over those fateful days he could not
+understand them. They seemed to him rather as some wild fantastic series
+of dreams than as sane and sober realities. Yet realities they were,
+even although they were a mystery to him. Often in his quiet hours he
+caught himself thinking of the figure of the woman in the smoke-room of
+the outward-bound ship, which no one but himself could see, while again
+and again he almost shivered as he felt himself sinking in the black,
+turbulent sea, while conflicting powers seemed to be struggling to
+possess him. Indeed, the wonder of that night never left him. The light
+which shone in the darkness, the luminous form above him, the great,
+yearning, pitying eyes which shone into his, and the arms outstretched
+to save.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes it was all visionary and unreal&mdash;so visionary was it that he
+could not believe in its reality, but at other times he could not doubt.
+It was all real&mdash;tremendously real. Especially was it so as he thought
+of those after days when he had fought the greatest battles of his life.
+Again and again he had seen himself in the library at Wendover while
+Romanoff stood beside him and told him of his plans; again and again had
+he recalled the moment when he took the pen in his hand to sign the
+paper, and had felt the grip on his wrist which had paralysed his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Was it real, or was it imaginary?</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I had signed it?" he had often asked himself; "where should I
+be now? I should be a rich man&mdash;the owner of old Charles Faversham's
+huge fortune. Possibly I should have married Lady Blanche Huntingford
+and acted the part of the rich squire. But what would Romanoff have
+exacted of me? What would be my thoughts about Tony Riggleton?"</p>
+
+<p>Yes; those were wonderful days, whether they were a dream or a reality,
+and sometimes he called himself a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> fool for not following the Count's
+advice, while at others he shuddered to think of the dangers from which
+he had escaped.</p>
+
+<p>He had never seen nor heard of Lady Blanche since. On his arrival in
+London he had written an explanatory letter, and had expressed the hope
+that she would not lose interest in him. But he had received no reply.
+Evidently she regarded him as a kind of an impostor, with whom she could
+no further associate herself.</p>
+
+<p>Neither had he ever seen or heard of Romanoff. This dark, sinister man
+had passed away into the shadows, and only remained a strange memory, a
+peculiar influence in his life.</p>
+
+<p>Of Tony Riggleton he had heard various stories, all of which were of the
+same nature. Tony had been true to the programme he had marked out. He
+had filled Wendover Park with a motley crowd of men and women, and the
+orgies there were the talk of the neighbourhood. He had also a flat in
+London where he had indulged in his peculiar tastes.</p>
+
+<p>It was on hearing these stories that Dick had felt that he had acted the
+fool. He had become cynical, too, and laughed at the idea that virtue
+and honour were wise.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had followed Romanoff's advice," he had said to himself, "I might
+have&mdash;&mdash;" And repeatedly he had recounted what he might have done with
+the wealth which he had thought was his.</p>
+
+<p>For many months Dick had a hard struggle to live. His few weeks of
+riches had unfitted him for the battle of life. Society was shaken to
+its foundations; the world was a maddening maze. Again and again he had
+offered himself for the Army&mdash;only to be rejected. He was conscious of
+no illness, but the doctors persistently turned him down.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he drifted towards the industrial North of England and became
+employed in a huge factory where thousands of people worked. It was here
+that Dick's life underwent a great change. For the first time he found
+himself the daily, hourly companion of grimy-handed toilers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This gave him a new vision of life; it placed new meanings on great
+problems; he was made to look at life from new angles. For the first
+time he felt the squalor, the ugliness of life. He lived in a grimy
+street, amidst grimy surroundings. He saw things as the working classes
+saw them, saw them with all their grey unloveliness, their numbing
+monotony.</p>
+
+<p>Still ambitious, still determined to carve out a career, he felt
+oppressed by the ghastly atmosphere in which he found himself. He was
+now fast approaching thirty, and he found himself unable to adapt
+himself to his new conditions. He thought of all he had hoped to do and
+be, and now by some sport of fate he had become engulfed in this
+maelstrom of life.</p>
+
+<p>Little by little the inwardness of it all appealed to him. He had to do
+with men and women who were drunken, foul-mouthed, depraved. What wonder
+that he himself was becoming coarsened every day! Things at which he
+would once have shuddered he now passed by with a shrug of his
+shoulders. How could the working classes be refined, how could they have
+exalted ideas amidst such surroundings?</p>
+
+<p>He noticed the tremendous disparity between the moneyed and the working
+classes. The former were deliberately exploiting the great world
+convulsion, and the peculiar conditions caused thereby, to make huge
+profits. It was all wrong&mdash;utterly wrong. What was the worker, on whose
+labour everything depended? Mere means for swelling the capitalists'
+profits. Who cared about them? Politicians talked glibly about what they
+meant to do; but they did nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Newspapers shrieked, and capitalists talked about the disloyalty of the
+working classes. How could men go on strike while the very existence of
+empire, civilisation, humanity hung in the balance? they asked. But what
+of their own disloyalty? What of those who held a pistol at the head of
+the Government, and threatened to disorganise the trade of the country
+and paralyse output, if they could not stuff their money-bags still
+fuller?</p>
+
+<p>And so on, and on. His new environment changed him&mdash;changed his
+sympathies, his thoughts, his outlook.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> He thought of Tony Riggleton
+spending the money these people were making for him in wild orgies among
+loose men and women, and he became angry and bitter.</p>
+
+<p>Little by little his superior education asserted itself. He found, too,
+that he had a remarkable aptitude for public speech. He discovered that
+he could sway huge multitudes by the burning fervour of his words. He
+was able to put into language what the people felt, and before long
+became a popular hero.</p>
+
+<p>The world was in a state of flux; old ideas, old conceptions were swept
+aside as worn-out fallacies. What ten years before were regarded as
+madmen's dreams no longer appeared either unreasonable or quixotic. The
+forces of life had become fluid, and it was the toiler of the nation who
+was to decide into what channels the new movements were to flow.</p>
+
+<p>And Dick became a doctrinaire, as well as a dreamer of a new heaven and
+a new earth. He became an ardent reader, too. He was surprised at the
+ease with which his mind grasped theories hitherto unknown to him, how
+he absorbed the spirit of unrest, and how he flung himself into the
+world's great fray.</p>
+
+<p>"Faversham's our man," people said on every side. "He's got eddication,
+he's got a fair grip on things, and he can knock the masters to
+smithereens when it comes to argument and the gilt o' th' gab."</p>
+
+<p>"But who is he?" asked others. "He's noan our sort. He was noan brought
+up a workin' man."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, but he's a workin' man naa. He's worked side by side with the best
+on us, and he knows how to put things. I tell thee, he mun go into
+Parlyment. He'll mak 'em sit up. He mun be our member."</p>
+
+<p>This feeling became so strong that Dick was on two occasions selected to
+be one of deputations to the Prime Minister, and more than that, he was
+chosen to be the chief spokesman to state the workers' claims.</p>
+
+<p>In all this, not only were his sympathies aroused, but his vanity was
+appealed to. It was very pleasant to feel himself emerging from
+obscurity; the roar of cheering which the mention of his name elicited
+became as sweet as the nectar of the gods to him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Again he saw visions, and dreamt dreams. They were different from those
+of the old days, but they did a great deal to satisfy him. They told him
+of position, of power, of a place among the great ones of the world.
+Sometimes he was almost glad that Tony Riggleton inherited Charles
+Faversham's huge fortune. If he had retained it, and gained high
+position, that position would have been through the toil and brain of
+another. Now he would do everything by himself&mdash;unaided and alone.</p>
+
+<p>More than once during the many stormy and excited meetings Dick had
+attended, he had seen a kindly, benevolent-looking man, whose face
+suggested the milk of human kindness. Dick rather wondered how he came
+there, and on asking his name was told that he was called John Brown,
+and that, although he did not directly belong to the working classes, he
+was in deep sympathy with them, and had more than once subscribed to
+their funds. Presently Dick became acquainted with Mr. Brown, and
+something like intimacy sprang up between them.</p>
+
+<p>He found that Mr. Brown was a great admirer of his speeches, and more
+than once that gentleman had hinted that if he found any money
+difficulty in entering Parliament, he, John Brown, would see that the
+difficulty should be removed.</p>
+
+<p>"I am almost ashamed of being something of a capitalist," he confided to
+Dick, "but, at any rate, I can use what money I have for the advance of
+the cause which is so dear to me."</p>
+
+<p>Just before Dick was going to London the next time, he received a letter
+from Mr. Brown asking him to meet him at a well-known club. "I have
+certain things to say to you," he said, "certain propositions to make
+which I think will be worthy of your consideration."</p>
+
+<p>On Dick's arrival in London he made certain inquiries about Mr. Brown,
+which, however, did not help him much. He was by no means a prominent
+character, he learnt, but he was believed by many to be a man of
+enormous wealth. He was told, moreover, that he was somewhat eccentric,
+and loved doing good by stealth.</p>
+
+<p>It was therefore with aroused curiosity that Dick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> made his way to the
+club in question. He was not yet quite sure of his man, and so he
+determined to listen carefully to what Mr. Brown had to say without
+committing himself. Before long he found himself deeply interested. The
+stout, benevolent-looking man was revealing himself in a new light, and
+Dick found himself listening with fast-beating heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I will tell you what it is," said Mr. Brown. "I will make plain to
+you what I meant when I said that I see such a future before you as was
+never possible to any other Englishman."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">An Amazing Proposal</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Dick unconsciously drew his chair nearer the fire, while every nerve in
+his body became tense. He felt that the millionaire had not brought him
+here for mere pastime.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," said Mr. Brown, "what your plans for the future are."</p>
+
+<p>"Too hazy to outline," was Dick's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"That's truer than you think, my friend&mdash;far truer than you think;
+that's why your position is so absurd. And yet you answer me falsely."</p>
+
+<p>Dick gave the other a look that was almost angry.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, my friend," went on Mr. Brown; "do not mistake me. I do not
+accuse you of falsehood. You think you are speaking the truth. But you
+are not. In a way, your plans are defined. You mean to be Member of
+Parliament for Eastroyd. You mean to be the first Labour Member for that
+great working-class constituency. Already you have been approached by
+the various unions of the town, and you have been assured that you will
+be returned by a triumphant majority. And you've practically accepted,
+although you have persuaded yourself that you've not yet made up your
+mind. So far so good&mdash;or bad; but you are unsettled. There is something
+at the back of your mind that you can't explain. It doesn't satisfy you.
+Am I not speaking the truth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," assented Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"And naturally, too. Oh, my young friend, I know&mdash;I know. I have been
+through it all. What is a Labour Member after all? Just one of a few
+others, who is submerged by the great so-called Liberal and Conservative
+Parties. What can he do? Speak now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> and then when he's allowed to, beat
+the air, be listened to by a handful of his own supporters, and then
+forgotten. Consider the history of the Labour Party. What influence has
+it really had on the life of the nation? My friend, the government of
+the country is still in the hands of the upper and middle classes in
+spite of all you do and say."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," interrupted Dick, "but what are you driving at? What you
+say may be partly true, but at least the hope of the working classes,
+politically speaking, lies in the Labour Party."</p>
+
+<p>"Moonshine, my friend&mdash;mere moonshine. The atmosphere of the British
+House of Commons stifles the aspiration of the Labour Members. One by
+one they are absorbed into the old orthodox parties, and nothing is
+done. You know it, too. That's why the thought of becoming a Labour
+Member is unsatisfying to you. You would never be a real power, and you
+would always be regarded as an outsider, and you would never touch the
+helm of affairs."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent. After all, he was not a working man. He had social
+ambitions. He desired not only to be a prominent figure among the
+working classes; he wanted to be an equal of, a peer amongst the
+dominant forces of the world. He still remembered Lady Blanche
+Huntingford&mdash;as a Labour Member he would be outside her sphere.</p>
+
+<p>"You see it, don't you?" persisted Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I do? What then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everything then, my friend. Your present plans would end in nothing.
+Not only would you fail to do anything real for the people, but you
+yourself would be stultified. A Labour Member! What is he?&mdash;a man who,
+socially, is patronised; who is recognised only on sufferance; who, if
+he marries, must marry a commoner, a woman of the people, with all her
+limitations. Oh, I know, I know. And meanwhile the working people still
+continue to be trodden underfoot, and who toil for what they can squeeze
+out of their employers&mdash;their social superiors. Yes, yes, you are
+impatient with me. You say I am a long time in getting to my point. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
+be patient, my friend; I will get there. I only want you to realise the
+truth."</p>
+
+<p>"Then please get to your point," urged Dick a little impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"I will," replied Mr. John Brown, and he placed his chubby hand on
+Dick's knee. "Here is the fact, my friend: we live in a time when
+nothing is impossible. The world is in travail, in wild convulsions. The
+new channels of life are not made. All the forces of life are in a state
+of flux. Now is the time for the real leader, the strong man. The great
+proletariat is waiting for that leader, longing for him. The people are
+tired of the old worn pathways; they are waiting for the new kingdom,
+the new deliverer."</p>
+
+<p>"You are still in the clouds," cried Dick. "Come down to the solid
+earth."</p>
+
+<p>"I will, my friend. England is ripe for real reform, ripe for the new
+order. The open sores of the country cannot be healed by
+sticking-plasters. They must be cauterised; the cancers must be cut out.
+In one word&mdash;Revolution!"</p>
+
+<p>Dick started to his feet, and took a hasty glance around the room. For a
+wonder, it was empty. They were alone.</p>
+
+<p>"You are mad!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I am," laughed Mr. Brown. "Every man is called mad who sees a
+new heaven and a new earth. But, my friend, I speak as an Englishman, as
+one who loves his country. I am a patriot, and I want to see a greater,
+grander England. I want to see a Britain that shall be happy,
+prosperous, contented. I want to destroy poverty, to smash up the old
+order of things&mdash;an order which has dragged squalor, misery, poverty,
+injustice, inequality at its heels. I am tired&mdash;<i>tired</i> of seeing
+criminal wealth and mad luxury and waste on the one hand, and abject
+grinding poverty on the other. And to cure it all you must go to the
+roots of things; there must be great upheavals, revolutions. The land
+must be the people's, the mineral must be the people's, the water, the
+food, the wealth, the Army, the Navy, the <i>everything</i> must belong to
+the people."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Bolshevism!" The word came from him abruptly&mdash;angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Bolshevism," replied the other; "and what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Russia!" and there was a sneer in Dick's voice as he uttered the word.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Russia if you like. And still, what then? Would you have Russia go
+on century by century as it had been going? Would you have scores upon
+scores of millions of men and women go on existing as they were
+existing? You know the history of Russia for ten centuries past. What
+has it been?&mdash;a criminal, bloated, corrupt, cruel, overbearing,
+persecuting aristocracy and bureaucracy on the one hand, and a welter of
+poor, suffering, starving, outraged, diseased, dying people on the
+other. That was Russia. And desperate diseases need desperate remedies,
+my friend. Of course, the very name of Russia is being shuddered at just
+now. But think, my friend. Birth is always a matter of travail, and
+Russia is being re-born. But wait. In ten years Russia will be regarded
+as the pioneer of civilisation&mdash;as the herald of a new age. Russia is
+taking the only step possible that will lead to justice, and to peace,
+and prosperity for all."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean that!" Dick scarcely knew that he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I am as certain of it as that I sit here. I swear it by whatever gods
+there be!"</p>
+
+<p>Plain, stout Mr. John Brown was changed. Dick forgot his fat, chubby
+hands, his round, benevolent, kindly, but commonplace face. It was a new
+Mr. John Brown that he saw. A new light shone in his eyes, a new tone
+had come to his voice, a seemingly new spirit inspired him.</p>
+
+<p>"I go further," cried Mr. Brown, "and I say this: England&mdash;the British
+Isles need the same remedy. All that you have been thinking about are
+sticking-plasters&mdash;palliatives, and not cures. What England needs is a
+Revolution. All the old corrupt, crushing forces must be destroyed, the
+old gods overthrown, and a new evangelist must proclaim a new gospel."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A madman's dream," protested Dick. "Let's talk of something else."</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet," replied Mr. John Brown. "Tell me this, you who long for a new
+heaven and a new earth&mdash;you who plead for justice, for fraternity, for
+brotherhood: do you believe that the programme&mdash;I mean the organised
+programme&mdash;of the Labour Party or the Socialist Party will ever bring
+about what you desire?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you are honest. You know it will not. In your heart of hearts you
+know, too, that nothing but a thorough upheaval, a complete Revolution
+of the bad old order of things can bring about what you desire. Patching
+up an old building whose walls are cracked, whose drains are corrupt,
+whose foundations are insecure, is waste of time and energy. If you want
+a new sanitary house the old place has to be demolished and the rubbish
+<i>cleared away</i>! That's it, my friend. That's what's needed in this
+country. The rubbish must be cleared away. That's what the people want.
+For the moment they are crying out for something, they hardly know what,
+but they will have a Revolution, and they are longing for a leader to
+lead them, a prophet to interpret their needs."</p>
+
+<p>"But for England to become another Russia!" Dick's response was that of
+a man who had not yet grasped all that was in the other's mind.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no need of that. Because England has not sunk to the depths of
+Russia, her revolution would be less violent. There would be no need for
+excesses, for violence. But here is the fact, my friend: three-fourths
+of our population belong to the wage-earning classes; they are the
+toilers and the moilers; let the true gospel be preached to them, let
+the true prophet and leader appear, and they would follow him."</p>
+
+<p>"And who is to be the prophet, the leader?"</p>
+
+<p>"You, my friend."</p>
+
+<p>"I!" gasped Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"You. Richard Faversham. You who have tasted the sweets of wealth. You
+who have toiled and sweated with the workers. You who have eyes to see,
+ears to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> hear. You who have the power to interpret the people's
+longings. You who have the qualities of the leader, who can take them to
+the Promised Land. You!"</p>
+
+<p>"Madness!"</p>
+
+<p>"You say that now. You will not say it in a few hours from now. You can
+understand now what I meant when I startled you an hour ago by saying
+that I see such a future before you as was never possible to any
+Englishman. You are young; you are ambitious. It is right you should be.
+No man who is not ambitious is worth a rotten stick to his age. Here is
+such a career as was never known before. Never, I say! Man, it's
+glorious! You can become the greatest man of the age&mdash;of all the ages!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown looked at Dick intently for a few seconds, and then went on,
+speaking every word distinctly.</p>
+
+<p>"A Labour Member, indeed! A voting machine at four hundred a year! The
+hack of his party organisation! Is that a career for a man like you?
+Heavens, such a thought is sacrilege! But this, my friend, is the
+opportunity of a life&mdash;of all time."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" cried Dick. "I want to grasp it&mdash;to think!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h3>"<span class="smcap">The Country for the People</span>"</h3>
+
+
+<p>"But you <i>are</i> mad," said the young man at length. "Even if you are
+right in your diagnosis of the disease from which the country is
+suffering, if the remedy you suggest is the only one, I am not the man
+you need. And even if I were, the remedy is impossible. England is not
+where France was a hundred years ago; she is not where Russia is
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are not a Lenin, a Trotsky, eh?" and Mr. John Brown laughed
+like a man who had made a joke.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank Heaven, I am not," and Dick spoke quickly. "I do not believe
+in the nationalisation of women, neither do I believe in the destruction
+of the most sacred institutions of life."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you don't," replied Mr. John Brown, "and I am glad of it.
+Russia has gone to many excesses which we must avoid. But what can you
+expect, my friend? After centuries of oppression and persecution, is it
+any wonder that there has been a swing of the pendulum? The same thing
+was true of France a hundred years ago. France went wild, France lost
+her head, and neither Danton nor Robespierre checked the extravagances
+of the people. But, answer me this. Is not France a thousand times
+better to-day than when under the Bourbons and the Church? Is not such a
+Republic as France has, infinitely better than the reign of a corrupt
+throne, a rotten aristocracy, and a rottener Church? Besides, did not a
+great part of those who were guillotined deserve their doom?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they did; but&mdash;but the thing is impossible, all the same."</p>
+
+<p>"Why impossible?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"For one thing, Lenin and Trotsky are in a country without order and
+law. They murdered the Tzar and his family, and they seized the money of
+the Government and of the banks. Such a thing as you suggest would need
+millions, and you could not get any body of Englishmen to follow on the
+Russian lines. Besides&mdash;no, the thing is impossible!"</p>
+
+<p>"Money!" repeated Mr. John Brown, like a man reflecting. "I myself would
+place in your hands all the money you need for organisation and
+propaganda."</p>
+
+<p>"In <i>my</i> hands!"</p>
+
+<p>"In your hands, my friend. Yes, in your hands. But we have talked enough
+now. You want time to think over what has been said. But will you do
+something, my friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I suspect not."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you will. To-night I want you to accompany me to a place where
+your eyes will be opened. I want you to see how deep are the feelings of
+millions, how strong is the longing for a leader, a guide. You, who have
+felt the pulses of the millions who live and act in the open, have no
+idea of what is felt by the millions who act in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you don't. You and other so-called Labour leaders, because
+you mingle with a class which you call the people, think you know
+everything. You believe you know the thought, the spirit of the age.
+Come with me to-night and I will show you a phase of life hitherto
+unknown to you. You will come? Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, I will come," replied Dick, with a laugh. The conversation had
+excited him beyond measure, and he was eager for adventure.</p>
+
+<p>"Good. Be at the entrance to the Blackfriars Underground Station
+to-night at eleven o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"At eleven; all right."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. John Brown looked at his watch, and then gave a hasty glance round
+the room. He saw two portly looking men coming in their direction.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure you will excuse me, Mr. Faversham. It is later than I
+thought, and I find I have appointments.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> But it has been very
+interesting to know your point of view. Good evening. Ah, Sir Felix, I
+thought you might drop in to-night," and leaving Dick as though their
+talk had been of the most commonplace nature, he shook hands with the
+newcomers.</p>
+
+<p>Dick, feeling himself dismissed, left the club, and a minute later found
+himself in the thronging crowd of Piccadilly. Taxicabs, buses, richly
+upholstered motor-cars were passing, but he did not heed them. People
+jostled him as he made his way towards Hyde Park gates, but he was
+unaware of it. His head was in a whirl; he was living in a maze of
+conflicting thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>Of course old John Brown was a madman! Nothing but a madman would
+advance such a quixotic programme! He pictured the club he had just
+left&mdash;quiet, orderly, circumspect&mdash;the natural rendezvous for City and
+West End magnates, the very genius of social order and moneyed
+respectability. How, then, could a respected member of such a place
+advance such a mad-brained scheme?</p>
+
+<p>But he had.</p>
+
+<p>Not that he&mdash;Dick Faversham&mdash;could regard it seriously. Of course he had
+during the last two years been drawn into a new world, and had been led
+to accept socialistic ideas. Some, even among the Socialists, called
+them advanced. But this!</p>
+
+<p>Of course it was impossible.</p>
+
+<p>All the same, there was a great deal in what John Brown had said. A
+Labour Member. A paid voting machine at £400 a year! The words rankled
+in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>And this scheme was alluring. The country for the people!...</p>
+
+<p>He made his way along the causeway, thinking of it.</p>
+
+<p>A Revolution! The old bad, mad order of things ended by one mighty
+upheaval! A new England, with a new outlook, a new Government!... A
+mighty movement which might grip the world. A new earth....</p>
+
+<p>And he&mdash;Dick Faversham?</p>
+
+<p>Here was scope for new enterprises! Here was a career! On the one hand,
+a paid working man member at £400 a year, regarded with a supercilious
+smile by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> class to which he really belonged; and, on the other, a
+force which shook Society to its foundations&mdash;a leader whose name would
+be on all lips....</p>
+
+<p>Of course it was all nonsense, and he would drive it from his mind.</p>
+
+<p>And he would not meet Mr. John Brown that night. What a madcap idea to
+go to some midnight gathering&mdash;where, Heaven only knew! And for what?</p>
+
+<p>He had reached Park Lane, and almost unconsciously he turned eastward.</p>
+
+<p>He could not remember a single thing that had happened during his walk
+from Park Lane to Piccadilly Circus. The great tide of human life surged
+to and fro, but he was oblivious of the fact.</p>
+
+<p>He was thinking&mdash;wildly thinking.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly he gave a start. Just as he reached the Circus he saw a
+face which set his heart beating wildly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Faversham, is that you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Count Romanoff!" Dick almost gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; who would have thought of seeing you? Still, the world is small."</p>
+
+<p>The Count was not changed. He still carried himself proudly, and was
+dressed to perfection. Also, he still seemed to regard others with a
+degree of indifference. He was the same contemptuous, cynical man of the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing, eh? Still living at Wendover Park?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. You know I am not."</p>
+
+<p>"No? Ah, I remember now. I have been knocking around the world ever
+since, and had almost forgotten. But your quondam cousin entered
+possession, didn't he? But you, what did you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I&mdash;I drifted."</p>
+
+<p>"Drifted&mdash;where?&mdash;to what? You look changed. Things are not going well
+with you, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;quite well, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes? You married Lady Blanche? But no, I should have heard of it."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I did not marry. I am living in Eastroyd."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Eastroyd! Where's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never heard of it before. Is it in England?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick was growing angry; there was a sneer in every tone of the man's
+voice. He felt a mad desire to make the Count see that he had become a
+man of importance.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; it's in the North," he replied. "It's a huge town of a quarter of
+a million people. A great industrial centre."</p>
+
+<p>"And what are you doing there?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm contemplating an invitation to become a Member of Parliament for
+the town. I'm assured that, if I accept, my return to the House of
+Commons is certain."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that's interesting. And which side will you take&mdash;Conservative or
+Liberal? Conservative, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I should stand as a Labour candidate."</p>
+
+<p>"As a&mdash;&mdash;Surely I didn't hear you aright?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right. My sympathies have come to lie in that direction."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but&mdash;a Labour Member! I thought you had some pretensions to be a
+gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>Dick felt as though he had received the lash of a whip. He wanted to
+lash back, to make Romanoff feel what he felt. But no words came.</p>
+
+<p>"You have no sympathy with the working classes?" he asked feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"Sympathy! What gentleman could? See what they've done in my own
+country. I had little sympathy with Nicky; but great heavens, think! Of
+course I'm angry. I had estates in Russia; they had been in the families
+for centuries&mdash;and now! But the thing is a nightmare! Working classes,
+eh! I'd take every mal-content in Europe and shoot him. What are the
+working classes but lazy, drunken swine that should be bludgeoned into
+obedience?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you understand the British working classes," was Dick's
+response.</p>
+
+<p>"No? I'm sure I don't want to. I prefer my own class. But pray don't let
+me keep you from them. Good evening."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Without another word, without holding out his hand, the Count turned on
+his heel and walked away.</p>
+
+<p>The incident affected Dick in two ways. First of all, it made his
+experiences three years before in the Wendover Park very shadowy and
+unreal. In spite of everything, he had not been able to think of the
+Count save as an evil influence in his life, as one who desired to get
+him into his power for his own undoing. He had had a vague belief that
+in some way unknown to him, Romanoff desired to hold him in his grip for
+sinister purposes, and that he had been saved by an opposing power. Had
+he been asked to assert this he would have hesitated, and perhaps been
+silent. Still, at the back of his doubt the feeling existed. But now,
+with the memory of the Count's contemptuous words and looks in his mind,
+it all appeared as groundless and as unreal as the fabric of a dream. If
+he had been right, he would not have treated him in such a fashion.</p>
+
+<p>The other way in which the incident affected him was to arouse an angry
+determination to win a position equal to and superior to that which
+would be his as Charles Faversham's heir. He would by his own endeavours
+rise to such heights that even the Count's own position would pale into
+insignificance. After all, what were kings and princes? Their day was
+over. Soon, soon thrones all over the world would topple like ninepins;
+soon the power of the world would be in new hands.</p>
+
+<p>A Labour Member, indeed! Working people swine, were they? Soon the
+working people of the world would be masters! Then woe be to a useless,
+corrupt aristocracy! As for the leaders of the toilers...</p>
+
+<p>"I'll meet Mr. John Brown again to-night," he reflected. "I'll go to
+this, this!... I wonder what he has in his mind?"</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Count Romanoff wandered along Piccadilly till he came to St.
+James's Street. He was smiling as though something pleasant had happened
+to him. His eyes, too, shone with a strange light, and he walked like a
+victor.</p>
+
+<p>He walked past the Devonshire Club, and then turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> into a street
+almost opposite St. James's Square. Here he looked at his watch and
+walked more slowly. Evidently he knew his way well, for he took several
+turnings without the slightest hesitation, till at length he reached a
+house at the corner of a street. He selected a key from a bunch, opened
+the door of the house, and entered. For a moment he stood still and
+listened; then, walking noiselessly along a thick carpet, he opened the
+door of a room and entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Sitting in the dark, eh? Reflecting on the destiny of nations, I
+suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>The Count's manner was light and pleasant. He was in a good humour. He
+switched on the light and saw Mr. John Brown. It would seem that they
+had met by appointment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Mr. Brown; "I was reflecting on the destiny of
+nations&mdash;reflecting, too, on the fact that the greatest victories of the
+world are won not by armies who fight in the open, but by brains that
+act in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>"You have seen him. I know that."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know everything, my friend. You met him about an hour ago. You had a
+long talk with him. You have baited your hook, and thrown it. Before you
+could tell whether the fish would rise, you thought it better to wait.
+You decided to make further preparations."</p>
+
+<p>"Romanoff, I believe you are the devil."</p>
+
+<p>"Many a true word is spoken in jest, my friend. But, devil or not, am I
+not right?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have seen him? He has told you?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has told me nothing. Yes, he has, though. He has told me he had
+ambitions to be a Labour Member of Parliament."</p>
+
+<p>"But nothing more?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing more. I was passing along the street and spoke to him."</p>
+
+<p>The two were looking at each other eagerly, questioningly. Mr. John
+Brown's face had become flabby; the flesh around his eyes was baggy. The
+eyes had a furtive look, as though he stood in awe of his companion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
+Romanoff, too, in spite of his claim to omniscience, might be a little
+anxious.</p>
+
+<p>"The fellow's career is a miracle," remarked Mr. John Brown at length.
+"A millionaire one day, a pauper the next. And then to settle down as a
+toiler among toilers&mdash;to become the popular hero, the socialist leader,
+the rebel, the seer of visions, the daring reformer! A miracle, I say!
+But with proper guidance, he is the man we need. He can do much!"</p>
+
+<p>Count Romanoff laughed like one amused.</p>
+
+<p>"Germany is in a bad way, eh? Poor Wilhelm, what a fool! Oh, what a
+fool!"</p>
+
+<p>"Be quiet!" cried the other hoarsely. "Even here the walls may have
+ears, and if it were suspected that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly, my friend," sneered the Count. "But tell me how you stand."</p>
+
+<p>For some time they talked quietly, earnestly, the Count asking questions
+and raising objections, while Mr. John Brown explained what he had in
+his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Germany is never beaten," he said&mdash;"never. When arms fail, brains come
+in. Russia has become what Russia is, not by force of arms, but by
+brains. Whose? And Germany will triumph. This fellow is only one of many
+who are being used. A network of agencies are constantly at work."</p>
+
+<p>"And to-night you are going to introduce him to Olga?" and the Count
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"The most fascinating woman in Europe, my friend. Yes; to-night I am
+going to open his eyes. To-night he will fall in love. To-night will be
+the beginning of the end of Britain's greatness!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Midnight Meeting</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Dick Faversham stood at the entrance of the underground station at
+Blackfriars Bridge. It was now five minutes before eleven, and the
+traffic along the Embankment was beginning to thin. New Bridge Street
+was almost deserted, for the tide of theatre-goers did not go that way.
+Dick was keenly on the look out for Mr. John Brown, and wondered what
+kind of a place he was going to visit that night.</p>
+
+<p>He felt a slight touch upon his shoulder, and, turning, he saw Mr. Brown
+go to the ticket office.</p>
+
+<p>"Third single for Mark Lane," he said, carelessly throwing down two
+coppers, yet so clearly that Dick could not help hearing him.</p>
+
+<p>Without hesitation Dick also went to the office and booked for the same
+place. Mr. Brown took no apparent notice of him, and when the train came
+in squeezed himself into a third-class compartment. Having secured a
+seat, he lit a cheap black cigar.</p>
+
+<p>Dick noticed that he wore a somewhat shabby over-coat and a hat to
+match. Apparently Mr. Brown had not a thought in his mind beyond that of
+smoking his cigar and reading a soiled copy of an evening paper.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at Mark Lane, Mr. Brown alighted and, still without taking
+notice of Dick, found his way to the street. For some time he walked
+eastward, and then, having reached a dark alley, turned suddenly and
+waited for Dick to come up.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep me in sight for the next half-mile," he said quickly. "When I stop
+next, you will come close to me, and I will give you necessary
+instructions."</p>
+
+<p>They were now in a part of London which was wholly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> strange to the young
+man. There were only few passers-by. It was now nearly midnight, and
+that part of London was going to sleep. Now and then a belated traveller
+shuffled furtively along as though anxious not to be seen. They were in
+a neighbourhood where dark things happen.</p>
+
+<p>Evidently Mr. John Brown knew his way well. He threaded narrow streets
+and dark alleys without the slightest hesitation; neither did he seem to
+have any apprehension of danger. When stragglers stopped and gave him
+suspicious glances, he went straight on, unheeding.</p>
+
+<p>Dick on the other hand, was far from happy. He did not like his midnight
+journey; he did not like the grim, forbidding neighbourhood through
+which they were passing. He reflected that he was utterly ignorant where
+he was, and, but for a hazy idea that he was somewhere near the river,
+would not know which way to turn if by any chance he missed his guide.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, however, Mr. Brown stopped and gave a hasty look around.
+Everywhere were dark, forbidding-looking buildings which looked like
+warehouses. Not a ray of light was to be seen anywhere. Even although
+vast hordes of people were all around the spot where he stood, the very
+genius of loneliness reigned.</p>
+
+<p>He beckoned Dick to him, and spoke in low tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Be surprised at nothing you see or hear," he advised in a whisper.
+"There is no danger for either you or me. This is London, eh? And yet
+those who love England, and are thinking and working for her welfare,
+are obliged to meet in secret."</p>
+
+<p>"Still, I'd like to know where we are going," protested Dick. "I don't
+like this."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait, my young friend. Wait just five minutes. Now, follow me in
+silence."</p>
+
+<p>Had not the spirit of adventure been strong upon the young fellow, he
+would have refused. There was something sinister in the adventure. He
+could not at all reconcile Mr. John Brown's membership of the club he
+had visited that afternoon with this Egyptian darkness in a London slum.</p>
+
+<p>"Follow without remark, and without noise,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> commanded the older man,
+and then, having led the way a few yards farther, he flashed a light
+upon some narrow stone steps.</p>
+
+<p>Dick was sure he heard the movement of a large body of water. He was
+more than ever convinced that they were close to the Thames.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown descended the steps, while Dick followed. His heart was
+beating rapidly, but he had no fear. A sense of curiosity had mastered
+every other feeling. At the bottom of the steps Mr. Brown stopped and
+listened, but although Dick strained his powers of hearing, he could
+detect no sound. The place might have been exactly what it appeared in
+the darkness&mdash;a deserted warehouse.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, then," whispered Mr. Brown, and there was excitement in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>A second later he tapped with his stick on what appeared to be the door
+of the warehouse. Dick, whose senses were keenly alert, counted the
+taps. Three soft, two loud, and again two soft ones.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened as if by magic. There was no noise, and Dick would not
+have known it was opened save for the dim light which was revealed. A
+second later he had entered, and the door closed.</p>
+
+<p>In the dim light Dick saw that he was following two dark forms.
+Evidently the person who had opened the door was leading the way. But he
+could discern nothing clearly; he thought they were passing through some
+kind of lumber room, but he could have sworn to nothing. After that
+there was a passage of some sort, and again they descended some more
+steps, at the bottom of which Dick heard what seemed the confused murmur
+of voices....</p>
+
+<p>Dick found himself standing in a kind of vestibule, and there was a
+sudden glare of light. Both he and Mr. John Brown were in a well-lit
+room, in which some two hundred people had gathered.</p>
+
+<p>When Dick's eyes had become accustomed to the light, he saw that he was
+in the midst of one of the most curious crowds he had ever seen. The
+people seemed of many nationalities, and the sexes appeared equally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
+divided. Very few old people were present. In the main they were well
+dressed, and might have been comfortably situated. Nevertheless, it was
+a motley crowd&mdash;motley not so much because of any peculiarity in their
+attire as because of their personalities. What impressed Dick more than
+anything else was the look of fierce intelligence on their faces, and
+the nervous eagerness which characterised their every movement. Every
+look, every action spoke of intensity, and as Dick swept a hasty glance
+around the room, he felt that he was breathing an atmosphere which was
+altogether new to him&mdash;an atmosphere which was electric.</p>
+
+<p>The room was evidently arranged for a meeting. At one end was a platform
+on which was placed a table and half a dozen chairs, while the people
+who formed the audience were waiting for the speakers to appear.</p>
+
+<p>Then Dick realised that all eyes were turned towards himself and that a
+sudden silence prevailed. This was followed by what Dick judged to be a
+question of some sort, although he could not tell what it was, as it was
+asked in a language unknown to him.</p>
+
+<p>"It is all right. I, John Brown, vouch for everything."</p>
+
+<p>"But who is he?" This time the question was in English, and Dick
+understood that it referred to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"It is all right, I repeat," replied Mr. Brown. "My companion is a
+comrade, a friend, whom you will be glad to hear. Who is he? He is a
+Labour leader, and is chosen by the working people of Eastroyd to
+represent them in the British Parliament."</p>
+
+<p>A great deal of scornful laughter followed this. It might have been that
+Mr. Brown were trying to play a practical joke upon them.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," said Mr. Brown. "I am not unknown to you, and I think I have
+proved to you more than once that I am in sympathy with your aims. Let
+me ask you this: have I ever introduced anyone who was not worthy and
+whose help you have not gladly welcomed?"</p>
+
+<p>There was some slight cheering at this, and Mr. Brown went on:</p>
+
+<p>"I need not assure you that I have taken every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> precaution&mdash;<i>every</i>
+precaution&mdash;or tell you that, if good does not come of my being here,
+harm will surely not come of it. This, my friends, is Mr. Richard
+Faversham of Eastroyd, whose fiery zeal on behalf of the world's toilers
+cannot be unknown to you."</p>
+
+<p>Again there was some cheering, and Dick noted that the glances cast
+towards him were less hostile, less suspicious.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown seemed on the point of speaking further, but did not. At that
+moment a curtain at the back of the platform was drawn aside, and three
+men accompanied by two women appeared. It would seem that the time for
+the commencement of the meeting had come.</p>
+
+<p>Dick had some remembrance afterwards that one of the men addressed the
+meeting, and that he spoke about the opportunities which the times
+offered to the struggling millions who had been crushed through the
+centuries, but nothing distinct remained in his mind. Every faculty he
+possessed was devoted to one of the two women who sat on the platform.
+He did not know who she was; he had never seen her before, and yet his
+eyes never left her face.</p>
+
+<p>Never before had he seen such a woman; never had he dreamed that there
+could be anyone like her.</p>
+
+<p>Years before he had seen, and fancied himself in love with, Lady Blanche
+Huntingford. He had been captivated by her glorious young womanhood, her
+abundant vitality, her queenly beauty. But, compared with the woman on
+the platform, Blanche Huntingford was as firelight to sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>Even as he sat there he compared them&mdash;contrasted them. He remembered
+what he had thought of the proud Surrey beauty; how he had raved about
+her eyes, her hair, her figure; but here was a beauty of another and a
+higher order. Even in his most enthusiastic moments, Lady Blanche's
+intellectuality, her spirituality, had never appealed to him. But this
+woman's beauty was glorified by eyes that spoke of exalted thoughts,
+passionate longings, lofty emotions.</p>
+
+<p>Her face, too, was constantly changing. Poetry, humour, passion, pity,
+tenderness, scorn were expressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> on her features as she looked at the
+speaker. This woman was poetry incarnate! She was pity incarnate! She
+was passion incarnate!</p>
+
+<p>Dick forgot where he was. He was altogether unconscious of the fact that
+he was in a meeting somewhere in the East End of London, and that things
+were being said which, if known to the police, would place the speaker,
+and perhaps the listeners, in prison. All that seemed as nothing; he was
+chained, fascinated by the almost unearthly beauty of the woman who sat
+on the little shabby-looking platform.</p>
+
+<p>Then slowly the incongruity of the situation came to him. The audience,
+although warmly dressed and apparently comfortably conditioned, belonged
+in the main to the working classes. They were toilers. Most of them were
+malcontents&mdash;people who under almost any conditions would be opposed to
+law and order. But this woman was an aristocrat of aristocrats. No one
+could doubt it any more than he could doubt the sunlight. Her dress,
+too, was rich and beautiful. On her fingers costly rings sparkled;
+around her neck diamonds hung. And yet she was here in a cellar
+warehouse, in a district where squalor abounded.</p>
+
+<p>The speaker finished; evidently he was the chairman of the meeting, and
+after having finished his harangue turned to the others on the platform.</p>
+
+<p>Dick heard the word "Olga," and immediately after the room was full of
+deafening cheers.</p>
+
+<p>The woman he had been watching rose to her feet and waited while the
+people continued to cheer. Fascinated, he gazed at her as her eyes swept
+over the gathering. Then his heart stood still. She looked towards him,
+and their eyes met. There might have been recognition, so brightly did
+her eyes flash, and so tender was the smile which came to her lips. She
+seemed to be saying to him, "Wait, we shall have much to say to each
+other presently." The air of mystery, which seemed to envelop her,
+enveloped him also. The hard barriers of materialism seemed to melt
+away, and he had somehow entered the realm of romance and wonder.</p>
+
+<p>Then her voice rang out over the audience&mdash;a voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> that was rich in
+music. He did not understand a word she said, for she spoke in a
+language unknown to him. And yet her message reached him. Indeed, she
+seemed to be speaking only to him, only for him. And her every word
+thrilled him. As she spoke, he saw oppressed peoples. He saw men in
+chains, women crushed, trodden on, little children diseased, neglected,
+cursed. The picture of gay throngs, revelling in all the world could
+give them in pleasure, in music, in song, and wine, passed before his
+mind side by side with harrowing, numbing want and misery.</p>
+
+<p>Then she struck a new note&mdash;vibrant and triumphant. It thrilled him,
+made his heart beat madly, caused a riot of blood in his veins.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he realised that she was speaking in English, that she was
+calling to him in his own language. She was telling of a new age, a new
+era. She described how old things had passed away, and that all things
+had become new; that old barriers had been broken down; that old
+precedents, old prejudices which for centuries had crushed the world,
+were no longer potent. New thoughts had entered men's minds; new hopes
+stirred the world's heart. In the great cataclysm through which we had
+passed, nations had been re-born, and the old bad, mad world had passed
+away in the convulsions of the world's upheaval.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," she concluded, "what wait we for? We await the prophet, the
+leader, the Messiah. Who is he? How shall he come? Is he here? Is the
+man who is able to do what the world needs brave enough, great enough to
+say, like the old Hebrew prophet, 'Here am I, send me'?"</p>
+
+<p>And even as she spoke Dick felt that her eyes were fastened upon him,
+even as her words thrilled his heart. Something, he knew not what it
+was, formed a link between them&mdash;gave this woman power over him.</p>
+
+<p>There was no applause as she sat down. The feeling of the people was too
+intense, the magnetic charm of the speaker too great.</p>
+
+<p>Still with her eyes fixed upon Dick, she made her way towards him. He
+saw her coming towards him, saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> her dark, flashing eyes, her white,
+gleaming teeth, felt the increasing charm of her wondrous face.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was a change in the atmosphere&mdash;a change indefinable,
+indescribable. Just above the woman's head Dick saw in dim outline what
+years before had become such a potent factor in his life. It was the
+face of the angel he had seen when he was sinking in the deep waters,
+and which appeared to him at Wendover Park.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Richard Faversham," said the woman who had so thrilled him that
+night, "I have long been waiting for this hour."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<h3>"<span class="smcap">You and I Together</span>"</h3>
+
+
+<p>For some time Dick Faversham was oblivious to the fact that the woman
+who had so fascinated him a few minutes before stood near him with hands
+outstretched and a smile of gladness in her eyes. Again he was under the
+spell of what, in his heart of hearts, he called "The Angel." Even yet
+he had no definite idea as to who or what this angel was, but there was
+a dim consciousness at the back of his mind that she had again visited
+him for an important reason. He was certain that her purposes towards
+him were beneficent, that in some way she had crossed the pathway of his
+life to help him and to save him.</p>
+
+<p>Like lightning the memory of that fearful night when he was sinking in
+the stormy sea came surging back into his mind. He remembered how he had
+felt his strength leaving him, while the cold, black waters were
+dragging him into their horrible depths. Then he had seen a ray of light
+streaming to him across the raging sea; he had seen the shadowy figure
+above him with outstretched arms, and even while he had felt himself
+up-borne by some power other than his own, the words had come to
+him&mdash;"Underneath are the Everlasting Arms."</p>
+
+<p>It was all shadowy and unreal&mdash;so much so that in later days he had
+doubted its objective reality, and yet there had been times when it had
+been the most potent force in his life. It had become such a great and
+glorious fact that everything else had sunk into insignificance.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was that scene in the library at Wendover. He had been on the
+point of signing the paper which Count Romanoff had prepared for him.
+Under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> this man's influence, right and wrong had appeared to him but a
+chimera of the imagination. The alternative which had appeared before
+him stood out in ghastly clearness. He had only to sign the paper, and
+all the riches which he thought were his would remain in his possession.
+But he had not signed it. Again that luminous form had appeared, while a
+hand, light as a feather, but irresistible in its power, had been laid
+upon his wrist, and the pen had dropped from his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>And now the angel had come to him again. Even as he looked, he could see
+her plainly, while the same yearning eyes looked into his.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Faversham!"</p>
+
+<p>He started, like a man suddenly wakened from a dream, and again he saw
+the woman who had been spoken of as Olga, and who had thrilled him by
+her presence and by the magic of her voice, standing by his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me," he said, "but tell me, do you see anyone on the platform?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl, for she appeared to be only two or three and twenty, looked at
+him in a puzzled kind of way.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she replied, casting her eyes in that direction; "I see no one.
+There is no one there."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a beautiful woman? She is rather shadowy, but she has wonderful
+eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"No," she replied wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I suppose I was mistaken. You are Olga, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I am Olga."</p>
+
+<p>"And you made that wonderful speech?"</p>
+
+<p>"Was it wonderful?" and she laughed half sadly, half gaily.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the spell, or whatever it was, left him. He was Dick Faversham
+again&mdash;keen, alert, critical. He realised where he was, too. He had
+accompanied Mr. John Brown to this place, and he had listened to words
+which were revolutionary. If they were translated into action, all law
+and order as he now understood them would cease to be.</p>
+
+<p>Around him, too, chattering incessantly, was a number<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> of long-haired,
+wild-eyed men. They were discussing the speech to which they had just
+listened; they were debating the new opportunities which the times had
+created.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you two have met!" It was Mr. John Brown who spoke. "I am glad of
+that. This is Olga. She is a Princess in Russia, but because she loved
+the poor, and sought to help them, she was seized by the Russian
+officials and sent to Siberia. That was two years ago. She escaped and
+came to England. Since then she has lived and worked for a new Russia,
+for a new and better life in the world. You heard her speak to-night.
+Did you understand her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only in part," replied Dick. "She spoke in a language that was strange
+to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I know. But, as you see, she speaks English perfectly. We
+must get away from here. We must go to a place where we can talk
+quietly, and where, you two can compare ideas. But meanwhile I want you
+to understand, Mr. Faversham, that the people you see here are typical
+of millions all over Europe who are hoping and praying for the dawn of a
+new day. Of course there are only a few thousands here in London, but
+they represent ideas that are seething in the minds of hundreds of
+millions."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Brown has told me about you," said Olga. "I recognised you from his
+description the moment I saw you. I felt instinctively what you had
+thought, what you had suffered, what you had seen in visions, and what
+you had dreamed. I knew then that you were the prophet&mdash;the leader that
+we needed."</p>
+
+<p>Dick gave her a quick glance, and again felt the spell of her beauty.
+She was like no woman he had ever seen before. Her eyes shone like
+stars, and they told him that this was a woman in a million. The quickly
+changing expressions on her face, the wondrous quality of her presence,
+fascinated him.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be delighted to discuss matters with you," replied Dick. "That
+part of your speech which I understood made me realise that we are one
+in aim and sympathy. If you will come to my hotel to-morrow, we can
+speak freely."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Olga laughed merrily. "I am afraid you do not understand, Mr.
+Faversham," she said. "I am a suspect; I am proscribed by your
+Government. A price has been placed on my head."</p>
+
+<p>Dick looked at her questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I am afraid I don't understand," was his reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you see?" and again she laughed merrily. "I am looked upon as a
+dangerous person. News has come to your authorities that I am a menace
+to society, that I am a creator of strife. First of all, I am an alien,
+and as an alien I am supposed to subscribe to certain regulations and
+laws. But I do not subscribe to them. As a consequence I am wanted by
+the police. If you did your duty, you would try to hand me over to the
+authorities; you would place me under arrest."</p>
+
+<p>"Are&mdash;are you a spy, then?" Dick asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Of a sort, yes."</p>
+
+<p>"A German?"</p>
+
+<p>A look of mad passion swept over her face.</p>
+
+<p>"A German!" she cried. "Heaven forbid. No, no. I hate Germany. I hate
+the accursed war that Germany caused. And yet, no. The war was a
+necessity. The destruction of the old bad past was a necessity. And we
+must use the mad chaos the war has created to build a new heaven and
+create a new earth. What are nationalities, peoples, country boundaries,
+man-made laws, but the instruments of the devil to perpetuate crime,
+brutality, misery, devilry?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick shook his head. "You go beyond me," he said. "What you say has no
+appeal for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but it has," she cried; "that is why I want to talk with you. That
+is why I hail you as a comrade&mdash;yes, and more than a comrade. I have
+followed your career; I have read your speeches. Ah, you did not think,
+did you, when you spoke to the people in the grimy north of this country
+about better laws, better conditions&mdash;ay, and when you made them feel
+that all the people of <i>every</i> country should be one vast
+brotherhood&mdash;that your words were followed, eagerly followed, by a
+Russian girl whose heart thrilled as she read, and who longed to meet
+you face to face?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You read my speeches? You longed to see me?" gasped Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Every word I read, Mr. Faversham; but I saw, too, that you were chained
+by cruel tradition, that you were afraid of the natural and logical
+outcome of your own words. But see, we cannot talk here!" and she
+glanced towards the people who had come up to them, and were listening
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, my friend," whispered Mr. Brown, "you are honoured beyond all
+other men. I never knew her speak to any man as she speaks to you. Let
+us go to a place where I will take you, where we can be alone. Is she
+not a magnificent creature, eh? Did you ever see such a divine woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm perfectly willing," was Dick's reply, as he watched Olga move
+towards the man who had acted as chairman. Truly he had never seen such
+a woman. Hitherto he had been struck by her intellectual powers, and by
+what had seemed to him the spiritual qualities of her presence. But now
+he felt the charm of her womanhood. She was shaped like a goddess, and
+carried herself with queenly grace. Every curve of her body was perfect;
+her every movement was instinct with a glowing, abundant life. Her
+complexion, too, was simply dazzling, and every feature was perfect. A
+sculptor would have raved about her; an artist would have given years of
+his life to paint her. Her eyes, too, shone like stars, and her smile
+was bewildering.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later they were in the street, Dick almost like a man in a
+dream, Mr. John Brown plodding stolidly and steadily along, while Olga,
+her face almost covered, moved by his side. Dick was too excited to heed
+whither they were going; neither did he notice that they were being
+followed.</p>
+
+<p>They had just turned into a narrow alley when there was a quick step
+behind them, and a man in a police officer's uniform laid his hand on
+Olga's arm and said:</p>
+
+<p>"You go with me, please, miss."</p>
+
+<p>The girl turned towards him with flashing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Take your hand from me," she said; "I have nothing to do with you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But I have something to do with you. Come, now, it's no use putting on
+airs. You come with me. I've been on the look out for you for a long
+while."</p>
+
+<p>"Help her! Get rid of the man!" whispered Mr. Brown to Dick. "For God's
+sake do something. I've a weak heart and can do nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, then," persisted the policeman. "It's no use resisting, you know.
+If you won't come quiet, I may have to be a bit rough. And I <i>can</i> be
+rough, I can assure you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Help! help!" she said hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>She did not speak aloud, but the word appealed to Dick strongly. It was
+sacrilege for the police officer to place his hands on her; he
+remembered what she had told him, and dreaded the idea of her being
+arrested and thrown into prison.</p>
+
+<p>"You won't, eh?" grumbled the policeman. "We'll soon settle that."</p>
+
+<p>Dick saw him put his whistle to his lips, but before a sound was made,
+the young fellow rushed forward and instantly there was a hand-to-hand
+struggle. A minute later the police constable lay on the pavement,
+evidently stunned and unconscious, while Dick stood over him.</p>
+
+<p>"Now is our chance! Come!" cried Mr. Brown, and with a speed of which
+Dick thought him incapable, he led the way through a network of narrow
+streets and alleys, while he and the girl followed. A little later they
+had entered a house by a back way, and the door closed behind them.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Faversham," panted Mr. Brown. "That was a narrow squeak,
+eh?"</p>
+
+<p>He switched on a light as he spoke, and Dick, as soon as his eyes had
+become accustomed to the light, found himself in a handsomely, even
+luxuriously, appointed room.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, won't you?" said Olga. "Oh, you need not fear. You are safe
+here. I will defy all the police officers in London to trace me now. Ah!
+thank you, Mr. Faversham! But for you I might have been in an awkward
+position. It would have been horrible to have been arrested&mdash;more
+horrible still to be tried in one of your law courts."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That was nothing," protested Dick. "Of course I could not stand by and
+see the fellow&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but don't you see?" she interrupted merrily. "You have placed
+yourself in opposition to the law? I am afraid you would be found
+equally guilty with me, if we were tried together. Did I not tell you?
+There is a price on my head. I am spoken of as the most dangerous person
+in London. And you have helped me to escape; you have defeated the ends
+of justice."</p>
+
+<p>"But that is nothing," cried Mr. John Brown. "Of course, Mr. Faversham
+is with us now. It could not be otherwise."</p>
+
+<p>Every event of the night had been somewhat unreal to Dick, but the
+reality of his position was by no means obscure at that moment. He, Dick
+Faversham, who, when he had advocated his most advanced theories, had
+still prided himself on being guided by constitutional methods, knew
+that he had placed himself in a most awkward position by what he had
+done. Doubtless, efforts would be made to find him, and if he were
+discovered and recognised, he would have a very lame defence. In spite
+of the honeyed way in which Mr. Brown had spoken, too, he felt there was
+something like a threat in his words.</p>
+
+<p>But he cast everything like fear from his mind, and turned to the young
+girl, who had thrown off her cloak, and stood there in the brilliant
+light like the very incarnation of splendid beauty.</p>
+
+<p>"I would risk more than that for this opportunity of talking with you,"
+he could not help saying.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you?" and her glorious eyes flashed into his. "I am so glad of
+that. Do you know why? Directly I saw you to-night, I felt that we
+should be together in the greatest cause the world has ever known. Do
+you think you will like me as a co-worker? Do you believe our hearts
+will beat in unison?"</p>
+
+<p>Again she had cast a spell upon him. He felt that with such a woman he
+could do anything&mdash;dare anything.</p>
+
+<p>Still, he kept a cool head. His experiences of the last few years had
+made him wary, critical, suspicious.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to be frank," she went on. "I am going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> to lay bare my heart
+to you. The cause I have at heart is the world's redemption; that, too,
+is the cause I believe you, too, have at heart. I want to destroy
+poverty, crime, misery; I want a new earth. So do you. But the way is
+dangerous, stormy, and hard. There will be bleeding footsteps all along
+the track. But you and I together!&mdash;ah, don't you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I don't," replied Dick. "Tell me, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>She drew her chair closer to him. "Yes; I will tell you," she said in a
+whisper.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The So-called Dead</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"Don't be frightened at a word," she laughed. "I shall explain that word
+in a few minutes. But it will not need much explanation. At heart you
+and I are one."</p>
+
+<p>Dick waited in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not help me," and her laugh was almost nervous. "And yet&mdash;oh, I
+mean so much. But I am afraid to put it into a word, because that word
+has been so misunderstood, so maligned. It is the greatest word in the
+world. It sweeps down unnatural barriers, petty creeds, distinctions,
+man-made laws, criminal usages. It is the dawn of a new day. It is the
+sunrise. It is universal liberty, universal right. It is the divine
+right of the People!"</p>
+
+<p>Still Dick was silent, and as she watched him she started to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Who have held the destinies of the great unnumbered millions in the
+hollow of their hands?" she cried passionately. "The few. The Emperors,
+the Kings, the Bureaucrats. And they have sucked the life blood of these
+dumb, suffering millions. They have crushed them, persecuted them, made
+them hewers of wood and drawers of water. Why have the poor lived? That
+they might minister to the rich. Just that and nothing more. Whether the
+millions have been called slaves, serfs, working classes&mdash;whatever you
+like&mdash;the result has been the same. They have existed that the few might
+have what they desired. But at last the world has revolted. The Great
+War has made everything possible. The world is fluid, and the events of
+life will be turned into new channels. Now is the opportunity of the
+People. Whatever God there is, He made the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> world and all that is in it
+for the People. In the past it has been robbed from them, but now it is
+going to be theirs! Don't you see?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick nodded his head slowly. This, making allowance for the extravagance
+of her words, was what he had been feeling for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said presently; "but how are they to get it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" she laughed. "I brought you here to-night to tell you. You are
+going to give it them, my friend. With me to help you, perhaps, if you
+will have me. Will you? Look into my eyes and tell me that you see&mdash;that
+you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were as the eyes of a siren, but still Dick did not lose his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"I see no other way of giving the people justice than by working on the
+lines I have been trying to work for years," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you do," she cried triumphantly. "You are a Labour man&mdash;a
+Socialist if you like. You have a vision of better conditions for the
+working classes in England&mdash;the British Isles. But what is that? What
+does it all amount to? Sticking-plasters, <i>mon ami</i>&mdash;sticking-plasters."</p>
+
+<p>"Still, I do not understand," replied Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"But you do," she persisted, still with her great, lustrous eyes
+laughing into his, in spite of a certain seriousness shining from them.
+"Think a minute. Here we are at a crisis in the world's history. Unless
+a mighty effort is made now, power, property, everything will drift back
+to the old ruling classes, and that will mean what it has always meant.
+Still the same accursed anomalies; still the same blinding, numbing,
+crushing poverty on the one hand; still the same pampered luxury and
+criminal waste on the other. All things must be new, my friend&mdash;new!"</p>
+
+<p>"But how?"</p>
+
+<p>"In one word&mdash;Bolshevism. No; don't be startled. Not the miserable
+caricature, the horrible nightmare which has frightened the dull-minded
+British but a glorious thing! Justice for humanity, the world for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
+people! That's what it means. Not for one country, but for all the
+countries&mdash;for the wide world. Don't you see? The world must become one,
+because humanity is one. It must be. Disease in any part of the organism
+hurts the whole body. If wrong is done in Russia, England has to pay;
+therefore, all reform must be world wide; right must be done
+everywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Words, words, words," quoted Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"And more than words, my friend. The most glorious ideal the world has
+ever known. And every ideal is an unborn event."</p>
+
+<p>"Beautiful as a dream, but, still, words," persisted Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"And why, my friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because power cannot be wrested from the hands in which it is now
+vested&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That is where you are mistaken. Think of Russia."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; think of Russia," replied Dick&mdash;"a nightmare, a ghastly crime,
+hell upon earth."</p>
+
+<p>"And I reply in your own language, 'Words, words, words.' My friend, you
+cannot wash away abuses hoary with age with rose water. Stern work needs
+stern methods. Our Russian comrades are taking the only way which will
+lead to the Promised Land. Do not judge Russia by what it seems to-day,
+but by what it will be when you and I are old. Already there are patches
+of blue in the sky. In a few years from now things will have settled
+down, and Russia, with all its wealth and all its possibilities, will
+belong to the people&mdash;the great people of Russia. That is what must be
+true of every nation. You talk of the great wealth of European
+countries, and of America. Who holds that wealth? Just a few
+thousands&mdash;whereas it should be in the hands of all&mdash;all."</p>
+
+<p>"And how will you do this mighty thing?" laughed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"By the people not simply demanding, but taking their rights&mdash;taking it,
+my friend."</p>
+
+<p>"By force?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly by force. It is their right."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But how?"</p>
+
+<p>"Think, my friend. Do you believe the people will ever get their rights
+by what is called constitutional means? Do you think the landed
+proprietors will give up their lands? That the Capitalists will disgorge
+their millions? That the bourgeoisie will let go what they have squeezed
+from the sweat and toil of the millions? You know they will not. There
+is but one way all over the world. It is for the people everywhere to
+claim, to <i>force</i>, their rights."</p>
+
+<p>"Revolution!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Revolution. Do not be afraid of the word."</p>
+
+<p>"Crime, anarchy, blood, ruin, the abolition of all law and order!"</p>
+
+<p>"What is called crime and anarchy to-day will be hailed a few years
+hence as the gospel which has saved the world."</p>
+
+<p>Dick could not help being influenced by her words. There was an
+intellectual quality in her presence which broke down his prejudices, a
+spiritual dynamic in her beauty and her earnestness which half convinced
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Admitting what you say," he replied presently, "you only proclaim a
+will-o'-the-wisp. Before such a movement could be set on foot, you must
+have the whole people with you. You must have a great consensus of
+opinion. To do this you must educate the people. Then you must have a
+tremendous organisation. You would have to arm the people. And you would
+need leaders."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed gaily. "Now we are getting near it," she cried. "You've seen
+the vision. You've been seeing it, proclaiming it, unknowingly, for
+years, but you've not dared to be obedient to your vision. But you will,
+my friend. You will."</p>
+
+<p>She placed her hand on his arm, and looked half beseechingly, half
+coyly, into his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not see with me?" she cried. "Could you not join with me in a
+great crusade for the salvation of the world? For I can be a faithful
+comrade&mdash;faithful to death. Look into my eyes and tell me."</p>
+
+<p>Again he looked into her eyes, and he saw as she saw,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> felt as she felt.
+His past life, his past work, seemed but as a mockery, while the vision
+she caused him to see was like a glimpse of Paradise. Even yet, however,
+a kind of hard, Saxon, common sense remained with him; and she appeared
+to realise it, for, still keeping her hand upon his arm, she continued
+her appeal. She told him what she had seen and heard, and tried to prove
+to him how impossible it was for the poor to have their rights save by
+rising in their millions, seizing the helm of power, and claiming,
+taking, their own. Still he was not altogether convinced.</p>
+
+<p>"You describe a beautiful dream," he said, "but, like all beautiful
+dreams, it vanishes when brought into contact with hard realities. What
+you speak of is only mob rule, and mob rule is chaos. To achieve
+anything you must have leaders, and when you get your leaders, you
+simply replace one set of rulers by another."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course we do," was her answer. "But with this difference. The
+present leaders are the result of an old bad system of selfish greed.
+They think and act for themselves instead of for the good of the people.
+But, with you as a leader, we should have a man who thinks only of
+leading the children of the world into Light."</p>
+
+<p>"I?&mdash;I?" stammered Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you, my friend. Else why should I long to see you, speak
+with you, know you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it's madness," he protested.</p>
+
+<p>"All great enterprises are madness," was her reply; "but it is Divine
+madness. You were born from the foundation of the world for this work.
+You have vision, you have daring, you have the essential qualities of
+the leader, for you have the master mind."</p>
+
+<p>It is easy for a young man to be flattered by a beautiful woman,
+especially when that woman is endowed with all charms, physical,
+intellectual, personal. Her hand was still on his arm; her eyes were
+still burning into his.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is impossible," he still persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"A huge organisation which is international requires the most careful
+arrangement&mdash;secret but potent."</p>
+
+<p>"The organisation exists in outline."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Propaganda work."</p>
+
+<p>"It has been going on for years. Even such work as you have been doing
+has been preparing the way for greater things."</p>
+
+<p>"Money&mdash;millions of money!" he cried. "Don't you see? It's easy to talk
+of leading the people, but difficult to accomplish&mdash;impossible, in fact,
+in a highly organised country like this."</p>
+
+<p>"Give me your consent&mdash;tell me you will consent to lead us, and I will
+show you that this is already done. Even now a million British soldiers
+are ready&mdash;ready with arms and accoutrements!"</p>
+
+<p>Again she pleaded, again she fired his imagination! Fact after fact she
+related of what had been done, and of what could be done. It needed, she
+said, but the strong man to appear, and the poor, the suffering from
+every byway, would flock to his standard.</p>
+
+<p>"But don't you see?" cried Dick, half bewildered and altogether dazzled
+by the witchery of her words. "If I were to respond to your call, you
+would be placing not only an awful responsibility upon me, but a
+terrible power in my hands?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do see!" she cried; "and I glory in the thought. Look here, my
+friend, I have been pleading with you not for your own sake, but for the
+sake of others&mdash;for the redemption of the world. But all along I have
+thought of you&mdash;<i>you</i>. It is right that you should think of yourself.
+Every man should be anxious about his own career. This is right. We
+cannot go against the elementary truths of life. There must be the
+leaders as well as the led. And leadership means power, fame! Every
+strong man longs for power, fame, position. You do, my friend. For years
+you have been craving after it, and it is your right, your eternal
+right. And here is the other ground of my appeal, my friend. Such a
+position, such fame, such power is offered you as was never offered to
+any man before. To be a leader of the world! To focus, to make real the
+visions, longings, hopes of unnumbered millions. To make vocal, to
+translate into reality all the world has been sighing for&mdash;striving
+after. Great God! What a career! What a position!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;h!" and Mr. John Brown, who had been silent during the whole
+conversation, almost sobbed out the exclamation, "that is it! that is
+it! What a career! What a position to struggle after, to fight for!
+Power! Power! The Kings and Emperors of the world become as nothing
+compared with what you may be, my friend."</p>
+
+<p>Dick's heart gave a wild leap. Power! place! greatness! Yes; this was
+what he had always longed for. As the thought gripped him, mastered him,
+impossibilities became easy, difficulties but as thistledown.</p>
+
+<p>And yet he was afraid. Something, he knew not what, rose up and forbade
+him to do things he longed to do. He felt that every weakness of his
+life had been appealed to&mdash;his vanity, his selfishness, his desire for
+greatness, as well as his natural longing for the betterment of the
+world. And all the time the beautiful woman kept her hand on his arm.
+And her touch was caressing, alluring, bewildering. Her eyes, wondrous
+in their brilliance, fascinating, suggesting all the heart of man could
+long for, were burning into his.</p>
+
+<p>He rose to his feet. "I must go," he said. "I will consider what you
+have said."</p>
+
+<p>The woman rose too. She was nearly as tall as he, and she stood by his
+side, a queen among women.</p>
+
+<p>"And you will think kindly, won't you?" she pleaded. "You will remember
+that it is the dearest hope of my life to stand by your side, to share
+your greatness."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent as he made his way through the dark and silent streets
+with Mr. Brown by his side. He was still under the influences of the
+night through which he had passed; his mind was still bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>Just before he reached his hotel, he and Mr. Brown parted&mdash;the latter to
+turn down Piccadilly, Dick to make his way towards Bloomsbury. When Mr.
+Brown had gone, Dick stood and watched him. Was he mistaken, or did he
+see the figure of a man like Count Romanoff move from the doorstep of a
+large building and join him? Was it Count Romanoff's voice he heard? He
+was not sure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The night porter of his hotel spoke to him sleepily as he entered.</p>
+
+<p>"No Zepps to-night, sir," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I think not. I fancy the Huns have given up that game."</p>
+
+<p>"Think so, sir? Well, there's no devilish thing they won't think of. I
+hear they're going to try a new dodge on us."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. But if it isn't one thing it's another. Nothing's too
+dirty for 'em. Good night&mdash;or, rather, good morning, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning."</p>
+
+<p>Dick went to bed, but not to sleep. Again and again his mind rehearsed
+the scenes through which he had passed. It all seemed like a dream, a
+phantasmagoria, and yet it was very wonderful.</p>
+
+<p>When daylight came he plunged into a bath, and as he felt the sting of
+the cold water on his body, he felt his own man again. His mind was
+clear; his senses were alert.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast he went for a walk towards Hyde Park. The air was clear
+and exhilarating; the great tide of human life stirred his pulses and
+caused his blood to course freely through his veins. His mind was saner,
+more composed. He turned into the Park at the Marble Arch, and he
+watched the crowds of gaily dressed women and swiftly moving motor-cars.</p>
+
+<p>Presently his heart gave a wild leap. Coming towards him he saw Lady
+Blanche Huntingford. He thought he saw her smile at his approach, and
+with eager footsteps he moved towards her. He held out his hand. "This
+is indeed a pleasure, Lady Blanche," he said.</p>
+
+<p>She gave him a quick, haughty stare, and passed on. He was sure she
+recognised him, but she acted as though he did not exist. She had cut
+him dead; she had refused to know him. The woman's action maddened him.
+Yet why should she not refuse to recognise him? He was a nobody, whom
+she remembered as a kind of Roger Tichborne&mdash;an impostor.</p>
+
+<p>But she should know him! Again the memory of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> his recent experiences
+came surging back into his mind. He could reach a position where such as
+she would be as nothing, and like lightning his mind fastened upon
+Olga's proposal.</p>
+
+<p>Yes; he would accept. He would throw himself heart and soul into this
+great work. He would become great&mdash;yes, the greatest man in England&mdash;in
+the world! He would go back to his hotel and write to her.</p>
+
+<p>A little later he sat at a table in the writing-room of the hotel, but
+just as he commenced to write the pen dropped from his hand. Again he
+thought he felt that light yet irresistible hand upon his wrist&mdash;the
+same hand that he had felt in the library at Wendover Park.</p>
+
+<p>He gave a quick, searching glance around the room, and he saw that he
+was alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked aloud.</p>
+
+<p>Again he looked around him. Did he see that luminous form, those
+yearning, searching eyes, the memory of which had been haunting him for
+years? He was not sure. But of this he was sure. The place seemed filled
+with a holy influence, and he thought he heard the words, "Watch and
+pray, that ye enter not into temptation."</p>
+
+<p>"Speak, speak, tell me who you are," he again spoke aloud. But no
+further answer came to him.</p>
+
+<p>Bewildered, wondering, he rose to his feet and sauntered around the
+room. His attention was drawn to a number of papers that were scattered
+on a table. A minute later he was reading an article entitled</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Do the So-called Dead speak to Us?</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The paper containing the article was a periodical which existed for the
+purpose of advocating spiritualism. It announced that a renowned medium
+would take part in a séance that very afternoon in a building not far
+away, and that all earnest and reverent seekers after truth were invited
+to be present.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go," determined Dick as he read.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Visions of Another World</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>After Dick had decided to attend the séance he read the article more
+carefully. It purported to be written by a man who had given up all
+faith in religion and all forms of spiritual life. He had tried to find
+satisfaction in the pleasures and occupations of his daily existence,
+and had treated everything else as a played-out fallacy. Then two of his
+sons had been killed in the war, and life had become a painful, hollow
+mockery. By and by he became impressed by the thought that his sons were
+alive and wanted to speak to him. Sometimes, too, he had felt as though
+presences were near him, but who they were or what they meant he could
+not tell. After this he had by pure accident heard two people talking
+about their experiences at a séance, and one had distinctly stated that
+he had seen and spoken to a dear dead friend. This caused the writer to
+turn his attention to spiritualism. The result was that he remained no
+longer a materialist, but was an ardent believer in the spiritual world.
+He distinctly stated that he had had irrefutable assurance that his sons
+were alive, that they had spoken to him, and had brought him messages
+from the spirit world. Things which before had been bewildering and
+cruel now became plain and full of comfort. Life was larger, grander,
+and full of a great hope.</p>
+
+<p>Dick's heart warmed as he read. Surely here was light. Surely, too, he
+would be able to find an explanation to what for years had been a
+mystery to him.</p>
+
+<p>He thought of the conversations he had heard in Eastroyd, in relation to
+this, to which he had paid but little attention because his mind had
+been too full of other matters, but which were now full of
+significance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> His mind again reverted to the discussion on the Angels
+at Mons. If there were no truth in the stories, how could so many have
+believed in them? How could there be such clear and definite testimonies
+from men who had actually seen?</p>
+
+<p>And had not he, Dick Faversham, both seen and heard? What was the
+meaning of the repeated appearances of that beautiful, luminous figure
+with great, yearning eyes and arms outstretched to save?</p>
+
+<p>Yes; he would go to this séance. He would inquire, and he would learn.</p>
+
+<p>He felt he had need of guidance. He knew he had come to another crisis
+in his life. The proposal which had been made to him was alluring; it
+appealed to the very depths of his being.</p>
+
+<p>Power, position, fame! That was what it meant. To take a leading part in
+the great drama of life, to be a principal factor in the emancipation of
+the world! But there was another side. If this movement was spreading
+with such gigantic strides&mdash;were to spread to England and dominate the
+thoughts and actions of the toiling millions of the country&mdash;what might
+it not mean?</p>
+
+<p>He was sure of nothing. He could not grasp the issues clearly; he could
+not see his way to the end. But it was grand; it was stupendous!
+Besides, to come into daily, hourly, contact with that sublime woman&mdash;to
+constantly feel the magnetic charm of her presence! The thought stirred
+his pulses, fired his imagination! How great she was, too. How she had
+swept aside the world's conventions and man-made moralities. She seemed
+like a warm breath from the lands of sunshine and song. And yet he was
+not sure.</p>
+
+<p>For hours he sat thinking, weighing pros and cons, trying to mark out
+the course of his life. Yes; he had done well. Since he had left
+Wendover Park he had become an influence in the industrial life of the
+North; he had become proclaimed a leader among the working classes; in
+all probability he would soon be able to voice their cause in the Mother
+of Parliaments.</p>
+
+<p>But what did it all amount to after all? A Labour Member of Parliament!
+The tool of the unwashed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> uneducated masses! A voting machine at £400 a
+year! Besides, what could he do? What could the Labour Party do? When
+their programme was realised, if ever it was realised, what did it all
+amount to? The wealth, the power, would still be in the hands of the
+ruling, educated classes, while he would be a mere nobody.</p>
+
+<p>"Sticking-plasters."</p>
+
+<p>The term stuck to him&mdash;mocked him. He was only playing at reform. But
+the dream of Olga&mdash;the emancipation of the race! the dethronement of the
+parasites&mdash;the bloodsuckers of the world!&mdash;a new heaven and a new
+earth!&mdash;while he, Dick Faversham, would be hailed as the prophet, the
+leader of this mighty movement, with infinite wealth at his command and
+power unlimited. Power!</p>
+
+<p>Men professed to sneer at Trotsky; they called him a criminal, an
+outrage to humanity. But what a position he held! He was more feared,
+more discussed, than any man in the world&mdash;he who a few months before
+was unknown, unheard of. And he defied kings and potentates, for kings
+and potentates were powerless before him. While behind him was a new
+Russia, a new world.</p>
+
+<p>To be such a man in England! To make vocal and real the longings of the
+greatest Democracy in the world, and to lead it. That would mean the
+premier place in the world, and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>So he weighed the position, so he thought of this call which had come to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>During the afternoon he left his hotel and made his way towards the
+house where the spiritualistic séance was to be held. In spite of all
+his dreams of social reforms, and the appeal made to his own ambitions,
+his mind constantly reverted to the vision which had again come to
+him&mdash;to the influences he could not understand.</p>
+
+<p>He found the house, and was admitted without difficulty. It was in a
+commonplace, shabby-looking street not far from Tottenham Court Road. On
+his arrival he was admitted into a room, where an absurd attempt had
+been made to give it an Oriental appearance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> An old woman occupied the
+only arm-chair in the room. She looked up at his entrance, stared at him
+for a few seconds, and then muttered indistinctly. He was followed by
+half a dozen others who might have been habitués of the place.</p>
+
+<p>Presently a man entered, who glanced inquiringly around the room. He
+appeared to be about fifty years of age, and had light watery-looking
+eyes. He made his way to Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"You desire to be present at the séance?" he asked of Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"If I may?" was Dick's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"You come as a sincere, earnest, reverent inquirer?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there any friend you have lost, any message you want to receive?"
+and he scrutinised Dick closely.</p>
+
+<p>"At a time like this, we have all lost friends," Dick replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, then you come as an inquirer?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is true. I have come to learn."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. But of course there are certain expenses. Would it be
+convenient for you to give me ten shillings?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick gave him a ten-shilling note, whereupon the man turned to another
+visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"A great medium, but keen on business," Dick heard someone say.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but why not? Mediums must live the same as other people."</p>
+
+<p>Another man entered. He was much younger than the other. He looked very
+unhealthy, and his hands twitched nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"The room is ready," he said, and his voice was toneless. "Perhaps you
+would like to see it and examine it before the light is excluded, so
+that you may be sure there is no deception."</p>
+
+<p>Dick with two others accepted the man's invitation. The room into which
+he was led was carpetless and completely unfurnished save for a number
+of uncushioned chairs and a plain deal table. Nothing else was visible.
+There was not a picture on the walls, not a sign of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> decoration. Dick
+and the others professed satisfaction with what they had seen.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later the others joined them, accompanied by the man who
+had been spoken of as a "great medium," also the man with the nervous,
+twitching hands, who Dick afterwards learned was the leader of the two
+mediums.</p>
+
+<p>"My friends," he said, "will you seat yourselves around the table? We
+promise you nothing. The spirits may come, and they may not. I,
+personally, am a medium of the old order. I do not pretend to tell you
+what spirits say; I make no claim to be a clairvoyant. If the spirits
+come they will speak for themselves&mdash;if they wish to speak. If there are
+persons here who desire a message from the spirit world they will, if
+they receive such a message at all, receive it direct from the spirits.
+I pretend to explain nothing, just as I promise nothing. But in the past
+spirits have come to such gatherings as this, and many comforting
+messages have been given. That is all."</p>
+
+<p>The party then sat down at the table, placed their hands upon it in such
+a way that the fingers of one person joined those of the persons sitting
+next, and thus formed a circle. All light was excluded.</p>
+
+<p>For three minutes there was silence. No sound was heard; no light was
+seen. All was darkness and silence.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly there was a faint voice&mdash;a child's voice. It sounded as
+though it came from the ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I am come," wailed the voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I am come." This time the voice seemed to come from the
+direction of the window. It was hoarse, and coarse.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?</p>
+
+<p>"I am Jim Barkum. I was killed at Mons."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything to tell us?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; nothin' except I'm all right. I come fro' Sheffield. If you could
+tell my mother, Emily Barkum, that I'm very happy I'd be very thankful."</p>
+
+<p>"What's your mother's address?"</p>
+
+<p>"Number 14 Tinkers Street."</p>
+
+<p>After this a number of other spirits purported to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> come, one of whom
+said he was the son of a sitter in the circle, and that he had been
+killed in the war.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you reveal yourself?" said the medium.</p>
+
+<p>Some phosphorous light shone in the darkness, in the radiance of which
+was the outline of a face.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you recognise it?" asked the medium.</p>
+
+<p>"It might be Jack," Dick heard a voice say.</p>
+
+<p>After this there seemed to be a quarrel among the spirits. There was a
+good deal of confused talk and a certain amount of anger expressed. Also
+a number of feeble jokes were passed and far-away laughter heard.
+Evidently the spirits were in a frolicsome humour.</p>
+
+<p>Dick, whose purpose in coming to the séance was not to take part in a
+fiasco, grew impatient. In his state of mind he felt he had wasted both
+money and time. It was true he had seen and heard what he could not
+explain, but it amounted to nothing. Everything seemed silly beyond
+words. There was nothing convincing in anything, and it was all
+artificial.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to ask a question," he ventured at length.</p>
+
+<p>"Go ahead," said a voice, which seemed to come from the ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to ask this: why is it that you, who have solved the
+great secret of death, should, now you are permitted to come back and
+speak to those of us who haven't, talk such horrible drivel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hear! hear!" assented a member of the circle.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's this way," answered the spirit: "every one of you sitting here
+have your attendant spirits. If you are intellectual, intellectual
+spirits attend you and come to talk to you, but as you are not they just
+crack silly jokes."</p>
+
+<p>There was laughter at this, not only from the sitters, but among the
+spirits, of which the room, by this time, seemed to be full.</p>
+
+<p>"That's not bad," replied Dick. "One might think you'd said that before,
+but as it happens we are not all fools, and I personally would like
+something more sensible. This is a time when thousands of hearts are
+breaking," he added.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What would you like to know?"</p>
+
+<p>It was another voice that spoke now&mdash;a sweeter and more refined voice,
+and might have belonged to a woman.</p>
+
+<p>"I would like to know if it is true that each of us have attendant
+spirits, as one of you said just now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; that is true."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean guardian angels?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; if you like to call them that. But they are not all guardian
+angels. There are spirits who try to do harm, as well as those who try
+to guard and to save."</p>
+
+<p>"Are they here now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; they are here now. I can see one behind you at this moment."</p>
+
+<p>The atmosphere of the room had suddenly changed. It seemed as though
+something solemn and elevating had entered and driven away the
+frivolous, chattering presences which had filled the room. A hush had
+fallen upon the sitters too, and all ears seemed to be listening
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"You say you can see a spirit behind me now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, is it a good spirit or a bad one?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know. The face is hidden."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely you can cause the face to be seen. I am anxious to learn&mdash;to
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I can tell directly. Wait."</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence for perhaps ten seconds; then the voice spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"The spirit will not show its face," it said, "but it is always with
+you. It never leaves you night nor day."</p>
+
+<p>"Why does it not leave me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell; I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," persisted Dick, "you do not seem like the other spirits who
+have been here&mdash;if they are spirits," he added in an undertone. "Can you
+not find out if I am watched over for any particular purpose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I can. I can see now. It is a guardian angel, and she loves
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"She loves me&mdash;why does she love me?"</p>
+
+<p>"When she was alive she loved you. I think you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> were engaged. But she
+died, and you never married her. But she is always watching over
+you&mdash;trying to help you. Were you ever engaged to anyone who died?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is surely a leading question," was Dick's retort. "Is that all you
+can tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is all, except that you have enemies, one in particular, who is
+trying to do you harm, and your guardian angel is always near you,
+seeking to protect you. Have you an enemy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly&mdash;I don't know. Is that enemy a man or a woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell. Everything is becoming hazy and dim. I am not a spirit
+of the highest order. There, everything is blank to me now."</p>
+
+<p>After this the séance continued for some time, but as far as Dick was
+concerned, it had but little definite interest. Many things took place
+which he could not explain, but to him they meant nothing. They might
+have been caused by spirits, but then again they might have been the
+result of trickery. Nothing was clear to him except the one outstanding
+fact that no light had been thrown on the problem of his life. He wanted
+some explanation of the wonderful apparition which had so affected his
+life, and he found none. For that matter, although the spirit world had
+been demonstrated to him, he had no more conviction about the spirit
+world after the séance than he had before. All the same, he could not
+help believing, not because of the séance, but almost in spite of it,
+that a presence was constantly near him, and that this presence had a
+beneficent purpose in his life.</p>
+
+<p>"You were not convinced?" asked a man of him as presently he left the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes I think I am, and sometimes I think I am not," went on the
+man. "It's all a mystery. But I know one thing."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"My old mother, who held fast to the old simple faith in Christ, had no
+doubts nor fears," was the man's reply. "I was with her when she was
+dying, and she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> told me that angels were beckoning to her. She said she
+saw the face of her Lord, and that He was waiting to welcome her on the
+other side. I wish I could see as she saw."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she believe in angels?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"She had no doubt," replied the man. "She said that God sent His angels
+to guard those they loved, and that those angels helped them to fight
+evil spirits."</p>
+
+<p>"Accepting the idea of a spirit world, it seems reasonable," and Dick
+spoke like one thinking aloud rather than to be answering the man.</p>
+
+<p>"Did not angels minister to Christ after He was tempted of the Devil?"
+persisted the man. "Did not angels help the Apostles? I don't think I'll
+bother about spiritualism any more. There may be truth in it; there may
+not; but I'd rather get hold of the faith my mother had."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder?" mused Dick, as he went away alone. "I wonder? But I'll have
+to send an answer to Olga. My word, what a glorious woman, and what a
+career! But I don't see my way clear."</p>
+
+<p>He made his way back to his hotel, thinking and wondering. He felt he
+had come to a crisis in his life, but his way was not plain, and he did
+not know where to look for light.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Romanoff's Philosophy</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Count Romanoff sat in a handsomely furnished room. It formed a part of a
+suite he had taken in a fashionable London hotel. He was smoking a
+cigar, while at his side was a tray with several decanters containing
+spirits.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to be puzzled, and often there was an angry gleam in his eyes,
+a cruel smile on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not sure of him," he muttered, "and so far I've failed altogether.
+More than once I was certain that I had him&mdash;certain that he was bound
+to me hand and foot, and then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He started to his feet and strode impatiently across the room. He
+appeared angry. Looking out of the window, he could see the tide of
+human beings which swept hither and thither in the London street.</p>
+
+<p>"Good and evil," he said aloud&mdash;"good and evil. Those people are all the
+time tempted, and yet&mdash;and yet&mdash;&mdash;But I'll have him. It's only a matter
+of time now."</p>
+
+<p>He heard a knock at the door, and started violently. For a
+self-contained, strong man, he seemed at times to be peculiarly
+apprehensive.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; come in. Ah, it's you, is it? I was expecting you."</p>
+
+<p>"Count Romanoff, are you ever surprised?" It was Mr. John Brown who
+spoke, and who quietly came into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Rarely," replied the Count. "Why should I? After all, the events of
+life are a matter of calculation. Certain forces, certain powers of
+resistance&mdash;and there you are."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It takes a clever man to calculate the forces or the powers of
+resistance," replied Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"Just so. Well, I am clever."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown looked at him curiously, and there was an expression almost of
+fear in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Count Romanoff," he said, "I wonder sometimes if you are not the
+Devil&mdash;if there is a devil," he added as if in afterthought.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, do you doubt it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. It would be difficult to explain some things and some
+people unless you postulate a devil."</p>
+
+<p>The Count laughed almost merrily. "Then why not accept the fact?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you?" asked Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no doubt of it. I&mdash;but wait. You must clear the ground. The
+existence of a devil presupposes evil&mdash;and good. If what the world calls
+evil is evil&mdash;there is a devil."</p>
+
+<p>"You speak like one who knows."</p>
+
+<p>"I do know."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because&mdash;&mdash;But look here, my friend, you did not come here to discuss
+<i>that</i> problem."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I did not. I came because I wanted to discuss&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A young man called Richard Faversham. Very well, let's discuss him,"
+and the Count took a fresh cigar and lit it.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been thinking a good deal since I saw you last," said Mr.
+Brown&mdash;"thinking pretty deeply."</p>
+
+<p>The Count for reply looked at Mr. Brown steadily, but spoke no word.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been wondering at your interest in him," said Mr. Brown. "He's
+not your sort."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps that's a reason," he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Still I do not understand you."</p>
+
+<p>"But I understand you. I know you through and through. You, although you
+are a member of the best London clubs, although you pass as a Britisher
+of Britishers, and although you bear a good old commonplace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> English
+name, hate Britain, and especially do you hate England. Shall I tell you
+why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not aloud, my friend&mdash;not aloud; there may be servants outside&mdash;people
+listening," and Mr. Brown spoke in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>shall</i> speak aloud," replied the Count, "and there is no one
+listening. I feel in a communicative, garrulous mood to-night, and it's
+no use mincing words. You hate England, because you are German at heart,
+and a German by birth, although no one knows it&mdash;but me. I also hate
+England."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" asked Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"Because it stands for those things I abominate. Because, in spite of
+its so-called materialism, it still holds fast to the old standards of
+religion, and all that religion means. It stands for what the world
+calls progress, for civilisation, and Democracy. And I hate Democracy."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a Russian," commented Mr. Brown&mdash;"a Russian aristocrat,
+therefore you would naturally hate Democracy."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I?" and the Count laughed. "Well, call me that if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"You told me so when we first met."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I? I know you came to me in a sad way. You began to doubt your
+country, and your country's victory. You saw that it would never gain
+what it desired and hoped on the battlefield. You realised that this
+England&mdash;this Britain that you had scorned&mdash;was mightier than you
+thought. You saw that John Bull, whom I hate as much as you, was
+practically invincible."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I could not help realising that. I admitted it to you, and you
+told me to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Take special note of Faversham. I told you his story."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you did, and I accepted your advice. I went to Eastroyd; I made
+his acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>"And were impressed by the power he had obtained over the working
+classes, the Democracy, that we hear so much about. As you told me, he
+had taken up their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> cause, and that he had developed the gift of public
+oratory so assiduously that his power over working-class audiences was
+almost magnetic."</p>
+
+<p>"But look here, Count, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me a moment. I had studied Faversham for years. For reasons of
+my own, I wanted him to do certain things."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown sat quietly, watching the Count, who ceased speaking suddenly,
+and seemed to be staring into vacancy.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever read a book by a man named John Bunyan, called <i>The Holy
+War</i>?" he asked, with seeming irrelevance.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown laughed. "Years ago, when I was a boy," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"A wonderful book, my friend. I have read it many times."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> read it many times! Why, what interest could such a book have for
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"A very deep interest," and there was a curious intonation in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"What interest?" asked Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>The Count rose to his feet and knocked some ash from the end of his
+cigar. "Corpo di Bacco!" he cried. "Did not the man get deep? The city
+of Mansoul! And the Devil wanted to get it. So he studied the
+fortifications. Eyegate, nosegate, touchgate, eargate he saw, he
+understood!"</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Mr. Brown in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"There is one passage which goes deep," went on the Count as though Mr.
+Brown had not spoken. "It contained some of the deepest philosophy of
+life; it went to the roots of the whole situation. I had it in my mind
+when I advised you to make Faversham's acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>"What passage?" asked Mr. Brown, still failing to catch the drift of the
+other's words.</p>
+
+<p>"It is this," and the Count spoke very quietly. "<i>For here lay the
+excellent wisdom of Him who built Mansoul, that the walls could never be
+broken down, nor hurt by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> the most mighty adverse potentate, unless the
+townsmen gave consent thereto.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown looked puzzled. "I don't follow you," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you? Bunyan wrote in parable, but his meaning is plain. He said
+that Diabolus could never conquer Mansoul except by the consent of
+Mansoul. Well, I saw this: England&mdash;Britain&mdash;could never be conquered
+except by the consent of the people of England. United, Britain is
+unconquerable."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Therefore, I made you see that if your country, which stands for force,
+and militarism, and barbarism, was to conquer England you must get
+England divided; you must get her own forces in a state of disunity. A
+country at war with itself is powerless. Set class against class,
+interest against interest, party against party, and you produce chaos.
+That is the only hope of your country, my friend. The thing was to get a
+man who could do this for you."</p>
+
+<p>"And you thought of Faversham?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told you to make his acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>"Which I have done. The results you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you satisfied with the results?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. John Brown was silent a few seconds. Evidently he was thinking
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"He is no Bolshevist at heart," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I? Great heavens, no! I hate it, except for my enemies. But it has
+served our purpose so far. Russia is in a state of chaos; it is
+powerless&mdash;bleeding at our feet. If Russia had remained united, we, the
+Germans, would have been crushed, beaten, ruined. As it is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I love the condition of Russia," and Romanoff spoke almost exultantly.
+"I love it! It is what I hoped for, strove for, prayed for!"</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;a Russian&mdash;say that! And <i>you</i> pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I pray. What then?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you did not pray to God?" and there was a note of fear in Mr.
+Brown's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I prayed to my own god," replied Romanoff, "who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> is a very good
+counterpart of the god of your Kaiser. The good old German god, eh?" and
+he laughed ruthlessly. "And what is he, my friend? A god of force, a god
+of cruelty. Ruthlessness, mercilessness, anything to win. That's the
+German god. I prayed to that."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown almost shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; the condition of Russia is one of the great joys of my life. It
+means victory&mdash;victory for me, for you&mdash;if we can only get England to
+follow Russia's example."</p>
+
+<p>"If we only could," assented Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"And there are elements at work which, properly used, will bring this
+about," went on the Count. "I, Romanoff, tell you so. And Faversham is
+your man."</p>
+
+<p>"He is no Bolshevist," again urged Mr. Brown. "At heart he knows what it
+means. That's why I am nearly hopeless about him. Give him time to
+think, and he will see that it will mean chaos&mdash;ruin to the things he
+has been taught to love."</p>
+
+<p>"Before Adam ate the forbidden fruit two things happened," remarked
+Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"First the serpent worked. Then the woman."</p>
+
+<p>"The woman! Yes; the woman!"</p>
+
+<p>"Human nature is a curious business," went on the Count. "There are
+several points at which it is vulnerable. I have made a special point of
+studying human nature, and this I have seen."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't quite follow you."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't speak in riddles, my friend. Take a strong character like
+Faversham, and consider it. What is likely to appeal to it? As I
+understand the case, there are three main channels of appeal. First,
+money, and all that money means. Next there is ambition, greed for
+power, place, position, dominance. Then there is the eternal thing&mdash;the
+Senses. Drink, gluttony, drugs, women. Generally any one of these things
+will master a man, but bring them altogether and it is certain he will
+succumb."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I see."</p>
+
+<p>"Money, and all that money brings, is not enough in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> Faversham's case.
+That I know. But he is intensely ambitious&mdash;and&mdash;and he is young."</p>
+
+<p>"That is why you told me to introduce him to Olga?"</p>
+
+<p>"A woman can make a man do what, under ordinary circumstances, he would
+scorn to do. If you advocated Bolshevism to him, even although you
+convinced him that he could be Lenin and Trotsky rolled into one, and
+that he could carry the Democracy of Britain with him, he would laugh at
+you. I saw that yesterday after your conversation with him. He was
+attracted for an hour, but I saw that he laughed at your proposals. That
+was why I told you to let him see and hear Olga. Now, tell me of their
+meeting."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brown described in correct detail Dick's experiences in the East of
+London.</p>
+
+<p>"Never did I believe a woman could be such a siren," Mr. Brown
+concluded. "She charmed, she magnetised, she fascinated."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he in love with her?" asked the Count.</p>
+
+<p>"If he is not he must be a stone," said Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but is he? I told you to watch him&mdash;to report to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know. He did not consent readily; he must have time to think,
+he said. But, man, he cannot resist her!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"But have you ever heard of any man who could resist her blandishments?
+Has she not been called a sorceress?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I know&mdash;but he promised her nothing?"</p>
+
+<p>"He said he would let her know later."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he has resisted. My friend, I do not understand him. But&mdash;but&mdash;let
+me think."</p>
+
+<p>"He was greatly impressed not only by her, but by her arguments," went
+on Mr. Brown presently. "I tell you, the woman is a sibyl, a witch. She
+was wonderful&mdash;wonderful. While I listened, I&mdash;even I&mdash;almost believed
+in her description of Bolshevism. A new heaven, and a new earth! I tell
+you, I almost believed in it. She pictured a paradise, an El Dorado, an
+Elysium,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> and she made Faversham see, understand. I tell you, he cannot
+resist her, and if he promises her, as he will, I can see England in a
+state of chaos in six months. Then&mdash;then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But the Count did not seem to be listening. His eyes were turned towards
+the streets, but he saw nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"He went to a spiritualistic séance this afternoon," he said presently.</p>
+
+<p>"What?&mdash;Faversham?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Faversham. What do you think it means?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot think. He has never struck me as that sort of fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Brown, have you had many intimate talks with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Intimate? Yes, I think so."</p>
+
+<p>"What have you talked about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Always about the condition of the people, politics, and things of that
+nature."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever discussed religion with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe he has any religion."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you wonder?"</p>
+
+<p>"I say, during your conversations with him&mdash;during your visits to
+Eastroyd&mdash;have you ever heard, have you ever discovered, that he is in
+love with anyone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never. He has taken no notice of women since I have known him. He seems
+to have been engrossed in his socialistic work. Mind, I doubt whether,
+at heart, he is even a socialist, much less a Bolshevist."</p>
+
+<p>"That does not matter if we can get him to enlist in Olga's crusade. He
+has enough influence among, not only the working classes of the country,
+but among the leaders of the working classes all over the land, to
+create disturbances. He can inspire strikes; he can cause anarchy among
+the people. He can imbue them with Bolshevist ideals; he can make great
+promises. That done, the British Army is powerless. Without coals, and
+without the means of transport&mdash;don't you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I see. That's what I've had in my mind from the first. If
+that can be done, Germany will be master of the world!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And more than that," and the Count spoke exultantly, "I shall have him,
+body and soul."</p>
+
+<p>"But we must be very careful. If our plans leak out, my life will not be
+worth a row of pins."</p>
+
+<p>Again the Count paced the room. He did not seem to be heeding Mr. Brown.
+His face worked convulsively, his eyes burned red, his hands clenched
+and unclenched themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"I vowed I'd have him," he reflected&mdash;"vowed he should be mine. Left by
+himself he will do great things for what is called the good of the
+world. He will work for sobriety, purity, British national life. The man
+has powers, qualities which mean great things for what pietists call the
+world's betterment. But he is an aristocrat at heart; he loves money,
+and, more, he loves position, fame. He is as ambitious as Napoleon. He
+longs for power. But he has a conscience; he has a strong sense of what
+he calls right and wrong. I thought I had him down at Wendover. But I
+failed. Why, I wonder? But I will not fail this time. Olga will dull his
+conscience. She has charmed, fascinated him. She will make him her
+slave. Then&mdash;then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," broke in Mr. Brown, who had only half understood the Count's
+monologue; "then he will cause a revolution here in England, and Britain
+as a fighting power will be paralysed. But I am not sure of him. He
+loves his country, and unless Olga gets hold of him, and that soon, he
+will see what our plans mean, and he will refuse to move hand or foot.
+You see, we've got no hold on him."</p>
+
+<p>"We've every hold on him," almost snapped the Count. "We've appealed to
+his every weakness, and Olga will do the rest. I select my tools
+carefully, my friend."</p>
+
+<p>A knock was heard at the door, and the Count impatiently opened it. "I
+am engaged; I cannot be disturbed," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"The lady said she must see you," protested the servant, "so I&mdash;I
+thought I'd better come."</p>
+
+<p>The Count looked beyond the man, and saw a woman closely veiled.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Show the lady in," and a few seconds later she threw off her wraps and
+revealed her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Olga?" cried both men together.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I thought I'd better brave all danger. I've heard from him."</p>
+
+<p>"From Faversham?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; a long telegram."</p>
+
+<p>"What does he say?" gasped Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"I have it here," replied Olga breathlessly.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Voice from Another World</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Dick Faversham walked along Oxford Street thinking deeply. Although he
+had been by no means convinced by what he had seen and heard, he could
+not help being impressed. The whole of the proceedings might be
+accounted for by jugglery and clever trickery, or, on the other
+hand, influences might have been at work which he could not
+understand&mdash;influences which came from the unseen world. But nothing
+satisfied him. Everything he had experienced lacked dignity. It was
+poor; it was sordid. He could not help comparing the outstanding
+features of the séance with the events which had so affected him. The
+face of the woman in the smoking-room of the steamer, the sublime figure
+which had upheld him when he was sinking in the wild, stormy sea, was
+utterly removed from the so-called spirits who had obeyed the summons of
+the mediums, and acted through them. How tawdry, too, were the so-called
+messages compared with the sublime words which had come to him almost
+like a whisper, and yet so plainly that he could hear it above the roar
+of the ocean:</p>
+
+<p>"The Eternal God is thy Refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting
+Arms."</p>
+
+<p>This was sublime&mdash;sublime in the great comfort it gave him, sublimer
+still in what it signified to the life of the world.</p>
+
+<p>"It's true, too!" he exclaimed aloud, as he threaded his way along the
+crowded thoroughfare. "True!"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped as the meaning of the words came to him:</p>
+
+<p>"The Eternal God is thy Refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting
+Arms."</p>
+
+<p>And because that was true, everything was possible!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As he thought of it, his materialism melted like snow in a tropical sun,
+and he realised how superficial and how silly his past scepticism had
+been.</p>
+
+<p>God was behind all, underneath all, in all, through all. And if that was
+true, He had a thousand agents working to do His will, an infinite
+variety of means whereby His purposes were carried out. He, Dick
+Faversham, could not understand them; but what of that? God was greater
+than the thoughts of the creatures He had made.</p>
+
+<p>But what of his own immediate actions? He had promised Olga that he
+would that very day send her a telegram where and when he could meet
+her, and that this telegram would signify his intention to fall in with
+her plans. She had given him directions where this telegram was to be
+sent, and he had to confess that he had looked forward to meeting her
+again with no ordinary pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>The memory of their strange conversation on the previous night, and the
+picture of her glorious womanhood came to him with a strange vividness.
+Well, why should he not send the telegram?</p>
+
+<p>He passed a post office just then, and turned as though he would enter.
+But he did not pass through the doorway. Something, he could not tell
+what, seemed to hold him back. He thought little of it, however, and
+still made his way along Oxford Street, towards High Holborn.</p>
+
+<p>Again the problem of the future faced him, and he wondered what to do.
+Somehow, he could not tell why, but the thought of meeting the beautiful
+Russian did not seem to be in accord with the sublime words which were
+surging through his brain:</p>
+
+<p>"The Eternal God is thy Refuge."</p>
+
+<p>He found himself thinking of the wondrous face which had appeared to him
+as he stood at the door of Wendover Park, and he remembered the words
+that came to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, pray!" the voice had said. "Watch and pray!"</p>
+
+<p>"God help me!" he cried almost involuntarily. "Great God help me!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He still threaded his way through the crowd in the great thoroughfare,
+almost unconscious of what he did. He was scarcely aware that he had
+uttered a cry to Heaven for help. He passed the end of Chancery Lane and
+then came to the old timbered houses which stand opposite Gray's Inn
+Road. But this ancient part of London did not appeal to him. He did not
+notice that the houses were different from others. He was almost like a
+man in a dream.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly he found himself in Staple Inn. How he had come there he
+did not know. He had no remembrance of passing through the old doorway,
+but he was there, and the change from the roar of the great thoroughfare
+outside and the silence of this little sequestered nook impressed him.</p>
+
+<p>There was not a soul visible in the little square. As all Londoners
+know, Staple Inn is one of the smallest and quietest in the metropolis.
+The houses which form it are mostly occupied by professional men, and
+there is scarcely ever anything like traffic there. But this afternoon
+there was no one to be seen, and the change from the crowded highway was
+pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>"What in the world am I doing here?" he asked himself.</p>
+
+<p>But before he had time to answer the question he had propounded he
+realised a strange sensation. Although he could see nothing, he felt
+that some presence was near him.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen."</p>
+
+<p>The word was scarcely above a whisper, but he heard it plainly. He
+looked around him, his senses alert, but nothing was to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you hear me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." He spoke the word almost involuntarily, and his voice seemed
+strange to his own ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know Drury Lane?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," and he looked around wonderingly, trying to locate the voice.</p>
+
+<p>"To-night, at nine o'clock, you must go to Drury Lane. You must walk
+westward until you come to Blot Street. Turn up at Blot Street, and keep
+along the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> right side. You must turn at the third street. You are sure
+you are following my instructions?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," he answered excitedly. "Who are you? Where are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You must walk along the third street for about twenty steps, stopping
+at the door marked 13<span class="smcap">a</span>. You will knock five times in quick succession.
+You will wait five seconds, then you will give two more knocks louder
+than the first. The door will be opened, and you will be asked your
+business. Your reply will be two words, 'Victory,' 'Dominion.' You will
+be admitted without further questions. After that use your own
+judgment."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there was a change as if in the whole atmosphere. He had, as it
+seemed to him, been in a kind of trance, but now he was more than
+ordinarily awake. And he was alone. Whatever had been near him was gone.
+The voice had ceased speaking.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p>
+
+<p>For some time Dick Faversham stood alone in the square without moving
+hand or foot. He was in a state of astonishment which was beyond the
+power of words to describe. But he had no doubt that he had heard the
+voice; he was as certain that some presence which he could not see had
+been near him as that he was certain he stood there at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the square in Holborn the tide of traffic rolled on. Conveyances
+filled with human life rushed eastward and westward; men and women,
+oblivious to the fact of any world save their own, made their way to
+their destinations; but inside the square a man felt he had been in
+touch with mystery, eternity.</p>
+
+<p>He moved into High Holborn like a man in a dream, and stood for a few
+seconds watching the faces of the passers-by.</p>
+
+<p>"And not one of them seems to realise that the spirit world is all
+around them," he reflected.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He never thought of disobeying the commands he had received. The voice
+had come to him with a note of authority; the message was one which must
+be obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly he made his way westward again, and presently came to a post
+office. He entered without hesitation, wrote a telegram, gave it to the
+clerk, and, having paid for its dispatch, again made his way along the
+street.</p>
+
+<p>"There, that's done with," he said, with a sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>At nine o'clock that night he found himself in Drury Lane following the
+instructions he had received. He was quite calm, although his heart
+throbbed with expectancy. He had little or no thought of what he was
+going to see or hear; enough for him that he was obeying instructions,
+that he was acting upon the commands which had come to him for his good.
+For he had no doubt that these commands were somehow for his benefit.
+Almost unconsciously he associated the presence near him with the one
+who had hovered over him with arms outstretched when he had been sinking
+in the stormy sea.</p>
+
+<p>He had no difficulty in finding Blot Street, and quickly found himself
+at the third turning of that shabby-looking thoroughfare.</p>
+
+<p>"Chainley Alley," he read in the dim light of the darkened street lamp
+at the corner.</p>
+
+<p>The place was very quiet. He was now away from the traffic of the broad
+streets, and ordinary business had ceased for the day. There was nothing
+to mark Chainley Alley from a hundred others which may still be found in
+the centre of London. It was simply a dark, grimy little opening which,
+to the ordinary passer-by, presented no interest whatever. A minute
+later he stood at 13<span class="smcap">a</span>. All was dark here, and it was with difficulty
+that he discerned the number. He listened intently, but heard no sound,
+and then, with a fast-beating heart, he knocked five times in quick
+succession. Then, waiting five seconds, he knocked again according to
+instructions.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened as if by magic. It might seem that he was expected. But
+the passage into which he looked was as black as ink; neither could he
+hear anything.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly the silence was broken. "Who are you? What do you want?"
+asked someone unseen.</p>
+
+<p>"'Victory,' 'Dominion,'" he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>A dim light shone, and he saw what looked like a woman of the caretaker
+order. Evidently the house was bigger than he imagined, for the woman
+led him down a long corridor which suggested that it was a way to
+another and a larger block of buildings in the rear.</p>
+
+<p>She opened a door and told him to go in. "You will wait there till I
+call you," she whispered, and then closed the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>There was a thick rug on the floor, which muffled the sound of his
+footsteps, but there was no furniture in the room save a deal table and
+one straight-backed chair. A tiny gas-jet burnt on the wall, which,
+however, was extinguished a few seconds after the door had closed.</p>
+
+<p>"This is darkness with a vengeance," reflected Dick, but the fact did
+not trouble him so much because he had brought a small electric lamp
+with him. He switched on this light and saw that the room had no outlet
+at all, save the door. There was neither window nor fireplace, and, in
+fact, was little more than a large cupboard.</p>
+
+<p>Before he had time to realise what this might mean, he heard the sound
+of footsteps, which seemed to be close by; this was followed by
+murmuring voices. Then there were more footsteps, and the voices became
+clearer.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he come?" he heard one man say.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet. But he'll soon be here. He did not promise to get here till
+half-past nine."</p>
+
+<p>From that time there was a general hum of conversation, which was
+intermingled by the clinking of glasses. It might be that he was close
+to a kind of club-room, and that the members were arriving and ordering
+refreshments. The conversation continued, now indistinct, and again more
+clear. Dick caught snatches of it, but it was not connected, and
+conveyed but little meaning to him.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he heard everything plainly, and a sentence struck him. "I hope
+he'll be careful," he heard someone say. "The whole lot of us would
+swing if we were found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> here together." The man spoke in German, and
+Dick's interest became tense.</p>
+
+<p>"More likely be shot," someone retorted, with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"But we're safe enough. This is the first time we've been here, and
+every care has been taken."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," said someone, who appeared doubtful, "but if the British
+Secret Service people have been fools in the past, they are sharp enough
+now. Schleswig thought he was as safe as houses, but he was cleverly
+nabbed, and now he's cold meat."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," said another voice, "our turn is coming. Gott in Himmel,
+won't we let them know when we are masters of London! Even now the
+English don't know that their country is a powder magazine. They little
+think that, in spite of their Alien Acts and the rest of it, the country
+is still riddled with friends of the Fatherland. Hark, he's coming!"</p>
+
+<p>This was followed by a general shuffling of feet, and Dick instinctively
+felt that something of importance was about to happen. He wondered at
+the ease with which he could now hear. Evidently the partition which hid
+him from the room in which the conspirators had met (for evidently they
+were conspirators) was thin, or else there must have been some secret
+channel by which the sounds reached him. He realised, too, that these
+people had not entered by way of Chainley Alley, but that their room
+must have an outlet somewhere else. Possibly, probably too, as they had
+used this meeting-place for the first time that night, these people
+would be ignorant of the closet where he was hidden.</p>
+
+<p>Dick heard a new voice, and he detected in a moment that it was a voice
+of authority. I will not attempt to relate all he heard, or attempt to
+give a detailed description of all that took place. I will only briefly
+indicate what took place.</p>
+
+<p>The newcomer, who was evidently the person for whom the others had
+waited, seemed to regard those to whom he spoke as his subordinates. He
+was apparently the leader of a movement, who reported to his workers
+what progress had been made, and who gave them instructions as to the
+future.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He began by telling them that things were not going altogether well for
+the Fatherland, although he had no doubt of final victory.</p>
+
+<p>But England&mdash;Great Britain&mdash;was their great enemy, and, unless she were
+conquered, Germany could never again attempt to be master of the world.
+But this could never be done altogether by force of arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Russia is conquered!" he declared; "it lies bleeding, helpless, at our
+feet, but it was not conquered on the battlefield. By means of a
+thousand secret agencies, by careful and skilful propaganda, by huge
+bribes, and by playing on the ignorance of the foolish, we set the
+Bolshevist movement on foot, and it has done our work. Of course it has
+meant hell in Russia, but what of that? It was necessary for the
+Fatherland, and we did our work. What, although the ghastliest outrages
+are committed, and millions killed, if Germany gains her ends!"</p>
+
+<p>What was done in Russia was also being done in Great Britain, he assured
+them. Of course, our task was harder because the people had, on the
+whole, been well conditioned and had the justest Government in the
+world. But he had not been dismayed. Thousands of agencies existed, and
+even among the English the Germans had many friends. The seeds which had
+been sown were bringing forth their harvest.</p>
+
+<p>They had fermented strikes, and the English people hadn't known that
+they had done it. If some of the key industries, such as coal and
+transport, could be captured, England was doomed. This could be done by
+Bolshevism; and it was being done.</p>
+
+<p>"But what real progress has been made?" someone dared to ask presently.</p>
+
+<p>"We have workers, agents in all these industries," replied the man, "and
+I'm glad to tell you that we have won a new recruit, who, although he is
+a patriotic Englishman, will help our cause mightily. Our trusted
+friend, Mr. John Brown, has got hold of a man who has a tremendous
+influence among not only the working-class people in various unions, but
+among the leaders of those unions, and who will be of vast help in our
+cause,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> and of making Great Britain another Russia; that done, victory
+is ours."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"A young man named Faversham. John Brown has had him in hand for months,
+and has now fairly made him his tool. Even to-night, comrades, we shall
+get him into our net."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us more about him," cried someone; but before the speaker could
+reply, some sort of signal was evidently given, for there was a general
+stampede, and in an incredibly short time silence reigned.</p>
+
+<p>Almost unconsciously Dick switched on his electric lamp and looked at
+his watch. It was eleven o'clock. Although he had not realised it, he
+had been in the little cupboard of a room more than an hour and a half,
+while these men had been plotting the ruin and the destruction of the
+country he loved.</p>
+
+<p>For some time he could not grasp all he had heard, but the meaning of it
+was presently clear to him. The thought almost overwhelmed him. He had
+unwittingly been again and again playing into the hands of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>"I must get out of this," he reflected after a few seconds. "I must get
+back to the hotel and think it all out."</p>
+
+<p>"You can go now." It was the woman who showed him there who spoke.</p>
+
+<p>A few seconds later he was in the open air, making his way towards Drury
+Lane.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!"</p>
+
+<p>The words passed his lips involuntarily. It seemed the natural
+expression of his heart.</p>
+
+<p>Almost unconsciously he found his way back to his hotel. He had no
+remembrance afterwards of the streets he had traversed, or of the
+turnings he had taken. His mind was too full of the thought that but for
+his wonderful experience in Staple Inn the facts he had learnt that
+night would not have been made known to him.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching his hotel he made his way to his sitting-room, and on
+opening the door he saw a letter lying on the table, which on
+examination he found to be signed "Olga."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Olga makes Love</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>In order to relate this story in a connected manner it is necessary to
+return to Count Romanoff's rooms, where, a few hours earlier, both the
+Count and Mr. John Brown were startled by the sudden entrance of Olga.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see the telegram," the Count said, holding out his hand. His
+voice was somewhat hoarse, and his eyes had a peculiar glitter in them.</p>
+
+<p>The girl handed it to him without a word.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<i>Impossible for me to come. Am leaving London almost
+immediately.</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Faversham.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"What time did you get this?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I scarcely know. Almost directly I got it I came to you. I thought it
+best. Do you think it is true? Do you believe he will leave London?"</p>
+
+<p>The Count was silent for a few seconds. "It would seem so, wouldn't it?"
+he answered grimly. "But he must <i>not</i> leave London. At all hazards, he
+must be kept here."</p>
+
+<p>"But it means that Olga has failed," cried Mr. John Brown. "It means
+that we have lost him!"</p>
+
+<p>"We have not lost him. I'll see to that," and there was a snarl in
+Romanoff's voice. "Olga Petrovic, all now depends on you. At your peril
+you must keep him here; you must win him over. If you fail, so much the
+worse for you."</p>
+
+<p>Evidently the girl was angered. "Do you threaten me?" she said, with
+flashing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I do, what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Simply that I will not be threatened. If you speak to me in that
+fashion, I refuse to move another finger."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not in the habit of having my plans destroyed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> by the whims of a
+petulant woman," said the Count very quietly. "I tell you that if you
+fail to keep him in London, and if you fail to make him your slave,
+ready to obey your every bidding, you pay the penalty."</p>
+
+<p>"What penalty?"</p>
+
+<p>"What penalty?" and the Count laughed. "Need you ask that? You are in my
+power, Countess Olga Petrovic. I know every detail of your
+history&mdash;every detail, mind you&mdash;from the time you were waiting-maid to
+the Czarina. Yours is a curious history, Countess. How much would your
+life be worth if it were known to the British authorities that you were
+in London? What would our German friends do to you if they knew the part
+you played at Warsaw?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know of that?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"I know everything, Countess. But I wish you no harm. All I demand is
+that you gain and keep Faversham in your power."</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you so anxious for him to be in my power?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because then he will be in my power."</p>
+
+<p>"Your power? Why do you wish him in your power? Do you want to do him
+harm?"</p>
+
+<p>"Harm!" Then Romanoff laughed. "And if I do, what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I refuse to serve you. Carry out your threats; tell the British
+authorities who I am. Tell the Germans what I did at Warsaw. I do not
+care. I defy you. Unless you promise me that you will not do Faversham
+harm, I will do nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you interested as to whether I will do Faversham harm?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am&mdash;that's all."</p>
+
+<p>The Count was silent for a few seconds. Evidently his mind was working
+rapidly. "Look at me!" he cried suddenly, and, as if by some power she
+could not resist, she raised her eyes to his.</p>
+
+<p>The Count laughed like one amused.</p>
+
+<p>"You have fallen in love with him, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl was silent, but a flush mounted her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"This is interesting," he sneered. "I did not think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> that Olga Petrovic,
+who has regarded men as so many dogs of the fetch-and-carry order, and
+who has scorned the thought of love, should have fallen a victim to the
+malady. And to a thick-headed Englishman, too! Surely it is very
+sudden."</p>
+
+<p>"You sneer," she cried, "but if I want to be a good woman; what then?"</p>
+
+<p>The Count waved his hand airily. "Set's the wind in that quarter, eh?
+Well, well. But it is very interesting. I see; you love him&mdash;you, Olga
+Petrovic."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I do," she cried defiantly, "what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only that you will obey me the more implicitly."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not obey you," she cried passionately. "And remember this, I am
+not a woman to be played with. There have been many who have tried to
+get the better of Olga Petrovic, and&mdash;and you know the result."</p>
+
+<p>"La, la!" laughed the Count, "and so my lady threatens, does she? And do
+you know, if I were susceptible to a woman's beauty, I should rejoice to
+see you angry. Anger makes you even more beautiful than ever. For you
+are beautiful, Olga."</p>
+
+<p>"Leave my beauty alone," she said sullenly. "It is not for you anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"I see, I see. Now listen to me. If you do not obey me in everything, I
+go to Richard Faversham, and I tell him who and what you are. I give him
+your history for the last ten years. Yes, for the last ten years. You
+began your career at eighteen and now you are twenty-eight. Yes, you
+look a young girl of twenty-two, and pride yourself upon it. Now then,
+Countess, which is it to be? Am I to help you to win the love of
+Faversham&mdash;yes and I can promise you that you shall win his love if you
+obey my bidding&mdash;or am I to go to him and tell him who Olga Petrovic
+really is?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked at him angrily, yet piteously. For the first time she
+seemed afraid of him. Her eyes burnt with fury, and yet were full of
+pleading at the same time. Haughty defiance was on her face, while her
+lips trembled.</p>
+
+<p>"But if you tell him, you destroy my plans. You cannot do that, Count!"
+It was Mr. John Brown who spoke, and there was a note of terror in his
+voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Your</i> plans! What do I care for your plans?" cried the Count. "It is
+of my own plans I am thinking."</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought, and as you know we agreed&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not for you to think, or to question my thoughts," interrupted
+the Count. "I allow no man to interpret my plans, or to criticise the
+way in which I work them out. But rest contented, my dear friend, John
+Brown," he added banteringly, "the success of your plans rests upon the
+success of my own."</p>
+
+<p>While they were speaking Olga Petrovic gazed towards the window with
+unseeing eyes. She looked quite her age now: all suggestion of the young
+girl had gone, she was a stern, hard-featured woman. Beautiful she was,
+it is true, but with a beauty marked by bitter experience, and not the
+beauty of blushing girlhood.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Countess Olga, which is it to be?" asked Romanoff, who had been
+watching her while he had been speaking to Mr. Brown.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want me to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do! Keep him in London. Enlist his sympathies. Make him your slave as
+you have made other men your slaves. Bind him to you hand and foot. Make
+him love you."</p>
+
+<p>A strange light burned in the girl's eyes, for at the Count's last words
+she had seemingly thrown off years of her life. She had become young and
+eager again.</p>
+
+<p>"Swear to me that you mean him no harm, and I will do it," was her
+reply. "If I can," she added, as an afterthought.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you doubt it?" asked Romanoff. "Have you ever failed when you have
+made up your mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but I do not feel certain of him. He is not like those others.
+Besides, I failed last night. In his heart he has refused me already. He
+said he was leaving London almost immediately, which means that he does
+not intend to see me again."</p>
+
+<p>"And you want to see him again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she replied defiantly; "I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Good." He seized a telephone receiver as he spoke and asked for a
+certain number. Shortly after he was connected with Dick's hotel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Richard Faversham of Eastroyd is staying with you, isn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Richard Faversham? Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he in?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, he went out a few minutes ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he say when he was likely to return?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, he said nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"But you expect him back to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"As far as I know, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. Either I, or a lady friend, will call to see him to-morrow
+morning at ten o'clock on a very important matter. Tell him that, will
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, sir. What name?"</p>
+
+<p>But the Count did not reply. He hung up the telephone receiver instead.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you say that?" asked Olga. "How dare I go to his hotel in broad
+daylight?"</p>
+
+<p>"You dare do anything, Countess," replied the Count. "Besides, you need
+not fear. Although you are wanted by the British authorities, you are so
+clever at disguise that no detective in Scotland Yard would be able to
+see through it." He hesitated a moment, and then went on: "If we were in
+Paris I would insist on your going to see him to-night, but Mrs. Grundy
+is so much in evidence in England that we must not risk it."</p>
+
+<p>"But if they fail to give him your message?" she asked. "Suppose he
+leaves to-morrow morning before I can get there?" Evidently she was
+eager to carry out this part of his plans.</p>
+
+<p>"He will not leave," replied Romanoff; "still, we must be on the safe
+side. You must write and tell him you are coming. There is ink and paper
+on yonder desk."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I write?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy Olga Petrovic asking such a question," laughed the Count. "Word
+your letter as only you can word it, and he will spend a sleepless night
+in anticipation of the joy of seeing you."</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated for a few seconds, and then rushing to the desk began to
+write rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said Romanoff, when she had finished,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> "to avoid all danger
+we must send this by a special messenger."</p>
+
+<p>Thus it was, when Dick Faversham returned from Chainley Alley that night
+that he found the letter signed "Olga" awaiting him.</p>
+
+<p>It was no ordinary letter that he read. A stranger on perusing it would
+have said that it was simply a request for an interview, but to Dick it
+was couched in such a fashion that it was impossible for him to leave
+London before seeing her. For this is what he had intended to do. When
+he had sent the telegram a few hours earlier his mind was fully made up
+never to see her again. Why he could not tell, but the effect of his
+strange experience in Staple Inn was to make him believe that it would
+be best for him to wipe this fascinating woman from the book of his
+life. Her influence over him was so great that he felt afraid. While in
+her presence, even while she fascinated him, he could not help thinking
+of the fateful hours in Wendover Park, when Romanoff stood by his side,
+and paralysed his manhood.</p>
+
+<p>But as he read her letter, he felt he could do no other than remain.
+Indeed he found himself anticipating the hour of her arrival, and
+wondering why she wished to see him.</p>
+
+<p>He had come to London ostensibly on business connected with his probable
+candidature in Eastroyd, and as he had to see many people, he had
+engaged a private sitting-room in the hotel. To this room he hurried
+eagerly after breakfast the following morning, and although he made
+pretensions of reading the morning newspaper, scarcely a line of news
+fixed itself on his memory. On every page he saw the glorious face of
+this woman, and as he saw, he almost forgot what he had determined as he
+left Chainley Alley.</p>
+
+<p>Precisely at ten o'clock she was shown into the room, and Dick almost
+gave a gasp as he saw her. She was like no woman he had ever seen
+before. If he had thought her beautiful amidst the sordid surroundings
+of the warehouse in the East End of London, she seemed ten-fold more so
+now, as slightly flushed with exercise, and arrayed in such a fashion
+that her glorious figure was set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> off to perfection, she appeared before
+him. She was different too. Then she was, in spite of her pleading
+tones, somewhat masterful, and assertive. Now she seemed timid and
+shrinking, as though she would throw herself on his protection.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure you are safe in coming here?" he asked awkwardly. "You
+remember what you told me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You care then?" she flashed back. Then she added quickly, "Yes, I do
+not think anyone here will recognise me. Besides, I had to take the
+risk."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" he questioned.</p>
+
+<p>"Because your telegram frightened me."</p>
+
+<p>"Frightened you? How?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because&mdash;oh, you will not fail me, will you? I have been building on
+you&mdash;and you said you were leaving London. Surely that does not mean
+that all my hopes are dashed to the ground? Tell me they are not."</p>
+
+<p>Her great dark eyes flashed dangerously into his as she spoke, while her
+presence almost intoxicated him. But he mastered himself. What he had
+heard the previous night came surging back to his memory.</p>
+
+<p>"If your hopes in any way depend on me, I am afraid you had better
+forget them," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I can never forget them. Did you not inspire them? When I saw
+you did I not feel that you were the leader we needed? Ah no, you cannot
+fail me."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot do what you ask."</p>
+
+<p>"But why? Only the night before last you were convinced. You saw the
+vision, and you had made up your mind to be faithful to it. And oh, you
+could become so great, so glorious!"</p>
+
+<p>He felt the woman's magnetic power over him; but he shook his head
+stubbornly.</p>
+
+<p>"But why?" she pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I have learned what your proposal really means," he replied,
+steeling himself against her. "I was carried away by your pleading, but
+I have since seen that by doing what you ask I should be playing into
+the hands of the enemies of my country, the enemies of everything worth
+living for."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You mean the Germans; but I hate Germany. I want to destroy all
+militarism, all force. I want the world to live in peace, in prosperity,
+and love."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot argue with you," replied Dick; "but my determination is fixed.
+I have learnt that Mr. John Brown is a German, and that he wants to do
+in England what has been done in Russia, so that Germany may rule the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. John Brown a German!" she cried like one horror-stricken. "You
+cannot mean that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you not know it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I? Oh no, no, no! you cannot mean it! It would be terrible!"</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with such passion that he could not doubt her, but he still
+persisted in his refusal.</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen that what you dream of doing would turn Europe, the world,
+into a hell. If I were to try to persuade the people of this country to
+follow in the lines of Russia, I should be acting the part of a criminal
+madman. Not that I could have a tithe of the influence you suggested,
+but even to use what influence I have towards such a purpose would be to
+sell my soul, and to curse thousands of people."</p>
+
+<p>She protested against his statement, declaring that her purposes were
+only beneficent. She was shocked at the idea that Mr. John Brown was a
+German, but if it were true, then it only showed how evil men would
+pervert the noblest things to the basest uses. She pleaded for poor
+humanity; she begged him to reconsider his position, and to remember
+what he could do for the betterment of the life of the world. But
+although she fascinated him by the magic of her words, and the witchery
+of her presence, Dick was obdurate. What she advocated he declared meant
+the destruction of law and order, and the destruction of law and order
+meant the end of everything sacred and holy.</p>
+
+<p>Then she changed her ground. She was no longer a reformer, pleading for
+the good of humanity, but a weak woman seeking his strength and
+guidance, yet glorious in her matchless beauty.</p>
+
+<p>"If I am wrong," she pleaded, "stay with me, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> teach me. I am lonely
+too, so lonely in this strange land, and I do so need a friend like you,
+strong, and brave, and wise. And oh, I will be such an obedient pupil!
+Ah, you will not leave London, will you? Say you will not&mdash;not yet."</p>
+
+<p>Again she almost mastered him, but still he remained obdurate.</p>
+
+<p>"I must return to my work, Miss&mdash;&mdash;You did not tell me your name." And
+she thought she detected weakness in his tones.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Olga Petrovic," she replied. "In my own country, when I had
+a country, I was Countess Olga Petrovic, and I suppose that I have still
+large estates there; but please do not call me by your cold English term
+'Miss.' Let me be Olga to you, and you will be Dick to me, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't understand," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"But you do, surely you do. Can you look into my eyes, and say you do
+not? There, look at me. Yes, let me tell you I believe in the sacredness
+of love, the sacredness of marriage. Now you understand, don't you? You
+will stay in London, won't you, and will teach a poor, ignorant girl
+wherein she is in error."</p>
+
+<p>He understood her now. Understood that she was making love to him,
+asking him to marry her, but still he shook his head. "I must return to
+my work," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But not yet&mdash;tell me not yet. Forgive me if I do not understand English
+ways and customs. When I love, and I never loved before, I cannot help
+declaring it. Now promise me."</p>
+
+<p>A knock came to the door, and a servant came bearing cards on a tray.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hugh Edgeware," "Miss Beatrice Edgeware," he read. He held the
+cards in his hands for a second, then turned to the woman, "I must ask
+you to excuse me," he said. "I have friends who have come to see me."</p>
+
+<p>Olga Petrovic gave him a look which he could not understand, then
+without a word left the room, while he stood still like a man
+bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"Show them up," he said to the servant.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p>
+<h2>PART III.&mdash;THE THIRD TEMPTATION</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Count's Confederate</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Count Romanoff sat alone in his room. On one side the window of his room
+faced Piccadilly with its great seething tide of human traffic, from
+another St. James's Park was visible. But the Count was not looking at
+either; he was evidently deep in his own thoughts, and it would appear
+that those thoughts were not agreeable.</p>
+
+<p>He was not a pleasant-looking man as he sat there that day. He was
+carefully dressed, and had the appearance of a polished man of the
+world. No stranger would have passed him by without being impressed by
+his personality&mdash;a dark and sinister personality possibly, but still
+striking, and distinguished. No one doubted his claim to the title of
+Count, no one imagined him to be other than a great personage. But he
+was not pleasant to look at. His eyes burnt with a savage glare, his
+mouth, his whole expression, was cruel. It might seem as though he had
+been balked in his desire, as though some cruel disappointment had made
+him angry.</p>
+
+<p>More than once his hands clenched and unclenched themselves as he
+muttered angrily, savagely, while again and again a laugh of vindictive
+triumph passed his lips. And yet even in his laugh of triumph there was
+something of doubt. He was perturbed, he was furious.</p>
+
+<p>"But he shall be mine," he said at length, "mine! and then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But his tone lacked certainty; his eyes burnt with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> anger because he had
+not been able to accomplish his designs.</p>
+
+<p>"It might be that he was especially watched over," he reflected, as
+though some beneficent Providence were fighting for him. "Providence!
+Providence! As though&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>He started to his feet and began to pace the room. His stride was angry,
+his whole appearance suggested defeat&mdash;a defeat which he had determined
+to transform to triumph.</p>
+
+<p>"Good! Evil!" he cried. "Yes, that is it. Good! Evil! And I have given
+myself over to evil, and I have sworn that evil could be made stronger
+than good! I have sworn to exemplify it, in the case of that young fool,
+Dick Faversham. I thought I should have accomplished it long ago but I
+have so far failed, failed!"</p>
+
+<p>He still continued to pace the room, although apparently he was
+unconscious of the fact. There was a far-off look in his eyes, a look
+that almost suggested despair.</p>
+
+<p>"Does it mean after all that right is stronger than wrong, that right is
+more eternally established in the world than wrong? That in the sweep of
+events the power of right is slowly but surely conquering and crushing
+the evil, that the story of what is called evolution is the story of the
+angel in man overcoming the beast?"</p>
+
+<p>Again he laughed, and the laugh had a cruel ring in it.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; evil is triumphant. Nearly two thousand years have passed since
+the Man of Nazareth was crucified, and yet for years the devil has been
+triumphant. Europe has been deluged in blood, world hatreds have been
+created, murder has been the order of the day, and the earth has been
+soaked in blood. No, no; evil is triumphant. The Cross has been a
+failure, and Him who died on it defeated!"</p>
+
+<p>He paused in his angry march around the room, and again he looked
+doubtful.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," he cried; "cruelty, lies, treason, have not triumphed. Germany
+is beaten; her doctrine that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> might was right&mdash;a doctrine born in
+hell&mdash;has been made false. After all this sword-clanging, all the
+vauntings about an invincible army, materialism, devilry, have failed.
+Germany is being humbled to the dust, and her militarism defeated and
+disgraced."</p>
+
+<p>The thought was evidently wormwood to him, for his features worked
+convulsively, his eyes were bloodshot. It might seem that the triumph of
+right filled him with torture.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and lifted his hands
+above his head as though he would throw a burden from him.</p>
+
+<p>"But that is not my affair," he cried. "It was for me to conquer that
+man, to make him my slave. I swore to do it. I had every chance, and I
+thought that he, young, ambitious, and subject to all human passions,
+would be an easy victim. He was no dreamer, he had none of the makings
+of an ascetic, much less a saint, and yet so far he has beaten me. He
+still lives what is called the clean, healthy life. He still mocks me.
+It might be that he is specially guarded, that some angel of good were
+constantly fighting against me, constantly defeating me."</p>
+
+<p>The thought seemed to disconcert Romanoff. A look almost like fear swept
+over his features, and again something like despair came into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"But no, I have other weapons in my armoury yet," he reflected. "He is
+no religious fanatic, no pious prig with ideals, he is still ambitious,
+still craves for all the things that humanity longs for."</p>
+
+<p>A clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour of six.</p>
+
+<p>"He should soon be here," he reflected. "I told him not to waste a
+second."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a second later a man
+entered who gave the appearance of having come from a distance.</p>
+
+<p>He was a mild, placid-looking creature whose very walk suggested that he
+was constantly making an apology for his existence. A creature not of
+highways, but of byways, a humble Uriah Heep sort of fellow who could
+act like a whipped cur in his desire to curry favour, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> who in his
+hour of triumph would show his fangs, and rend his victim without mercy.</p>
+
+<p>"You are back to time, Slyme. Well, what news?"</p>
+
+<p>By this time Romanoff was the great gentleman again&mdash;haughty,
+patronising, calm, and collected.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course your honour has heard that he's in? I wired the moment I
+knew."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I knew that before I got your wire. A servant in the hotel here
+told me the moment it was ticked off on the tape. Of course I expected
+that. Naturally it was uncertain, as all such things are. One can
+calculate on the actions of the few; but not on those of the many. Human
+nature is a funny business."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it, your Excellency? It's a remark I've often dared to make; one
+can never tell what'll happen. But he's in; he's the Member for
+Eastroyd."</p>
+
+<p>"With over a thousand majority."</p>
+
+<p>"I've discovered that he's coming up to town by the midnight train from
+Eastroyd."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" The Count's eyes flashed with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he seemed very much delighted at his victory, and is coming up I
+suppose to consult with other Members of his party."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he's delighted with his victory. For heaven's sake refrain
+from remarking on the obvious. Tell me about the election."</p>
+
+<p>"What does your honour, that is, your lordship, want to hear about? What
+phase of the election, I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"You had your instructions. Report on them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if I may say so," remarked Slyme apologetically, "although he has
+over a thousand majority, he has very much disappointed the people."</p>
+
+<p>"Why? In what way?"</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't so much of a firebrand as he was. The people complain that he
+is too mealy-mouthed."</p>
+
+<p>"Less of a people's man, do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't say that quite. But he's more moderate. He talks like a man
+trying to see all sides of a question."</p>
+
+<p>The Count reflected a few seconds, and then snapped his fingers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And his private life?" the Count questioned.</p>
+
+<p>"As far as I could find out, blameless."</p>
+
+<p>"Have the wealthier classes taken up with him at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not actively. But they are far less bitter towards him. They are
+saying that he's an honest man. I do not say that for myself. I'm only
+quoting," added the little man.</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff asked many questions on this head, which the little man
+answered apologetically, as if with a desire to know his employer's
+views before making direct statements.</p>
+
+<p>"There are generally a lot of scandals at a political election," went on
+the Count. "I suppose that of Eastroyd was no exception?" He said this
+meaningly, as though there were an understanding between them.</p>
+
+<p>Little Polonius Slyme laughed in a sniggering way. "Polonius" was the
+name by which he was known among his friends, and more than once the
+Count used it when addressing him.</p>
+
+<p>"I made many inquiries in that direction," he replied; "I even went so
+far as to insinuate certain things," he added with a covert look towards
+the Count. "I had some success, but not much."</p>
+
+<p>But the Count's face was like a mask. Polonius Slyme could tell nothing
+of his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not think your lordship would be offended?" he queried with a
+cunning look in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"I had some success, but not much."</p>
+
+<p>"What were your insinuations about? Drink, drug-taking, debt,
+unfaithfulness to his class?&mdash;what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there was no possibility of doing anything on those lines,
+although, as I said, there was some disappointment on the last head. But
+that's nothing. I reflected that he was a young man, and a bachelor&mdash;a
+good-looking bachelor." He added the last words with a suggestive
+giggle.</p>
+
+<p>"I see. Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he is a great favourite with the fair sex. By dint of very
+careful but persistent investigation I discovered that two ladies are
+deeply in love with him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Romanoff waited in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"One is the daughter of a wealthy manufacturer, quite the belle of the
+town among the moneyed classes. I inquired about her. There is no doubt
+that she's greatly interested in him."</p>
+
+<p>"And he?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's been seen in her company."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing. She would be a good match for him, that's all. There was a
+rumour that she had visited his lodgings late at night."</p>
+
+<p>"Which rumour you started?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it might be useful some day. As for the other woman, she's a
+mill girl. A girl who could be made very useful, I should think."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, how?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's undoubtedly very much in love with him&mdash;after her own fashion.
+She possesses a kind of gipsy beauty, has boundless ambitions, is of a
+jealous disposition, and would stop at nothing to gain her desires."</p>
+
+<p>"And is Faversham friendly with her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just friendly enough for one to start a scandal in case of necessity.
+And the girl, as you may say, not being overburdened with conscientious
+scruples, could be made very useful."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff reflected for some time, then he turned to Slyme again.</p>
+
+<p>"Slyme," he said, "I don't think you need go any further in that
+direction. Faversham is scarcely the man to deal with in the way you
+suggest. Still you can keep them in mind. One never knows what may
+happen."</p>
+
+<p>Polonius Slyme was evidently puzzled. He looked cautiously,
+suspiciously, at the face of the other, as if trying to understand him.</p>
+
+<p>"I have tried to do your lordship's will," he ventured.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and on the whole I'm satisfied with what you've done. Yes, what is
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"If your lordship would deign to trust me," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Trust you? In what way?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you would tell me what is in your mind, I could serve you better,"
+he asserted, with a nervous laugh.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> "All the time I have been acting in
+the dark. I don't understand your lordship."</p>
+
+<p>The Count smiled as though he were pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want to know?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very bold, I know, and doubtless I am not worthy to have the
+confidence of one so great and so wise as your lordship. But I have
+tried to be worthy, I have worked night and day for you&mdash;not for the
+wages, liberal though they are, but solely for the purpose of being
+useful to you. And I could, I am sure, be more useful if I knew your
+mind, if I knew exactly what you wanted. I am sure of this: if I knew
+your purposes in relation to Faversham, if I knew what you wanted to do
+with him, I could serve you better."</p>
+
+<p>The Count looked at Slyme steadily for some seconds.</p>
+
+<p>"I allow no man to understand my mind, my purposes," the Count answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, your lordship," assented the little man meekly; "only your
+lordship doubtless sees that&mdash;that I am handicapped. I don't think I'm a
+fool," he added; "I am as faithful as a dog, and as secret as the
+grave."</p>
+
+<p>"You want to know more than that," replied Romanoff harshly.</p>
+
+<p>Polonius Slyme was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"You want to know who I am," continued the Count. "You have been puzzled
+because I, who am known as a Russian, should interest myself in this man
+Faversham, and up to now you, in spite of the fact that you've hunted
+like a ferret, have found out nothing. More than that, you cannot think
+why I fastened on you to help me, and, cunning little vermin that you
+are, you stopped at nothing to discover it."</p>
+
+<p>"But only in your interest," assented the little man eagerly; "only
+because I wanted to deserve the honour you have bestowed upon me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am disposed to be communicative," went on the Count; "disposed to
+make something of a confidante of you. Of my secret mind, you, nor no
+man, shall know anything, but I will let you know something."</p>
+
+<p>Polonius Slyme drew nearer his master and listened like a fox. "Yes,
+your lordship," he whispered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Polonius, you have just told me that you are a man of
+brains: suppose that you wanted to get a strong man in your power, to
+make him your slave, body and soul, what would you do? Suppose also that
+you had great, but still limited power, that your knowledge was wide,
+but with marked boundaries, how would you set to work?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every man has his weaknesses," replied Polonius. "I should discover
+them, fasten upon them, and make my plans accordingly."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's right. Now we'll suppose that Faversham is the man, what
+would you regard as his weaknesses?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pride, ambition, a love, almost amounting to a passion, for power,"
+answered the little man quickly. "That would mean a longing for wealth,
+a craving for fame."</p>
+
+<p>"And conscience?" queried the Count.</p>
+
+<p>"He has a conscience," replied the little man; "a conscience which may
+be called healthily normal."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so. Now I'll tell you something. I've placed wealth in his way,
+and he has rejected it for conscience sake. I've tempted him with power
+and fame, almost unlimited power and fame, and although he's seen the
+bait, he has not risen to it."</p>
+
+<p>Polonius was silent for some time. Evidently he was thinking deeply;
+evidently, too, he saw something of what lay behind the Count's words,
+for he nodded his head sagely, and into his cunning eyes came a look of
+understanding.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you do not care to tell me why you want to make him your
+slave, body and soul?" he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" the Count almost snarled. "No man may know that."</p>
+
+<p>"You ask what I would do next?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I ask that."</p>
+
+<p>"No man is invulnerable," said the little man, as though he were talking
+to himself. "No man ever was, no man ever will be. Every man has his
+price, and if one can pay it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no question of price," said the Count<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> eagerly; "nothing need
+stand in the way, any price can be paid."</p>
+
+<p>"I see, I see," and the little man's foxy eyes flashed. "You want to
+work the man's moral downfall," he added. "You want to make him a slave
+to your will&mdash;<i>not</i> to make him a saint?"</p>
+
+<p>The Count was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"If I wanted to make such a man a slave to my will, and I had such means
+as you suggest, I should find a woman to help me. A woman beautiful,
+fascinating, unscrupulous. I would instruct her to be an angel of light.
+I would make her be the medium whereby he could obtain all that such as
+he desires, and I would make him believe that in getting her he would
+find the greatest and best gift in life, a gift whereby all that was
+highest and best in this life, and in the life to come, could be got. At
+the same time she must be a <i>woman</i>, a woman that should appeal to his
+desires, and make his pulses throb at the thought of possessing her."</p>
+
+<p>For some time they spoke eagerly together, the Count raising point after
+point, which the little man was not slow to answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Polonius, did I not know otherwise, I should say you were the devil,"
+laughed Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you are," replied the little man in great glee.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" and there was a kind of fear in the Russian's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Only that your cleverness is beyond that of ordinary mankind. You have
+thought of all this long before you asked me."</p>
+
+<p>"Have I? Perhaps I have; but I wanted your opinion."</p>
+
+<p>"The difficulty is to find the woman."</p>
+
+<p>"In two minutes she will be here. Go into the next room and watch, and
+listen. After she has gone, you shall tell me what you think of her."</p>
+
+<p>A minute later the door opened, and Olga Petrovic entered the room.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">In Quest of a Soul</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"Good evening, Countess. Thank you for coming so promptly. Be seated,
+won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Olga Petrovic looked at the Count eagerly, and accepted the chair he
+indicated. She looked older than when she left Dick Faversham after the
+interview I have described, and there were indications on her face that
+she had suffered anxious thoughts, and perhaps keen disappointment. But
+she was a strikingly beautiful woman still. Tall, magnificently
+proportioned; and almost regal in her carriage. She was fast approaching
+thirty, but to a casual observer she appeared only two- or
+three-and-twenty. She had the air of a grand lady, too, proud and
+haughty, but a woman still. A woman in a million, somewhat captivating,
+seductive; a woman to turn the head of any ordinary man, and make him
+her slave. One felt instinctively that she could play on a man's heart
+and senses as a skilful musician plays on an instrument.</p>
+
+<p>But not a good woman. She had a world of experience in her eyes. She
+suggested mystery, mystery which would appear to the unwary as Romance.
+Because of this she could impress youth and inexperience by her
+loveliness, she could appear as an angel of light.</p>
+
+<p>She was magnificently dressed, too. Every detail of her glorious figure
+was set off to the full by her <i>costumier</i>, and her attire spoke of
+wealth, even while this fact was not ostentatious or even intended. In
+short, her <i>costumier</i> was an artist who knew her business.</p>
+
+<p>Evidently, if ever she had been in danger by appearing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> in public, that
+danger was over. There was no suggestion of fear or apprehension in her
+demeanour.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you wish to see me?" she asked abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite aware," said Romanoff, without taking any apparent notice of
+her question, "that I took a liberty in asking you to come here. I
+should have asked you when it would have been convenient for you to
+graciously receive me at your flat. For this I must crave your pardon."</p>
+
+<p>There was something mocking in his voice, a subtle insinuation of power
+which the woman was not slow to see.</p>
+
+<p>"You asked me to come here because you wanted me, and because you knew I
+should come," she replied. "You knew, too, that I could not afford to
+disobey you."</p>
+
+<p>"We will let that drop," replied the Count suavely. "I count myself
+honoured by your visit. How could it be otherwise?" and he cast an
+admiring glance towards her.</p>
+
+<p>The woman watched him closely. It seemed as though, in spite of their
+acquaintance, she did not understand him.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," went on Romanoff, "our Bolshevism is a thing of the past. The
+proletariat of England will have none of it. A few malcontents may have
+a hankering after it; but as a class the people of England see through
+it. They see what it has done for Russia, and they know that under a
+Bolshevist régime all liberty, all safety, all prosperity would be gone
+for ever."</p>
+
+<p>The woman nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," went on the Count, "you are in a far more becoming position
+as the Countess Petrovic, with estates in Russia and elsewhere, than as
+Olga, the high priestess of a wild and irresponsible set of fanatics."</p>
+
+<p>"You have changed your views about those same fanatics," responded the
+woman rather sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Have I? Who knows?" was the Count's smiling and enigmatical reply. "But
+I did think they might have served my purpose."</p>
+
+<p>"What purpose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear lady, even to you I cannot disclose that. Besides, what does it
+matter?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Because I would like to know. Because&mdash;because&mdash;&mdash;" There she broke off
+suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Because through it the man Faversham crossed your path, eh?" and the
+smile did not leave his face.</p>
+
+<p>"You knew that Bolshevism would fail in England," cried the woman. "You
+knew that the whole genius of the race was against it. Why then did you
+try to drag&mdash;Faversham into it? Why did you tell me to dazzle him with
+its possibilities, to get him involved in it to such a degree that he
+would be compromised?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, why?"</p>
+
+<p>"But he would have none of it," retorted the woman. "He saw through it
+all, saw that it was an impossible dream, because in reality it was, and
+is, a wild delusion and a nightmare."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps that was your fault," replied Romanoff. "Perhaps your powers of
+fascination were not as great as I thought. Anyhow&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen him lately?" she interrupted. "You know where he is? What
+he is doing?"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice vibrated with eagerness; she looked towards Romanoff with a
+flash of pleading in her great lustrous eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you read the newspapers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not the English. Why should I? What is there in them for me? Of course
+I get the Polish and the Russian news."</p>
+
+<p>"If you read the English newspapers you would have no need to ask where
+he is," replied Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, has he become famous?"</p>
+
+<p>As if in answer to her question there was a knock at the door, and a
+servant entered bringing three London evening papers.</p>
+
+<p>"There," said the Count, pointing to some bold headlines&mdash;"there is the
+answer to your question."</p>
+
+<p>"Great Labour Victory in Eastroyd," she read. "Triumphant Return of Mr.
+Richard Faversham."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were riveted on the paper, and almost unheeding the Count's
+presence she read an article devoted to the election. Especially was her
+attention drawn to the Career of the Successful Candidate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Although Mr. Faversham, because of his deep sympathy with the aims of
+the working classes, has been returned to Parliament by them," she read,
+"he is not a typical Labour Member. As the son of a scholar, and the
+product of one of our best public schools, he has naturally been
+associated with a class different from that which has just given him its
+confidence. Years ago he was regarded as the heir of one of our great
+commercial magnates, and for some time was in possession of a great
+country house. His association with the middle classes, however, has not
+lessened his passionate interest in the welfare of the poor, and
+although he has of late become less advanced in his views, there can be
+no doubt that he will be a strong tower to the party with which he has
+identified himself."</p>
+
+<p>"He will be in London to-morrow," remarked Romanoff, when presently the
+woman lifted her head.</p>
+
+<p>"In London? To-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>The Count noted the eagerness with which she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said; "to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"And he will be a great man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not necessarily so," answered Romanoff. "He will be a Labour Member at
+four hundred pounds a year. He will have to be obedient to the orders of
+his party."</p>
+
+<p>"He never will! He is not a man of that sort!"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was almost passionate. Evidently her interest in him was deep.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't he? We shall see. But he will find it hard to live in London on
+four hundred pounds a year. London is not a cheap city in these days.
+You see he has all the instincts of his class."</p>
+
+<p>"Will he be one of the working men? Will he live as they live? Will he
+be of their order?" asked Olga.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem greatly interested, Countess."</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally. I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I remember your last interview."</p>
+
+<p>The woman's eyes flashed with anger. She suggested the "woman scorned."</p>
+
+<p>"You made love to him, didn't you, Countess? And he&mdash;he politely
+declined your advances?" Romanoff laughed as he spoke.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The woman started to her feet. "Did you get me here to taunt me with
+that?" she cried. "Besides, did I not obey your bidding? Was it not at
+your command that I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but not against your will, Countess. You had what our French
+neighbours call the <i>grand passion</i> for Faversham, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you taunt me with that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because the game is not played out. I do not break my promise, and I
+promised you that he should be yours&mdash;yours. Well, the time has come
+when my promise may be fulfilled."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Countess, are you still in love with Faversham?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. Sometimes I think I hate him. Tell me, why have you
+brought me here to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"To give you your opportunity. To tell you how, if you still love
+Faversham, you can win him; and how, if you hate him, you can have your
+revenge. Surely, Olga Petrovic, you are not the kind of woman who sits
+down meekly to a snub. To offer your love to a man, and then accept a
+cold rebuff. I thought I knew you better."</p>
+
+<p>Deeply as his words wounded her, she did not forget her caution.</p>
+
+<p>"What interest have you in him?" she asked. "I have never been able to
+understand you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am not easily understood, and I do not make my motives public
+property. But Faversham will in future live in London. He, although he
+is a Labour Member, will have but little sympathy, little in common with
+his confrères. He will be lonely; he will long for the society of women,
+especially for those who are educated, fascinating, beautiful. Olga, are
+you the woman to be beaten? Listen, he with his tastes, will need money.
+You can give it to him. He will be lonely; he will need companionship.
+You have a beautiful flat in Mayfair, and you can be as fascinating as
+an angel."</p>
+
+<p>She listened to every word he said, but her mind might be far away.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do I care for him?" she cried passionately.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> "What is he to me? A
+middle-class Englishman, with an Englishman's tastes and desires, an
+Englishman with the morality of his class. Just a plain, stupid,
+uninteresting bourgeois, a specimen of the self-satisfied Puritan."</p>
+
+<p>"You found him vastly interesting though."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but why should I? Why do I care what becomes of him? He is nothing
+to me."</p>
+
+<p>"He can be something to you though, Countess; you are a beautiful,
+fascinating woman. You can appeal to every man's weaknesses, no matter
+what they are. With time and opportunity no man can resist you. Say the
+word, and I will give you these opportunities."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I want him to be yours. You want him, and I owe you at least
+this."</p>
+
+<p>"You have some other purpose."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I have, what then? He will be yours, body and soul. Tell me, are
+you still in love with him?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman walked to the window, and looked out on the tide of human
+traffic in Piccadilly. For some time she seemed to be lost in thought,
+then she burst out passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"I am angry whenever I think of him. He was as cold as an icicle; I was
+like a woman pleading with a stone. Something seemed to stand between
+us&mdash;something&mdash;I don't know what."</p>
+
+<p>"What, you?" and there was a taunt in the Count's voice. "You, Olga
+Petrovic, said to be the most beautiful, the most dangerous woman in
+Europe, you whom no man has been able to resist, but who have fascinated
+them as serpents fascinate birds? Are you going to be beaten by this
+middle-class Englishman, this Labour Member of Parliament with £400 a
+year? Will you have him boast that Countess Olga Petrovic threw herself
+at him, and that he declined her without thanks?"</p>
+
+<p>"Has he boasted that?" she cried hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think?" laughed the Count. "Is he not that kind of man?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," the word came from her involuntarily. "Only&mdash;&mdash;"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Only he is much in favour with the ladies at Eastroyd. I have just been
+told that."</p>
+
+<p>"I hate him!" she said, and her voice was hoarse.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder?" queried the Count mockingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, have you found out who his visitors were that day, that
+morning when I saw him last?"</p>
+
+<p>"An old man and a chit of a girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know that; I saw them as I left the room. The man might have
+been a poet, an artist, and the girl was an unformed, commonplace miss.
+But he did not regard them as commonplace. His eyes burnt with a new
+light as he read their cards. I saw it. I believe I should have had him
+but for that. I had conquered him; he was ready to fall at my feet; but
+when he read their names, I knew I had lost. Who were they?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not discovered. They could have been only casual acquaintances.
+I have had him watched ever since he left London that day, and he has
+never seen them since. Of course he may be in love with her. It may be
+that he prefers an English wayside flower to such a tropical plant as
+yourself. That he would rather have youth and innocence than a woman
+twenty-eight years of age, who&mdash;who has had a past."</p>
+
+<p>"He never shall! Never!"</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes flashed dangerously. She had evidently decided on her course.</p>
+
+<p>"You may have to play a bold, daring game," insinuated the Count.</p>
+
+<p>"I will play any game. I'll not be beaten."</p>
+
+<p>"You love him still&mdash;you who never loved any man for more than a month!
+And Faversham&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You must find out where he lives, you must let me know."</p>
+
+<p>"And then?"</p>
+
+<p>"You may leave everything to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Mind, Olga, you may have to appear an Angel of Light in order to win
+him. In fact I think that will have to be your plan. He has all the
+old-fashioned morality of the middle-classes."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall see!" cried the woman triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>"I may trust you then?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Tell me why you wish this? Suppose I&mdash;I love him really, suppose I am
+willing to become his slave? Suppose I want to settle down to&mdash;to quiet
+domestic happiness, to loving motherhood? Suppose I want to be good&mdash;and
+to pray?"</p>
+
+<p>The Count's eyes burnt red with anger as she spoke, while his features
+were contorted as if with pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop that," he almost snarled. "I know you, Olga Petrovic, I know too
+much about you. Besides, the Bolshevists have taken your estates,
+and&mdash;but why argue? You love luxury, don't you? Love beautiful dresses,
+love your life of ease, love what money can buy, money that you can't
+get without me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You must tell me all I need to know," she answered with sullen
+submissiveness.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will go."</p>
+
+<p>"And you will not fail?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I will not fail."</p>
+
+<p>She left the room without another word, while Romanoff returned to his
+chair, and sat for some time immovable. His face was like a mask. His
+deep impenetrable eyes were fixed on vacancy.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Polonius, you can come in. I can see that you are almost tired of
+watching me. But my face tells you nothing, my little man."</p>
+
+<p>Polonius Slyme slinked into the room like a whipped cur.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, little man," went on the Count, "I pay you to watch others,
+not me. The moment you begin to spy on me, that moment you cease to be
+my servant. Do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, indeed, your lordship&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do not try to deny. I know everything. I forgive you for this once; but
+never again. Obey me blindly, unquestioningly, and all will be well with
+you, but try to spy upon me, to discover anything about me, and the lost
+souls in hell may pity you. Ah, I see yow understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, my lord. I will obey you like a slave."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of her?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She is magnificent, glorious! She can turn any man's brain. She is a
+Circe, a Sybil, a Venus&mdash;no man with blood in his veins can resist her!"</p>
+
+<p>"That is your opinion, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw such a creature before. And&mdash;and she has no conscience!"</p>
+
+<p>The Count laughed. "Now, Slyme, I have some more work for you."</p>
+
+<p>"To watch her!" he cried eagerly, rubbing his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not yet. That may be necessary some time, but not now. I have other
+work for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my lord."</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow morning you will go to Surrey. I will give you all
+particulars about the trains and the stations presently. You will go to
+a place known as Wendover Park. Near one of the lodge gates of this
+house is a pretty cottage. It was occupied, and probably still is, by a
+man called Hugh Stanmore and his granddaughter. You must find out
+whether he is still there, and learn all you can about them. Report all
+to me. You understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly, your Highness," replied Polonius, whose terminology in
+relation to the Count was uncertain.</p>
+
+<p>"You will report to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, certainly, my lord, everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, now go."</p>
+
+<p>The night came on, and the room grew dark, but Count Romanoff did not
+switch on the light. He sat alone in the dark thinking, thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"I have him now," he muttered presently. "Master, you shall have Richard
+Faversham's soul."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Voices in the Night</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Dick Faversham was on his way to London. He was going there as the
+Member for Eastroyd, and he was somewhat excited. He was excited for
+several reasons. Naturally he was elated at being a Member of
+Parliament, and he looked forward with pleasant anticipation to his
+political life in the Metropolis, and to his experiences in the House of
+Commons. But that was not all. This was his first visit to London since
+he had experienced those strange happenings which we described some time
+ago. As the train rushed on through the night he became oblivious to the
+presence of his fellow-passengers in the recollection of the events
+which were a mystery to him then, even as they were a mystery now.</p>
+
+<p>Especially did his mind revert to that wonderful experience in Staple
+Inn. He had heard a voice although he saw nothing, and that voice had
+meant a great deal to him. More than once he had wondered if he had done
+right in being silent about what had taken place afterwards. Ought he
+not to have gone to the police and told them what he had heard? But he
+had not been able to make up his mind to do this. Somehow everything had
+been associated with what had come to him in Staple Inn, and of that he
+could not speak. It would be sacrilege to do so. Besides, it might not
+have been necessary. From the fact that the traitors had left the house
+so suddenly, he concluded that the police were cognizant of their
+existence.</p>
+
+<p>But his eyes had been opened. That was why, when Olga Petrovic visited
+him, he was unresponsive. And yet he was not sure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Should he ever see this beautiful woman again, he wondered?</p>
+
+<p>He was afraid of her even while he longed to see her. Even then he
+recalled the tones of her voice, and the look in her eyes as she had
+pleaded with him. He had felt himself yielding to her pleading, all the
+barriers of his being seemed to be breaking down before the power of her
+glorious womanhood.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was the coming of Hugh Stanmore and his granddaughter. They
+were the last persons he had expected to see, and yet the sight of their
+names seemed to break the spell which Olga Petrovic had cast over him.</p>
+
+<p>There seemed no reason why they should come, and their interview,
+considering the circumstances under which he had seen them last was of a
+very prosy nature. Hugh Stanmore had happened to meet with a man who was
+a Government official, and who had told him of one Richard Faversham who
+was one of a deputation to his department, and who had pleaded
+passionately for certain things which the working-classes desired. This
+led to his learning the name of his hotel, and to the visit which had
+followed.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh Stanmore had scarcely referred to his life at Wendover, and seemed
+to be in ignorance of Tony Riggleton's whereabouts. Dick wondered at
+this after the interview, and reproached himself with not asking many
+questions. At the time, however, he seemed to be indifferent.</p>
+
+<p>To Beatrice he spoke only a few words. She appeared to be shy and
+diffident. If the truth must be told, she seemed ill at ease, and not at
+all pleased that her grandfather had brought her there. She was far less
+a child than when he had seen her at Wendover, and he had reflected that
+she was neither so interesting nor so good-looking as she had been two
+or three years before. Still, he was glad to see her, and he remembered
+the pleasant smile she had given him when she had left the room. His
+conversation with Hugh Stanmore had been almost entirely about his life
+at Eastroyd, and the conditions which obtained there.</p>
+
+<p>He realised, too, that a subtle change had come over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> his opinions on
+his return to Eastroyd. Not that he had less interest in the class whose
+cause he had espoused; but he knew that he had been led to take larger
+views.</p>
+
+<p>That was why some discontent had been felt among his most ardent
+supporters. Even those who had worked hardest for him during the
+election felt it incumbent upon them to raise a note of warning as they
+accompanied him to the station that night.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all very well, Dick, lad," said one advanced Socialist, "but we
+mun make a bold front. I don't hold with Bolshevism, or owt of that
+sort; but the Capitalist is the enemy of the working man, and we mun put
+those money-bags in their right place."</p>
+
+<p>It was a cold, dark, wintry morning when he arrived in London. The
+station and the streets were almost empty, the vehicles were few, and he
+felt cold and lonely. He had made no arrangements for his stay in the
+Metropolis, but he felt sure that the manager of the hotel where he had
+previously made his home would find him temporary accommodation. As it
+was impossible to get a taxi, he left his luggage at the station, and
+determined to walk. He knew the way well, and as the distance was only
+about a mile, he started with comparative cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>As I have said, the streets were well-nigh deserted, and not a single
+soul passed him as he made his way up Euston Road. Nevertheless he had
+the feeling that he was being followed. More than once he looked around,
+but could see no one. Several times, too, he felt sure he heard
+following footsteps, but when he stopped there was silence.</p>
+
+<p>When he turned at St. Pancras Church he looked up and down the street,
+but nothing suspicious met his gaze. A milkman's cart, a drayman's
+waggon, and that was all. The street lamps threw a sickly light on the
+cold wet road, and the houses were dark. London looked asleep.</p>
+
+<p>For some time after he had passed St. Pancras Church he heard nothing;
+but, as he neared Woburn Square, he again heard footsteps. It seemed to
+him, too, that he was surrounded by dark influences. Something sinister
+and evil seemed to be surrounding him. He was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> afraid, and his
+nerves were steady, but his brain was filled with strange fancies.</p>
+
+<p>Almost unconsciously his mind reverted to Count Romanoff. He had seen
+him only once since he had left Wendover Park, and the man was still an
+enigma to him. He had a thousand times reflected on the strange
+happening in the library there, but although he felt he had been saved
+from something terrible, he had not definitely associated the Count with
+anything supernatural. For Dick was not cast in a superstitious mould.</p>
+
+<p>The footsteps drew nearer, and again he looked around. Was it a fact, or
+was it fancy that he saw a dark form which hurriedly passed from his
+sight?</p>
+
+<p>He was aware a few seconds later that he was walking more rapidly, and
+that something like fear was in his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen."</p>
+
+<p>He heard the word plainly, and stopped. All was silent here. He saw that
+he was in one of the several squares which exist in the neighbourhood,
+but he was not sure which. He did not think it was Woburn Square, but it
+might be Taviton Square. He was not intimately acquainted with that part
+of London.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, what is it? Who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke aloud, spoke almost unconsciously, but there were no answering
+words. He was the only person there. He moved to a lamp and looked at
+his watch; he had a vague idea that he wanted to know the time. The
+watch pointed to half-past one. Evidently he had forgotten to wind it,
+for he knew his train was due to arrive something after three, and that
+it was late.</p>
+
+<p>He was about to start again when he thought he heard the words:</p>
+
+<p>"Go to Wendover."</p>
+
+<p>But there was nothing distinct. No voice reached him, and no one was in
+sight. At that moment the wind wailed across the open space, and moaned
+as it passed through the leafless branches of the trees. The wind seemed
+to formulate the same words.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to Wendover."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it's all fancy," he reflected. "I expect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> my nerves are
+playing me tricks. I never knew I had any nerves; but I've been through
+an exciting time. I've been making speeches, meeting committees, and
+replying to deputations for the last fortnight, and I expect I'm about
+done up. After all, fighting an election is no make-believe."</p>
+
+<p>A shiver passed through him. To say the least of it, even although it
+might be pure fancy, there was something uncanny about it all, and he
+could not help reflecting on his past experience.</p>
+
+<p>He did not move, but stood like one spellbound, listening to the wind as
+it soughed its way through the shrubs and trees which grew in the centre
+of the Square.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" he asked again. "What do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>He was sure there was a voice this time. It rose above the wailing wind,
+but he could see no one.</p>
+
+<p>"You are in danger&mdash;great danger!"</p>
+
+<p>"What danger? Who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.'"</p>
+
+<p>He recognised the words. They were spoken by One Whose Name he always
+held in reverence, spoken to His disciples in a far back age, before the
+knowledge of science and critical investigation had emerged from its
+swaddling clothes. But they were spoken in a woman's voice, spoken in
+almost wailing accents.</p>
+
+<p>His whole being was filled with a great awe. The voice, the words coming
+to him, at such a time and in such a way, filled him with a great
+wonder, solemnised him to the centre of his being.</p>
+
+<p>"If it were not a woman's voice, I might think it was He Himself who
+spoke," he said in a hoarse whisper.</p>
+
+<p>Then he thought of the footsteps, thought of the ominous, sinister
+influences which had surrounded him a few minutes before.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord, Lord Jesus Christ, help me!"</p>
+
+<p>He said the words involuntarily. They had passed his lips before he knew
+he had spoken.</p>
+
+<p>Was there any answer to his prayer? He only knew that he did not feel
+any fear, that a great peace came into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> his heart. He felt as he had
+never felt before, that God was a great reality. Perhaps that was why he
+was no longer lonely. There in the heart of the greatest city of the
+world, there in the darkness of a winter night, he was filled with a
+kind of consciousness that God was, that God cared, that he was not an
+orphan for whom no one cared, but a child of the Universal Father.</p>
+
+<p>He looked up and saw the clouds swept across the sky. Here and there was
+a break through which a star shone. Eyes of heaven, they seemed to him.
+Yes, the spirit world was very near to him. Perhaps, perhaps&mdash;who
+knew?&mdash;there were messengers of the Unseen all around him.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Earth is crammed with heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every common bush afire with God."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Where had he heard those words? Ah yes, was it not Elizabeth Barrett
+Browning who wrote them, wrote them while in Italy, where she sojourned
+with her husband, the greatest poet of his time?</p>
+
+<p>Again he looked around him, but nothing could be seen by his natural
+eyes. The houses, the trees, the gardens all lay wrapped in the gloom of
+the cold and darkness of that wintry morning, there in the heart of
+London. All the same it seemed that something had been born within him,
+something which he could not define, and again he seemed to hear, as he
+had heard years before, the glorious words which turned to naught the
+ribald and trifling scepticism of men:</p>
+
+<p>"The Eternal God is thy Refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting
+Arms."</p>
+
+<p>The sublimity of the message appealed to him. Surely no greater words
+were ever spoken. They peopled the dark wintry heavens with angels, they
+made everything possible.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord, tell me what to do."</p>
+
+<p>The prayer came naturally to his lips. It seemed to him that there was
+nothing else for him to say. But there were no answering words. All was
+silent, save for the soughing of the wind across the square. And yet I
+am wrong. He did hear words; they might be born of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> his own
+consciousness, and have no objective reality whatever, but again the
+wind seemed to speak to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to Wendover."</p>
+
+<p>Why should he go to Wendover? He had no right to be there, and from the
+rumours that he had heard, Tony Riggleton had turned the old house into
+a scene of drunken and sensual orgies. But in answer to his question the
+wailing wind seemed to reiterate, as if in a kind of dreary monotony,
+the same words, "Go to Wendover, go to Wendover."</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly everything became mundane.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, or good morning rather."</p>
+
+<p>It was a policeman who spoke, and who looked rather suspiciously at the
+lonely looking young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning," replied Dick; "it's not long to daylight is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Another hour or two yet. Lost your way?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've come from King's Cross. I travelled by the midnight train, and
+there were no conveyances to be got."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, petrol's a bit scarce yet; but I hear we shall have more soon.
+Anywhere you want to get?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm going to Jones' Hotel."</p>
+
+<p>"That's close to the British Museum; and only a few minutes away. I
+suppose your room's booked all right. The hotels are very crowded in
+London just now."</p>
+
+<p>"That'll be all right. Good morning, and thank you!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right, sir. Go to the end of the square, turn to the right,
+then take the second street to the left and you are there."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later Dick was at the hotel. The night porter knew him
+well, and showed him into the smoke-room, where there was a good fire,
+and comfortable arm-chairs.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be all right here till breakfast, sir, won't you? After that you
+can see the manager."</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later Dick was asleep.</p>
+
+<p>A few hours later he met some of his political confrères, two of whom
+begged him to lodge with them.</p>
+
+<p>It was not much of a place they assured him, but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> best their money
+would run to. "Four hundred a year's very little in London, and that
+you'll find out before long," one of them assured him.</p>
+
+<p>"Every penny has to be looked after, and by living two or three together
+we can do things cheaper."</p>
+
+<p>After seeing their lodgings, however, Dick determined to look around for
+himself. He did not relish the idea of sharing apartments with others.
+He wanted privacy, and he felt, although, like himself, these men were
+"Labour Members," that he had little in common with them.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of trying to get a small, cheap flat," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to be thought of with our pay," was the laughing response. "Of
+course you being a bachelor may have saved up a bit, or it may be that
+you think you'll be able to make a few pounds by journalism."</p>
+
+<p>"Some do it, don't they?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"They all want to do it, that's why there's so little chance. But I hear
+you are a bit of a swell, been to a public school and all that kind of
+thing, so you may have friends at court. Done anything that way?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick shook his head. "Never," he replied; "but no one knows what he can
+do till he tries."</p>
+
+<p>After considerable difficulty Dick happened upon a service flat which,
+although it cost more than he had calculated upon, was so convenient,
+and appealed to him so strongly, that he took it there and then.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed he felt a pleasant sense of proprietorship, as he sat alone in
+his new home that night. The room was very small, but it was cosy. A
+cheerful fire burnt in the grate, and the reading-lamp threw a grateful
+light upon the paper he held in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I must get a writing-desk and some book-cases, and I shall be as right
+as rain," he reflected. "This is princely as a sitting-room, and
+although the bedroom is only a box, it's quite big enough for me."</p>
+
+<p>He closed his eyes with lazy contentment, and then began to dream of his
+future. Yes, ambition was still strong within him, and the longing to
+make a material, yes, an international, reputation was never so
+insistent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> as now. He wondered if he could do it, wondered whether being
+a Labour Member would ever lead to anything.</p>
+
+<p>"A voting machine at four hundred a year."</p>
+
+<p>He started up as though something had strung him. He remembered who had
+said those words to him, remembered how they had wounded him at the time
+they were spoken. Was that all he was after his hopes and dreams? He had
+been a big man at Eastroyd. People had stopped in the streets to point
+him out; but in London he was nobody.</p>
+
+<p>"A voting machine at four hundred a year!"</p>
+
+<p>Yes, but he would be more. He had proved that he had brains, and that he
+could appeal to the multitude. He had his feet on the ladder now,
+and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>His mind suddenly switched off. He was no longer in his newly acquired
+flat, he was walking from King's Cross to Jones' Hotel, he was passing
+through a lonely square.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to Wendover."</p>
+
+<p>How the words haunted him. Every time the wind blew he had heard them,
+and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He started to his feet. "Well, why not? I have nothing to do to-morrow,
+and I can get there in a couple of hours."</p>
+
+<p>The next morning he eagerly made his way to Victoria Station.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Dick hears Strange News</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"Good mornin', sir."</p>
+
+<p>The porter touched his cap and looked at Dick curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Wheelright. You are here still?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. They took the other chap, and left no one in his place, so to
+speak. So me and the stationmaster have had to do everything. I was sort
+of superannuated, so to speak, when you was 'ere, so I had to take on my
+old job when Ritter went. However, I'd 'ear that he'll soon be back."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the boys are coming home now."</p>
+
+<p>"And a good job, too. Not but what me and the stationmaster have carried
+on, so to speak, and I'm as good a man as ever I was."</p>
+
+<p>Dick remembered old Wheelright well. He did odd jobs at the station
+during his short stay at Wendover Park, and was known among the people
+in the neighbourhood as "Old So-to-speak." He was also noted as an
+inveterate gossip.</p>
+
+<p>"Comin' down to live 'ere again, so to speak?" he queried, looking at
+Dick curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Dick. "Just paying a short visit. I shall be returning by
+the 4.20 at the latest."</p>
+
+<p>Wheelright shuffled on at Dick's side. He was much tempted to ask him
+further questions, but seemed afraid.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know where&mdash;where Squire Riggleton is, I suppose, sir?</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you ask that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was wondering, that's all. There's been a good deal of talk about
+him, so to speak. Some say he was took for the army just the same as if
+he hadn't sixpence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> I have heard he was took prisoner by the Germans,
+too. But some people <i>will</i> talk. Have you heard 'bout his being killed,
+sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I never heard that."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah." He looked at Dick questioningly, and then ventured further. "He
+didn't do hisself much credit as a squire," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"No, there was nice carryings on, so I've heard. But then some people
+will talk. However, there's no doubt that Mrs. Lawson, who had her two
+daughters as servants there in your day, took them both away. It was no
+place for respectable Christians to live, she said."</p>
+
+<p>Dick made no reply. He had just come by train, and was the only
+passenger who alighted. Old Wheelright immediately recognised him. He
+did not feel altogether at ease in listening to him while he discussed
+his cousin, but was so interested that he let him go on talking. The
+truth was that Dick did not know why he was there, except that he had
+obeyed the command he had heard when walking from King's Cross. As he
+stood there that day he was not sure whether he had heard a voice or
+whether it was only an impression. But the words haunted him, and he
+felt he could do no other than obey. Now he was here, however, he did
+not know where to go, or what to do. He felt sensitive about going to
+the house which he had thought was his, and asking for admission. The
+action would call up too many painful memories. And yet he did not like
+going back without once again seeing the home that had meant so much to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"You know that people have talked a lot about <i>you</i>, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say."</p>
+
+<p>"And everybody was sorry when you left. It was all so funny. Young
+Riggleton he came to the Hare and Hounds, and told the landlord all
+about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I did hear that the London lawyers called him over the coals for
+talking so much, so to speak. But some people will talk. However, as I'd
+say, 'twasn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> the lawyer's business. If Riggleton liked to talk, that's
+his business. Still I s'pose he had a drop of drink in him, or p'r'aps
+he mightn't a' done it. He told the landlord that he'd offered you a
+good job if you'd stay, but as the landlord said, 'How could you expect
+a gentleman like Mr. Faversham to stay as a servant where he'd been
+master?' I suppose he did make the offer, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is the same housekeeper at Wendover?" asked Dick, not noticing
+Wheelright's questions.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, bless you, sir, yes. I've been told she gave notice to leave
+like the other servants; but Riggleton went away instead. He said he
+couldn't stand living in a cemetery. That's what he called Wendover,
+sir. He came back a few times, but only for a day or two. From what I
+hear he hasn't showed his face there for years. All the same, it's kept
+in good repair. I suppose the London lawyer do see to that."</p>
+
+<p>The old man went on retailing the gossip of the neighbourhood, but
+beyond what I have recorded he said little that interested Dick. After
+all, why should he care about stories concerning Anthony Riggleton, or
+pay attention to the scandalous tales which had been afloat? He had no
+doubt but that Mr. Bidlake would have given him all information about
+his cousin, if he had called and asked him; but he had not gone.</p>
+
+<p>He made his way along the country lanes, scarcely seeing a single soul.
+He was angry with himself for coming, and yet he knew that he had not
+been able to help himself. He was there because he had been drawn there
+by an irresistible impulse, or because he was under the power of
+something, or someone whom he dared not disobey.</p>
+
+<p>The day was dark and cloudy, and the air was dank and cold. The trees
+were leafless, not a flower appeared, and the whole countryside, which
+had once appeared to him so glorious, now seemed grim and depressing.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I'm a fool," he muttered savagely, but still he trudged
+along until he came to the lodge gates. How proud he had been when he
+had first seen them! How his heart had thrilled at the thought that all
+he saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> was his own, his very own! But now he had no right there. He
+might have been the veriest stranger.</p>
+
+<p>He had carefully avoided the entrance near which old Hugh Stanmore
+lived. He did not want the old man to know of his visit.</p>
+
+<p>He was altogether unnoticed by the people who lived in the lodge, and a
+few seconds later was hurrying up the drive. Yes, in spite of the
+winter, in spite of the leafless trees, the place was very beautiful.
+The noble avenue under which he was walking was very imposing, the
+rhododendron, and a dozen other kinds of shrubs relieved the wintry
+aspect. Besides, the woods were so restful, the fine park lands were the
+finest he had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>And he had thought they were all his. He for a short time had been
+master of everything!</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the house burst on his view, and with a cry, almost like a cry
+of pain, he stood still, and looked long and yearningly. No wonder he
+had loved it. It was all a country home should be.</p>
+
+<p>And it might have been his! If he had obeyed Romanoff; but no; even then
+he felt thankful that he had not yielded to the man who tempted him.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he thought of turning back. It would be too painful to go
+and ask for permission to go in. But he did not turn back. As if urged
+on by some unseen power he made his way towards the entrance.</p>
+
+<p>He had an eerie feeling in his heart as he approached the steps. He
+called to mind his first visit there, when he had asked the lawyer if he
+saw anything. For a moment he fancied he saw the outline of a shadowy
+form as he saw it then. But there was nothing. The grey stone walls,
+half hidden by ivy, stood before him as they stood then, but that
+wondrous face, with pitiful pleading eyes, was not to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>He felt half disappointed at this. He could understand nothing, but he
+had a feeling that it was the form of someone who loved him, someone
+sent to protect him.</p>
+
+<p>At first he had fought the idea. He had told himself that he was too
+matter-of-fact, that he had too much common sense to think of an optical
+illusion as something supernatural; but as event after event took place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
+he could not help being possessed by the thought that he was under the
+guardianship of something, someone who watched over him, helped him. He
+never spoke about it to anyone; it was too sacred for discussion.</p>
+
+<p>But there was nothing. He heard no voice, saw no form, and a feeling
+like disappointment crept into his heart. Dick Faversham was not a
+morbid fellow, and he had a feeling of dislike for anything like
+occultism. As for spiritualism, in the ordinary sense of the word, it
+made no appeal to him. But this was different. Somehow he had a kind of
+consciousness that the spirit world was all around him, and that the
+Almighty Beneficence used the inhabitants of that spirit world to help
+His children.</p>
+
+<p>No, there was nothing. His visit had been purposeless and vain, and he
+would find his way back to the station. Then suddenly the door opened,
+and the old housekeeper appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"It is, it <i>is</i> Mr. Faversham!"</p>
+
+<p>But he did not speak. A weight seemed on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, sir, come in."</p>
+
+<p>Before he realised what had taken place he stood in the entrance hall,
+and the door closed behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you come for good?"</p>
+
+<p>The housekeeper's voice was tremulous with excitement, and her eyes were
+eagerly fastened on his face.</p>
+
+<p>Dick shook his head. "No, I'm only here for a few minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"But he's dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"That man. The man Riggleton. Haven't you heard about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I've not heard."</p>
+
+<p>"But there were rumours, and I thought you'd come to tell me they were
+true. Oh, I am sorry, so sorry. I should love to have you here as master
+again. It was such a joy to serve you. And that man, he nearly drove me
+mad. He brought bad people here. He filled the house with a lot of low
+men and women. And there were such goings on. I stood it as long as I
+could, and then I told him I must leave the house at once.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> So did
+several of the servants. He begged me to stop, he offered to double my
+wages, but I told him I must go, that I was a respectable woman, and had
+served only gentry who knew how to behave themselves. Then he said he
+would leave himself, and he persuaded me to stay on. Didn't you hear,
+sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I did not hear. I went away to the North of England."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there were such stories. I suppose he threw away a fortune in
+London."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he there now?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I asked Mr. Bidlake, but he would tell me nothing. The
+last I heard was that he was forced into the army, and was killed."</p>
+
+<p>"How long was that ago?"</p>
+
+<p>"Several months now."</p>
+
+<p>"And you've heard nothing since?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir; nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I will go now."</p>
+
+<p>"But you'll stay for lunch? I'm not stinted in any way, and Mr. Bidlake
+sends me a liberal allowance for the expenses of the house. I can easily
+manage lunch, sir, and it would be such a joy to me."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very kind, and I appreciate it very much; but I really
+couldn't&mdash;after what took place. I'll go to the Hare and Hounds and have
+some bread and cheese."</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't you, sir? I'm so sorry, and it's a long way to Lord
+Huntingford's."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course, that's out of the question."</p>
+
+<p>"But you must have lunch somewhere, and you couldn't go to the Hare and
+Hounds."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, I could. I dare say Blacketter would give me some bread and
+cheese. That will be all I shall need."</p>
+
+<p>The housekeeper began to rub her eyes. "It's just awful," she sobbed.
+"To think that you who were master here, and whom we all liked so much,
+should have to go to a place like that. But I know. Mr. Stanmore is at
+home; he'll be glad to welcome you there."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stanmore is at home, is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. He called here yesterday, and Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> Beatrice is at home too.
+They were both here. Mr. Stanmore brought Sir George Weston over to see
+the house."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir George Weston?" and Dick felt a strange sinking at his heart as he
+heard the words. "I don't seem to remember the name."</p>
+
+<p>"He's from the west, sir, from Devonshire, I think. It has been said
+that he came to see Miss Beatrice," and the housekeeper smiled
+significantly.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know anything, sir; it may be only servants' gossip. He's said
+to be a very rich man, and has been serving in Egypt. Some say that he
+came to discuss something about Egypt with Mr. Stanmore; but it was
+noticed that he was very attentive to Miss Beatrice."</p>
+
+<p>"He's been staying at the cottage, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"For nearly a week, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he there now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, sir. All I know is that he was here with them yesterday.
+Mr. Stanmore brought a letter from Mr. Bidlake authorising me to show
+them over the house."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Sir George a young man? You said he was in the army, didn't you?"
+Dick could not understand why his heart was so heavy.</p>
+
+<p>"About thirty, I should think, sir. Yes, I believe he had a high command
+in our Egyptian army. He's a great scholar too, and Mr. Stanmore said
+that this house was the finest specimen of an Elizabethan house that he
+knew of. A very pleasant gentleman too. It's not my business, but he'd
+be a good match for Miss Beatrice, wouldn't he? Of course Mr. Stanmore
+belongs to a very good family, but I suppose he's very poor, and Miss
+Beatrice has hardly a chance of meeting anyone. You remember her, sir,
+don't you? She was little more than a child when you were here, but
+she's a very beautiful young lady now."</p>
+
+<p>The housekeeper was fairly launched now, and was prepared to discuss the
+Stanmores at length, but Dick hurried away. He would have loved to have
+gone over the house, but he dared not; besides, in a way he could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> not
+understand, he longed to get into the open air, longed to be alone.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope, oh, I do hope that something'll happen," said the housekeeper
+as he left the house; but what she did not tell him.</p>
+
+<p>A little later Dick found himself on the drive leading to Hugh
+Stanmore's cottage. He had not intended to take this road, but when he
+realised that he was in it, he did not turn back. Rather he hurried on
+with almost feverish footsteps.</p>
+
+<p>Sir George Weston had been spending a week at the cottage, had he? Why?
+Was it because he was an Egyptologist, and interested in Hugh Stanmore's
+previous researches, or was he there because of Beatrice, as the
+servants' gossip said? It was nothing to him, but he had an overwhelming
+desire to know. Was Beatrice Stanmore a beautiful girl? She had not
+appealed to him in this light when her grandfather brought her to see
+him months before; but girls often blossomed into beauty suddenly.
+Still, wasn't it strange that Weston should stay at the cottage a week?</p>
+
+<p>Of course he would not call. He was simply taking the longer road to the
+station. Yes, he could plainly see the house through the trees, and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Is that Mr. Faversham? Well, this is a surprise; but I <i>am</i> glad to see
+you."</p>
+
+<p>It was old Hugh Stanmore who spoke, while Dick in a strangely nervous
+way took the proffered hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Come to look at your old house, eh? I see you've come from that
+direction."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have been&mdash;talking with my old housekeeper," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"And you've never been here before since&mdash;you left?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, life's a strange business, isn't it? But come in, my dear
+fellow. You're just in time for lunch."</p>
+
+<p>Dick began to make excuses, but the other refused to listen, and they
+entered the cottage together.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I couldn't presume upon your kindness so far."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Kindness! Nonsense. Of course you must. Besides, I see that you are a
+Member of Parliament, and a Labour Member too. I must talk with you
+about it. Lunch will be on the table in five minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"You are sure I shouldn't be bothering you?" He had an overwhelming
+desire to stay.</p>
+
+<p>"Bother! What bother can there be? I'm only too delighted to see you.
+Come in."</p>
+
+<p>They entered the cottage together.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by the way," went on Hugh Stanmore, as they entered a cosy
+sitting-room, "let me introduce you to Sir George Weston."</p>
+
+<p>A strikingly handsome man of about thirty rose from an arm-chair and
+held out his hand. He was in mufti; but it was impossible to mistake him
+for anything but a soldier. Head erect, shoulders squared, and a
+military bearing proclaimed him to be what he was.</p>
+
+<p>"Glad to see you, Mr. Faversham," said Sir George heartily "I suppose
+you've come down to see&mdash;&mdash;" He stopped abruptly. He felt he had made a
+<i>faux pas</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right," said Dick with a laugh. He felt perfectly at ease now.
+"Yes, I came to see the old place which years ago I thought was mine.
+You've heard all about it, I've no doubt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jolly hard luck," sympathised Sir George. "But anyhow you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, here's Beatrice," broke in Hugh Stanmore. "Beatrice, my dear,
+here's an old friend dropped in to lunch with us. You remember Mr.
+Faversham, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of the two met, and then as their hands met Dick's friendly
+feeling towards Sir George Weston left him. He could not tell why.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Beatrice Confesses</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Dick Faversham saw at a glance that Beatrice Stanmore had ceased being a
+child. She was barely twenty. She was girlish in appearance, and her
+grandfather seemed to still regard her as a child. But her childhood had
+gone, and her womanhood had come. Rather tall, and with a lissom form,
+she had all a girl's movements, all a girl's sweetness, but the flash of
+her eyes, the compression of her lips, the tones of her voice, all told
+that she had left her childhood behind. But the first blush of her
+womanhood still remained. She retained her child's naturalness and
+winsomeness, even while she looked at the world through the eyes of a
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>Dick was struck by her beauty too. When years before she had rushed into
+the library at Wendover, almost breathless in her excitement, she had
+something of the angularity, almost awkwardness, of half-development.
+That had all gone. Every movement was graceful, natural. Perfect health,
+health of body, health of mind had stamped itself upon her. She had no
+suggestion of the cigarette-smoking, slang-talking miss who boasts of
+her freedom from old-time conventions. You could not think of Beatrice
+Stanmore sitting with men, smoking, sipping liqueurs, and laughing at
+their jokes. She retained the virginal simplicity of childlikeness. All
+the same she was a woman. But not a woman old beyond her years. Not a
+woman who makes men give up their thoughts of the sacredness of
+womanhood.</p>
+
+<p>No one could any more think of Beatrice Stanmore being advanced, or
+"fast," than one could think of a rosebud just opening its petals to the
+sun being "fast."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She had none of the ripe beauty of Lady Blanche Huntingford, much less
+the bold splendour of Olga Petrovic. She was too much the child of
+nature for that. She was too sensitive, too maidenly in her thoughts and
+actions. And yet she was a woman, with all a woman's charm.</p>
+
+<p>Here lay her power. She was neither insipid nor a prude. She dared to
+think for herself, she loved beautiful dresses, she enjoyed pleasure and
+gaiety; but all without losing the essential quality of
+womanhood&mdash;purity and modesty. She reminded one of Russell Lowell's
+lines:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A dog rose blushing to a brook<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ain't modester, nor sweeter."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>That was why no man, however blasé, however cynical about women, could
+ever associate her with anything loud or vulgar. She was not neurotic;
+her healthy mind revolted against prurient suggestion either in
+conversation or in novels. She was not the kind of girl who ogled men,
+or practised unwomanly arts to attract their attention. No man, however
+bold, would dream of taking liberties with her. But she was as gay as a
+lark, her laughter was infectious, the flash of her eyes suggested all
+kinds of innocent mischief and fun. She could hold her own at golf, was
+one of the best tennis players in the district, and could ride with
+gracefulness and fearlessness.</p>
+
+<p>Does someone say I am describing an impossible prodigy? No, I am trying
+to describe a sweet, healthy, natural girl. I am trying to tell of her
+as she appeared to me when I saw her first, a woman such as I believe
+God intended all women to be, womanly, pure, modest.</p>
+
+<p>She was fair to look on too; fair with health and youth and purity. A
+girl with laughing eyes, light brown hair, inclined to curl. A sweet
+face she had, a face which glowed with health, and was unspoilt by
+cosmetics. A tender, sensitive mouth, but which told of character, of
+resolution and daring. A chin firm and determined, and yet delicate in
+outline. This was Beatrice Stanmore, who, reared among the sweet Surrey
+hills and valleys, was unsmirched by the world's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> traffic, and who
+recoiled from the pollution of life which she knew existed. A girl
+modern in many respects, but not too modern to love old-fashioned
+courtesies, not too modern to keep holy the Sabbath Day, and love God
+with simple faith. A religious girl, who never paraded religion, and
+whose religion never made her monkish and unlovely, but was the joy and
+inspiration of her life.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Faversham," she said. "I've often wondered
+why you never came to Wendover."</p>
+
+<p>"In a way it was very hard to keep away," was Dick's reply. "On the
+other hand, I had a kind of dread of seeing it again. You see, I had
+learnt to love it."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't wonder. It's the dearest old house in the world. I should have
+gone mad, I think, if I'd been in your place. It was just splendid of
+you to take your reverse so bravely."</p>
+
+<p>"I had only one course before me, hadn't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hadn't you? I've often wondered." She gave him a quick, searching
+glance as she spoke. "Are you staying here long?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, only a few hours. I return to London this afternoon. I came down
+to-day just on impulse. I had no reason for coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Hadn't you? I'm glad you came."</p>
+
+<p>"So am I."</p>
+
+<p>There was a strange intensity in his tones, but he did not know why he
+spoke with so much feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course Granddad and I have often talked of you," she went on. "Do
+you know when we called on you that day in London, I was disappointed in
+you. I don't know why. You had altered so much. You did not seem at all
+like you were when we saw you down here. I told Granddad so. But I'm so
+glad you are Member of Parliament for Eastroyd, and so glad you've
+called. There, the lunch is ready. Please remember, Mr. Faversham, that
+I'm housekeeper, and am responsible for lunch. If you don't like it, I
+shall be offended."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with all the freedom and frankness of a child, but Dick was
+not slow to recognise the fact that the child who had come to Wendover
+when Romanoff<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> was weaving a web of temptation around him, had become a
+woman who could no longer be treated as a child.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you hungry, Sir George?" she went on, turning to her other visitor.
+"Do you know, Mr. Faversham, that these two men have neglected me
+shamefully? They have been so interested in rubbings of ancient
+inscriptions, and writings on the tombs of Egyptian kings, that they've
+forgotten that I've had to cudgel my poor little brains about what they
+should eat. Housekeeping's no easy matter in these days."</p>
+
+<p>"That's not fair," replied Sir George. "It was Mr. Stanmore here, who
+was so interested that he forgot all about meal-times."</p>
+
+<p>The soldier was so earnest that he angered Dick. "Why couldn't the fool
+take what she said in the spirit of raillery?" he asked himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Adam over again," laughed Beatrice. "'The woman tempted me and I did
+eat.' It's always somebody else's fault. Now then, Granddad, serve the
+fish."</p>
+
+<p>It was a merry little party that sat down to lunch, even although Dick
+did not seem inclined for much talk. Old Hugh Stanmore was in great
+good-humour, while Beatrice had all the high spirits of a happy, healthy
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>"You must stay a few hours now you are here, Mr. Faversham," urged the
+old man presently. "There's not the slightest reason why you should go
+back to town by that four something train. It's true, Sir George and I
+are going over to Pitlock Rectory for a couple of hours, but we shall be
+back for tea, and you and Beatrice can get on all right while we are
+away."</p>
+
+<p>Sir George did not look at all delighted at the suggestion, but Beatrice
+was warm in her support of it.</p>
+
+<p>"You really must, Mr. Faversham," she said. "I shall be alone all the
+afternoon otherwise, for really I can't bear the idea of listening to
+Mr. Stanhope, the Rector of Pitlock, prose about mummies and fossils and
+inscriptions."</p>
+
+<p>"You know I offered to stay here," pleaded Sir George.</p>
+
+<p>"As though I would have kept you and Granddad away from your fossils,"
+she laughed. "Mr. Stanhope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> is a great scholar, a great Egyptologist,
+and a great antiquary, and you said it would be your only chance of
+seeing him, as you had to go to the War Office to-morrow. So you see,
+Mr. Faversham, that you'll be doing a real act of charity by staying
+with me. Besides, there's something I want to talk with you about. There
+is really."</p>
+
+<p>Sir George did not look at all happy as, after coffee, he took his seat
+beside old Hugh Stanmore, in the little motor-car, but Dick Faversham's
+every nerve tingled with pleasure at the thought of spending two or
+three hours alone with Beatrice. Her transparent frankness and
+naturalness charmed him, the whole atmosphere of the cottage was so
+different from that to which for years he had been accustomed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Faversham," she said, when they had gone, "I want you to walk with
+me to the great house, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," he said, wondering all the time why she wanted to go there.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mind, do you? I know it must be painful to you, but&mdash;but I
+want you to."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I will. It's no longer mine&mdash;it never was mine, but it
+attracts me like a magnet."</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later they were walking up the drive together. Dick was
+supremely happy, yet not knowing why he was happy. Everything he saw was
+laden with poignant memories, while the thought of returning to the
+house cut him like a knife. Yet he longed to go. For some little
+distance they walked in silence, then she burst out suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Faversham, do you believe in premonitions?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I. It is that I wanted to talk with you about."</p>
+
+<p>He did not reply, but his mind flashed back to the night when he had sat
+alone with Count Romanoff, and Beatrice Stanmore had suddenly and
+without warning rushed into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe in angels?" she went on.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I think so."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I do. Granddad is not sure about it. That is, he isn't sure that they
+appear. Sir George is altogether sceptical. He pooh-poohs the whole
+idea. He says there was a mistake about the Angels at Mons. He says it
+was imagination, and all that sort of thing; but he isn't a bit
+convincing. But I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." He spoke almost unconsciously. He had never uttered a word about
+his own experiences to anyone, and he wondered if he should tell her
+what he had seen and heard.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a kind of premonition which made me go to see you years ago,"
+she said quietly. "Do you remember?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never forget, and I'm very glad."</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you very glad?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because&mdash;because I'm sure your coming helped me!"</p>
+
+<p>"How did it help you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It helped me to see, to feel; I&mdash;I can't quite explain."</p>
+
+<p>"That man&mdash;Count Romanoff&mdash;is evil," and she shuddered as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I felt it. I feel it now. He was your enemy. Have you seen him since?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only once. I was walking through Oxford Circus. I only spoke a few
+words to him; I have not seen him since."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Faversham, did anything important happen that night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that night&mdash;and the next."</p>
+
+<p>"Did that man, Count Romanoff, want you to do something which&mdash;which was
+wrong? Forgive me for asking, won't you? But I have felt ever since that
+it was so."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." He said the word slowly, doubtfully. At that moment the old house
+burst upon his view, and he longed with a great longing to possess it.
+He felt hard and bitter that a man like Tony Riggleton should first have
+made it a scene of obscene debauchery and then have left it. It seemed
+like sacrilege that such a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> should be associated with it. At that
+moment, too, it seemed such a little thing that Romanoff had asked him
+to do.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had done what he asked me, I might have been the owner of Wendover
+Park now," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"But how could that be, if that man Riggleton was the true heir?" she
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"At that time there seemed&mdash;doubt. He made me feel that Riggleton had no
+right to be there, and if I had promised the Count something, I might
+have kept it."</p>
+
+<p>"And that something was wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was wrong. Of course I am speaking to you in absolute
+confidence," he added. "When you came you made me see things as they
+really were."</p>
+
+<p>"I was sent," she said simply.</p>
+
+<p>"By whom?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. And do you remember when I came the second time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I remember. I shall never forget."</p>
+
+<p>"I never felt like it before or since. Something seemed to compel me to
+hasten to you. I got out the car in a few seconds, and I simply flew to
+you. I have thought since that you must have been angry, that you must
+have looked upon me as a mad girl to rush in on you the way I did. But I
+could not help myself. That evil man, Romanoff, was angry with me too;
+he would have killed me if he had dared. Do you remember that we talked
+about angels afterwards?"</p>
+
+<p>"I remember."</p>
+
+<p>"They were all around us. I felt sure of it. I seemed to see them.
+Afterwards, while I was sorry for you, I felt glad you had left
+Wendover, glad that you were no longer its owner. I had a kind of
+impression that while you were losing the world, you were saving your
+soul."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with all a child's simplicity, yet with a woman's earnestness.
+She asked no questions as to what Romanoff had asked him to do in order
+to keep his wealth; that did not seem to come within her scope of
+things. Her thought was that Romanoff was evil, and she felt glad that
+Dick had resisted the evil.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe in angels?" she asked again.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes," replied Dick. "Do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no doubt about them. I know my mother often came to me."</p>
+
+<p>"How? I don't quite understand. You never saw her&mdash;in this world I
+mean&mdash;did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. But she has come to me. For years I saw her in dreams. More than
+once, years ago, when I woke up in the night, I saw her hovering over
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"That must have been fancy."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it was not." She spoke with calm assurance, and with no suggestion
+of morbidness or fear. "Why should I not see her?" she went on. "I am
+her child, and if she had lived she would have cared for me, fended for
+me, because she loved me. Why should what we call death keep her from
+doing that still, only in a different way?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent a few seconds. It did not seem at all strange.</p>
+
+<p>"No; there seems no real reason why, always assuming that there are
+angels, and that they have the power to speak to us. But there is
+something I would like to ask you. You said just now, 'I know that my
+mother often came to me.' Has she ceased coming?"</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice Stanmore's eyes seemed filled with a great wonder, but she
+still spoke in the same calm assured tones.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not seen her for three years," she said; "not since the day
+after you left Wendover. She told me then that she was going farther
+away for a time, and would not be able to speak to me, although she
+would allow no harm to happen to me. Since that time I have never seen
+her. But I know she loves me still. It may be that I shall not see her
+again in this life, but sometime, in God's own good time, we shall
+meet."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you a Spiritualist?" asked Dick, and even as he spoke he felt that
+he had struck a false note.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head decidedly. "No, I should hate the thought of using
+mediums and that sort of thing to talk to my mother. There may be truth
+in it, or there may not; but to me it seems tawdry, sordid. But I've<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> no
+doubt about the angels. I think there are angels watching over you. It's
+a beautiful thought, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it rather morbid?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should it be morbid? Is the thought that God is all around us
+morbid? Why then should it be morbid to think of the spirits of those He
+has called home being near to help us, to watch over us?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Dick; "but if there are good angels why may there not be
+evil ones?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe there are," replied the girl. "I am very ignorant and simple,
+but I believe there are. Did not Satan tempt our Lord in the wilderness?
+And after the temptation was over, did not angels minister to Him?"</p>
+
+<p>"So the New Testament says."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not believe it to be true?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Sir George's Love Affair</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>The great house stood out boldly against the wintry sky, and Dick
+Faversham could plainly see the window of the room where, years before,
+he had taken the pen to sign the paper which would have placed him in
+Count Romanoff's power. Like lightning his mind flashed back to the
+fateful hour. He saw himself holding the pen, saw the words which
+Romanoff had written standing clearly out on the white surface, saw
+himself trying to trace the letters of his name, and then he felt the
+hand on his wrist. It was only a light touch, but he no longer had the
+power to write.</p>
+
+<p>Was it a moral impulse which had come to him, or was it some force which
+paralysed his senses, and made him incapable of holding the pen? It
+seemed to be both. He remembered having a loathing for the thing
+Romanoff wanted him to do. Even then he felt like shuddering at the dark
+influences which sapped his will-power, and made wrong seem like right.
+But there was more than that. Some force <i>outside</i> himself kept him from
+writing.</p>
+
+<p>And he was glad. True, he was a poor man, and instead of owning the
+stately mansion before him, he would presently return to his tiny flat,
+where he would have to calculate about every sixpence he spent. But he
+was free; he was master of his soul. He was a man of some importance
+too. He was the Labour Member for Eastroyd; he had secured the
+confidence of many thousands of working people, and his voice was
+listened to with much respect by Labour leaders, and in Labour
+conferences.</p>
+
+<p>But he was not quite satisfied. He did not want to be the representative
+of one class only, but of all classes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> He remembered that he had been
+lately spoken of as being "too mealy-mouthed," and as "having too much
+sympathy with the employers."</p>
+
+<p>"A voting machine at four hundred a year!"</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff's words still stung him, wounded him. He longed for a larger
+life, longed to speak for all classes, longed to mingle with those of
+his own upbringing and education.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you thinking of?"</p>
+
+<p>For the moment he had forgotten the girl at his side, almost forgotten
+the subject they had been discussing.</p>
+
+<p>"Of many things," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"You were thinking of that man, Count Romanoff."</p>
+
+<p>"Was I? Yes, I suppose I was. How did you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Telepathy," she replied. "Shall we go back?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you will. Did you not say you wanted to go to the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I do now. I'm afraid it would be painful to you. But, Mr.
+Faversham, I'm glad I helped you; glad you do not own Wendover Park."</p>
+
+<p>"So am I," he replied; "the price would have been too terrible."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him questioningly. She did not quite understand his words.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if you would think it an impertinence if I asked you to
+promise me something," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing you could ask would be an impertinence," he responded eagerly;
+"nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"That Count Romanoff is evil," she said, "evil; I am sure he is. I know
+nothing about him, but I am sure of what I say. Will you promise to have
+nothing to do with him? I think you will meet him again. I don't know
+why, but I have a feeling that you will. That is why I wanted to say
+this, and I wanted to say it in sight of the house which you love."</p>
+
+<p>"I promise," replied Dick. "It is very good of you to have so much
+interest in me."</p>
+
+<p>"In a way, I don't know that I have very much interest," she said
+simply; "and I'm afraid I'm acting on impulse. Granddad says that that
+is my weakness."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it is a weakness. I'm not likely to see Count Romanoff
+again; but I promise, gladly promise, that if I do I'll yield to him in
+nothing. Is that what you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>Her humour suddenly changed. She seemed to have no further interest in
+Wendover Park, or its possessor, whoever it might be, and their
+conversation became of the most commonplace nature. They chatted about
+the possibilities of peace, the future of Germany, and the tremendous
+problems Britain would have to face, but all interest in the question
+which had engrossed her mind seemed to have left her. Dick was to her
+only an ordinary acquaintance who had casually crossed the pathway of
+her life, and who might never do so again. Indeed, as presently they
+reached the highroad, he thought she became cold and reserved, it might
+seem, too, that he somewhat bored her.</p>
+
+<p>Presently they heard the sound of horses' hoofs coming toward them, and
+they saw a lady on horseback.</p>
+
+<p>"That's Lady Blanche Huntingford," she said; "do you know her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did know her slightly," replied Dick, who felt no excitement whatever
+on seeing her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, of course you did. She's a great beauty, isn't she?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so." Dick remembered how, in London months before, she had
+refused to recognise him.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Lady Blanche seemed surprised at seeing Dick. She
+scrutinised him closely, as if she was not quite sure it was he. Then
+her colour heightened somewhat, and with a nod which might have embraced
+them both, she passed on.</p>
+
+<p>"We must get back to the house," Beatrice said; "Granddad and Sir George
+will have returned by this time, and they will want their tea."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir George is leaving you to-morrow, isn't he?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she replied, and Dick's heart grew heavy as he saw the look in
+her eyes. He did not know why.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He's a great soldier, I suppose? I think I've been told so."</p>
+
+<p>"The greatest and bravest man in the army," she replied eagerly. "He's
+simply splendid. It's not often that a soldier is a scholar, but
+Granddad says there are few men alive who are greater authorities on
+Egyptian questions."</p>
+
+<p>A feeling of antagonism rose in Dick's heart against Sir George Weston,
+he felt angry that Beatrice should think so highly of him.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a Devonshire man, isn't he?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; he has a lovely old place down there. The house is built of grey
+granite. It is very, very old, and it looks as though it would last for
+hundreds and hundreds of years. It is situated on a wooded hillside, and
+at the back, above the woods, is a vast stretch of moorland. In front is
+a lovely park studded with old oaks."</p>
+
+<p>"You describe the place with great enthusiasm." There was envy in his
+tones, and something more than envy.</p>
+
+<p>"Do I? I love Devonshire. Love its granite tors, its glorious hills and
+valleys. No wonder it is called 'Glorious Devon.'"</p>
+
+<p>By the time they reached the cottage Sir George Weston and Hugh Stanmore
+had returned, and tea was on the table. Sir George seemed somewhat
+excited, while old Hugh Stanmore was anything but talkative. It might
+seem as though, during the afternoon, the two had talked on matters of
+greater interest than the tombs of Egyptian kings.</p>
+
+<p>When the time came for Dick to depart, Hugh Stanmore said he would walk
+a little way with him. For a happy, and singularly contented man, he
+appeared much disturbed.</p>
+
+<p>"I am so glad you came, Mr. Faversham," said Beatrice as she bade him
+good-bye. "We had a lovely walk, hadn't we?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful," replied Dick. "I shall never forget it."</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll not forget your promise, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I shall not forget it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You will let us know, won't you, when you are going to speak in the
+House of Commons? I shall insist on Granddad taking me to hear you."</p>
+
+<p>Sir George Weston looked from one to the other suspiciously. He could
+not understand her interest in him.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of Weston?" asked Hugh Stanmore, when they had walked
+some distance together.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he's a very fine soldier," evaded Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, there's no doubt about that. But how did he strike
+you&mdash;personally?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I didn't pay much attention to him. He seemed a pleasant
+kind of man." Dick felt very non-committal. "Do you know him well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; fairly well. I met him before the war. He and I were interested in
+the same subjects. He has travelled a great deal in the East. Of course
+I've known of his family all my life. A very old family which has lived
+in the same house for generations. I think he is the eighth baronet. But
+I was not thinking of that. I was thinking of him as a man. You'll
+forgive my asking you, won't you, but do you think he could make my
+little girl happy?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick felt a strange weight on his heart. He felt bitter too.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid my opinion would be of little value," he replied. "You see
+I know nothing of him, neither for that matter am I well acquainted with
+Miss Stanmore."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I suppose that's true, and perhaps I ought not to have asked you. I
+often scold Beatrice for acting so much on impulse, while I am
+constantly guilty of the same offence. But I don't look on you as a
+stranger. Somehow I seem to know you well, and I wanted your opinion. I
+can speak freely to you, can't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"He has asked me this afternoon if I'll consent to Beatrice becoming his
+wife."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent. He felt he could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, from a worldly standpoint it would be a good match," went on
+Hugh Stanmore. "Sir George is a rich man, and has a fine reputation, not
+only as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> scholar and a soldier, but as a man. There has never been a
+blemish on his reputation. He stands high in the county, and could give
+my little girl a fine position."</p>
+
+<p>"Doubtless," and Dick hardly knew that he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I am a snob," went on the old man; "but such things must
+weigh somewhat. I am not a pauper, but, as wealth is counted to-day, I
+am a poor man. I am also old, and in the course of nature can't be here
+long. That is why I am naturally anxious about my little Beatrice's
+future. And yet I am in doubt."</p>
+
+<p>"About what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whether he could make her happy. And that is everything as far as I am
+concerned. Beatrice, as you must have seen, is just a happy child of
+nature, and is as sensitive as a lily. To be wedded to a man who is
+not&mdash;how shall I put it?&mdash;her affinity, her soul comrade, would be
+lifelong misery to her. And unless I were sure that Sir George is that,
+I would not think of giving my consent."</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you forgetful of a very important factor?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Stanmore herself. In these days girls seem to take such matters
+largely into their own hands. The consent of relations is regarded as a
+very formal thing."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you understand, Faversham. Beatrice is not like the
+common run of girls, and she and I are so much to each other that I
+don't think for a moment that she would marry any man if I did not give
+my sanction. In fact, I'm sure she wouldn't. She's only my
+granddaughter, but she's all the world to me, while&mdash;yes, I am
+everything to her. No father loved a child more than I love her. I've
+had her since she was a little mite, and I've been father, mother, and
+grandfather all combined. And I'd do anything, everything in my power
+for her welfare. I know her&mdash;know her, Faversham; she's as pure and
+unsullied as a flower."</p>
+
+<p>"But, of course, Sir George Weston has spoken to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he hasn't. For one thing, he has very strict<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> ideas about
+old-fashioned courtesies, and, for another, he knows our relations to
+each other."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know her mind?&mdash;know whether she cares for him&mdash;in that way?"
+asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't. I do know that, a week ago, she had no thought of love for
+any man. But, of course, I couldn't help seeing that during the past
+week he has paid her marked attention. Whether she's been aware of it, I
+haven't troubled to ascertain."</p>
+
+<p>In some ways this old man was almost as much a child as his
+granddaughter, in spite of his long life, and Dick could hardly help
+smiling at his simplicity.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I imagine she'll marry sometime," and Dick's voice was a
+trifle hoarse as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Hugh Stanmore. "That is natural and right. God intended
+men and women to marry, I know that. But if they do not find their true
+mate, then it's either sacrilege or hell&mdash;especially to the woman.
+Marriage is a ghastly thing unless it's a sacrament&mdash;unless the man and
+the woman feel that their unity is of God. Marriage ceremonies, and the
+blessing of the Church, or whatever it is called, is so much mockery
+unless they feel that their souls are as one. Don't you agree with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do. I suppose," he added, "you stipulate that whoever marries
+her&mdash;shall&mdash;shall be a man of wealth?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I shouldn't, except in this way. No man should marry a woman unless
+he has the wherewithal to keep her. He would be a mean sort of fellow
+who would drag a woman into want and poverty. But, of course, that does
+not obtain in this case."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I can't help, or advise you," said Dick. "I'm afraid I'm a
+bit of an outsider," and he spoke bitterly. "Neither do I think you will
+need advice. Miss Stanmore has such a fine intuition that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you feel that!" broke in Hugh Stanmore almost excitedly. "Yes, yes,
+you are right! I can trust her judgment rather than my own. Young as she
+is, she'll choose right. Yes, she'll choose right! I think I'll go back
+now. Yes, I'll go back at once. Our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> conversation has done me good, and
+cleared my way, although I've done most of the talking. Good-night,
+Faversham. I wish you well. I think you can do big things as a
+politician; but I don't agree with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't agree with me? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe in these party labels. You are a party man, a Labour
+man. I have the deepest sympathy with the toilers of the world. I have
+been working for them for fifty years. Perhaps, too, the Labour Party is
+the outcome of the injustice of the past. But all such parties have a
+tendency to put class against class, to see things in a one-sided way,
+to foster bitterness and strife. Take my advice and give up being a
+politician."</p>
+
+<p>"Give up being a politician! I don't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"A politician in the ordinary sense is a party man; too often a party
+hack, a party voting machine. Be more than a politician, be a statesman.
+All classes of society are interdependent. We can none of us do without
+the other. Capital and labour, the employer and the employee, all depend
+on each other. All men should be brothers and work for the common
+interest. Don't seek to represent a class, or to legislate for a class,
+Faversham. Work for all the classes, work for the community as a whole.
+And remember that Utopia is not created in a day. Good-night. Come and
+see us again soon."</p>
+
+<p>Hugh Stanmore turned back, and left Dick alone. The young man felt
+strangely depressed, strangely lonely. He pictured Hugh Stanmore going
+back to the brightness and refinement of his little house, to be met
+with the bright smiles and loving words of his grandchild, while he
+plodded his way through the darkness. He thought, too, of Sir George
+Weston, who, even then, was with Beatrice Stanmore. Perhaps, most likely
+too, he was telling her that he loved her.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped suddenly in the road, his brain on fire, his heart beating
+madly. A thousand wild fancies flashed through his brain, a thousand
+undefinable hopes filled his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it's impossible, blankly impossible!" he cried at length. "A
+will-o'-the-wisp, the dream of a madman&mdash;a madman! Why, even now she may
+be in his arms!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The thought was agony to him. Even yet he did not know the whole secret
+of his heart, but he knew that he hated Sir George Weston, that he
+wished he had urged upon old Hugh Stanmore the utter unfitness of the
+great soldier as a husband for his grandchild.</p>
+
+<p>But how could he? What right had he? Besides, according to all
+common-sense standards nothing could be more suitable. She was his equal
+in social status, and every way fitted to be his wife, while he would be
+regarded as the most eligible suitor possible.</p>
+
+<p>"A voting machine at four hundred a year!"</p>
+
+<p>Again those stinging words of Count Romanoff. And old Hugh Stanmore had
+spoken in the same vein. "A party hack, a party voting machine!"</p>
+
+<p>And he could not help himself. He was dependent on that four hundred a
+year. He dared ask no woman to be his wife. He had no right. He would
+only drag her into poverty and want.</p>
+
+<p>All the way back to town his mind was filled with the hopelessness of
+his situation. The fact that he had won a great victory at Eastroyd and
+was a newly returned Member of Parliament brought him no pleasure. He
+was a party hack, and he saw no brightness in the future.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Parliament assembled, and Dick threw himself with eagerness
+into the excitement which followed. Every day brought new experiences,
+every day brought new interests.</p>
+
+<p>But he felt himself hampered. If he only had a few hundreds a year of
+his own. If only he could be free to live his own life, think his own
+thoughts. Not that he did not agree with many of the ideas of his party.
+He did. But he wanted a broader world, a greater freedom. He wanted to
+love, and to be loved.</p>
+
+<p>Then a change came. On returning to his flat late one night he found a
+letter awaiting him. On the envelope was a coroneted crest, and on
+opening it he saw the name of Olga Petrovic.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Dawn of Love</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>The letter from Olga ran as follows:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Faversham</span>,&mdash;I have just discovered your address, and I am
+writing to congratulate you on the fine position you have won. It
+must be glorious to be a Member of the Mother of Parliaments, to be
+a legislator in this great free country. I rejoice, too, that you
+have espoused the cause of the toilers, the poor. It is just what I
+hoped and expected of you. You will become great, my friend; my
+heart tells me so. Your country will be proud of you.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder whether, if in spite of your many interests and duties,
+you will have time to visit a lonely woman? There are so many
+things I would like to discuss with you. Do come if you can. I
+shall be home to-morrow afternoon, and again on Friday. Will you
+not have pity on me?&mdash;Yours,</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Olga Petrovic</span>."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Dick saw that her address was a fashionable street in Mayfair, and
+almost unconsciously he pictured her in her new surroundings. She was no
+longer among a wild-eyed, long-haired crew in the East End, but in the
+centre of fashion and wealth. He wondered what it meant. He read the
+letter a second time, and in a way he could not understand, he was
+fascinated. There was subtle flattery in every line, a kind of clinging
+tenderness in every sentence.</p>
+
+<p>No mention was made of their last meeting, but Dick remembered. She had
+come to him after that wonderful experience in Staple Inn&mdash;on the
+morning after his eyes had been opened to the facts about what a number
+of Bolshevists wanted to do in England. His mind had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> been bewildered,
+and he was altogether unsettled. He was afraid he had acted rudely to
+her. He had thought of her as being associated with these people. If he
+had yielded to her entreaties, and thrown himself into the plans she had
+made, might he not have become an enemy to his country, to humanity?</p>
+
+<p>But what a glorious creature she was! What eyes, what hair, what a
+complexion! He had never seen any woman so physically perfect. And,
+added to all this, she possessed a kind of charm that held him,
+fascinated him, made him think of her whether he would or not.</p>
+
+<p>And yet her letter did not bring him unmixed pleasure. In a way he could
+not understand he was slightly afraid of her, afraid of the influence
+she had over him. He could not mistake the meaning of her words at their
+last meeting. She had made love to him, she had asked him to marry her.
+It is true he had acted as though he misunderstood her, but what would
+have happened if old Hugh Stanmore and Beatrice had not come? The very
+mystery which surrounded her added to her charm. Who <i>was</i> she? Why did
+she go to the East End to live, and how did she possess the means to
+live in Mayfair?</p>
+
+<p>He walked around his little room, thinking hard. For the last few days
+his parliamentary duties had excited him, kept him from brooding; but
+now in the quietness of the night he felt his loneliness, realised his
+longing for society. His position as a Labour Member was perfectly
+plain. His confrères were good fellows. Most of them were hard-headed,
+thoughtful men who took a real interest in their work. But socially they
+were not of his class. They had few interests in common, and he realised
+it, even as they did. That was why they looked on him with a certain
+amount of suspicion. What was to be his future then? A social gulf was
+fixed between him and others whose equal he was, and whatever he did he
+would be outside the circle of men and women whose tastes were similar
+to his own.</p>
+
+<p>No, that was not altogether true. Hugh Stanmore and Beatrice treated him
+as a friend. Beatrice!</p>
+
+<p>The very thought of her conjured up all sorts of fancies. He had not
+heard from her, or of her since his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> visit to Wendover. Was she engaged
+to Sir George Weston, he wondered?</p>
+
+<p>He knew now that he had never loved Lady Blanche Huntingford. He had
+been attracted to her simply because of her looks, and her social
+position. At the time she had appealed to him strongly, but that was
+because he had regarded her as a means whereby he could attain to his
+social ambitions. But a change had come over him since then&mdash;a subtle,
+almost indescribable change. The strange events of his life had led him
+to see deeper. And he knew he had no love for this patrician woman. When
+he had seen her last she had not caused one heart-throb, he was almost
+indifferent to her.</p>
+
+<p>But Beatrice! Why did the thought of her haunt him? Why was he angry
+with Sir George Weston, and bitter at the idea of his marrying this
+simple country girl? As for himself he could never marry.</p>
+
+<p>The following morning he wrote to Countess Olga Petrovic. It was a
+courteous note saying that at present he was too engaged to call on her,
+but he hoped that later he might have that pleasure. Then he plunged
+into his work again.</p>
+
+<p>About a fortnight after his visit to Hugh Stanmore, a letter came to him
+from the housekeeper at Wendover. He had told her his London address,
+and she had taken advantage of her knowledge by writing.</p>
+
+<p>"There are all sorts of rumours here about Mr. Anthony Riggleton," she
+wrote; "and we have all been greatly excited. Some soldiers have been in
+the neighbourhood who declare that they know of a certainty that he is
+dead. I thought it my duty to tell you this, sir, and that is my excuse
+for the liberty I take in writing.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps, sir, you may also be interested to learn that Sir George
+Weston and Miss Beatrice Stanmore are engaged to be married. As you may
+remember, I told you when you were here that I thought they would make a
+match of it. Of course she has done very well, for although the
+Stanmores are a great family, Mr. Stanmore is a poor man, and Miss
+Beatrice has nothing but what he can give her. It is said that the
+wedding will take place in June."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The letter made him angry. Of course he understood the old lady's
+purpose in writing. She thought that if Anthony Riggleton died, the
+estate might again revert to him, and she hoped he would find out and
+let her know. She had grown very fond of him during his short sojourn
+there, and longed to see him there as master again. But the letter made
+him angry nevertheless. Then as he read it a second time he knew that
+his anger was not caused by her interest in his future, but because of
+her news about Beatrice Stanmore. The knowledge that she had accepted
+this Devonshire squire made his heart sink like lead. It seemed to him
+that the sky of his life had suddenly become black.</p>
+
+<p>Then he knew his secret; knew that he loved this simple country girl
+with a consuming but hopeless love. He realised, too, that no one save
+she had ever really touched his heart. That this was why Lady Blanche
+Huntingford had passed out of his life without leaving even a ripple of
+disappointment or sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, if he had only known before! For he had loved her as he had walked
+by her side through Wendover Park; loved her when he had almost calmly
+discussed her possible marriage with Sir George Weston. Even then he had
+hated the thought of it, now he knew why His own heart was aching for
+her all the time.</p>
+
+<p>But what would have been the use even if he had known? He was a
+homeless, penniless man. He could have done nothing. He was not in a
+position to ask any woman to be his wife.</p>
+
+<p>His mood became reckless, desperate. What mattered whatever he did? Were
+not all his dreams and hopes so much madness? Had he not been altogether
+silly about questions of right and wrong? Had he not been Quixotic in
+not fighting for Wendover? Supposing he had signed that paper, what
+could Romanoff have done? He almost wished&mdash;no, he didn't; but after
+all, who could pass a final judgment as to what was right and wrong?</p>
+
+<p>While he was in this state of mind another letter came from Olga
+Petrovic.</p>
+
+<p>"Why have you not visited me, my friend?" she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> wrote. "I have been
+expecting you. Surely you could have found time to drop in for half an
+hour. Besides, I think I could help you. Lord Knerdon was here yesterday
+with one or two other Members of the Government. He expressed great
+interest in you, and said he would like to meet you. Has he not great
+influence? I shall be here between half-past three and six to-morrow,
+and some people are calling whom I think you would like to know."</p>
+
+<p>Lord Knerdon, eh? Lord Knerdon was one of the most respected peers in
+the country, and a man of far-reaching power. He would never call at the
+house of an adventuress. Yes, he would go.</p>
+
+<p>The street in which Olga Petrovic had taken up her abode was made up of
+great houses. Only a person of considerable wealth could live there.
+This he saw at a glance. Also three handsome motor-cars stood at her
+door. He almost felt nervous as his finger touched the bell.</p>
+
+<p>She received him with a smile of welcome, and yet there was a suggestion
+of aloofness in her demeanour. She was not the woman he had seen at
+Jones' Hotel long months before, when she had almost knelt suppliant at
+his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Mr. Faversham," she cried, and there was a suggestion of a foreign
+accent in her tones, "I am pleased to see you. It is good of such a busy
+man to spare a few minutes."</p>
+
+<p>A little later she had introduced him to her other visitors&mdash;men and
+women about whose position there could not be a suggestion of doubt. At
+least, such was his impression. She made a perfect hostess, too, and
+seemed to be a part of her surroundings. She was a great lady, who met
+on equal terms some of the best-known people in London. And she was
+queen of them all. Even as she reigned over the motley crew in that
+queer gathering in the East of London, so she reigned here in the
+fashionable West.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes he found himself talking with people of whom he had
+hitherto known nothing except their names, while Olga Petrovic watched
+him curiously. Her demeanour to him was perfectly friendly, and yet he
+had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> the feeling that she regarded him as a social inferior. He was
+there, not because he stood on the same footing as these people, but on
+sufferance. After all, he was a Labour Member. Socially he was an
+outsider, while she was the grand lady.</p>
+
+<p>People condoled with her because her Russian estates had been stolen
+from her by the Bolshevists, but she was still the Countess Olga
+Petrovic, bearing one of the greatest names in Europe. She was still
+rich enough to maintain her position in the wealthiest city in the
+world. She was still a mystery.</p>
+
+<p>Dick remained for more than an hour. Although he would not admit it to
+himself, he hoped that he might be able to have a few minutes alone with
+her. But as some visitors went, others came. She still remained kind to
+him; indeed, he thought she conveyed an interest in him which she did
+not show to others. But he was not sure. There was a suggestion of
+reserve in her friendliness; sometimes, indeed, he thought she was cold
+and aloof. There were people there who were a hundred times more
+important than he&mdash;people with historic names; and he was a nobody.
+Perhaps that was why a barrier stood between them.</p>
+
+<p>And yet there were times when she dazzled him by a smile, or the turn of
+a sentence. In spite of himself, she made him feel that it was a
+privilege of no ordinary nature to be the friend of the Countess Olga
+Petrovic.</p>
+
+<p>When at length he rose to go she made not the slightest effort to detain
+him. She was courteously polite, and that was all. He might have been
+the most casual stranger, to whom she used the most commonplace forms of
+speech. Any onlooker must have felt that this Polish or Russian
+Countess, whatever she might be, had simply a passing interest in this
+Labour Member, that she had invited him to tea out of pure whim or
+fancy, and that she would forget him directly he had passed the
+doorstep. And yet there was a subtle something in her manner as she held
+out her hand to him. Her words said nothing, but her eyes told him to
+come again.</p>
+
+<p>"Must you go, Mr. Faversham? So pleased you were able to call. I am
+nearly always home on Thursdays."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>That was all she said. But the pressure of her hand, the pleading of her
+eyes, the smile that made her face radiant&mdash;these somehow atoned for the
+coldness of her words.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've called," thought Dick as he left the house, "and I don't
+intend to call again. I don't understand her; she's out of my world, and
+we have nothing in common."</p>
+
+<p>But these were only his surface thoughts. At the back of his mind was
+the conviction that Olga Petrovic had an interest in him beyond the
+ordinary, that she thought of him as she thought of no other man. Else
+why that confession months before? Why did she ask him to call?</p>
+
+<p>She was a wonderful creature, too. How tame and uninteresting the other
+women were compared with her! Her personality dominated everything, made
+everyone else seem commonplace.</p>
+
+<p>She captivated him and fascinated him even while something told him that
+it was best for him that he should see nothing more of her. The mystery
+that surrounded her had a twofold effect on him: it made him long to
+know more about her even while he felt that such knowledge could bring
+him no joy.</p>
+
+<p>But this she did. She kept him from brooding about Beatrice Stanmore,
+for the vision of this unsophisticated English girl was constantly
+haunting him, and the knowledge that his love for her was hopeless made
+him almost desperate. He was a young man, only just over thirty, with
+life all before him. Must he for ever and ever be denied of love, and
+the joys it might bring to his life? If she had not promised herself to
+Sir George Weston, all might be different. Yes, with her to help him and
+inspire him, he would make a position for her; he would earn enough to
+make a home for her. But she was not for him. She would soon be the wife
+of another. Why, then, should he not crush all thoughts of her, and
+think of this glorious woman, compared with whom Beatrice Stanmore was
+only as a June rosebud to a tropical flower?</p>
+
+<p>A few days later he called on Olga Petrovic again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> This time he spent a
+few minutes alone with her. Only the most commonplace things were said,
+and yet she puzzled him, bewildered him. One minute she was all smiles
+and full of subtle charm, another he felt that an unfathomable gulf lay
+between them.</p>
+
+<p>In their conversation, while he did not speak in so many words of the
+time she had visited him at his hotel, he let her know that he
+remembered it, and he quickly realised that the passionate woman who had
+pleaded with him then was not the stately lady who spoke to him now.</p>
+
+<p>"Every woman is foolish at times," she said. "In hours of loneliness and
+memory we are the creatures of passing fancies; but they are only
+passing. I have always to remember that, in spite of the tragic
+condition of my country, I have my duty to my race and my position."</p>
+
+<p>Later she said: "I wonder if I shall ever wed? Wonder whether duty will
+clash with my heart to such a degree that I shall go back to my own
+sphere, or stay here and only remember that I am a woman?"</p>
+
+<p>He wondered what she meant, wondered whether she wished to convey to him
+that it might be possible for her to forsake all for love.</p>
+
+<p>But something, he could not tell what, made him keep a strong hold upon
+himself. It had become a settled thought in his mind by this time that
+at all hazards he must fight against his love for Beatrice Stanmore. To
+love her would be disloyal to her; it would be wrong. He had no right to
+think thoughts of love about one who had promised to be the wife of
+another man.</p>
+
+<p>Yet his heart ached for her. All that was best in him longed for her.
+Whenever his love for her was strongest, he longed only for the highest
+in life, even while his conscience condemned him for thinking of her.</p>
+
+<p>Dick paid Olga Petrovic several visits. Nearly always others were there,
+but he generally managed to be alone with her for a few minutes, and at
+every visit he knew that she was filling a larger place in his life.</p>
+
+<p>His fear of her was passing away, too, for she was not long in showing
+an interest in things that lay dear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> to his heart. She evidenced a great
+desire to help him in his work; she spoke sympathetically about the
+conditions under which the toilers of the world laboured. She revealed
+fine intuitions, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," she said on one occasion, "I love your country. It is
+home&mdash;home! I am mad, too, when I think of my insane fancies of a year
+ago. I can see that I was wrong, wrong, all wrong! Lawlessness, force,
+anarchy can never bring in the new day of life and love. That can only
+come by mutual forbearance, by just order, and by righteous discipline.
+I was mad for a time, I think; but I was mad with a desire to help. Do
+you know who opened my eyes, Mr. Faversham?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your own heart&mdash;your own keen mind," replied Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"No, my friend&mdash;no. It was you. You did not say much, but you made me
+see. I believe in telepathy, and I saw with your eyes, thought with your
+mind. Your eyes pierced the darkness, you saw the foolishness of my
+dreams. And yet I would give my last penny to help the poor."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you would," assented Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Still, we must be governed by reason. And that makes me think, my
+friend. Do you ever contemplate your own future?"</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally."</p>
+
+<p>"And are you always going to remain what you are now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not follow you."</p>
+
+<p>"I have thought much about you, and I have been puzzled. You are a man
+with great ambitions&mdash;high, holy ambitions&mdash;but if you are not careful,
+your life will be fruitless."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mistake me. I only mean fruitless comparatively. But you are
+handicapped, my friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Sadly handicapped," confessed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you feel it. You are like a bird with one wing trying to fly.
+Forgive me, but the best houses in London are closed to you; you are a
+paid Labour Member of Parliament, and thus you represent only a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>
+class&mdash;the least influential class. You are shut out from many of the
+delights of life. Channels of usefulness and power are closed to you.
+Oh, I know it is great to be a Labour Member, but it is greater to be
+independent of all classes&mdash;to live for your ideals, to have enough
+money to be independent of the world, to hold up your head as an equal
+among the greatest and highest."</p>
+
+<p>"You diagnose a disease," said Dick sadly, "but you do not tell me the
+remedy."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't I?" and Dick felt the glamour of her presence. "Doesn't your own
+heart tell you that, my friend?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick felt a wild beating of his heart, but he did not reply. There was a
+weight upon his tongue.</p>
+
+<p>A minute later she was the great lady again&mdash;far removed from him.</p>
+
+<p>He left the house dazzled, almost in love with her in spite of Beatrice
+Stanmore, and largely under her influence. He had been gone only a few
+minutes when a servant brought a card.</p>
+
+<p>"Count Romanoff," she read. "Show him here," she added, and there was a
+look in her eyes that was difficult to understand.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Eternal Struggle</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Count Romanoff was faultlessly dressed, and looked calm and smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Countess," he said, "I am fortunate in finding you alone. But you
+have had visitors, or, to be more exact, a visitor."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I have had visitors. I often have of an afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"But he has been here."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, and what then?"</p>
+
+<p>The Count gazed at her steadily, and his eyes had a sinister gleam in
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come to have a quiet chat with you," he said&mdash;"come to know how
+matters stand."</p>
+
+<p>"You want to know more than I can tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Again the Count scrutinised her closely. He seemed to be trying to read
+her mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Olga," he said, "you don't mean to say that you have failed? He has
+been in London some time now, and as I happen to know, he has been here
+often. Has not the fish leaped to the bait? If not, what is amiss?
+What?&mdash;Olga Petrovic, who has turned the heads of men in half the
+capitals of Europe, and who has never failed to make them her slaves,
+fail to captivate this yokel! I can't believe it."</p>
+
+<p>There was sullen anger in her eyes, and at that moment years seemed to
+have been added to her life.</p>
+
+<p>"Beaten!" went on the Count, with a laugh&mdash;"Olga Petrovic beaten! That
+is news indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand," said the woman. "Something always seems to stand
+between us. He seems to fear me&mdash;seems to be fighting against me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And you have tried all your wiles?"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, Count Romanoff, or whatever your name may be," and Olga
+Petrovic's voice was hoarse. "Tell me what you want me to do with that
+man."</p>
+
+<p>"Do? Make him your slave. Make him grovel at your feet as you have made
+others. Make him willing to sell his soul to possess you. Weave your net
+around him. Glamour him with your fiendish beauty. Play upon his hopes
+and desires until he is yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because it is my will&mdash;because I command you."</p>
+
+<p>"And what if I have done all that and failed?"</p>
+
+<p>"You fail! I can't believe it. You have not tried. You have not
+practised all your arts."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not understand," replied the woman. "You think you understand
+that man; you don't."</p>
+
+<p>The Count laughed. "There was never a man yet, but who had his price,"
+he said. "With some it is one thing, with some it is another, but
+all&mdash;all can be bought. There is no man but whose soul is for sale; that
+I know."</p>
+
+<p>"And you have tried to buy Faversham's soul, and failed."</p>
+
+<p>"Because I mistook the thing he wanted most."</p>
+
+<p>"You thought he could be bought by wealth, position, and you arranged
+your plans. But he was not to be bought. Why? You dangled riches,
+position, and a beautiful woman before his eyes; but he would not pay
+the price."</p>
+
+<p>"I chose the wrong woman," said the Count, looking steadily at Olga,
+"and I did not reckon sufficiently on his old-fashioned ideas of
+morality. Besides, I had no control over the woman."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think you have control over me, eh? Well, let that pass. I have
+asked you to tell me why you wish to get this man in your power, and you
+will not tell me. But let me tell you this: there is a strange power
+overshadowing him. You say I must practise my arts. What if I tell you
+that I can't?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should say you lie," replied the Count coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand," she said, as if talking to herself. "All the time
+when he is with me, I seem to be dealing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> with unseen forces&mdash;forces
+which make me afraid, which sap my power."</p>
+
+<p>The Count looked thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I had captivated him when that German man brought him to the
+East End of London," she went on. "I saw that I bewildered him&mdash;dazzled
+him. He seemed fascinated by my picture of what he could become. His
+imagination was on fire, and I could see that he was almost held in
+thrall by the thought that he could be a kind of uncrowned king, while I
+would be his queen. He promised to come to me again, but he didn't. Then
+I went to see him at his hotel, and if ever a woman tempted a man, I
+tempted him. I know I am beautiful&mdash;know that men are willing to become
+slaves to me. And I pleaded with him. I offered to be his wife, and I
+almost got him. I saw him yielding to me. Then suddenly he turned from
+me. A servant brought him a card, and he almost told me to go."</p>
+
+<p>"You saw who these visitors were?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; an old man and a slip of a girl. I do not know who they were.
+Since he has been living in London, I have watched my opportunities, and
+he has been here. I have flattered him; I have piqued his curiosity. I
+have been coy and reserved, and I have tried to dazzle him by smiles, by
+hand pressures, and by shy suggestions of love. But I cannot pierce his
+armour."</p>
+
+<p>"And you will give up? You will confess defeat?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman's eyes flashed with a new light. "You little know me if you
+think that," she cried angrily. "At one time I&mdash;yes, I, Olga
+Petrovic&mdash;thought I loved him. I confessed it to you, but now&mdash;now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, now?" questioned the Count eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Now that thought is not to be considered. I will conquer him; I will
+make him my slave. He shall be willing to sacrifice name, position,
+future, anything, everything for me&mdash;<i>everything</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Only, up to now, you've failed."</p>
+
+<p>"Because, because&mdash;oh, Romanoff, I don't understand. What is he? Only
+just a commonplace sort of man&mdash;a man vulnerable at a hundred
+points&mdash;and yet I cannot reach him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Shall I tell you why?" asked the Count.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, tell me!" she cried. "Oh, I've thought, and thought. I've
+tried in a hundred ways. I've been the grand lady with a great position.
+I've been an angel of light who cares only for the beautiful and the
+pure. I've appealed to his ambition&mdash;to his love for beautiful things.
+I've tried to make him jealous, and I've nearly succeeded; but never
+altogether. Yes; he is just a clever man, and very little more; but I
+can't reach him. He baffles me. He does not drink, and so I cannot
+appeal to that weakness. Neither is he the fast man about town that can
+be caught in my toils. He honours, almost venerates, pure womanhood,
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Tah!" interrupted the Count scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not believe it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Woman is always man's weak point&mdash;always!"</p>
+
+<p>"But not his&mdash;not in the way you think. I tell you, he venerates ideal
+womanhood. He scorns the loud-talking, free-spoken women. He told me his
+thought of woman was like what Wordsworth painted. At heart I think he
+is a religious man."</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," said the Count, "I want to tell you something before I go. Sit
+here; that's it," and he drew a chair close to his side.</p>
+
+<p>He spoke to her half earnestly, half cynically, watching her steadily
+all the time. He noted the heaving of her bosom, the tremor of her lips,
+the almost haunted look in her eyes, the smile of satisfied desire on
+her face.</p>
+
+<p>"That is your plan of action," he concluded. "Remember, you play for
+great stakes, and you must play boldly. You must play to win. There are
+times when right and wrong are nothing to a man, and you must be willing
+to risk everything. As for the rest, I will do it."</p>
+
+<p>Her face was suffused half with the flush of shame, half with excited
+determination.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," she said; "you shall be obeyed."</p>
+
+<p>"And I will keep my compact," said the Count.</p>
+
+<p>He left her without another word, and no sign of friendship passed
+between them.</p>
+
+<p>When he reached the street, however, there was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> look of doubt in his
+eyes. He might have been afraid, for there was a kind of baffled rage on
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped a passing taxi, and drove straight to his hotel.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he here?" he asked his valet as he entered his own room.</p>
+
+<p>"He is waiting, my lord."</p>
+
+<p>A minute later the little man who had visited him on the day after Dick
+Faversham's return to Parliament appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"What report, Polonius?" asked Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing of great importance, I am afraid, my lord, but something."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, what?"</p>
+
+<p>"He went to Wendover on the day I was unable to account for his
+whereabouts."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you have discovered that, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I regret I missed him that day, but I trust I have gained your
+lordship's confidence again."</p>
+
+<p>The Count reflected a few seconds. "Tell me what you know," he said
+peremptorily.</p>
+
+<p>"He went down early, and had a talk with an old man at the station. Then
+he walked to the house, and had a conversation with his old
+housekeeper."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what was said?"</p>
+
+<p>"There was not much said. She told him there were rumours that Anthony
+Riggleton was dead."</p>
+
+<p>The Count started as though a new thought had entered his mind; then he
+turned towards his spy again.</p>
+
+<p>"He did not pay much attention to it," added Polonius, "neither did he
+pay much attention to what she told him about Riggleton's doings at
+Wendover."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he go through the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; he only stayed a few minutes, but he was seen looking very hard at
+the front door, as though something attracted him. Then he returned by
+another route, and had lunch with that old man who has a cottage near
+one of the lodge gates."</p>
+
+<p>"Hugh Stanmore&mdash;yes, I remember."</p>
+
+<p>"After lunch he went through the park with the old man's granddaughter.
+They were talking very earnestly."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Count leapt to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"You saw this girl?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. A girl about twenty, I should think. Very pretty in a simple,
+countrified way. She is very much loved among the cottage people. I
+should say she's a very religious girl. I'm told that she has since
+become engaged to be married to a Sir George Weston, who was a soldier
+in Egypt."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir George Weston. Let me think. Yes; I remember. Ah, she is engaged to
+be married to him, is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is the rumour. Sir George was staying at Stanmore's cottage at the
+time of Faversham's visit. He left the day after."</p>
+
+<p>"And Faversham has not been there since?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, my lord."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go on."</p>
+
+<p>"That is all I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you can go; you know my instructions. Remember, they must be
+obeyed to the very letter."</p>
+
+<p>"They shall be&mdash;to the very letter."</p>
+
+<p>The Count entered another room, and opened a safe. From it he took some
+papers, and read carefully. Then he sat thinking for a long time.
+Presently he looked at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>Daylight had now gone, early as it was, for winter still gripped the
+land. Some days there were suggestions of spring in the air, but they
+were very few. The night was cold.</p>
+
+<p>The Count went to the window, and looked out over St. James's Park.
+Great, black ominous-looking clouds rolled across the sky, but here and
+there were patches of blue where stars could plainly be seen. He had
+evidently made up his mind about something.</p>
+
+<p>His servant knocked at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"What time will your lordship dine?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not dine."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, my lord."</p>
+
+<p>Count Romanoff passed into the street. For some time he walked, and
+then, hailing a taxi-cab, drove to London Bridge. He did not drive
+across the bridge, but stopped at the Cannon Street end. Having paid
+the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> driver, he walked slowly towards the southern bank of the river.
+Once he stood for more than a minute watching while the dark waters
+rolled towards the sea.</p>
+
+<p>"What secrets the old river could tell if it could speak," he muttered;
+"but all dark secrets&mdash;all dark."</p>
+
+<p>He found his way to the station, and mingled with the crowd there.</p>
+
+<p>Hours later he was nearly twenty miles from London, and he was alone on
+a wide heath. Here and there dotted around the outskirts of the heath he
+saw lights twinkling.</p>
+
+<p>The sky was brighter here; the clouds did not hang so heavily as in the
+city, while between them he occasionally saw the pale crescent of a
+waxing moon. All around him was the heath.</p>
+
+<p>He paid no heed to the biting cold, but walked rapidly along one of the
+straight-cut roads through the heather and bushes. It was now getting
+late, and no one was to be seen. There were only a few houses in the
+district, and the inhabitants of these were doubtless ensconced before
+cosy fires or playing games with their families. It was not a night to
+be out.</p>
+
+<p>"What a mockery, what a miserable, dirty little mockery life is!" he
+said aloud as he tramped along. "And what pigmies men are; what paltry,
+useless things make up their lives! This is Walton Heath, and here I
+suppose the legislators of the British Empire come to find their
+amusement in knocking a golf-ball around. And men are applauded because
+they can knock that ball a little straighter and a little farther than
+someone else. But&mdash;but&mdash;and there comes the rub&mdash;these same men can
+think&mdash;think right and wrong, do right and wrong. That fellow
+Faversham&mdash;yes; what is it that makes him beat me?"</p>
+
+<p>Mile after mile he tramped, sometimes stopping to look at the sullen,
+angry-looking clouds that swept across the sky, and again looking around
+the heath as if trying to locate some object in which he was interested.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he reached a spot where the road cut through some woodland.
+Dark pine trees waved their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> branches to the skies. In the near distance
+the heath stretched away for miles, and although it was piercingly cold,
+the scene was almost attractive. But here it was dark, gloomy,
+forbidding. For some time he stood looking at the waving pine trees; it
+might have been that he saw more than was plainly visible.</p>
+
+<p>"What fools, what blind fools men are!" he said aloud. "Their lives are
+bounded by what they see, and they laugh at the spiritual world; they
+scorn the suggestion that belting the earth are untold millions of
+spirits of the dead. Here they are all around me. I can see them. I can
+see them!"</p>
+
+<p>His eyes burnt red; his features were contorted as if by pain.</p>
+
+<p>"An eternal struggle," he cried&mdash;"just an eternal struggle between right
+and wrong, good and evil&mdash;yes, good and evil!</p>
+
+<p>"And the good is slowly gaining the victory! Out of all the wild, mad
+convulsions of the world, right is slowly emerging triumphant, the
+savage is being subdued, and the human, the Divine, is triumphing."</p>
+
+<p>He lifted his right hand, and shook his fist to the heavens as if
+defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"I had great hopes of the War," he went on. "I saw hell let loose; I saw
+the world mad for blood. Everywhere was the lust for blood; everywhere
+men cried, 'Kill! kill!' And now it is over, and wrong is being
+defeated&mdash;defeated!"</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to be in a mad frenzy, his voice shook with rage.</p>
+
+<p>"Dark spirits of hell!" he cried. "You have been beaten, beaten! Why,
+even in this ghastly war, the Cross has been triumphant! Those
+thousands, those millions of men who went out from this land, went out
+for an ideal. They did not understand it, but it was so. They felt dimly
+and indistinctly that they were fighting, dying, that others might live!
+And some of the most heroic deeds ever known in the history of the world
+were done. Men died for others, died for comradeship, died for duty,
+died for country. Everywhere the Cross was seen!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And those fellows are not dead! They are alive! they have entered into
+a greater life!</p>
+
+<p>"Why, even the ghastly tragedy of Russia, on which we built so much,
+will only be the birth-pains which precede a new life!</p>
+
+<p>"Everywhere, everywhere the right, the good, is emerging triumphant!"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed aloud, a laugh of almost insane mockery.</p>
+
+<p>"But men are blind, blind! They do not realise the world of spirits that
+is all around them, struggling, struggling. But through the ages the
+spirits of the good are prevailing!</p>
+
+<p>"That is my punishment, my punishment spirits of hell, my punishment!
+Day by day I see the final destruction of evil!"</p>
+
+<p>His voice was hoarse with agony. He might have been mad&mdash;mad with the
+torture of despair.</p>
+
+<p>"All around me, all around me they live," he went on. "But I am not
+powerless. I can still work my will. And Faversham shall be mine. I
+swore it on the day he was born, swore it when his mother passed into
+the world of spirits, swore it when his father joined her. What though
+all creation is moving upwards, I can still drag him down, down into
+hell! Yes, and she shall see him going down, she shall know, and then
+she shall suffer as I have suffered. Her very heaven shall be made hell
+to her, because she shall see her son become even what I have become!"</p>
+
+<p>He left the main road, and followed a disused drive through the wood.
+Before long he came to a lonely house, almost hidden by the trees. A
+dark gloomy place it was, dilapidated and desolate. Years before it had
+perchance been the dwelling-place of some inoffensive respectable
+householder who loved the quietness of the country. For years it was for
+sale, and then it was bought by a stranger who never lived in it, but
+let it fall into decay.</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff found his way to the main entrance of the house, and entered.
+He ascended a stairway, and at length found his way to a room which was
+furnished. Here he lit a curiously-shaped lamp. In half an hour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> the
+place was warm, and suggested comfort. Romanoff sat like one deep in
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he began to pace the room, uttering strange words as he
+walked. He might have been repeating incantations, or weaving some
+mystic charms. Then he turned out the lamp, and only the fire threw a
+flickering light around the room.</p>
+
+<p>"My vital forces seem to fail me," he muttered; "even here it seems as
+though there is good."</p>
+
+<p>Perspiration oozed from his forehead, and his face was as pale as death.</p>
+
+<p>Again he uttered wild cries; he might have been summoning unseen powers
+to his aid.</p>
+
+<p>"They are here!" he shouted, and there was an evil joy in his face. Then
+there was a change, fear came into his eyes. Looking across the room, he
+saw two streaks of light in the form of a cross, while out of the
+silence a voice came.</p>
+
+<p>"Cease!" said the Voice.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">His Guardian Angel</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Romanoff ceased speaking, and his eyes were fixed on the two streaks of
+light.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I am here to bid you desist."</p>
+
+<p>"And who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, between him and the light, a shadowy figure emerged. Second
+after second its shape became more clearly outlined, until the form of a
+woman appeared. But the face was obscure; it was dim and shadowy.</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff's eyes were fixed on the figure; but he uttered no sound. His
+tongue was dry, and cleaved to the roof of his mouth. His lips were
+parched.</p>
+
+<p>The face became plainer. Its lineaments were more clearly outlined. He
+could see waves of light brown hair, eyes that were large and yearning
+with a great tenderness and pity, yet lit up with joy and holy resolve.
+A mouth tender as that of a child, but with all the firmness of mature
+years. A haunting face it was, haunting because of its spiritual beauty,
+its tenderness, its ineffable joy; and yet it was stern and strong.</p>
+
+<p>It was the face of the woman whom Dick Faversham had seen in the
+smoke-room of the outward-bound vessel years before, the face that had
+appeared to him at the doorway of the great house at Wendover.</p>
+
+<p>"You, you!" cried Romanoff at length. "You! Madaline?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you here?"</p>
+
+<p>"To plead with you, to beseech you to let my son alone."</p>
+
+<p>A change came over Romanoff's face as he heard the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> words. A new
+strength seemed to have come to him. Confidence shone in his eyes, his
+every feature spoke of triumph.</p>
+
+<p>"Your son! His son!" he cried harshly. "The son of the man for whom you
+cast me into the outer darkness. But for him you might have been the
+mother of <i>my</i> son, and I&mdash;I should not have been what I am."</p>
+
+<p>"You are what you are because you have always yielded to the promptings
+of evil," replied the woman. "That was why I never loved you&mdash;never
+could love you."</p>
+
+<p>"But you looked at me with eyes of love until he came."</p>
+
+<p>"As you know, I was but a child, and when you came with your great name,
+your great riches, you for a time fascinated me; but I never loved you.
+I told you so before he came."</p>
+
+<p>"But I loved you," said Romanoff hoarsely. "You, the simple country
+girl, fascinated me, the Russian noble. And I would have withheld
+nothing from you. Houses, lands, position, a great name, all&mdash;all were
+yours if you would have been my wife. But you rejected me."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not love you. I felt you were evil. I told you so."</p>
+
+<p>"What of that? I loved you. I swore I would win you. But you&mdash;you&mdash;a
+simple country girl, poor, ignorant of the world's ways, resisted me,
+me&mdash;Romanoff. And you married that insipid scholar fellow, leaving me
+scorned, rejected. And I swore I would be revenged, living or dead. Then
+your child was born and you died. I could not harm you, you were beyond
+me, but your son lived. And I swore again. If I could not harm you, I
+could harm him, I could destroy him. I gave myself over to evil for
+that. I, too, have passed through the doorway which the world calls
+death; but powers have been given me, powers to carry out my oath. While
+his father was alive, I could do nothing, but since then my work has
+been going forward. And I shall conquer, I shall triumph."</p>
+
+<p>"And I have come here to-night to plead with you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> on my son's behalf. He
+has resisted wrong for a long time. Leave him in peace."</p>
+
+<p>"Never," cried Romanoff. "You passed into heaven, but your heaven shall
+be hell, for your son shall go there. He shall become even as I am. His
+joy shall be in evil."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you no pity, no mercy?"</p>
+
+<p>"None," replied Romanoff. "Neither pity nor mercy have a place in me.
+You drove me to hell, and it is my punishment that the only joy which
+may be mine is the joy of what you call evil."</p>
+
+<p>"Then have pity, have mercy on yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Pity on myself? Mercy on myself? You talk in black ignorance."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I speak in light. Every evil you do only sinks you deeper in mire,
+deeper in hell."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot help that. It is my doom."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not your doom if you repent. If you turn your face, your spirit
+to the light."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot repent. I am of those who love evil. I hate mercy. I despise
+pity."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I must seek to save him in spite of you."</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot," and a laugh of savage triumph accompanied his words. "I
+have made my plans. Nothing which you can do will save him. He has been
+given to me."</p>
+
+<p>For a few seconds there was tense unnatural silence. The room was full
+of strange influences, as though conflicting forces were in opposition,
+as though light and darkness, good and evil, were struggling together.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Madaline," went on Romanoff. "Now is my hour of triumph. The
+son you love shall be mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Love is stronger than hate, good is stronger than evil," she replied.
+"You are fighting against the Eternal Spirit of Good; you are fighting
+against the Supreme Manifestation of that Goodness, which was seen two
+thousand years ago on the Cross of Calvary."</p>
+
+<p>"The Cross of Calvary!" replied Romanoff, and his voice was hoarse; "it
+is the symbol of defeat, of degradation, of despair. For two thousand
+years it has been uplifted, but always to fail."</p>
+
+<p>"Always to conquer," was the calm reply. "Slowly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> but surely, age after
+age, it has been subduing kingdoms, working righteousness, lifting man
+up to the Eternal Goodness. It has through all the ages been overcoming
+evil with good, and bringing the harmonies of holiness out of the
+discord of sin."</p>
+
+<p>"Think of this war!" snarled Romanoff. "Think of Germany, think of
+Russia! What is the world but a mad hell?"</p>
+
+<p>"Out of it all will Goodness shine. I cannot understand all, for full
+understanding only belongs to the Supreme Father of Lights. But I am
+sure of the end. Already the morning is breaking, already light is
+shining out of the darkness. Men's eyes are being opened, they are
+seeing visions and dreaming dreams. They are seeing the end of war, and
+talking of Leagues of Nations, of the Brotherhood of the world."</p>
+
+<p>"But that does not do away with the millions who have died in battle. It
+does not atone for blighted and ruined homes, and the darkness of the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>"Not one of those who fell in battle is dead. They are all alive. I have
+seen them, spoken to them. And the Eternal Goodness is ever with them,
+ever bearing them up. They have done what they knew to be their duty,
+and they have entered into their reward."</p>
+
+<p>"What, the Evil and the Good together?" sneered Romanoff. "That were
+strange justice surely."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall not the Judge of all the Earth do Right? They are all in His
+care, and His pity and His love are Infinite. That is why I plead with
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"What, to spare your son? If what you say is true I am powerless. But I
+am not. Wrong is stronger than right. I defy you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then is it to be a fight between us?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you will. He must be mine."</p>
+
+<p>"And what then?" There was ineffable sorrow in the woman's voice. "Would
+you drag him into æons of pain and anguish to satisfy your revenge?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would, and I will. What if right is stronger than wrong, as you say?
+What if in the end right shall drag him through hell to heaven? I shall
+still know that he has lived in hell, and thus shall I have my
+revenge."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And I, who am his mother, am also his ministering angel, and it is my
+work to save him from you."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are powerless&mdash;powerless, I tell you?"</p>
+
+<p>"All power is not given to us, but God has given His angels power to
+help and save."</p>
+
+<p>"If you have such power, why am I not vanquished?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you not been vanquished many times?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not once!" cried Romanoff. "Little by little I have been enveloping him
+in my toils."</p>
+
+<p>"Think," replied the other. "When he was tossing on the angry sea, whose
+arms bore him up? Think again, why was it when you and he were in the
+library together at Wendover, and you tempted him to sell his soul for
+gain;&mdash;whose hand was placed on his, and stopped him from signing the
+paper which would have made him your slave?"</p>
+
+<p>"Was it you?" gasped Romanoff.</p>
+
+<p>"Think again. When the woman you selected sought to dazzle him with wild
+dreams of power and ambition, and who almost blinded him to the truth,
+what led him to discard the picture that came to him as inventions of
+evil? Who helped to open his eyes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you&mdash;you," gasped Romanoff&mdash;"you have been fighting against me all
+the time! It was you, was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was his mother, I am his mother; and I, who never intentionally did
+you harm, plead with you again. I love him, even as all true mothers,
+whether on earth or in the land of spirits, love their children. And I
+am allowed to watch over him, to protect him, to help him. It is my joy
+to be his guardian angel, and I plead with you to let him be free from
+your designs."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I will&mdash;what reward will you give me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will seek to help you from your doom&mdash;the doom which must be the lot
+of those who persist in evil."</p>
+
+<p>"That is not enough. No, I will carry out my plans; I will drag him to
+hell."</p>
+
+<p>"And I, if need be, will descend into hell to save him."</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot, you cannot!" and triumph rang in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> voice. "I swore to
+drag him to hell, swore that his soul should be given over to evil."</p>
+
+<p>The woman's face seemed to be drawn with pain, her eyes were filled with
+infinite yearning and tenderness. She moved her lips as if in speech,
+but Romanoff could distinguish no words. Then her form grew dimmer and
+dimmer until there was only a shadowy outline of what had been clear and
+distinct.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say? I cannot hear!" and his voice was mocking.</p>
+
+<p>The man continued to look at the place where he had seen her, but, as
+her form disappeared, the two shafts of light grew more and more
+luminous. He saw the bright shining Cross distinctly outlined, and his
+eyes burnt with a great terror. Then out of the silence, out of the wide
+spaces which surrounded the house, out of the broad expanse of the
+heavens, words came to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Underneath, <i>underneath</i>, <span class="smcap">Underneath</span> are the Everlasting Arms."</p>
+
+<p>Fascinated, Romanoff gazed, seeing nothing but the shining outline of
+the Cross, while the air seemed to pulsate with the great words I have
+set down.</p>
+
+<p>Then slowly the Cross became more and more dim, until at length it
+became invisible. The corner of the room which had been illumined by its
+radiance became full of dark shadows. Silence became profound.</p>
+
+<p>"What does it mean?" he gasped. "She left me foiled, defeated, in
+despair. But the Cross shone. The words filled everything."</p>
+
+<p>For more than a minute he stood like one transfixed, thinking, thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"It means this," he said presently, and the words came from him in
+hoarse gasps, "it means that I am to have my way; it means that I shall
+conquer him&mdash;drag him to hell; but that underneath hell are the
+Everlasting Arms. Well, let it be so. I shall have had my revenge. The
+son shall suffer what the mother made me suffer, and she shall suffer
+hell, too, because she shall see her son in hell."</p>
+
+<p>He turned and placed more wood on the fire, then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> throwing himself in an
+arm-chair he sat for hours, brooding, thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Olga will do it," he concluded after a long silence. "The story of
+the Garden of Eden is an eternal principle. 'The woman tempted me and I
+did eat,' is the story of the world's sin. He is a man, with all a man's
+passions, and she is a Venus, a Circe&mdash;a woman&mdash;and all men fall when a
+woman tempts."</p>
+
+<p>All through the night he kept his dark vigils; there in the dark house,
+with only flickering lights from the fire, he worked out his plans, and
+schemed for the destruction of a man's soul.</p>
+
+<p>In the grey dawn of the wintry morning he was back in London again; but
+although the servants looked at him questioningly when he entered his
+hotel, as if wondering where he had been, he told no man of his doings.
+All his experiences were secret to himself.</p>
+
+<p>During the next few days the little man Polonius seemed exceptionally
+busy; three times he went to Wendover, where there seemed to be many
+matters that interested him. Several times he made his way to the War
+Office, where he appeared to have acquaintances, and where he asked many
+questions. He also found his way to the block of buildings where Dick
+Faversham's flat was situated, and although Dick never saw him, he
+appeared to be greatly interested in the young man's goings out and his
+comings in. He also went to the House of Commons, and made the
+acquaintance of many Labour Members. Altogether Polonius's time was much
+engaged. He went to Count Romanoff's hotel, too, but always late at
+night, and he had several interviews with that personage, whom he
+evidently held in great awe.</p>
+
+<p>More than a week after Romanoff's experiences at Walton Heath, Olga
+Petrovic received a letter which made her very thoughtful. There was a
+look of fear in her eyes as she read, as though it contained disturbing
+news.</p>
+
+<p>And yet it appeared commonplace and innocent enough, and it contained
+only a few lines. Perhaps it was the signature which caused her cheeks
+to blanch, and her lips to quiver.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This was how it ran:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Olga</span>,&mdash;You must get F. to take you to dinner on Friday night
+next. You must go to the Moscow Restaurant, and be there by 7.45
+prompt. Please look your handsomest, and spare no pains to be
+agreeable. When the waiter brings you liqueurs be especially
+fascinating. Act on the Berlin plan. This is very important, as a
+danger has arisen which I had not calculated upon. The time for
+action has now come, and I need not remind you how much success
+means to you.</p>
+
+<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Romanoff.</span></p>
+
+<p>"P.S.&mdash;Destroy this as you have destroyed all other correspondence
+from me. I shall know whether this is done.&mdash;R."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>This was the note which had caused Olga Petrovic's cheeks to pale. After
+reading it again, she sat thinking for a long time, while more than once
+her face was drawn as if by spasms of pain.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she went to her desk, and taking some scented notepaper, she
+wrote a letter. She was evidently very particular about the wording, for
+she tore up several sheets before she had satisfied herself. There was
+the look of an evil woman in her eyes as she sealed it, but there was
+something else, too; there was an expression of indescribable longing.</p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon Dick Faversham came to her flat and found Olga
+Petrovic alone. He had come in answer to her letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Have I done anything to offend you, Mr. Faversham?" she asked, as she
+poured out tea.</p>
+
+<p>"Offend me, Countess? I never thought of such a thing. Why do you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"You were so cold, so distant when you were here last&mdash;and that was
+several days ago."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been very busy," replied Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"While I have been very lonely."</p>
+
+<p>"Lonely! You lonely, Countess?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, very lonely. How little men know women. Because a number of silly,
+chattering people have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> here when you have called, you have
+imagined that my life has been full of pleasure, that I have been
+content. But I haven't a friend in the world, unless&mdash;&mdash;" She lifted her
+great languishing eyes to his for a moment, and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Unless what?" asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, nothing. Why should you care about the loneliness of a woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"I care a great deal," replied Dick. "You have been very kind to me&mdash;a
+lonely man."</p>
+
+<p>From that moment she became very charming. His words gave her the
+opening she sought, and a few minutes later she had led him to the
+channel of conversation which she desired.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not mind?" she said presently. "I know you are the kind of man
+who finds it a bore to take a woman out to dinner. But there will be a
+wonderful band at The Moscow, and I love music."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be a pleasure, a very great pleasure," replied Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"And you will not miss being away from the House of Commons for a few
+hours, will you? I will try to be very nice."</p>
+
+<p>"As though you needed to try," cried Dick. "As though you could be
+anything else."</p>
+
+<p>She looked half coyly, half boldly into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow night then?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, to-morrow night. At half-past seven I will be here."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">At the Café Moscow</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>During the few days which had preceded Dick's visit to the Countess
+Olga's house, he had been very depressed. The excitement which he had at
+first felt in going to the House of Commons as the Member for Eastroyd
+had gone. He found, too, that the "Mother of Parliaments" was different
+from what he had expected.</p>
+
+<p>The thing that impressed him most was the difficulty in getting anything
+done. The atmosphere of the place was in the main lethargic. Men came
+there for the first time, enthusiastic and buoyant, determined to do
+great things; but weeks, months, years passed by, and they had done
+nothing. In their constituencies crowds flocked to hear them, and
+applauded them to the echo; but in the House of Commons they had to
+speak to empty benches, and the few who remained to hear them, yawned
+while they were speaking, and only waited because they wanted to catch
+the Speaker's eye.</p>
+
+<p>Dick had felt all this, and much more. It seemed to him that as a
+legislator he was a failure, and that the House of Commons was the most
+disappointing place in the world. Added to this he was heart-sore and
+despondent. His love for Beatrice Stanmore was hopeless. News of her
+engagement to Sir George Weston had been confirmed, and thus joy had
+gone out of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Why it was, Dick did not know; but he knew now that he had loved
+Beatrice Stanmore from the first time he had seen her. He was constantly
+recalling the hour when she first came into his life. She and her
+grandfather had come to Wendover when he was sitting talking, with
+Romanoff, and he remembered how the atmosphere of the room changed the
+moment she entered. His will-power<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> was being sapped, his sense of right
+and wrong was dulled; yet no sooner did she appear than his will-power
+came back, his moral perceptions became keen.</p>
+
+<p>It was the same at her second visit. He had been like a man under a
+spell; he had become almost paralysed by Romanoff's philosophy of life,
+helpless to withstand the picture he held before his eyes; yet on the
+sudden coming of this bright-eyed girl everything had changed. She made
+him live in a new world. He remembered going outside with her, and they
+had talked about angels.</p>
+
+<p>How vivid it all was to him! Everything was sweeter, brighter, purer,
+because of her. Her simple, childish faith, her keen intuition had made
+his materialism seem so much foolishness. Her eyes pierced the dark
+clouds; she was an angel of God, pointing upward.</p>
+
+<p>He knew the meaning of it now. His soul had found a kindred soul, even
+although he had not known it; he had loved her then, although he was
+unaware of the fact. But ever since he had learnt the secret of his
+heart he had understood.</p>
+
+<p>But it was too late. He was helpless, hopeless. She had given her heart
+to this soldier, this man of riches and position. Oh, what a mockery
+life was! He had seen the gates of heaven, he had caught a glimpse of
+what lay beyond, but he could not enter, and in his disappointment and
+hopelessness, despair gnawed at his heart like a canker.</p>
+
+<p>Thus Dick Faversham was in a dangerous mood. That was why the siren-like
+presence of Olga Petrovic acted upon his senses like an evil charm. Oh,
+if he had only known!</p>
+
+<p>At half-past seven on the Friday night he called at her flat, and he had
+barely entered the room before she came to him. Evidently she regarded
+it as a great occasion, for she was resplendently attired. Yet not too
+much so. Either she, or her maid, instinctively knew what exactly suited
+her kind of beauty; for not even the most critical could have found
+fault with her.</p>
+
+<p>What a glorious creature she was! Shaped like a goddess, her clothes
+accentuated her charms. Evidently, too, she was intent on pleasing him.
+Her face was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> wreathed in smiles, her eyes shone with dangerous
+brightness. There was witchery, allurement in her presence&mdash;she was a
+siren.</p>
+
+<p>Dick almost gave a gasp as he saw her. A girl in appearance, a girl with
+all the winsomeness and attractiveness of youth, yet a woman with all a
+woman's knowledge of man's weakness&mdash;a woman bent on being captivating.</p>
+
+<p>"Do I please your Majesty?" and her eyes flashed as the words passed her
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Please me!" he gasped. "You are wonderful, simply wonderful."</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to be pleased," she whispered, and Dick thought he saw her
+blush.</p>
+
+<p>They entered the motor-car together, and as she sat by his side he felt
+as though he were in dreamland. A delicate perfume filled the air, and
+the knowledge that he was going to dine with her, amidst brightness and
+gaiety, made him forgetful of all else.</p>
+
+<p>They were not long in reaching The Moscow, one of the most popular and
+fashionable restaurants in London. He saw at a glance, as he looked
+around him, that the wealth, the beauty, the fashion of London were
+there. The waiter led them to a table from which they could command
+practically the whole room, and where they could be seen by all. But he
+took no notice of this. He was almost intoxicated by the brilliance of
+the scene, by the fascination of the woman who sat near him.</p>
+
+<p>"For once," she said, "let us forget dull care, let us be happy."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed gaily. "Why not?" he cried. "All the same, I wonder what my
+constituents at Eastroyd would say if they saw me here?"</p>
+
+<p>She gave a slight shrug, and threw off the light gossamer shawl which
+had somewhat hidden her neck and shoulders. Her jewels flashed back the
+light which shone overhead, her eyes sparkled like stars.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us forget Eastroyd," she cried; "let us forget everything sordid
+and sorrowing. Surely there are times when one should live only for
+gladness, for joy. Is not the music divine? There, listen! Did I not
+tell you that some of the most wonderful artists in London<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> play here?
+Do you know what it makes me think of?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would love to know," he responded, yielding to her humour.</p>
+
+<p>"But I must not tell you&mdash;I dare not. I am going to ask a favour of you,
+my friend. Will you grant it, without asking me what it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I will grant it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is little, nothing after all. Only let me choose the wine
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? I am no wine drinker, and am no judge of vintages."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but you must drink with me to-night. To-night I am queen, and you
+are&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, what am I?" asked Dick with a laugh, as she stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"You are willing to obey your queen, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who would not be willing to obey such a queen?" was his reply.</p>
+
+<p>The waiter hovered around them, attending to their slightest wants. Not
+only was the restaurant noted as being a rendezvous for the beauty and
+fashion of London, but it boasted the best <i>chef</i> in England. Every dish
+was more exquisite than the last, and everything was served in a way to
+please the most captious.</p>
+
+<p>The dinner proceeded. Course followed course, while sweet music was
+discoursed, and Dick felt in a land of enchantment. For once he gave
+himself over to enjoyment&mdash;he banished all saddening thoughts. He was in
+a world of brightness and song; every sight, every sound drove away dull
+care. To-morrow he would have to go back to the grim realities of life;
+but now he allowed himself to be swept along by the tide of laughter and
+gaiety.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem happy, my friend," said the woman presently. "Never before did
+I see you so free from dull care, never did I see you so full of the joy
+of life. Well, why not? Life was given to us to be happy. Yes, yes, I
+know. You have your work to do; but not now. I should feel miserable for
+days if I thought I could not charm away sadness from you&mdash;especially
+to-night."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because it is the first time we have ever dined together. I should pay
+you a poor compliment, shouldn't I, if when you took me to a place where
+laughter abounded I did not bring laughter to your lips and joy to your
+heart. Let us hope that this is the first of the many times we may dine
+together. Yes; what are you thinking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"That you are a witch, a wonder, a miracle of beauty and of charm.
+There, I know I speak too freely."</p>
+
+<p>He ceased speaking suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"I love to hear you speak so. I would rather&mdash;but what is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick did not reply. His eyes were riveted on another part of the room,
+and he had forgotten that she was speaking. Seated at a table not far
+away were three people, two men and a woman. The men were Sir George
+Weston and Hugh Stanmore. The woman was Beatrice Stanmore. Evidently the
+lover had brought his fiancée and her grandfather there that night. It
+seemed to Dick that Weston had an air of proprietorship, as he acted the
+part of host. He watched while the baronet smiled on her and spoke to
+her. It would seem, too, that he said something pleasant, for the girl
+laughed gaily, and her eyes sparkled with delight.</p>
+
+<p>"You see someone you know?" and Olga Petrovic's eyes followed his gaze.
+"Ah, you are looking at the table where that pretty but rather
+countrified girl is sitting with the old man with the white hair, and
+the other who looks like a soldier. Ah yes, you know them, my friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen them&mdash;met them," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, then you know who they are? I do not know them, they are strangers
+to me; but I can tell you about them. Shall I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." His eyes were still riveted on them, and he did not know he had
+spoken.</p>
+
+<p>"The girl is the younger man's fiancée. They have lately become engaged.
+Don't you see how he smiles on her? And look how she smiles back. She is
+deeply in love with him, that is plain. There, don't you see&mdash;she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> has a
+ring on her engagement finger. They are very happy. I think the man has
+brought the girl and the old man here as a kind of celebration dinner.
+Presently they will go to some place of amusement. She seems a poor
+simpering thing; but they are evidently deeply in love with each other.
+Tell me, am I not right?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick did not reply. What he had seen stung him into a kind of madness.
+He was filled with reckless despair. What matter what he did, what
+happened to him? Of course he knew of the engagement, but the sight of
+them together unhinged his mind, kept him from thinking coherently.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem much interested in them, my friend; do you know them well? Ah,
+they have finished dinner, I think. There, they are looking at us; the
+girl is asking who we are, or, perhaps, she has recognised you."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Dick felt his heart stop beating; yes, she was coming his
+way. She must pass his table in order to get out.</p>
+
+<p>With a kind of despairing recklessness he seized the wineglass by his
+side and drained it. He was hardly master of himself; he talked rapidly,
+loudly.</p>
+
+<p>The waiter appeared with liqueurs.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," cried the Countess, with a laugh; "I chose the wine&mdash;I must
+choose the liqueurs also. It is my privilege."</p>
+
+<p>The waiter poured out the spirits with a deft hand, while the woman
+laughed. Her eyes sparkled more brightly then ever; her face had a look
+of set purpose.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the only place in London where one can get this liqueur," she
+cried. "What is it? I don't know. But I am told it is exquisite. There!
+I drink to you!"</p>
+
+<p>She lifted the tiny glass to her lips, while her eyes, large, black,
+bold, seductive, dangerous, flashed into his.</p>
+
+<p>"Drink, my friend," she said, and her voice reached some distance around
+her; "it is the drink of love, of <i>love</i>, the only thing worth living
+for. Drain it to the bottom, and let us be happy."</p>
+
+<p>He lifted the glass, but ere it reached his lips he saw that Beatrice
+Stanmore and her companions were close to him, and that she must have
+heard what Olga Petrovic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> had said. In spite of the fact that he had
+drunk of rich, strong wine, and that it tingled through his veins like
+some fabled elixir, he felt his heart grow cold. He saw a look on the
+girl's face which startled him&mdash;frightened him. But she was not looking
+at him; her eyes were fixed on his companion.</p>
+
+<p>And he saw the expression of terror, of loathing, of horror. It made him
+think of an angel gazing into the pit of hell. But Olga Petrovic seemed
+unconscious of her presence. Her eyes were fixed on Dick's face. She
+seemed to be pleading with him, fascinating him, compelling him to think
+only of her.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Hugh Stanmore and Sir George Weston hesitated, as if doubtful
+whether they should speak.</p>
+
+<p>Dick half rose. He wanted to speak to Beatrice. To tell her&mdash;what, he
+did not know. But he was not master of himself. He was dizzy and
+bewildered. Perhaps it was because he was unaccustomed to drink wine,
+and the rich vintage had flown to his head&mdash;perhaps because of
+influences which he could not understand.</p>
+
+<p>"Beatrice&mdash;Miss Stanmore," he stammered in a hoarse, unnatural voice, so
+hoarse and unnatural that the words were scarcely articulated,
+"this&mdash;this <i>is</i> a surprise."</p>
+
+<p>He felt how inane he was. He might have been intoxicated. What must
+Beatrice think of him?</p>
+
+<p>But still she did not look at him. Her eyes were still fixed on Olga's
+face. She seemed to be trying to read her, to pierce her very soul. Then
+suddenly she turned towards Dick, who had dropped into his chair again,
+and was still holding the tiny glass in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not drink, Dick," said Olga Petrovic, and her voice, though low
+and caressing, was plainly to be heard. "You must drink, because I chose
+it, and it is the drink of love&mdash;the only thing worth living for," and
+all the time her eyes were fixed on his face.</p>
+
+<p>Almost unconsciously he turned towards her, and his blood seemed turned
+to fire. Madness possessed him; he felt a slave to the charms of this
+bewitching woman, even while the maiden for whom his heart longed with
+an unutterable longing was only two or three yards from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> him. He lifted
+the glass again, and the fiery liquid passed his lips.</p>
+
+<p>Again he looked at Beatrice, and it seemed to him that he saw horror and
+disgust in her face. Something terrible had happened; it seemed to him
+that he was enveloped in some form of black magic from which he could
+not escape.</p>
+
+<p>Then rage filled his heart. The party passed on without further notice
+of him, and he saw Beatrice speak to Sir George Weston. What she said to
+him he did not know, but he caught a part of his reply.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard of her in Vienna. She had a curious reputation. Her <i>salon</i> was
+the centre of attraction to a peculiar class of men. Magnificent,
+but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>That was all he heard. He was not sure he heard even that. There was a
+hum of voices, and the sound of laughter everywhere, and so it was
+difficult for him to be sure of what any particular person said. Neither
+might the words apply to the woman at his side.</p>
+
+<p>Bewildered, he turned towards Olga again, caught the flash of her eyes'
+wild fire, and was again fascinated by the bewildering seductiveness of
+her charms. What was the matter with him? He did not seem master of
+himself. Everything was strange&mdash;bewildering.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps it was because of the wine he had drunk, perhaps because that
+fiery liquid had inflamed his imagination; but it seemed to him that
+nothing mattered. Right! Wrong! What were they? Mere abstractions, the
+fancies of a diseased mind. Wild recklessness filled his heart. He had
+seen Beatrice Stanmore smile on Sir George Weston, and he had heard the
+woman at his side say that she, Beatrice, wore this Devonshire squire's
+ring.</p>
+
+<p>Well, what then? Why should he care?</p>
+
+<p>And all the time Olga Petrovic was by his side. She had seemed
+unconscious of Beatrice's presence; she had not noticed the look of
+horror and loathing in the girl's eyes. She was only casting a spell on
+him&mdash;a spell he could not understand.</p>
+
+<p>Then he had a peculiar sensation. This mysterious woman was bewitching
+him. She was sapping his will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> even as Romanoff had sapped it years
+before. Why did he connect them?</p>
+
+<p>"Countess," he said, "do you know Count Romanoff?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman hesitated a second before replying.</p>
+
+<p>"Dick," she said, "you must not call me Countess. You know my name,
+don't you? Count Romanoff? No, I never heard of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us get away from here," he cried. "I feel as though I can't
+breathe."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so sorry. Let us go back home and spend the evening quietly. Oh, I
+forgot. Sir Felix and Lady Fordham are calling at ten o'clock. You don't
+mind, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. I shall be glad to meet them."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later they were moving rapidly towards Olga Petrovic's
+flat, Dick still excited, and almost irresponsible, the woman with a
+look of exultant triumph on her face.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Shadow of a Great Terror</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"Sit down, my friend. Sir Felix and Lady Fordham have not come; but what
+matter? There, take this chair. Ah, you look like yourself again. Has it
+ever struck you that you are a handsome man? No; I do not flatter. I
+looked around The Moscow to-night, and there was not a man in the room
+to compare with you&mdash;not one who looked so distinguished, so much&mdash;a
+man. I felt so glad&mdash;so proud."</p>
+
+<p>He felt himself sink in the luxuriously upholstered chair, while she sat
+at his feet and looked up into his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, then, you are king; you are seated on your throne, while I, your
+slave, am at your feet, ready to obey your will. Is not that the story
+of man and woman?"</p>
+
+<p>He did not answer He was struggling, struggling and fighting, and yet he
+did not know against what he was fighting. Besides, he had no heart in
+the battle. His will-power was gone; his vitality was lowered; he felt
+as though some powerful narcotic were in his blood, deadening his
+manhood, dulling all moral purpose. He was intoxicated by the influences
+of the hour, careless as to what might happen to him, and yet by some
+strange contradiction he was afraid. The shadow of a great terror rested
+on him.</p>
+
+<p>And Olga Petrovic seemed to know&mdash;to understand.</p>
+
+<p>She started to her feet. "You have never heard me sing, have you? Ah no,
+of course you have not. And has it not ever been in song and story that
+the slave of her lord's will discoursed sweet music to him? Is there not
+some old story about a shepherd boy who charmed away the evil spirits of
+the king by music?"</p>
+
+<p>She sat at a piano, and began to play soft, dreamy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> music. Her fingers
+scarcely touched the keys, and yet the room was filled with peculiar
+harmonies.</p>
+
+<p>"You understand French, do you not, my friend? Yes; I know you do."</p>
+
+<p>She began to sing. What the words were he never remembered afterwards,
+but he knew they possessed a strange power over him. They dulled his
+fears; they charmed his senses; they seemed to open up long vistas of
+beauty and delight. He seemed to be in a kind of Mohammedan Paradise,
+where all was sunshine and song.</p>
+
+<p>How long she sung he could not tell; what she said to him he hardly
+knew. He only knew that he sat in a luxuriously appointed room, while
+this wonder of womanhood charmed him.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he knew that she was making love to him, and that he was
+listening with eager ears. Not only did he seem to have no power to
+resist her&mdash;he had no desire to do so. He did not ask whether she was
+good or evil; he ceased to care what the future might bring forth. And
+yet he had a kind of feeling that something was wrong, hellish&mdash;only it
+did not matter to him. This woman loved him, while all other love was
+impossible to him.</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice! Ah, but Beatrice had looked at him with horror; all her smiles
+were given to another man&mdash;the man to whom she had promised to give
+herself as his wife. What mattered, then?</p>
+
+<p>But there was a new influence in the room! It seemed to him as if a
+breath of sweet mountain air had been wafted to him&mdash;air full of the
+strength of life, sweet, pure life. The scales fell from his eyes and he
+saw.</p>
+
+<p>The woman again sat at his feet, looking up at him with love-compelling
+eyes, and he saw her plainly. But he saw more: the wrappings were torn
+from her soul, and he beheld her naked spirit.</p>
+
+<p>He shuddered. What he saw was evil&mdash;evil. Instead of the glorious face
+of Olga Petrovic, he saw a grinning skull; instead of the dulcet tones
+of her siren-like voice, he heard the hiss of snakes, the croaking of a
+raven.</p>
+
+<p>He was standing on the brink of a horrible precipice,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> while beneath him
+was black, unfathomable darkness, filled with strange, noisome sounds.</p>
+
+<p>What did it mean? He still beheld the beauty&mdash;the somewhat Oriental
+beauty of the room; he was still aware of the delicate odours that
+pervaded it, while this woman, glorious in her queenly splendour, was at
+his feet, charming him with words of love, with promises of delight; but
+it seemed to him that other eyes, other powers of vision, were given to
+him, and he saw beyond.</p>
+
+<p>Was that Romanoff's cynical, evil face? Were not his eyes watching them
+with devilish expectancy? Was he not even then gloating over the loss of
+his manhood, the pollution of his soul?</p>
+
+<p>"Hark, what is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"What, my friend? Nothing, nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"But I heard something&mdash;something far away."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed with apparent gaiety, yet there was uneasiness in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"You heard nothing but my foolish confession, Dick. I love you, love
+you! Do you hear? I love you. I tried to kill it&mdash;in vain. But what
+matter? Love is everything&mdash;there is nothing else to live for. And you
+and I are all the world. Your love is mine. Tell me, is it not so? And I
+am yours, my beloved, yours for ever."</p>
+
+<p>But he only half heard her; forces were at work in his life which he
+could not comprehend. A new longing came to him&mdash;the longing for a
+strong, clean manhood.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe in angels?" he asked suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>Why the question passed his lips he did not know, but it sprung to his
+lips without thought or effort on his part. Then he remembered. Beatrice
+Stanmore had asked him that question weeks before down at Wendover Park.</p>
+
+<p>Angels! His mind became preternaturally awake; his memory flashed back
+across the chasm of years.</p>
+
+<p>"Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them
+who shall be heirs of salvation?"</p>
+
+<p>Yes; he remembered the words. The old clergyman had repeated them years
+before, when he had seen the face of the woman which no other man could
+see.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Like lightning his mind swept down the years, and he remembered the
+wonderful experiences which had had such a marked influence on his life.</p>
+
+<p>"Angels!" laughed the woman. "There are no angels save those on earth,
+my friend. There is no life other than this, so let us be happy."</p>
+
+<p>"Look, look!" he cried, pointing to a part of the room which was only
+dimly lit. "She is there, there! Don't you see? Her hand is pointing
+upward!"</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the vision faded, and he saw nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the great temptation of Dick Faversham's life. His will-power,
+his manhood, had come back to him again, but he felt that he had to
+fight his battle alone. His eyes were open, but because at his heart was
+a gnawing despair, he believed there was nothing to live for save what
+his temptress promised.</p>
+
+<p>She pleaded as only a woman jealous for her love, determined to triumph,
+can plead. And she was beautiful, passionate, dangerous. Again he felt
+his strength leaving him, his will-power being sapped, his horror of
+wrong dulled.</p>
+
+<p>Still something struggled within him&mdash;something holy urged him to fight
+on. His manhood was precious; the spark of the Divine fire which still
+burnt refused to be extinguished.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord, have mercy upon me! Christ, have mercy upon me!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a part of the service he had so often repeated in the old school
+chapel, and it came back to him like the memory of a dream.</p>
+
+<p>"Countess," he said, "I must go."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Dick," cried the woman, with a laugh. "Why, it is scarcely ten
+o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"I must go," he repeated weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not for another half an hour. I am so lonely."</p>
+
+<p>He was hesitating whether he should stay, when they both heard the sound
+of voices outside&mdash;voices that might have been angry. A moment later the
+door opened, and Beatrice Stanmore came in, accompanied by her
+grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me," panted the girl, "but I could not help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> coming. Something
+told me you were in great danger&mdash;ill&mdash;dying, and I have come."</p>
+
+<p>She had come to him just as she had come to him that night at Wendover
+Park, and at her coming the power of Romanoff was gone. It was the same
+now. As if by magic, he felt free from the charm of Olga Petrovic. The
+woman was evil, and he hated evil.</p>
+
+<p>Again the eyes of Beatrice Stanmore were fixed on the face of Olga
+Petrovic. She did not speak, but her look was expressive of a great
+loathing.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely this is a strange manner to disturb one's privacy," said the
+Countess. "I am at a loss to know to what I am indebted for this
+peculiar attention. I must speak to my servants."</p>
+
+<p>But Beatrice spoke no word in reply to her. Turning towards Dick again,
+she looked at him for a few seconds.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry I have disturbed you," she said. "Something, I do not know
+what, told me you were in some terrible danger, and I went back to the
+restaurant. A man there told us you had come here. I am glad I was
+mistaken. Forgive me, I will go now."</p>
+
+<p>"I am thankful you came," said Dick. "I&mdash;I am going."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, Countess," he added, turning to Olga, and without another
+word turned to leave the room. But Olga Petrovic was not in the humour
+to be baffled. She rushed towards him and caught his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot go yet," she cried. "You must not go like this, Dick; I
+cannot allow you. Besides, I want an explanation. These people, who are
+they? Dick, why are they here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must go," replied Dick sullenly. "I have work to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Work!" she cried. "This is not the time for work, but love&mdash;our love,
+Dick. Ah, I remember now. This girl was at The Moscow with that soldier
+man. They love each other. Why may we not love each other too? Stay,
+Dick."</p>
+
+<p>But she pleaded in vain. The power of her spell had gone. Something
+strong, virile, vital, stirred within him, and he was master of
+himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, Countess," he replied. "Thank you for your kind invitation,
+but I must go."</p>
+
+<p>He scarcely knew where he was going, and he had only a dim remembrance
+of refusing to take the lift and of stumbling down the stairs. He
+thought he heard old Hugh Stanmore talking with Beatrice, but he was not
+sure; he fancied, too, that they were close behind him, but he was too
+bewildered to be certain of anything.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later he was tramping towards his own humble flat, and as
+he walked he was trying to understand the meaning of what had taken
+place.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Olga Petrovic had been alone only a few seconds, when Count Romanoff
+entered the room. Evidently he had been in close proximity all the time.
+In his eyes was the look of an angry beast at bay; his face was
+distorted, his voice hoarse.</p>
+
+<p>"And you have allowed yourself to be beaten&mdash;beaten!" he taunted.</p>
+
+<p>But the woman did not speak. Her hands were clenched, her lips
+tremulous, while in her eyes was a look of unutterable sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>"But we have not come to the end of our little comedy yet, Olga," went
+on Romanoff. "You have still your chance of victory."</p>
+
+<p>"Comedy!" she repeated; "it is the blackest tragedy."</p>
+
+<p>"Tragedy, eh? Yes; it will be tragedy if you fail."</p>
+
+<p>"And I must fail," she cried. "I am powerless to reach him, and yet I
+would give my heart's blood to win his love. But go, go! Let me never
+see your face again."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not get rid of me so easily," mocked the Count. "We made our
+pact. I will keep my side of it, and you must keep yours."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot, I tell you. Something, something I cannot understand, mocks
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"You love the fellow still," said Romanoff. "Fancy, Olga Petrovic is
+weak enough for that."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I love him," cried the woman&mdash;"I admit it&mdash;love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> him with every
+fibre of my being. But not as you would have me love him. I have tried
+to obey you; but I am baffled. The man's clean, healthy soul makes me
+ashamed. God alone knows how ashamed I am! And it is his healthiness of
+soul that baffles me."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it is not," snarled Romanoff. "It is because I have been opposed by
+one of whom I was ignorant. That chit of a girl, that wayside flower,
+whom I would love to see polluted by the filth of the world, has been
+used to beat me. Don't you see? The fellow is in love with her. He has
+been made to love her. That is why you have failed."</p>
+
+<p>Mad jealousy flashed into the woman's eyes. "He loves her?" she asked,
+and her voice was hoarse.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he does. Will you let him have her?"</p>
+
+<p>"He cannot. Is she not betrothed to that soldier fellow?"</p>
+
+<p>"What if she is? Was there not love in her eyes as she came here
+to-night? Would she have come merely for Platonic friendship? Olga, if
+you do not act quickly, you will have lost him&mdash;lost him for ever."</p>
+
+<p>"But I have lost him!" she almost wailed.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not, I tell you. Go to her to-night. Tell her that Faversham
+is not the man she thinks he is. Tell her&mdash;but I need not instruct you
+as to that. You know what to say. Then when he goes to her to explain,
+as he will go, she will drive him from her, Puritan fool as she is, with
+loathing and scorn! After that your turn will come again."</p>
+
+<p>For some time they talked, she protesting, he explaining, threatening,
+cajoling, promising, and at length he overcame. With a look of
+determination in her eyes, she left her flat, and drove to the hotel
+where Romanoff told her that Hugh Stanmore and Beatrice were staying.</p>
+
+<p>Was Miss Beatrice Stanmore in the hotel? she asked when she entered the
+vestibule.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, she was informed, Miss Stanmore had returned with her grandfather
+only half an hour before.</p>
+
+<p>She took one of her visiting cards and wrote on it hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you take it to her at once," she commanded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> the servant, and she
+handed him the card. "Tell her that it is extremely urgent."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is late, your ladyship," protested the man; "and I expect she
+has retired."</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless he went. A look from the woman compelled obedience. A few
+minutes later he returned.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be pleased to follow me, your ladyship?" he said. "Miss
+Stanmore will see you."</p>
+
+<p>Olga Petrovic followed him with a steady step, but in her eyes was a
+look of fear.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Triumph of Good</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>Beatrice Stanmore was sitting in a tiny room as the Countess Olga
+Petrovic entered. It was little more than a dressing-room, and adjoined
+her bedroom. She rose at Olga's entrance, and looked at the woman
+intently. She was perfectly calm, and was far more at ease than her
+visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will pardon the liberty I have taken," and Olga spoke in
+sweet, low tones; "but I came to plead for your forgiveness. I was
+unutterably rude to you to-night, and I felt I could not sleep until I
+was assured of your pardon."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you sit down?" and Beatrice pointed to a chair as she spoke. "I
+will ask my grandfather to come here."</p>
+
+<p>"But, pardon me," cried Olga eagerly, "could we not remain alone? I have
+much to say to you&mdash;things which I can say to you only."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it was not simply to ask my pardon that you came?" retorted
+Beatrice. "Very well, I will hear you."</p>
+
+<p>She was utterly different from the sensitive, almost timid girl whom
+Dick Faversham had spoken to at Wendover. It was evident that she had no
+fear of her visitor. She spoke in plain matter-of-fact terms.</p>
+
+<p>For a few seconds the older woman seemed to be at a loss what to say.
+The young inexperienced girl disturbed her confidence, her
+self-assurance.</p>
+
+<p>"I came to speak to you about Mr. Faversham," she began, after an
+awkward silence.</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice Stanmore made no remark, but sat quietly as if waiting for her
+to continue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You know Mr. Faversham?" continued the woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know him."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me for speaking so plainly; but you have an interest in him
+which is more than&mdash;ordinary?" The words were half a question, half an
+assertion.</p>
+
+<p>"I am greatly interested in Mr. Faversham&mdash;yes," she replied quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Even though, acting on the advice of your grandfather, you have become
+engaged to Sir George Weston? Forgive my speaking plainly, but I felt I
+must come to you to-night, felt I must tell you the truth."</p>
+
+<p>Olga Petrovic paused as if waiting for Beatrice to say something, but
+the girl was silent. She fixed her eyes steadily on the other's face,
+and waited.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Faversham is not the kind of man you think he is." Olga Petrovic
+spoke hurriedly and awkwardly, as though she found the words difficult
+to say.</p>
+
+<p>Still Beatrice remained silent; but she kept her eyes steadily on the
+other's face.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I ought to tell you. You are young and innocent; you do not
+know the ways of men. Mr. Faversham is not fit for you to associate
+with."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet you dined with him to-night. You took him to your flat
+afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>"But I am different from you. I am a woman of the world, and your
+Puritan standard of morals has no weight or authority with me. Of
+course," and again she spoke awkwardly, "I have no right to speak to
+you, your world is different from mine, and you are a stranger to me;
+but I have heard of you."</p>
+
+<p>"How? Through whom?"</p>
+
+<p>"Need you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you mean Mr. Faversham. Why should he speak to you about me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some men are like that. They boast of their conquests, they glory
+in&mdash;in&mdash;&mdash;; but I need not say more. Will you take advice from a woman
+who&mdash;who has suffered, and who, through suffering, has learnt to know
+the world? It is this. Think no more of Richard Faversham. He&mdash;he is not
+a good man; he is not fit to associate with a pure child like you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Beatrice Stanmore looked at the other with wonder in her eyes. There was
+more than wonder, there was terror. It might be that the older woman had
+frightened her.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me speaking like this," went on Olga, "but I cannot help
+myself. Drive him from your mind. Perhaps there is not much romance in
+the thought of marrying Sir George Weston, but I beseech you to do so.
+He, at least, will shield you from the temptations, the evil of the
+world. As for Faversham, if he ever tries to see you again, remember
+that his very presence is pollution for such as you. Yes, yes, I know
+what you are thinking of&mdash;but I don't matter. I live in a world of which
+I hope you may always remain ignorant; but in which Faversham finds his
+joy. You&mdash;you saw us together&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>In spite of her self-control Beatrice was much moved. The crimson
+flushes on her cheeks were followed by deathly pallor. Her lips
+quivered, her bosom heaved as if she found it difficult to breathe. But
+she did not speak. Perhaps she was too horrified by the other's words.</p>
+
+<p>"I know I have taken a fearful liberty with you," went on Olga; "but I
+could not help myself. My life, whatever else it has done has made me
+quick to understand, and when I watched you, I saw that that man had
+cast an evil spell upon you. At first I felt careless, but as I watched
+your face, I felt a great pity for you. I shuddered at the thought of
+your life being blackened by your knowledge of such a man."</p>
+
+<p>"Does he profess love to you?" asked Beatrice quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Olga Petrovic gave a hard laugh. "Surely you saw," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"And you would warn me against him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I would save you from misery."</p>
+
+<p>For some seconds the girl looked at the woman's face steadily, then she
+said, simply and quietly:</p>
+
+<p>"And are you, who seek to save me, content to be the woman you say you
+are? You are very, very beautiful&mdash;are you content to be evil?"</p>
+
+<p>She spoke just as a child might speak; but there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> something in the
+tones of her voice which caused the other to be afraid.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to have a kind heart," went on Beatrice; "you would save me
+from pain, and&mdash;and evil. Have you no thought for yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not matter," replied the woman sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>"You think only of me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think only of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then look at me," and the eyes of the two met. "Is what you have told
+me true?"</p>
+
+<p>"True!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, true. You were innocent once, you had a mother who loved you, and
+I suppose you once had a religion. Will you tell me, thinking of the
+mother who loved you, of Christ who died for you, whether what you say
+about Mr. Faversham is true?"</p>
+
+<p>A change came over Olga Petrovic's face; her eyes were wide open with
+terror and shame. For some seconds she seemed fighting with a great
+temptation, then she rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she almost gasped; "it is not true!" She simply could not persist
+in a lie while the pure, lustrous eyes of the girl were upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"Then why did you tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because, oh, because I am mad! Because I am a slave, and because I am
+jealous, jealous for his love, because, oh&mdash;&mdash;!" She flung herself into
+the chair again, and burst into an agony of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, forgive me, forgive me for deceiving you!" she sobbed presently.</p>
+
+<p>"You did not deceive me at all. I knew you were lying."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but you seemed&mdash;horrified at what I told you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I was horrified to think that one so young and beautiful like you
+could&mdash;could sink so low."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you do not know what love is!" she cried. "Do you understand? I
+love him&mdash;love him! I would do anything, anything to win him."</p>
+
+<p>"And if you did, could you make him happy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I make him happy! Oh, but you do not know."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," said Beatrice, "are you not the tool, the slave of someone
+else? Has not Mr. Faversham an enemy, and are you not working for that
+enemy?"</p>
+
+<p>Her clear, childlike eyes were fixed on the other's face; she seemed
+trying to understand her real motives. Olga Petrovic, on the other hand,
+regarded the look with horror.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," she cried, "do not think that of me! I would have saved Dick
+from him. I&mdash;I would have shielded him with my life."</p>
+
+<p>"You would have shielded him from Count Romanoff?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do not tell me you know him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I only know of him. He is evil, evil. Ah yes, I understand now. He sent
+you here. He is waiting for you now."</p>
+
+<p>"But how do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," said Beatrice, without heeding her question, "you can be a
+happy woman, a good woman. Go back and tell that man that you have
+failed, and that he has failed; then go back to your own country, and be
+the woman God meant you to be, the woman your mother prayed you might
+be."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I a happy woman&mdash;a good woman!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I tell you, yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, tell me so again, tell me&mdash;O great God, help me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down," said Beatrice quietly; "let us talk. I want to help you."</p>
+
+<p>For a long time they sat and talked, while old Hugh Stanmore, who was
+close by, wondered who his grandchild's visitor could be, and why they
+talked so long.</p>
+
+<p>It was after midnight when Olga Petrovic returned to her flat, and no
+sooner did she enter than Count Romanoff met her.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Olga," he asked eagerly, "what news?"</p>
+
+<p>"I go back to Poland to-morrow, to my old home, to my own people."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke slowly, deliberately; her voice was hard and cold.</p>
+
+<p>He did not seem to understand. He looked at her questioningly for some
+seconds without speaking.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are mad, Olga," he said presently.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not mad."</p>
+
+<p>"This means then that you have failed. You understand the consequences
+of failure?"</p>
+
+<p>"It means&mdash;oh, I don't know what it means. But I do know that that child
+had made me long to be a good woman."</p>
+
+<p>"A good woman? Olga Petrovic a good woman!" he sneered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a good woman. I am not come to argue with you. I only tell you
+that you are powerless to hinder me."</p>
+
+<p>"And Faversham? Does Olga Petrovic mean that she confesses herself
+beaten? That she will have her love thrown in her face, and not be
+avenged?"</p>
+
+<p>"It means that if you like, and it means something more. Isaac Romanoff,
+or whatever your real name may be, why you have sought to ruin that man
+I don't know; but I know this: I have been powerless to harm him, and so
+have you."</p>
+
+<p>"It means that you have failed&mdash;<i>you</i>!" he snarled.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and why? There has been a power mightier than yours against which
+you have fought. Good, GOOD, has been working on his side, that is why
+you have failed, why I have failed. O God of Goodness, help me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop that, stop that, I say!" His voice was hoarse, and his face was
+livid with rage.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not stop," she cried. "I want to be a good woman&mdash;I will be a
+good woman. That child whom I laughed at has seen a thousand times
+farther into the heart of truth than I, and she is happy, happy in her
+innocence, in her spotless purity, and in her faith in God. And I
+promised her I would be a new woman, live a new life."</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot, you dare not," cried the Count.</p>
+
+<p>"But I will. I will leave the old bad past behind me."</p>
+
+<p>"And I will dog your every footstep. I will make such madness
+impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"But you cannot. Good is stronger than evil. God is Almighty."</p>
+
+<p>"I hold you, body and soul, remember that."</p>
+
+<p>The woman seemed possessed of a new power, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> she turned to the Count
+with a look of triumph in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Go," she cried, "in the name of that Christ who was the joy of my
+mother's life, and who died that I might live&mdash;I bid you go. From
+to-night I cease to be your slave."</p>
+
+<p>The Count lifted his hand as if to strike her, but she stood before him
+fearless.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot harm me," she cried. "See, see, God's angels are all around
+me now! They stretch out their arms to help me."</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to be suffering agonies; his face was contorted, his eyes were
+lurid, and he appeared to be struggling with unseen powers.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not yield," he cried; "not one iota will I yield. You are mine,
+you swore to serve me&mdash;I claim my own."</p>
+
+<p>"The oath I took was evil, evil, and I break it. O eternal God, help me,
+help me. Save me, save me, for Christ's sake."</p>
+
+<p>Romanoff seemed to hesitate what to do, then he made a movement as if to
+move towards her, but was powerless to do so. The hand which he had
+uplifted dropped to his side as if paralysed; he was in the presence of
+a Power greater than his own. He passed out of the room without another
+word.</p>
+
+<p>The next day the flat of Countess Olga Petrovic was empty, but no one
+knew whither she had gone.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>For more than a month after the scenes I have described, Dick Faversham
+was confined to his room. He suffered no pain, but he was languid, weak,
+and terribly depressed. An acquaintance who called to see him, shocked
+by his appearance, insisted on sending for a doctor, and this gentleman,
+after a careful examination, declared that while he was organically
+sound, he was in a low condition, and utterly unfit for work.</p>
+
+<p>"You remind me of a man suffering from shell-shock," he said. "Have you
+had any sudden sorrow, or anything of that sort?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick shook his head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow, you are utterly unfit for work, that is certain," went on the
+doctor. "What you need is absolute rest, cheerful companionship, and a
+warm, sunny climate."</p>
+
+<p>"There's not much suggestion of a warm, sunny climate here," Dick said,
+looking out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>"But I daresay it would be possible to arrange for a passport, so that
+you might get to the South of France, or to Egypt," persisted the
+doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I might get a passport, but I've no money to get there."</p>
+
+<p>So Dick stayed on at his flat, and passed the time as best he could. By
+and by the weather improved, and presently Dick was well enough to get
+out. But he had no interest in anything, and he quickly grew tired. Then
+a sudden, an almost overmastering desire came to him to go to Wendover.
+There seemed no reason why he should go there, but his heart ached for a
+sight of the old house. He pictured it as it was during the time he
+spent there. He saw the giant trees in the park, the gay flowers in the
+gardens, the stateliness and restfulness of the old mansion. The thought
+of it warmed his heart, and gave him new hope.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if it were only mine again!" he reflected.</p>
+
+<p>He had heard that the rumours of Tony Riggleton's death were false, and
+he was also told that although he had been kept out of England for some
+time he would shortly return; but concerning that he could gather
+nothing definite.</p>
+
+<p>Of Beatrice Stanmore he had heard nothing, and he had no heart to make
+inquiries concerning her. He had many times reflected on her sudden
+appearance at Olga Petrovic's flat, and had he been well enough he would
+have tried to see her. More than once he had taken a pen in hand to
+write to her, but he had never done so. What was the use? In spite of
+her coming, he felt that she must regard him with scorn. He remembered
+what Olga Petrovic had said in her presence. Besides, he was too weak,
+too ill to make any effort whatever.</p>
+
+<p>But with the sudden desire to go to Wendover came also the longing to
+see her&mdash;to explain. Of course she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> the affianced wife of Sir George
+Weston, but he wanted to stand well in her eyes; he wanted her to know
+the truth.</p>
+
+<p>It was a bright, balmy morning when he started for Surrey, and
+presently, when the train had left Croydon behind, a strange joy filled
+his heart. After all, life was not without hope. He was a young man, and
+in spite of everything he had kept his manhood. He was poor, and as yet
+unknown, but he had obtained a certain position. Love was not for him,
+nor riches, but he could work for the benefit of others.</p>
+
+<p>When the train stopped at Wendover station, he again found himself to be
+the only passenger who alighted. As he breathed the pure, balmy air, and
+saw the countryside beginning to clothe itself in its mantle of living
+green, it seemed to him that new life, new energy, entered his being.
+After all, it was good to be alive.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later he was nearing the park gates&mdash;not those which he had
+entered on his first visit, but those near which Hugh Stanmore's cottage
+was situated. He had taken this road without thinking. Well, it did not
+matter.</p>
+
+<p>As he saw the cottage nestling among the trees, he felt his heart
+beating wildly. He wondered if Beatrice was at home, wondered&mdash;a
+thousand things. He longed to call and make inquiries, but of course he
+would not. He would enter the park gates unseen, and make his way to the
+great house.</p>
+
+<p>But he did not pass the cottage gate. Before he could do so the door
+opened, and Beatrice appeared. Evidently she had seen him coming, for
+she ran down the steps with outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I felt sure it was you," she said, "and&mdash;but you look pale&mdash;ill; are
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm ever so much better, thank you," he replied. "So much so that I
+could not refrain from coming to see Wendover again."</p>
+
+<p>"But you must come in and rest," she cried anxiously. "I insist on it.
+Why did you not tell us you were ill?"</p>
+
+<p>Before he could reply he found himself within the cottage.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Ministering Angel</span></h3>
+
+
+<p>"Are you alone?" he managed to ask.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; Granddad went out early. He'll be back in an hour or so. He has
+been expecting to hear from you."</p>
+
+<p>How sweet and fair she looked! There was no suggestion of the exotic
+beauty of Olga Petrovic; she adopted no artificial aids to enhance her
+appearance. Sweet, pure air and exercise had tinted her cheeks; the
+beauty of her soul shone from her eyes. She was just a child of nature,
+and to Dick she was the most beautiful thing on God's earth.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment their eyes met, and then the love which Dick Faversham had
+been fighting against for weeks surged like a mighty flood through his
+whole being.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go&mdash;I must not stay here," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"But why? Granddad will be back soon."</p>
+
+<p>"Because&mdash;&mdash;" Again he caught the flash of her eyes, and felt that the
+whole world without her was haggard hopelessness. Before he knew what he
+was saying he had made his confession.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I have no right to be here," he said almost angrily&mdash;"because
+it is dishonourable; it is madness for me to stay."</p>
+
+<p>"But why?" she persisted.</p>
+
+<p>He could not check the words that passed his lips; he had lost control
+over himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you understand?" he replied passionately. "I have no right to be
+here because I love you&mdash;love you more than my own life. Because you are
+everything to me&mdash;<i>everything</i>&mdash;and you have promised to marry Sir
+George Weston."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But I've not." She laughed gaily as she uttered the words.</p>
+
+<p>"You've not promised to&mdash;&mdash;But&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course not. How could I? I do not love him. He is awfully nice,
+and I'm very fond of him; but I don't love him. I could never think of
+such a thing."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke quite naturally, and in an almost matter-of-fact way. She did
+not seem to realise that her words caused Dick Faversham's brain to
+reel, and his blood to rush madly through his veins. Rather she seemed
+like one anxious to correct a mistake, but to have no idea of what the
+correction meant to him.</p>
+
+<p>For a few seconds Dick did not speak. "She is only a child," he
+reflected. "She does not understand what I have said to her. She does
+not realise what my love for her means."</p>
+
+<p>But he was not sure of this. Something, he knew not what, told him she
+<i>did</i> know. Perhaps it was the flush on her cheeks, the quiver on her
+lips, the strange light in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not promised to marry Sir George Weston?" he asked hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course not."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;he asked you?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is scarcely a fair question, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, forgive me; it is not. But do you understand&mdash;what your words
+mean to me?"</p>
+
+<p>She was silent at this.</p>
+
+<p>"I love you&mdash;love you," he went on. "I want you to be my wife."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so glad," she said simply.</p>
+
+<p>"But do you understand?" cried Dick. He could not believe in his own
+happiness, could not help thinking there must be some mistake. "This
+means everything to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I understand. I've known it for a long time, that is, I've
+felt it must be so. And I've wondered why you did not come and tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"And you love me?" His voice was hoarse and tremulous.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Love you? Why&mdash;why do you think I&mdash;could be here like this&mdash;if I
+didn't?"</p>
+
+<p>Still she spoke almost as a child might speak. There was no suggestion
+of coquetry, no trying to appear surprised at his avowal. But there was
+something more, something in the tone of her voice, in the light of her
+eyes, in her very presence, that told Dick that deep was calling unto
+deep, that this maiden, whose heart was the heart of a child, had
+entered into womanhood, and knew its glory.</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you glad, too?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Glad! It seems so wonderful that I can't believe it! Half an hour ago
+the world was black, hopeless, while now&mdash;&mdash;; but there are things I
+must tell you, things I've wanted to tell you ever since I saw you
+last."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it about that woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I wanted to tell you why I was with her; I wanted you to know that
+she was nothing to me."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew all the time. But you were in danger&mdash;that was why I could not
+help coming to you. You understand, don't you? I had the same kind of
+feeling when that evil man was staying with you at the big house. He was
+trying to harm you, and I came. And he was still trying to ruin you, why
+I don't know, but he was using that woman to work his will. I felt it,
+and I came to you."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know?" asked Dick. He was awed by her words, solemnised by
+the wondrous intuition which made her realise his danger.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know&mdash;I only felt. You see, I loved you, and I couldn't help
+coming."</p>
+
+<p>Another time he would have asked her many questions about this, but now
+they did not seem to matter. He loved, and was loved, and the fact
+filled the world.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God you came," he said reverently. "And, Beatrice, you will let
+me call you Beatrice, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course, you must, Dick."</p>
+
+<p>"May I kiss you?" he asked, and held out his arms.</p>
+
+<p>She came to him in all the sweet freshness of her young life and offered
+him her pure young lips. Never had he known what joy meant as he knew it
+then, never had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> he felt so thankful that in spite of dire temptation he
+had kept his manhood clean.</p>
+
+<p>Closer and closer he strained her to his heart, while words of love and
+of thankfulness struggled for expression. For as she laid her head on
+his shoulder, and he felt the beating of her heart, his mind swept like
+lightning over the past years, and he knew that angels of God had
+ministered to him, that they had shielded him from danger, and helped
+him in temptation. And this he knew also: while he had been on the brink
+of ruin through a woman, it was also by a woman that he had been saved.
+The thought of Beatrice Stanmore had been a power which had defied the
+powers of evil, and enabled him to keep his manhood clean.</p>
+
+<p>Even yet the wonder of it all was beyond words, for he had come there
+that morning believing that Beatrice was the promised wife of Sir George
+Weston, and now, as if by the wave of some magician's wand, his beliefs
+had been dispelled, and he had found her free.</p>
+
+<p>An hour before, he dared not imagine that this unspoilt child of nature
+could ever think of him with love, and yet her face was pressed against
+his, and she was telling him the simple story of her love&mdash;a love
+unsullied by the world, a love unselfish as that of a mother, and as
+strong as death.</p>
+
+<p>"But I am so poor," he stammered at length; "just a voting machine at
+four hundred a year."</p>
+
+<p>"As though you could ever be that," she laughed. "You are going to do
+great things, my love. You are going to live and work for the betterment
+of the world. And I&mdash;I shall be with you all the time."</p>
+
+<p>He had much to tell her&mdash;a story so wonderful that it was difficult to
+believe. But Beatrice believed it. The thought of an angel who had come
+to him, warned him, guided him, and strengthened him, was not strange to
+her. For her pure young eyes had pierced the barriers of materialism,
+just as the light of the stars pierces the darkness of night. Because
+her soul was pure, she knew that the angels of God were never far away,
+and that the Eternal Goodness used them to minister to those who would
+listen to their voices.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Dick did not go to the great house that day. There seemed no reason why
+he should. By lunch time old Hugh Stanmore returned and was met by the
+two lovers.</p>
+
+<p>Of all they said to each other, and of the explanations that were made,
+there is no need that I should write. Suffice to say that Hugh Stanmore
+was satisfied. It is true he liked Sir George Weston, while the thought
+that Beatrice might be mistress of his house was pleasant to him; true,
+too, that Dick Faversham was poor. But he had no fears. He knew that
+this young man's love was pure and strong, that he would never rest
+until he had provided a home worthy of her, and that his grandchild's
+future would be safe in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>When Dick left the cottage that night, it was on the understanding that
+he would come back as soon as possible. Beatrice pleaded hard with him
+not to go to London, but to stay at the cottage and be nursed back to
+health and strength. But Dick had to make arrangements for a lengthened
+stay away from his work, and to see some of his confrères, so, while his
+heart yearned to remain near her, he looked joyfully forward to his
+return.</p>
+
+<p>"And you go away happy, my love?"</p>
+
+<p>"The happiest man on earth. And you, my little maid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Dick, everything is as I hoped and prayed for."</p>
+
+<p>"And you loved me all the time?"</p>
+
+<p>"All the time; but I did not know it until&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Until when?"</p>
+
+<p>"Until another man told me he wanted me."</p>
+
+<p>Dick was in dreamland as he returned to London. No sooner had he boarded
+the train at Wendover than, as it seemed to him, he had arrived at
+Victoria. As for the journey between that station and his flat he has no
+remembrance to this day.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the wonder of it, the glad wonder of it!" he repeated again and
+again. "Thank God&mdash;thank God!"</p>
+
+<p>Then, as if in fulfilment of an old adage, no sooner had he entered his
+flat than another surprise awaited him. On his writing-table lay a long
+blue envelope,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> which had been brought by hand that afternoon. Dick
+broke the seal almost indifferently. What did he care about letters?
+Then he saw the name of Bidlake, and his attention was riveted.</p>
+
+<p>This is what he read:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Faversham</span>,&mdash;Forgive this unceremonious manner of writing,
+but I fancy I am a little excited. Riggleton is dead, and thus it
+comes about that the Faversham estates&mdash;or what is left of
+them&mdash;revert to you. How it was possible for a man to squander so
+much money and leave things in such a terrible mess in such a short
+time it is difficult to say. But there it is. Still, a good deal is
+left. Wendover Park, and all the lands attached remain untouched,
+and a good deal of money can be scraped up. Will you call as soon
+as possible on receipt of this, and I'll explain everything to you,
+as far as I can.&mdash;With heartiest congratulations, yours faithfully,</p>
+
+<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">John Bidlake.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Again and again Dick read this letter. He felt something like the lad of
+the Eastern Story must have felt as he read. He would not have been
+surprised if the Slave of the Lamp appeared, asking what his desires
+were, so that they might be performed without delay. December had
+changed into June in a single day.</p>
+
+<p>His joy can be better imagined than described. To know that this old
+homestead was his again, to realise that he was no longer homeless and
+poor was a gladness beyond words. But he no longer felt as he had felt
+when he first saw Wendover. Then his thought had been of his own
+aggrandisement, and the satisfaction of his ambitions. Now he rejoiced
+because he could offer a home to the maiden he loved, and because he
+could do for the world what for years he had dreamt of doing.</p>
+
+<p>But he was early at Mr. Bidlake's office the following morning.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, there's no mistake this time," Mr. Bidlake assured him. "You
+can enter into possession with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> confident mind. Money! Yes, the fellow
+wasted it like water, but you need not fear. You'll have more than you
+need, in spite of increased income-tax and super-tax. Talk about romance
+though, if ever there was a romance this is one."</p>
+
+<p>After spending two hours with the lawyer Dick went to the House of
+Commons, where he made the necessary arrangements for a couple of weeks'
+further absence.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we can manage all right," assented the Labour Member with whom he
+spoke. "Not but what we shall be glad to have you back. There are big
+things brewing. The working people must no longer be hewers of wood and
+drawers of water. We must see to that."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we <i>will</i> see to that," cried Dick. "But we must be careful."</p>
+
+<p>"Careful of what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Careful that we don't drift to Bolshevism, careful that we don't abuse
+our power. We must show that we who represent the Democracy understand
+our work. We must not think of one class only, but all the classes. We
+must think of the Empire, the good of humanity."</p>
+
+<p>The other shook his head, "No mercy on capitalists," he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"On the other hand we must make capitalists do their duty," Dick
+replied. "We must see to it that Capital and Labour work together for
+the good of the whole community. There lies the secret of stable
+government and a prosperous nation."</p>
+
+<p>It was late in the evening when Dick arrived at Hugh Stanmore's cottage,
+so late indeed that the old man had given up hope of his coming; but
+Beatrice rushed to him with a glad laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew you would come," she said. "And now I am going to begin my work
+as nurse right away. You must have a light supper and go to bed at once,
+and to-morrow you must stay in bed all day."</p>
+
+<p>Dick shook his head. "And I am going to rebel," was his reply. "I am
+going to sit up for at least two hours, while first thing to-morrow
+morning I am going to take you to a house I have in my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"What house?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A house I've settled on for our future home."</p>
+
+<p>"Dick, don't be foolish. You know we must not think of that for
+months&mdash;years."</p>
+
+<p>"Mustn't we?" laughed Dick. "There, read that," and he handed her Mr.
+Bidlake's letter.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Dick!" she cried as she read, "this, this is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Beautiful, isn't it?" Dick replied joyously. "Will you read it, sir?"
+and he placed it in old Hugh Stanmore's hands.</p>
+
+<p>After that Beatrice no longer insisted that her lover must be treated as
+an invalid. Hour after hour they sat talking, while the wonder of it all
+never left them.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning broke bright and clear. Spring had indeed come,
+gladsome joyous spring, heralded by the song of birds, by the
+resurrection of a new life everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you go with us, Granddad?" asked Beatrice, as they prepared for
+their visit.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Hugh Stanmore; "I'll come across alone in a couple of hours."
+He was a wise man.</p>
+
+<p>Neither of them spoke a word as they walked up the avenue towards the
+great house. Perhaps their minds were both filled by the same
+thoughts&mdash;thoughts too great for utterance. Above them the sun shone in
+a great dome of cloudless blue, while around them all nature was putting
+on her beautiful garments.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the old house burst upon their view. There it stood on a
+slight eminence, while behind it great trees rose. Away from the front
+of the building stretched grassy lawns and flower gardens, while beyond
+was parkland, studded by giant trees.</p>
+
+<p>And still neither spoke. Hand in hand they walked towards the entrance
+door, Dick gazing at it earnestly, as if looking for something. When
+they had come within a dozen yards of it both, as if by mutual consent,
+stood still.</p>
+
+<p>Was it fancy or was it real? Was it because expectancy was in both their
+hearts, and their imagination on fire, or did they really see?</p>
+
+<p>This is what both of them told me they saw.</p>
+
+<p>Standing in the doorway, with hands outstretched as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> if in the attitude
+of welcoming them, was the luminous figure of a woman. Her face was lit
+up with holy joy, while in her eyes was no sorrow, no doubt, but a look
+of ineffable happiness.</p>
+
+<p>For a few seconds she stood gazing on them, and Dick saw the look of
+love in her eyes, saw the rapture that seemed to pervade her being. It
+was the same face he had seen there before, the same love-lit eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her hands as if in benediction, and then slowly the figure
+faded away.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my mother," whispered Dick. He had no remembrance of his mother,
+but he knew it was she. He felt no fear, there was nothing to be fearful
+about, rather a great joy filled his life. God had sent his angel to
+tell him that all was well.</p>
+
+<p>The door stood open, and they entered the great silent hall together. No
+one was in sight. He opened his arms, and she came to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome home, my wife," he said.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The End</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED, EDINBURGH</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In view of the fact that the above incident may be regarded
+as utterly unbelievable, I may say that an experience of the same nature
+was related to me only a few weeks ago, far more wonderful than the one
+I have recorded. Concerning the good faith of those who told the
+incident, it is above all suspicion, and of its authenticity there seems
+no room for doubt. I cannot further enter into details for obvious
+reasons.&mdash;<span class="smcap">The Author.</span></p></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h3><i>JOSEPH HOCKING'S GREAT WAR STORIES</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">ALL FOR A SCRAP OF PAPER<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">THE CURTAIN OF FIRE<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">DEARER THAN LIFE<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">THE PATH OF GLORY<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"THE POMP OF YESTERDAY"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">TOMMY<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">TOMMY AND THE MAID OF ATHENS<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">THE PRICE OF A THRONE<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3><i>OTHER STORIES BY JOSEPH HOCKING</i></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Facing Fearful Odds</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O'er Moor and Fen</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Wilderness</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rosaleen O'Hara</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Soul of Dominic Wildthorne</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Follow the Gleam</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">David Baring</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Trampled Cross</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Man who Rose Again</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center">HODDER AND STOUGHTON<br />
+<span class="smcap">Warwick Square, London, E.C.</span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
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+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/39218.txt b/39218.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1016de7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39218.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,14872 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Everlasting Arms, by Joseph Hocking
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Everlasting Arms
+
+
+Author: Joseph Hocking
+
+
+
+Release Date: March 20, 2012  [eBook #39218]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING ARMS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by David T. Jones, Mary Meehan, Al Haines, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net)
+
+
+
+THE EVERLASTING ARMS
+
+by
+
+JOSEPH HOCKING
+
+Author of "All for a Scrap of Paper," "The Trampled Cross," etc., etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Hodder and Stoughton
+London    New York    Toronto
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                  PAGE
+
+                   PROLOGUE
+
+        CHAPTER I  A WOMAN'S FACE                                    1
+
+       CHAPTER II  THE MARCONIGRAM                                   8
+
+      CHAPTER III  THE SHIPWRECK                                    15
+
+       CHAPTER IV  "THE ENEMY OF YOUR SOUL"                         23
+
+
+          PART I.--THE FIRST TEMPTATION
+
+        CHAPTER V  THE ONLY SURVIVING RELATIVE                      29
+
+       CHAPTER VI  WENDOVER PARK                                    39
+
+      CHAPTER VII  LADY BLANCHE MAKES HER APPEARANCE                52
+
+     CHAPTER VIII  COUNT ROMANOFF'S GOSPEL                          60
+
+       CHAPTER IX  BEATRICE STANMORE                                69
+
+        CHAPTER X  UNCERTAINTY                                      78
+
+       CHAPTER XI  THE REAL HEIR                                    86
+
+      CHAPTER XII  THE DAY OF DESTINY                               94
+
+     CHAPTER XIII  THE INVISIBLE HAND                              102
+
+      CHAPTER XIV  A SCRAP OF PAPER                                113
+
+       CHAPTER XV  COUNT ROMANOFF'S DEPARTURE                      118
+
+      CHAPTER XVI  RIGGLETON'S HOMECOMING                          125
+
+     CHAPTER XVII  FAVERSHAM'S RESOLUTION                          132
+
+
+         PART II.--THE SECOND TEMPTATION
+
+    CHAPTER XVIII  MR. BROWN'S PROPHECY                            140
+
+      CHAPTER XIX  AN AMAZING PROPOSAL                             151
+
+       CHAPTER XX  "THE COUNTRY FOR THE PEOPLE"                    157
+
+      CHAPTER XXI  THE MIDNIGHT MEETING                            165
+
+     CHAPTER XXII  "YOU AND I TOGETHER"                            173
+
+    CHAPTER XXIII  THE SO-CALLED DEAD                              181
+
+     CHAPTER XXIV  VISIONS OF ANOTHER WORLD                        190
+
+      CHAPTER XXV  ROMANOFF'S PHILOSOPHY                           199
+
+     CHAPTER XXVI  A VOICE FROM ANOTHER WORLD                      209
+
+    CHAPTER XXVII  OLGA MAKES LOVE                                 218
+
+
+        PART III.--THE THIRD TEMPTATION
+
+   CHAPTER XXVIII  THE COUNT'S CONFEDERATE                         227
+
+     CHAPTER XXIX  IN QUEST OF A SOUL                              236
+
+      CHAPTER XXX  VOICES IN THE NIGHT                             245
+
+     CHAPTER XXXI  DICK HEARS STRANGE NEWS                         254
+
+    CHAPTER XXXII  BEATRICE CONFESSES                              263
+
+   CHAPTER XXXIII  SIR GEORGE'S LOVE AFFAIR                        272
+
+    CHAPTER XXXIV  THE DAWN OF LOVE                                281
+
+     CHAPTER XXXV  THE ETERNAL STRUGGLE                            291
+
+    CHAPTER XXXVI  HIS GUARDIAN ANGEL                              301
+
+   CHAPTER XXXVII  AT THE CAFE MOSCOW                              310
+
+  CHAPTER XXXVIII  THE SHADOW OF A GREAT TERROR                    319
+
+    CHAPTER XXXIX  THE TRIUMPH OF GOOD                             327
+
+       CHAPTER XL  THE MINISTERING ANGEL                           336
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+A WOMAN'S FACE
+
+
+"There may be a great deal in it."
+
+"Undoubtedly there is. Imagination, superstition, credulity," said Dick
+Faversham a little cynically.
+
+"Well, I can't dismiss it in that fashion," replied the other. "Where
+there's smoke there's fire, and you can't get men from various parts of
+the world testifying that they saw the Angels at Mons unless there is
+some foundation of truth in it."
+
+"Again I say imagination. Imagination can do a great deal. Imagination
+can people a churchyard with ghosts; it can make dreams come true, and
+it can also make clever men foolish."
+
+"Admit that. You still haven't got to the bottom of it. There's more
+than mere imagination in the stories of the Angels at Mons, and at other
+places. Less than three weeks ago I was at a hospital in London. I was
+talking with a wounded sergeant, and this man told me in so many words
+that he saw the Angels. He said there were three of them, and that they
+remained visible for more than an hour. Not only did he see them, but
+others saw them. He also said that what appeared like a great calamity
+was averted by their appearance."
+
+There was a silence after this somewhat lengthy speech, and something
+like an uncanny feeling possessed the listeners.
+
+The conversation took place in the smoke-room of a steamship bound for
+Australia, and at least a dozen men were taking part in it. The subject
+of the discussion was the alleged appearance of the Angels at Mons, and
+at other places in France and Belgium, and although at least half of the
+little party was not convinced that those who accepted the stories had a
+good case, they could not help being affected by the numerous instances
+that were adduced of the actual appearance of spiritual visitants. The
+subject, as all the world knows, had been much discussed in England and
+elsewhere, and so it was not unnatural that it should form the topic of
+conversation in the smoke-room of the outgoing vessel.
+
+One of the strongest opponents to the supernatural theory was a young
+man of perhaps twenty-seven years of age. From the first he had taken up
+an antagonistic attitude, and would not admit that the cases given
+proved anything.
+
+"Excuse me," he urged, "but, really, it won't do. You see, the whole
+thing, if it is true, is miraculous, and miracles, according to Matthew
+Arnold, don't happen."
+
+"And who is Matthew Arnold, or any other man, to say that what we called
+miracles don't happen?" urged Mr. Bennett, the clergyman, warmly. "In
+spite of Matthew Arnold and men of his school, the world still believes
+in the miracles of our Lord; why, then, should miracles happen in
+Palestine and not in France?"
+
+"If they did happen," interpolated Faversham.
+
+"Either they happened, or the greatest movement, the mightiest and
+noblest enthusiasms the world has ever known, were founded on a lie,"
+said the clergyman solemnly.
+
+"That may be," retorted Faversham, "but don't you see where you are
+leading us? If, as you say, we accept the New Testament stories, there
+is no reason why we may not accept the Angels at Mons and elsewhere. But
+that opens up all sorts of questions. The New Testament tells of people
+being possessed by devils; it tells of one at least being tempted by a
+personal devil. Would you assert that a personal devil tempts men
+to-day?"
+
+"I believe that either the devil or his agents tempt men to-day,"
+replied the clergyman.
+
+"Then you would, I suppose, also assert that the old myth of guardian
+angels is also true."
+
+"Accepting the New Testament, I do," replied Mr. Bennett.
+
+Dick Faversham laughed rather uneasily.
+
+"Think," went on the clergyman; "suppose someone who loved you very
+dearly in life died, and went into the great spirit world. Do you not
+think it natural that that person should seek to watch over you? Is it
+not natural that he or she who loved you in life should love you after
+what we call death? A mother will give her life for her child in life.
+Why should she not seek to guard that same child even although she has
+gone to the world of spirits?"
+
+"But the whole thing seems so unreal, so unnatural," urged Faversham.
+
+"That is because we live in a materialistic age. The truth is, in giving
+up the idea of guardian angels and similar beliefs we have given up some
+of the greatest comforts in life. Because we have become so
+materialistic, we have lost that grand triumphant conviction that there
+is no death. Why--why--"--and Mr. Bennett rose to his feet
+excitedly--"there is not one of those splendid lads who has fallen in
+battle, who is dead. God still cares for them all, and not one is
+outside His protection. I can't explain it, but I _know_."
+
+"You know?"
+
+"Yes, I know. And I'll tell you why I know. My son Jack was killed at
+Mons, but he's near me even now. Say it's unreal if you like, say it's
+unnatural if you will, but it's one of the great glories of life to me."
+
+"I don't like to cast a doubt upon a sacred conviction," ventured
+Faversham after a silence that was almost painful, "but is not this
+clearly a case of imagination? Mr. Bennett has lost a son in the war. We
+are all very sorry for him, and we are all glad that he gets comfort
+from the feeling that his son is near him. But even admitting the truth
+of this, admitting the doctrine that a man's spirit does not die because
+of the death of the body, you have proved nothing. The appearance of the
+Angels in France and Belgium means something more than this. It declares
+that these spirits appear in visible, tangible forms; that they take an
+interest in our mundane doings; that they take sides; that they help
+some and hinder others."
+
+"Exactly," assented Mr. Bennett.
+
+"You believe that?"
+
+"I believe it most fervently," was the clergyman's solemn answer. "I am
+anything but a spiritualist, as the word is usually understood; but I
+see no reason why my boy may not communicate with me, why he may not
+help me. I, of course, do not understand the mysterious ways of the
+Almighty, but I believe in the words of Holy Writ. 'Are they not all
+ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs
+of salvation?' says the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews. While our
+Lord Himself, when speaking of little children, said, 'I say unto you
+that their angels do always behold the face of My Father who is in
+heaven.'"
+
+Again there was a silence which was again broken by Dick Faversham
+turning and speaking to a man who had not spoken during the whole
+discussion, but who, with a sardonic, cynical smile upon his face, had
+been listening intently.
+
+"What is your opinion, Count Romanoff?" asked Faversham.
+
+"I am afraid I must be ruled out of court," he replied. "These stories
+smack too much of the nursery."
+
+"You believe that they are worn-out superstitions?"
+
+"I should shock you all if I told you what I believe."
+
+"Shock us by all means."
+
+"No, I will spare you. I remember that we have a clergyman present."
+
+"Pray do not mind me," urged Mr. Bennett eagerly.
+
+"Then surely you do not accept the fables recorded in the New
+Testament?"
+
+"I do not admit your description. What you call fables are the greatest
+power for righteousness the world has ever known. They have stood the
+test of ages, they have comforted and inspired millions of lives, they
+stand upon eternal truth."
+
+Count Romanoff shrugged his shoulders, and a smile of derision and
+contempt passed over his features.
+
+"All right," he replied, and again lapsed into silence.
+
+The man had spoken only a very few commonplace words, and yet he had
+changed the atmosphere of the room. Perhaps this was because all felt
+him utterly antagonistic to the subject of discussion. He was different
+from Dick Faversham, who in a frank, schoolboy way had declared his
+scepticism. He had been a marked man ever since the boat had left
+England. There were several reasons for this. One was his personal
+appearance. He was an exceedingly handsome man of perhaps forty years of
+age, and yet there was something repellent in his features. He was
+greatly admired for his fine physique and courtly bearing, and yet but
+few sought his acquaintance. He looked as though he were the repository
+of dark secrets. His smile was cynical, and suggested a kind of
+contemptuous pity for the person to whom he spoke. His eyes were deeply
+set, his mouth suggested cruelty.
+
+And yet he could be fascinating. Dick Faversham, who had struck up an
+acquaintance with him, had found him vastly entertaining. He held
+unconventional ideas, and was widely read in the literature of more than
+one country. Moreover, he held strong views on men and movements, and
+his criticisms told of a man of more than ordinary intellectual acumen.
+
+"You refuse to discuss the matter?"
+
+"There is but little use for an astronomer to discuss the stars with an
+astrologer. A chemist would regard it as waste of time to discuss his
+science with an alchemist. The two live in different worlds, speak a
+different language, belong to different times."
+
+"Of course, you will call me a fanatic," cried the clergyman; "but I
+believe. I believe in God, and in His Son Jesus Christ who died for our
+sins, and who rose from the dead. On that foundation I build all the
+rest."
+
+A change passed over the Count's face. It might be a spasm of pain, and
+his somewhat pale face became paler; but he did not speak. For some
+seconds he seemed fighting with a strong emotion; then, conquering
+himself, his face resumed its former aspect, and a cynical smile again
+passed over his features.
+
+"The gentleman is too earnest for me," he remarked, taking another cigar
+from his case.
+
+Dick Faversham did not see the change that passed over the Count's face.
+Indeed, he had ceased to take interest in the discussion. The truth was
+that the young man was startled by what was an unusual occurrence. The
+room, as may be imagined, bearing in mind that for a long time a number
+of men had been burning incense to My Lady Nicotine, was in a haze of
+tobacco smoke, and objects were not altogether clearly visible; but not
+far from the door he saw a woman standing. This would not have been
+remarkable had not the lady passengers, for some reason known to
+themselves, up to the present altogether avoided the smoke-room. More
+than this, Dick did not recognise her. He had met, or thought he had met
+during the voyage, every lady passenger on the boat; but certainly he
+had never seen this one before. He was perfectly sure of that, for her
+face was so remarkable that he knew he could not have forgotten her.
+
+She was young, perhaps twenty-four. At first Dick thought of her as only
+a girl in her teens, but as, through the thick smoky haze he watched her
+face, he felt that she had passed her early girlhood. What struck him
+most forcibly were her wonderful eyes. It seemed to him as though, while
+they were large and piercing, they were at the same time melting with an
+infinite tenderness and pity.
+
+Dick Faversham looked at her like a man entranced. In his interest in
+her he forgot the other occupants of the room, forgot the discussion,
+forgot everything. The yearning solicitude in the woman's eyes, the
+infinite pity on her face, chained him and drove all other thoughts
+away.
+
+"I say, Faversham."
+
+He came to himself at the mention of his name and turned to the speaker.
+
+"Are you good for a stroll on deck for half an hour before turning in?"
+
+It was the Count who spoke, and Dick noticed that nearly all the
+occupants of the room seemed on the point of leaving.
+
+"Thank you," he replied, "but I think I'll turn in."
+
+He looked again towards the door where he had seen the woman, but she
+was gone.
+
+"By the way," and he touched the sleeve of a man's coat as he spoke,
+"who was that woman?"
+
+"What woman?"
+
+"The woman standing by the door."
+
+"I saw no woman. There was none there."
+
+"But there was, I tell you. I saw her plainly."
+
+"You were wool-gathering, old man. I was sitting near the door and saw
+no one."
+
+Dick was puzzled. He was certain as to what he had seen.
+
+The smoke-room steward appeared at that moment, to whom he propounded
+the same question.
+
+"There was no lady, sir."
+
+"But--are you sure?"
+
+"Certainly, sir. I've been here all the evening, and saw everyone who
+came in."
+
+Dick made his way to his berth like a man in a dream. He was puzzled,
+bewildered.
+
+"I am sure I saw a woman," he said to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE MARCONIGRAM
+
+
+He had barely reached his room when he heard a knock at the door.
+
+"Yes; what is it?"
+
+"You are Mr. Faversham, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes; what do you want?"
+
+"Wireless for you, sir. Just come through."
+
+A few seconds later Dick was reading a message which promised to alter
+the whole course of his life:
+
+    "_Your uncle, Charles Faversham, Wendover Park, Surrey, just
+    died. Your immediate return essential. Report to us on arrival._
+    BIDLAKE & BILTON, _Lincoln's Inn_."
+
+The words seemed to swim before his eyes. His uncle, Charles Faversham,
+dead! There was nothing wonderful about that, for Dick had heard quite
+recently that he was an ailing man, and not likely to live long. He was
+old, too, and in the course of nature could not live long. But what had
+Charles Faversham's death to do with him? It was true the deceased man
+was his father's stepbrother, but the two families had no associations,
+simply because no friendship existed between them.
+
+Dick knew none of the other Favershams personally. His own father, who
+had died a few years before, had left him practically penniless. His
+mother, whose memory his father adored, had died at his, Dick's, birth,
+and thus when he was a little over twenty he found himself alone in the
+world. Up to that time he had spent his life at school and at college.
+His father, who was a man of scholarly instincts, had made up his mind
+that his son should adopt one of the learned professions, although
+Dick's desires did not lean in that direction. At his father's death,
+therefore, he set to work to carve out a career for himself. He had good
+abilities, a determined nature, and great ambitions, but his training,
+which utterly unfitted him for the battle of life, handicapped him
+sorely. For three years nothing went well with him. He obtained
+situation after situation only to lose it. He was impatient of control,
+he lacked patience, and although he had boundless energies, he never
+found a true outlet for them.
+
+At length fortune favoured him. He got a post under a company who did a
+large business in Austria and in the Balkan States, and he made himself
+so useful to his firm that his progress was phenomenal.
+
+It was then that Dick began to think seriously of a great career. It was
+true he had only climbed a few steps on fortune's ladder, but his
+prospects for the future were alluring. He pictured himself becoming a
+power in the commercial world, and then, with larger wealth at his
+command, he saw himself entering Parliament and becoming a great figure
+in the life of the nation.
+
+He had social ambitions too. Although he had had no serious love
+affairs, he dreamed of himself marrying into an old family, by which
+means the doors of the greatest houses in the land would be open to him.
+
+"Nothing shall stop me," he said to himself again and again; and the
+heads of his firm, realising his value to them, gave him more and more
+responsibility, and also pointed hints about his prospects.
+
+At the end of 1913, however, Dick had a serious disagreement with his
+chiefs. He had given considerable attention to continental politics, and
+he believed that Germany would force war. Because of this he advocated a
+certain policy with regard to their business. To this his chiefs gave a
+deaf ear, and laughed at the idea of England being embroiled in any
+trouble with either Austria or the Balkan States. Of course, Dick was
+powerless. He had no capital in the firm, and as his schemes were rather
+revolutionary he was not in a position to press them.
+
+On the outbreak of war in 1914 Dick's firm was ruined. What he had
+predicted had come to pass. Because they had not prepared for this
+possible contingency, and because large sums of money were owing them in
+Austria and Serbia, which they could not recover, all their energies
+were paralysed. Thus at twenty-seven years of age, with only a few
+hundreds of pounds in his possession, Dick had to begin at the bottom
+again.
+
+At length a firm who knew something of his associations with his
+previous employers offered to send him to Australia to attend to matters
+in which they believed he could render valuable service, but payment for
+which would depend entirely on his own success. Dick accepted this offer
+with avidity.
+
+This in bare outline was his story up to the commencement of the history
+which finds him on his way to Australia with the momentous marconigram
+in his hands.
+
+Again and again he read the wireless message which had been handed to
+him. It was so strange, so unexpected, so bewildering. He had never seen
+or spoken to his uncle, never expected to. He was further removed from
+this representative of his family than the Jews from the Samaritans. It
+is true he had seen Wendover Park from the distance. He remembered
+passing the lodge gates some year or two before when cycling through
+Surrey. From a neighbouring hill he had caught sight of the old house
+standing in its broad park-lands, and a pang of envy had shot through
+his heart as he reflected that although its owner and his father were
+stepbrothers he would never be admitted within its walls.
+
+But this message had altered everything: "_Your uncle, Charles
+Faversham, Wendover Park, just died. Your immediate return essential.
+Report to us on arrival._"
+
+The words burnt like fire into his brain. A wireless message, sent to
+him in mid-ocean, must be of more than common purport. Men of Bidlake &
+Bilton's standing did not send such messages as a pastime. They would
+not urge his immediate return without serious reasons.
+
+It must mean--it could only mean--one thing. He must in some way be
+interested in the huge fortune which Charles Faversham had left behind
+him. Perhaps, perhaps--and again he considered the probable outcome of
+it all.
+
+Hour after hour he sat thinking. Was his future, after all, to become
+great, not simply by his own energies, but because of a stroke of good
+fortune? Or, better still, was his uncle's death to be the means whereby
+he could climb to greatness and renown? After all he had not longed so
+much for money for its own sake, but as a means whereby he could get
+power, distinction, high position. With great wealth at his command he
+could--and again a fascinating future spread before him.
+
+He could not sleep; of course, he couldn't! How could he sleep when his
+brain was on fire with wild imaginings and unknown possibilities?
+
+He reflected on the course of his voyage, and considered where the
+vessel would first stop. Yes, he knew they were to call at Bombay, which
+was a great harbour from which ships were frequently returning to
+England. In three days they would be there, and then----
+
+Should he take anyone into his confidence? Should he give reasons for
+leaving the ship? Oh, the wonder, the excitement of it all! The
+discussion about the Angels at Mons, and the talk about visitants from
+the spirit world caring for the people who lived on earth, scarcely
+entered his mind. What need had he for such things?
+
+But who was that woman? For he was sure he had seen her. Tyler, to whom
+he had spoken, and the smoke-room steward might say that no woman was
+there, but he knew better. He could believe his own eyes anyhow, and the
+wonderful yearning look in her eyes still haunted him in spite of the
+disturbing message.
+
+It was not until towards morning that sleep came to him, and then he was
+haunted by dreams. Strange as it may seem, he did not dream of Bidlake &
+Bilton's message nor of his late uncle's mansion. He dreamt of his
+father and mother. He had never seen his mother; she had died at his
+birth. He had never seen a picture of her, indeed. He believed that his
+father possessed her portrait, but he had never shown it to him. His
+father seldom spoke of his mother, but when he did it was in tones of
+awe, almost of worship. She was like no other woman, he said--a woman
+with all the possible beauty and glory of womanhood stored in her heart.
+
+And she was with his father in his dream. They stood by his bedside
+watching over him. His father's face he remembered perfectly. It was
+just as he had seen it when he was alive, except that there was an added
+something which he could not describe. His mother's face was strange to
+him. Yet not altogether so. He knew instinctively that she was his
+mother--knew it by the look on her almost luminous face, by the yearning
+tenderness of her eyes.
+
+Neither of them spoke to him. They simply stood side by side and watched
+him. He wished they would speak; he felt as though he wanted guidance,
+advice, and each looked at him with infinite love in their eyes.
+
+Where had he seen eyes like those of his mother before? Where had he
+seen a face like the face in his dream? He remembered asking himself,
+but could recall no one.
+
+"Mother, mother," he tried to say, but he could not speak. Then his
+mother placed her hand on his forehead, and her touch was like a
+benediction.
+
+When he woke he wondered where he was; but as through the porthole he
+saw the sheen of the sea he remembered everything. Oh, the wonder of it
+all!
+
+A knock came to the door. "Your bath is ready, sir," said a steward, and
+a minute later he felt the welcome sting of the cold salt water.
+
+He scarcely spoke throughout breakfast; he did not feel like talking. He
+determined to find some lonely spot and reflect on what had taken place.
+When he reached the deck, however, the longing for loneliness left him.
+The sky was cloudless, and the sun poured its warm rays on the spotless
+boards. Under the awning, passengers had ensconced themselves in their
+chairs, and smoked, or talked, or read just as their fancy led them.
+
+In spite of the heat the morning was pleasant. A fresh breeze swept
+across the sea, and the air was pure and sweet.
+
+Acquaintances spoke to him pleasantly, for he had become fairly popular
+during the voyage.
+
+"I wonder if they have heard of that wireless message?" he reflected.
+"Do they know I have received news of Charles Faversham's death, and
+that I am probably a rich man?"
+
+"Holloa, Faversham."
+
+He turned and saw Count Romanoff.
+
+"You look rather pale this morning," went on the Count; "did you sleep
+well?"
+
+"Not very well," replied Dick.
+
+"Your mind exercised about the discussion, eh?"
+
+"That and other things."
+
+"It's the 'other things' that make the great interest of life," remarked
+the Count, looking at him intently.
+
+"Yes, I suppose they do," was Dick's reply. He was thinking about the
+wireless message.
+
+"Still," and the Count laughed, "the discussion got rather warm, didn't
+it? I'm afraid I offended our clerical friend. His nod was very cool
+just now. Of course, it's all rubbish. Years ago I was interested in
+such things. I took the trouble to inform myself of the best literature
+we have on the whole matter. As a youth I knew Madame Blavatsky. I have
+been to seances galore, but I cease to trouble now."
+
+"Yes?" queried Dick.
+
+"I found that the bottom was knocked out of all these so-called
+discoveries by the first touch of serious investigation and criticism.
+Nothing stood searching tests. Everything shrivelled at the first touch
+of the fire."
+
+"This talk about angels, about a hereafter, is so much empty wind," went
+on the Count. "There is no hereafter. When we die there is a great black
+blank. That's all."
+
+"Then life is a mockery."
+
+"Is it? It all depends how you look at it. Personally I find it all
+right."
+
+Dick Faversham looked at his companion's face intently. Yes, it was a
+handsome face--strong, determined, forceful. But it was not pleasant.
+Every movement of his features suggested mockery, cynicism, cruelty.
+And yet it was fascinating. Count Romanoff was not a man who could be
+passed by without a thought. There was a tremendous individuality behind
+his deep-set, dark eyes--a personality of great force suggested by the
+masterful, mobile features.
+
+"You have nerves this morning, Faversham," went on the Count. "Something
+more than ordinary has happened to you."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I feel it. I see it. No, I am not asking you to make a confidant of me.
+But you want a friend."
+
+"Yes," cried Dick, speaking on impulse; "I do."
+
+The other did not speak. He simply fixed his eyes on Faversham's face
+and waited.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE SHIPWRECK
+
+
+For a moment Dick was strongly tempted to tell his companion about the
+wireless he had received. But something, he could not tell what, seemed
+to forbid him. In spite of the fact that he had spent a good deal of
+time with Count Romanoff he had given him no confidences. There was
+something in his presence, in spite of his fascination, that did not
+inspire confidence.
+
+"By the way," ventured Dick, after an awkward silence, "I have often
+been on the point of asking you, but it felt like a liberty. Are you in
+any way connected with the great Russian family of your name?"
+
+The Count hesitated before replying. "I do not often speak of it," he
+told him presently, "but I come of a Royal Family."
+
+"The Romanoffs of Russia?"
+
+The Count smiled.
+
+"I do not imagine that they would admit me into their family circle," he
+replied. "I make no claims to it, but I have the right."
+
+Dick was duly impressed.
+
+"Then, of course, you are a Russian. You were born there?"
+
+"A Russian!" sneered the other. "A vast conglomeration of savagery,
+superstition, and ignorance! I do not claim to be a Russian. I have
+estates there, but I am a citizen of the world. My sympathies are not
+national, insular, bounded by race, paltry landmarks, languages. I live
+in a bigger world, my friend. Yes, I am a Romanoff, if you like, and I
+claim kinship with the greatest families of the Russian Empire--but la
+la, what is it? Thistledown, my friend, thistledown."
+
+"But you were educated in Russia?" persisted Dick.
+
+"Educated! What is it to be educated? From childhood I have been a
+wanderer. I have taken my degrees in the University of the world. I have
+travelled in China, Japan, Egypt, America, the Antipodes. In a few days
+we shall call at Bombay. If you will accompany me I will take you to
+people in that city, old Indian families whose language I know, whose
+so-called mysteries I have penetrated, and who call me friend. Ecco! I
+owe my education to all countries, all peoples."
+
+He did not speak boastfully; there was no suggestion of the boaster, the
+braggadocio, in his tones; rather he spoke quietly, thoughtfully, almost
+sadly.
+
+"Tell me this," asked Dick: "you, who I judge to be a rich man, do you
+find that riches bring happiness?"
+
+"Yes--and no. With wealth you can buy all that this world can give you."
+
+Dick wondered at the strange intonation of his voice.
+
+"It is the only thing that can bring happiness," added Romanoff.
+
+"I fancy our friend Mr. Bennett would not agree with you," laughed Dick.
+"He would say that a clear conscience meant happiness. He would tell you
+that a good life, a clean mind, and a faith in God were the secrets of
+happiness."
+
+Romanoff laughed.
+
+"What makes a clear conscience? It is a feeling that you have done what
+is right. But what is right? What is right in China is wrong in England.
+What makes the Chinaman happy makes the Englishman miserable. But why
+should the Englishman be miserable because he does the thing that makes
+the Chinaman happy? No, no, it won't do. There is no right; there is no
+wrong. The Germans are wise there. What the world calls morality is a
+bogy to frighten foolish people. 'It is always right to do the thing you
+_can_ do,' says Brother Fritz. Personally I believe it to be right to do
+what satisfies my desires. It is right because it brings happiness.
+After all, you haven't long to live. A few years and it is all over. A
+shot from a pistol and _voila!_ your brains are blown out--you are dead!
+Therefore, take all that life can give you--there is nothing else."
+
+"I wonder?" said Dick.
+
+"That is why money is all-powerful. First of all, get rid of
+conventional morality, rid your mind of all religious twaddle about
+another life, and then suck the orange of this life dry. You, now, you
+are keen, ardent, ambitious; you love beautiful things; you can enjoy to
+the full all that life can give you. Nature has endowed you with a
+healthy body, ardent desires, boundless ambitions--well, satisfy them
+all. You can buy them all."
+
+"But I am not rich," interposed Dick.
+
+"Aren't you?" queried the other. "Who knows? Anyhow, you are young--make
+money. 'Money talks,' as the Americans say."
+
+Again Dick was on the point of telling him about the wireless message,
+but again he refrained.
+
+"By the way, Count Romanoff," he said, "did you see that woman in the
+smoke-room last night?"
+
+"Woman! what woman?"
+
+"I don't know. I never saw her before. But while you were talking I saw
+a woman's face through the haze of tobacco smoke. She was standing near
+the door. It was a wonderful face--and her eyes were beyond description.
+Great, pure, yearning, loving eyes they were, and they lit up the face
+which might have been--the face of an angel."
+
+"You were dreaming, my friend. I have seen every woman on board, and not
+one of them possesses a face worth looking at twice."
+
+"I asked another man," admitted Dick, "and he told me I was dreaming. He
+had been sitting near the door, he assured me, and he had seen no woman,
+while the smoke-room steward was just as certain."
+
+"Of course there was no woman."
+
+"And yet I saw a woman, unless----" He stopped suddenly.
+
+"Unless what, my friend?"
+
+"Unless it was a kind of rebuke to my scepticism last night; unless it
+was the face of an angel."
+
+"An angel in mid-ocean!" Romanoff laughed. "An angel in the smoke-room
+of a P. & O. steamer! Faversham, you are an example of your own
+arguments. Imagination can do anything."
+
+"But it would be beautiful if it were so. Do you know, I'm only half a
+sceptic after all. I only half believe in what I said in the smoke-room
+last night."
+
+"Perhaps I can say the same thing," said Romanoff, watching his face
+keenly.
+
+"I say!" and Dick laughed.
+
+"Yes, laugh if you will; but I told you just now that the world
+contained no mystery. I was wrong; it does. My residence in India has
+told me that. Do you know, Faversham, what has attracted me to you?--for
+I have been attracted, I can assure you."
+
+"Flattered, I'm sure," murmured Dick.
+
+"I was attracted, because the moment I saw your face I felt that your
+career would be out of the ordinary. I may be wrong, but I believe that
+great things are going to happen to you, that you are going to have a
+wonderful career. I felt it when I saw you come on deck a little while
+ago. If you are wise you are going to have a great future--a _great_
+future."
+
+"Now you are laughing."
+
+"No, I'm not. I'm in deadly earnest. I have something of the power of
+divination in me. I feel the future. Something's going to happen to you.
+I think great wealth's coming to you."
+
+Dick was silent, and a far-away look came into his eyes. He was thinking
+of the wireless message, thinking whether he should tell Romanoff about
+it.
+
+"I started out on this voyage--in the hope that--that I should make
+money," he stammered.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"In Australia."
+
+"You'll not go to Australia."
+
+"No? Why?"
+
+"I don't know--something's going to happen to you. I feel it."
+
+Dick was again on the point of taking him into his confidence when two
+acquaintances came up and the conversation ended. But Dick felt that
+Romanoff knew his secret all the time.
+
+The day passed away without further incident, but towards afternoon
+there was a distinct change in the weather. The sky became overclouded,
+and the gentle breeze which had blown in the morning strengthened into a
+strong, boisterous wind. The smooth sea roughened, and the passengers no
+longer sat on deck. The smoke-room was filled with bridge players, while
+other public rooms became the scenes of other amusements.
+
+But Dick preferred being alone. He was still hugging his news to his
+heart, still reflecting on the appearance of the strange woman's face in
+the smoke-room, and all the time he was under the influence of Count
+Romanoff's conversation.
+
+Perhaps the great, dark, heaving waste of waters excited his nerves and
+made him feel something of the mysterious and resistless forces around
+him. After all, he asked himself, how small the life of a man, or a
+hundred men, appeared to be amidst what seemed infinite wastes of ocean.
+
+After dinner, in spite of the fact that the weather remained boisterous,
+he again went on deck. The sky had somewhat cleared now, and although
+there were still great black angry clouds, spaces of blue could be seen
+between them. Here the stars appeared, and shone with great brilliancy.
+Then the moon rose serene, majestic. Now it was hidden by a great storm
+cloud, and again it showed its silvery face in the clear spaces.
+
+"Great heavens!" cried Dick, "how little a man knows of the world in
+which he lives, and what rot we often talk. The air all around me may be
+crowded with visitants from the unseen world! My dream last night may
+have an objective reality. Perhaps my father and my mother were there
+watching over me! Why not?"
+
+It is said that atheists are bred in slums, and amidst brick walls and
+unlovely surroundings. It is also said that there are few sailors but
+who are believers--that the grandeur of the seas, that the wonder of
+great star spaces create a kind of spiritual atmosphere which makes it
+impossible for them to be materialists. Whether that is so I will not
+argue. This I know: Dick Faversham felt very near the unseen world as
+he leaned over the deck railings that night and gazed across the
+turbulent waters.
+
+But this also must be said. The unseen world seemed to him not good, but
+evil. He felt as though there were dark, sinister forces around
+him--forces which were inimical to what he conceived to be best in him.
+
+Before midnight he turned in, and no sooner did he lay his head on his
+pillow than he felt himself falling asleep. How long he slept he did not
+know. As far as he remembered afterwards, his sleep was dreamless. He
+only knew that he was awakened by a tremendous noise, and that the ship
+seemed to be crashing to pieces. Before he realised what had taken place
+he found himself thrown on the floor, while strange grating noises
+reached his ears. After that he heard wild shouts and despairing
+screams. Hastily putting on a coat over his night clothes, he rushed out
+to see what had happened; but all seemed darkness and confusion.
+
+"What's the matter?" he cried, but received no answer.
+
+Stumblingly he struggled towards the companion-way, where he saw a dark
+moving object.
+
+"What's happened?" he gasped again.
+
+"God only knows, except the vessel going down!"
+
+"Vessel going down?"
+
+"Yes; struck a mine or something!"
+
+Even as the man spoke the ship seemed to be splitting asunder. Harsh,
+grating, bewildering noises were heard everywhere, while above the
+noises of timber and steel were to be faintly heard the cries of frantic
+women and excited men.
+
+Then something struck him. He did not know what it was, but he felt a
+heavy blow on his head, and after that a great darkness fell upon him.
+
+How long the darkness lasted he could not tell. It might have been
+minutes, it might have been hours; but he knew that he suddenly came to
+consciousness through the touch of icy-cold water. The cold seemed to
+pierce his very marrow, to sting him with exquisite pain. Then he was
+conscious that he was struggling in the open sea.
+
+He had been a strong swimmer from early boyhood, and he struck out now.
+He had no idea which way to swim, but swim he did, heedless of direction
+or purpose. A kind of instinct forced him to get as far away as possible
+from the spot where he came to consciousness.
+
+There was still a heavy sea running. He found himself lifted on the
+crest of huge waves, and again sinking in the depths. But he held on. He
+had a kind of instinct that he was doing something to save his life.
+
+Presently his mind became clear. The past came vividly before him--the
+talk in the smoke-room, the wireless message----
+
+Yes, he must live! Life held out so much to him. His immediate return to
+England was essential. Bidlake & Bilton had told him so.
+
+Where were the other passengers? He had heard women's cries, the wild
+shouts of men, the creaking of timbers, the grating of steel; he had
+felt that the great steamship was being torn to pieces. But now there
+was nothing of this. There was nothing but the roar of waters--great,
+heaving, turbulent waters.
+
+He still struggled on, but he knew that his strength was going. It
+seemed to him, too, as though some power was paralysing his limbs,
+sapping his strength. He still had the desire to save himself, to live;
+but his will power was not equal to his desire.
+
+Oh, the sea was cruel, cruel! Why could not the waves cease roaring and
+rolling if only for five minutes? He would have time to rest then, to
+rest and regain his strength.
+
+Still he struggled on. Again he felt himself carried on the crest of
+waves, and again almost submerged in the great troughs which seemed to
+be everywhere.
+
+"O God, help me!" he thought at length. "My strength is nearly gone. I'm
+going to be drowned!"
+
+A sinister power seemed to surround him--a power which took away hope,
+purpose, life. He thought of Count Romanoff, who had said there was
+nothing after death--that death was just a great black blank.
+
+The thought was ghastly! To cease to be, to die there amidst the wild
+waste of the sea, on that lonely night! He could not bear the thought of
+it.
+
+But his strength was ebbing away; his breath came in panting sobs; his
+heart found it difficult to beat. He was going to die.
+
+Oh, if only something, someone would drive away the hateful presence
+which was following him, surrounding him! He could still struggle on
+then; he could live then. But no, a great black shadow was surrounding
+him, swallowing him up. Yes, and the ghastly thing was taking shape. He
+saw a face, something like the face of--no, he could liken it to no one
+he knew.
+
+The waves still rolled on; but now he heard what seemed like wild,
+demoniacal laughter. Once, when a boy, he had seen Henry Irving in
+_Faust_; he saw the devils on the haunted mountain; he heard their
+hideous cries. And there was a ghastly, evil influence with him now. Did
+it mean that devils were there waiting to snatch his soul directly it
+left his body?
+
+Then he felt a change. Yes, it was distinct, definite. There was a
+light, too--a pale, indistinct light, but still real, and as his tired
+eyes lifted he saw what seemed to be a cross of light shining down upon
+him from the clouds. What could it mean?
+
+It seemed to him that the sinister presence was somehow losing power,
+that there was something, someone in the light which grew stronger.
+
+Then a face appeared above him. At first it was unreal, intangible,
+shadowy; but it grew clearer, clearer. Where had he seen it before?
+Those great, tender, yearning eyes--where had he seen them? Then the
+form of a woman became outlined--a woman with arms outstretched. Her
+face, her lips, her eyes seemed to bid him hope, and it felt to him as
+though arms were placed beneath him--arms which bore him up.
+
+It was all unreal, as unreal as the baseless fabric of a dream; and yet
+it was real, wondrously real.
+
+"Help me! Save me!" he tried to say, but whether he uttered the words he
+did not know. He felt that his grip on life became weaker and
+weaker--then a still, small voice seemed to whisper, "The Eternal God is
+thy refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting Arms."
+
+The roar of the waves grew less, and he knew no more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+"THE ENEMY OF YOUR SOUL"
+
+
+When again Dick Faversham regained something like consciousness he had a
+sensation of choking, of a hard struggle to breathe, which ended in
+partial failure.
+
+He did not know where he was, but he had a sense of warmth, of
+restfulness. He thought he heard the ripple of waves on a sunlit shore,
+and of wide-spreading trees which grew close to the edge of the sea.
+
+But it was all indistinct, unreal, and he did not care very much. He was
+trying to breathe, trying to overcome the awful sense of choking, and
+after a while, dazed, bewildered though he was, he felt his breath come
+easier and the weight on his chest grow lighter. But he was terribly
+tired--so tired that he had no desire to struggle, so languid that his
+very efforts to breathe were the result not of his own will, but of some
+claims of nature over which he had no control. He was just a piece of
+machinery, and that was all.
+
+He felt himself going to sleep, and he was glad. He had no curiosity as
+to where he was, no desire to know how he came to be there, no
+remembrance of the past; he only knew that warm air wrapped him like a
+garment, and that he was deliciously tired and sleepy.
+
+How long he slept he did not know, but presently when he woke he saw the
+sun setting in a blaze of glory. Scarcely a breath of wind stirred the
+warm, fragrant air, and all was silent save the lapping of the waves and
+the screaming of birds in the distance.
+
+He sat up and looked around him. Great tropical trees grew in wild
+profusion, while gorgeous vegetation abounded. It was like some land of
+dreams.
+
+Then suddenly memory asserted itself, and the past flashed before his
+mind. Everything became clear, vivid.
+
+"I am saved! I am alive!" he exclaimed aloud.
+
+Again he saw the wild upheaving sea; he felt himself struggling in the
+deep, while his strength, strength of body, of mind, and will were
+failing him. He recalled the dark, fearful presence that surrounded him,
+and then the coming of the light, and in the light the outline of a
+woman's form. Nothing would ever destroy that memory! The face, the
+lips, the eyes! No, he should never forget! And he had seen her arms
+outstretched, felt her arms placed beneath him--the arms that bore him
+up, brought him to safety.
+
+"I was saved," he murmured--"saved by an angel!"
+
+He was startled by the sound of a footstep, and, turning, he saw
+Romanoff, and with him came back something of the feeling that some evil
+presence surrounded him.
+
+"That's right, Faversham. I was afraid, hours ago, that I should never
+bring you round, but at length you made good, and then, like a sensible
+fellow, went to sleep."
+
+Romanoff spoke in the most matter-of-fact way possible, banishing the
+mere thought of angels or devils.
+
+"Where are we? How did we get here?" gasped Faversham. Up to now he had
+not given a thought to the other passengers.
+
+"Where are we? On an island in the Pacific, my dear fellow. How did we
+get here? After the accident--or whatever it was--the boats were
+lowered, and all hands were got away. I looked out for you, but could
+not find you. There was a great commotion, and it was easy to miss
+anyone in the darkness. I was among the last to leave the sinking
+vessel, and the boat was pretty full. We had got perhaps half a mile
+away from the scene of the wreck, when I saw someone struggling in the
+sea. It was by the purest chance possible that I saw. However, I managed
+to get hold of--what turned out to be you. You were nearly gone--I never
+thought you'd--live."
+
+"But how did I get here?" asked Dick, "and--and where are the others?"
+
+"It was this way," and Romanoff still continued to speak in the same
+matter-of-fact tones. "As I told you, the boat was jammed
+full--overweighted, in fact--so full that your weight was a bit of a
+danger. More than one said you were dead, and suggested that--that it
+was no use endangering the safety of the others. But I felt sure you
+were alive, so I held out against them."
+
+"And then?" asked Dick. He was only giving half his mind to Romanoff's
+story; he was thinking of what he saw when he felt his strength leaving
+him.
+
+"You see the bar out yonder?" and Romanoff pointed towards a ridge of
+foam some distance out at sea. "It's mighty rough there--dangerous to
+cross even when the sea is smooth; when it is rough--you can guess. I
+was holding you in my arms in order to--give room. The oarsmen were
+making for land, of course; you see, we had been many hours in a mere
+cockleshell, and this island promised safety. But in crossing the bar we
+were nearly upset, and I suddenly found myself in the sea with you in my
+arms. It was fairly dark, and I could not see the boat, but I was
+fortunate in getting you here. That's all."
+
+"That's all?"
+
+"Yes; what should there be else?"
+
+"But the others?"
+
+"Oh, I expect they've landed somewhere else on the island--sure to, in
+fact. But I've not looked them up. You see, I did not want to leave
+you."
+
+"Then you--you've saved me?"
+
+"Oh, that's all right, my dear fellow. You are here, and you are looking
+better every minute; that's the great thing. See, I've brought you some
+food--fruit. Delicious stuff. I've tried it. Lucky for us we got to this
+place."
+
+Dick ate almost mechanically. He was still wondering and trying to
+square Romanoff's story with his own experiences. Meanwhile, Romanoff
+sat near him and watched him as he ate.
+
+"How long have we been here?"
+
+"Ten hours at least. Look, my clothes are quite dry. By Jove, I was
+thankful for the hot sun."
+
+"You saved me!" repeated Dick. "I owe my life to you, and yet even
+now----"
+
+"What, my dear fellow?"
+
+"I thought I was saved in another way."
+
+"Another way? How?"
+
+Dick hesitated a few seconds, and then told him, while Romanoff listened
+with a mocking smile on his lips.
+
+"Of course, you were delirious; it was pure hallucination."
+
+"Was it? It was very real to me."
+
+"Such things don't happen, my friend. After all, it was a very
+matter-of-fact, mundane affair. You were lucky, and I happened to see
+you--that's all--and if there was an angel--I'm it."
+
+The laugh that followed was anything but angelic!
+
+"I suppose that's it," and with a sigh Dick assented to Romanoff's
+explanation. Indeed, with this strange, matter-of-fact man by his side,
+he could not believe in anything miraculous. That smile on his face made
+it impossible.
+
+"I don't know how to thank you," he said fervently. "You've done me the
+greatest service one man can do for another. I can't thank you enough,
+and I can never repay you, but if we ever get away from here, and I have
+an opportunity to serve you--all that I have shall be yours."
+
+"I'll remember that," replied Romanoff quietly, "and I accept what you
+offer, my friend. Perhaps the time will come when I can take advantage
+of it."
+
+"I hope you will--you must!"--Dick's mind had become excited--"and I
+want to tell you something," he continued, for he was strangely drawn
+towards his deliverer. "I want to live. I want to get back to England,"
+he went on. "I have not told you before, but I feel I must now."
+
+Whereupon he told him the story of the wireless message and what it
+possibly might mean.
+
+Romanoff listened gravely, and Dick once again experienced that uncanny
+feeling that he was telling the other a story he already knew.
+
+"Didn't I tell you on the boat that something big was in store for you?"
+he said, after many questions were asked and answered. "I shall
+certainly look you up when I go to England again, and it may be I shall
+be able to render you some--further service."
+
+Night came on, and Dick slept. He was calm now and hopeful for the
+future. Romanoff had told him that as the island was on the great trade
+route it was impossible for them to be left there long. Vessels were
+always passing. And Dick trusted Romanoff. He felt he could do no other.
+He was so strong, so wise, so confident.
+
+For hours he slept dreamlessly, but towards morning he had a vivid
+dream, and in his dream he again saw the face of the angel, just as he
+had seen on the wild, heaving sea.
+
+"Listen to me," she said to him. "That man Romanoff is your enemy--the
+enemy of your soul. Do you realise it?--your soul. He is an emissary of
+the Evil One, and you must fight him. You must not yield to him. You
+will be tempted, but you must fight. He will be constantly near you,
+tempting you. He is your enemy, working for your downfall. If you give
+way to him you will be for ever lost!"
+
+Dick heard her words quite plainly. He watched her face as she spoke,
+wondered at the yearning tenderness in her eyes.
+
+"How can he be my enemy?" he asked. "He risked his life to save mine; he
+brought me to safety."
+
+"No," she replied; "it was the arms of another that were placed beneath
+you, and bore you up. Don't you know whose arms? Don't you remember my
+face?"
+
+"Who are you?" asked Dick.
+
+Then, as it seemed to him in his dream, Romanoff came, and there was a
+battle between him and the angel, and he knew that they were fighting
+for him, for the possession of his soul.
+
+He could see them plainly, and presently he saw the face of Romanoff
+gloat with a look of unholy joy. His form became more and more clearly
+outlined, while that of the angel became dimmer and dimmer. The evil
+power was triumphant. Then a change came. Above their heads he saw a
+luminous cross outlined, and he thought Romanoff's face and form became
+less and less distinct. But he was not sure, for they were drifting away
+from him farther and farther----
+
+Again he saw the angel's face, and again she spoke. "You will be
+tempted--tempted," she said, "in many ways you will be tempted. But you
+will not be alone, for the angel of the Lord encampeth around them that
+fear Him. You will know me by the same sign. Always obey the angel."
+
+He awoke. He was lying where he had gone to sleep hours before. He
+started to his feet and looked around him.
+
+Near him, passing under the shadows of the great trees, he thought he
+saw a woman's face. It was the face he had seen on the outgoing vessel,
+the face he had seen when he was sinking in the deep waters, the face
+that had come to him in his dreams.
+
+He was about to speak to her, to follow her, when he heard someone
+shouting.
+
+"Faversham! Faversham!" It was Romanoff's voice. "Come quickly. We've
+hailed a vessel; our signal has been seen. Come to the other side of the
+island."
+
+
+
+
+PART I.--THE FIRST TEMPTATION
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE ONLY SURVIVING RELATIVE
+
+
+Dick Faversham made his way to the offices of Messrs. Bidlake & Bilton,
+Solicitors, Lincoln's Inn Fields, with a fast-beating heart. He felt
+like a man whose fortune depended on the turn of a die. If the lawyers
+had sent him a message for the purpose he hoped, all was well; if
+not----And for the hundredth time he considered the pros and cons of
+the matter.
+
+His rescue from the island had turned out to be one of the prosiest
+matters imaginable. The captain of an English-bound steamer had seen the
+signals made from the island, and had sent boats. Thus Dick was saved
+without difficulty. There were others who had a similar fortune, but
+Dick had no chance to speak with them. No sooner did he reach the
+steamer than he was taken ill, and remained ill during the whole of the
+homeward voyage.
+
+After he reached Plymouth he began to recover rapidly, but he found on
+making inquiries that all who were rescued from the island had
+disembarked at the western seaport. This was very disappointing to him,
+as he wanted to make inquiries concerning the manner of their escape. Of
+Romanoff he neither heard nor saw anything. No one knew anything of him
+on the steamer, neither was he known to board it.
+
+Dick was both glad and sorry because of this. Glad because, although
+Romanoff possessed a strange fascination for him, he had never been
+altogether comfortable in his presence. The man repelled him even while
+he fascinated him, and he felt relieved that he was not on board. On the
+other hand, he was sorry, because he had a feeling that this strange,
+saturnine man might have been a great help to him in his peculiar
+circumstances.
+
+"It may be all a will-o'-the-wisp fancy," he reflected as he walked
+along Fleet Street towards the Law Courts, "and yet it must mean
+something."
+
+His mind was in a whirl of bewilderment, for in spite of Romanoff's
+explanation he could not drive from his mind the belief that his
+experiences after the vessel was wrecked had been real. Indeed, there
+were times when he was _sure_ that he had seen an angel's form hovering
+while he was struggling in the sea, sure that he felt strong arms
+upholding him.
+
+"At any rate, this is real," he said to himself as he turned into
+Lincoln's Inn Fields. "I am here on dry land. I wear a suit of clothes
+which Captain Fraser gave me, and I have twenty-four shillings in my
+pocket. Whatever happens, I will at the first opportunity pay the
+captain for his kindness."
+
+He entered the office and gave his name.
+
+"Do you wish to see Mr. Bidlake or Mr. Bilton?" asked the clerk.
+
+"Either, or both," replied Dick.
+
+"Would you state your business, please?" The clerk did not seem to be
+sure of him.
+
+"I will state my business to your principals," replied Dick. "Please
+take in my name."
+
+When the clerk returned his demeanour was changed. He was obsequious and
+anxious to serve.
+
+"Will you come this way, please, sir?" he said. "Mr. Bilton is in Mr.
+Bidlake's room, and----"
+
+He did not finish the sentence, for the door of an office opened and a
+man of about fifty years of age appeared.
+
+"Come in, Mr. Faversham," he invited. "Do you know, I've been on
+tenterhooks for days about you."
+
+"I landed at Tilbury only a few hours ago."
+
+"Is that so? But it was this way: we, of course, heard that your boat
+had been mined, and we also heard that a number of the passengers and
+crew were rescued; but news about you was contradictory. In one list of
+the saved your name appeared, while in another you were not mentioned.
+Tell us all about it."
+
+"Another time," replied Dick. He was in a fever to know why this very
+respectable firm of lawyers should have sent a wireless to him.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course," assented Mr. Bidlake, leading the way to an inner
+room. "Bilton, you may as well come too. My word, Mr. Faversham, I _am_
+glad to see you."
+
+Dick felt light-hearted. Mr. Bidlake would not receive him in this
+fashion had there not been important reasons for doing so.
+
+"Well now, to come to business right away," said Mr. Bidlake the moment
+they were seated--"you got my message?"
+
+"Twenty-four hours before I was wrecked," replied Dick.
+
+"Just so. You'll tell us all about that presently. My word, you must
+have had a terrible time! But that's by the way. You got my message, and
+therefore you know that your uncle, Mr. Charles Faversham, is dead?"
+
+Dick nodded. He tried to appear calm, but his heart was thumping like a
+sledge-hammer.
+
+"Of course, you know that Mr. Charles Faversham was a bachelor, and--by
+the way, Mr. Bilton, will you find the Faversham papers? You've had them
+in hand."
+
+"Yes, my uncle was a bachelor," repeated Dick as Mr. Bidlake hesitated.
+
+"You've never had any communications with him?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"A peculiar man. A genius for business, but, all the same, a peculiar
+man. However, I think it's all plain enough."
+
+"What is plain enough?"
+
+"Have you the papers, Bilton? That's good. Yes, I have everything here.
+This is the last will of Mr. Faversham--a plain, straightforward will in
+many ways, although slightly involved in others. However----"
+
+The lawyer untied some tape, and began scanning some documents.
+
+"However what?" asked Dick, who by this time was almost beside himself
+with impatience.
+
+"By the way, you can easily put your hand on your birth certificate, as
+well as the death certificate of your father, I suppose?"
+
+"Quite easily."
+
+"Of course you can. The fact that I have known you for some time makes
+things far easier, far less--complicated. Otherwise a great many
+formalities would have to be gone into before--in short, Mr. Richard
+Faversham, I have great pleasure in congratulating you on being the heir
+to a fine fortune--a _very_ fine fortune."
+
+Mr. Bidlake smiled benignly.
+
+"My uncle's fortune?"
+
+"Your uncle's estate--yes. He was a very rich man."
+
+"But--but----" stammered Dick.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course, you wish for some details. This is the position.
+Your uncle made a will--a rather peculiar will in some ways."
+
+"A peculiar will?" queried Dick.
+
+"Yes--as you know, I did a great deal of work for him; but there were
+others. Triggs and Wilcox attended to some things, while Mortlake and
+Stenson also did odd jobs; but I have made all inquiries, and this is
+the last will he made. He wrote it himself, and it was duly witnessed. I
+myself have interviewed the witnesses, and there is no flaw anywhere,
+although, of course, this document is by no means orthodox."
+
+"Orthodox? I don't understand."
+
+"I mean that it is not in legal form. As a matter of fact, it is utterly
+informal."
+
+"You mean that there is some doubt about it?"
+
+"On no, by no means. It would stand good in any court of law, but, of
+course, all such documents are loosely worded. In case of a lawsuit it
+would offer occasion for many wordy battles," and Mr. Bidlake smacked
+his lips as though he would enjoy such an experience. "But here is the
+will in a nutshell," he went on. "You see, his own brother died many
+years ago, while your father, his stepbrother, died--let me see--how
+long ago? But you know. I need not go into that. As you may have heard,
+his sister Helen married and had children; she was left a widow, and
+during her widowhood she kept house for your uncle; so far so good. This
+is the will: all his property, excepting some small sums which are
+plainly stated, was left equally to his sister Helen's children, and to
+their heirs on their decease."
+
+"But where do I come in?" gasped Dick.
+
+"Here, my dear sir. There is a clause in the will, which I'll read:
+'Should not my sister Helen's children be alive at the time of my
+decease, all my property is to be equally divided between my nearest
+surviving relatives.' Now, here," went on the lawyer, "we see the
+foolishness of a man making his own will, especially a man with such
+vast properties as Mr. Charles Faversham had. First of all, suppose his
+sister Helen's children married and had children who were alive at the
+time of Mr. Charles Faversham's death. These children might not inherit
+a penny if his sister's children had been dead. Again, take the term
+'equally divided.' Don't you see what a bill of costs might be run up in
+settling that? What is an equal division? Who is to assess values on an
+estate that consists of shipping interests, lands, mines, and a host of
+other things? Still, we need not trouble about this as it happens. We
+have inquired into the matter, and we find that your Aunt Helen's
+children are dead, and that none of them was married."
+
+"Then--then----"
+
+"You are the nearest surviving relative, my dear sir, and not only
+that--you are the only surviving relative of the late Mr. Charles
+Faversham of Wendover Park, Surrey."
+
+Dick Faversham still appeared outwardly calm, although his brain was
+whirling with excitement. The words, 'shipping interests, lands, mines,
+and a host of other things,' were singing in his ears. And he--_he_ was
+heir to it all! But was there some doubt about it? Was everything so
+definite as the lawyer had stated?
+
+"I believe my Aunt Helen had three children," Dick said after a
+silence--"two girls and a boy, or two boys and a girl, I have forgotten
+which. Do you mean to say they are all dead?"
+
+"Certain. Directly on Mr. Faversham's death I went into the matter. Two
+of the children died in England. The third, a son, died in Australia. I
+was very anxious about that, and spent quite a little fortune in
+cablegrams. Still, I got everything cleared up satisfactorily."
+
+"Tell me how." Dick was very anxious about this. It seemed to him as the
+crux of the whole question.
+
+"It was naturally a little difficult," and Mr. Bidlake smiled
+complacently. "Australia is some little distance away, eh? But I managed
+it. For one thing, an old articled clerk of mine went to Melbourne some
+years ago, and succeeded in getting a practice there. He was very
+anxious to oblige me, and got on the track almost immediately.
+Fortunately for us, the death of Mr. Anthony Riggleton was somewhat
+notorious."
+
+"And Mr. Anthony Riggleton was my Aunt Helen's son?" asked Dick.
+
+"Exactly. He was not a young man of high character, and I am given to
+understand that Mr. Charles Faversham threatened more than once, when he
+was in England, never to leave him a penny. However, he paid his debts,
+gave him a sum of money, and told him to go away and never to return
+again during his life. It seems, too, that Mr. Anthony Faversham
+Riggleton considerably reformed himself during the time he was in
+Australia, so much so that favourable reports were sent to his uncle
+concerning his conduct. That, I imagine, accounts for his inclusion in
+the will. Whether he went wild again, I don't know, but it is certain
+that he met his death in a very suspicious way. It seems that he and
+some other men met in a house of bad repute not far from Melbourne, and
+in a brawl of some sort he came to an untimely end. His body was found
+more than twenty-four hours after his death, in the harbour at
+Melbourne. Evidently the affair was most unsavoury. His face was much
+bashed. A pistol-shot had passed through his brain, and there were some
+knife-stabs in his body."
+
+"And his companions?" asked Dick.
+
+"They had cleared out, and left no traces behind. You see, they had
+plenty of time to do so before the police were able to get to work.
+According to the latest reports I have heard, there is not the slightest
+chance of finding them."
+
+"But the body--was it identified?"
+
+"It was. Letters were found on the body addressed to Mr. Anthony
+Faversham Riggleton, and there were also private papers on his person
+which left no doubt. Added to this, the evidence of the cashier and of a
+clerk of the Bank of Australia was most explicit. You see, he had called
+at the bank on the morning of the night of the brawl, and drew what
+little money he had. When the body was brought to the mortuary, both the
+cashier and the clerk swore it was that of the man who had called for
+the money."
+
+"That was settled definitely, then?"
+
+"Just so. Oh, you can make your mind quite easy. Directly I got news of
+Mr. Charles Faversham's death I naturally took steps to deal with his
+estate, and I assured myself of your interest in the matter before
+seeking to communicate with you. I would not have sent you that wireless
+without practical certainty. Since then I have received newspapers from
+Melbourne giving details of the whole business."
+
+"And my Aunt Helen?" asked Dick.
+
+"She died before the will was made. I gather that her death caused him
+to make the new will--the one we are discussing--in a hurry."
+
+"And my two other cousins?" Dick persisted. He wanted to assure himself
+that there could be no shadow of doubt.
+
+The lawyer smiled. "Things do happen strangely sometimes," he said. "If
+anyone had told me at the time this will was made that you would come in
+for the whole estate, I should have laughed. There were three healthy
+people in your way. And yet, so it is. They are dead. There is not a
+shadow of doubt about it."
+
+"But didn't my uncle know of their decease?"
+
+"I can't tell you that. He was a strange man. As I have said, he had a
+regular genius for making money, and he lived for his business. He
+simply revelled in it; not because he cared about money as such, but
+because the accumulation of wealth fascinated him. He was, as you know,
+unmarried, and up to the time of his making this will, his sister, of
+whom he seemed to have been fond, kept house for him. But he would not
+have her children around him. He gave them large sums of money, but he
+had no personal knowledge of them. It is quite probable, therefore, that
+he, being in failing health for more than a year before his death, would
+have no knowledge that they died some time before he did. You would
+understand if you had known him. A most eccentric man."
+
+Dick reflected a few seconds. The way seemed perfectly plain, and yet
+everything seemed intangible, unreal.
+
+"In proof of that," went on the lawyer, "he did not tell either Mr.
+Bilton or myself that he had made this will. He simply gave a letter to
+the housekeeper he had secured after his sister's death, and told her
+that this letter was to be given to me at his decease. That letter,"
+went on Mr. Bidlake, "contained the key of a safe and instructions to me
+to deal with the contents of the safe immediately after his death. Of
+course, I opened the safe, and among the first things I found was this
+will. The rest I have explained to you."
+
+"And you say I am very wealthy?" asked Dick almost fearfully. Even yet
+it seemed too good to be true.
+
+"Wealthy!" and the lawyer smiled. "Wealthy, my dear sir! I cannot yet
+tell you _how_ wealthy. But if a controlling interest in one of the most
+prosperous shipping companies in the world, if the principal holding in
+one of our great banks, if landed estates in more than three counties,
+if important mining interests, if hundreds of houses in London and hosts
+of other things mean great wealth--then I can truly say that you are a
+very wealthy man. Of course, I cannot as yet estimate the value of the
+whole estate, but the death duties will make a nice fortune--a _very_
+nice fortune. Still, if you decide to entrust your legal business to us,
+as we hope you will, we shall be able in a few weeks to give you an
+approximate idea of what you are worth."
+
+"Of course I will do that," replied Dirk hastily; "naturally there is no
+question about the matter. That must be settled here and now."
+
+"Thank you," said Mr. Bidlake. "Naturally Mr. Bilton and myself
+appreciate this mark of your confidence. You may depend that neither of
+us will spare himself in order to serve you. Eh, Mr. Bilton?"
+
+"Exactly," replied Mr. Bilton. It was the only word he had as yet spoken
+throughout the interview.
+
+"And now," said Dick, "I want your advice."
+
+"Our advice? Certainly. What about?"
+
+"Well, owing to the wreck, I am at this moment in borrowed clothes. I
+have only a few shillings in my pocket----"
+
+"My dear sir," interrupted the lawyer, "that presents no difficulties.
+Let me give you an open cheque for two hundred--five hundred--pounds
+right away. Naturally, too, you will want to get clothes. You lost
+everything in the--the wreck; naturally you did. I had almost forgotten
+such things in the--the bigger matter. But that's all right. I have a
+private sitting-room here, and my tailor would be only too glad to come
+here right away. A most capable man. He would rig you out, temporarily,
+in a few hours, and afterwards----"
+
+"That's all right," interrupted Dick; "but what next?"
+
+"Take possession at once, my dear sir--at once."
+
+"But I don't want anything to get into the papers."
+
+"Certainly not--if we can help it. And I think we can. Shall I ring up
+my tailors? Yes?" And Mr. Bidlake took a telephone receiver into his
+hand. "That's all right," he added two minutes later. "Hucknell will be
+here in less than half an hour, and you can trust him to fix you up and
+tide you over the next few days. Yes, he will be glad to do so--very
+glad. Terrible business this industrial unrest, isn't it? I'm afraid
+it's going to take some settling. Of course, it's world wide, but I say,
+thank goodness our people have got more sense and more balance than
+those poor Russians."
+
+The words were simple enough, and the expression was almost a
+commonplace, but Dick Faversham felt a sudden pain at his heart. He
+thought of the dark, mysterious man who claimed kinship with the great
+Russian House of Romanoff, and in a way he could not understand; the
+thought seemed to take away from the joyous excitement which filled his
+being at that moment. He wished he had never seen, never heard of Count
+Romanoff.
+
+With an effort he shook off the cloud.
+
+"You suggest that I go to Wendover Park at once?"
+
+"Yes, say to-morrow morning. It is your right; in a way, it's your duty.
+The property is undeniably yours."
+
+"Would--would you--could you go with me?" stammered Dick.
+
+"I was on the point of suggesting it myself, my dear sir. Yes, I could
+go to-morrow morning."
+
+"Are there any servants there, or is the house empty?" asked Dick. Again
+he had a sense of unreality.
+
+"Most of the servants are there," replied the lawyer. "I thought it best
+to keep them. I am not sure about a chauffeur, though. I have an idea I
+discharged him. But it can easily be managed. The housekeeper whom your
+uncle engaged on your aunt's death is there, and she, it appears, has a
+husband. Rather a capable man. He can get a chauffeur. I'll ring up
+right away, and give instructions. You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"It's awfully good of you," Dick assured him. "I shall feel lost without
+you."
+
+At half-past one Dick accompanied Mr. Bidlake to his club for lunch,
+attired in a not at all badly fitting ready-made suit of clothes, which
+Mr. Hucknell had secured for him, and spent the afternoon with the
+lawyer discussing the new situation.
+
+"Nine-thirty-five Victoria," said Mr. Bidlake to him as he left him that
+night.
+
+"I'll be there."
+
+Dick went to his hotel like a man in a dream. Even yet everything was
+unreal to him. He had received assurances from one of the most
+trustworthy and respectable lawyers in London that his position was
+absolutely safe, and yet he felt no firm foundation under his feet.
+
+"I expect it's because I've seen nothing yet," he reflected. "When I go
+down to-morrow and get installed as the owner of everything, I shall see
+things in a new light."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+WENDOVER PARK
+
+
+The end of April had now come, and a tinge of green had crept over what
+in many respects is one of the loveliest counties in England. The train
+in which Mr. Bidlake and Dick Faversham sat had left Redhill and was
+passing through a rich, undulating countryside.
+
+"You feel a bit excited, I expect?" and Mr. Bidlake looked up from his
+copy of _The Times_.
+
+"Just a bit."
+
+"You'll soon get over your excitement, although, of course, you'll find
+the change very great. A rich man has many responsibilities."
+
+"If I remember aright, there are several other big houses within a few
+miles of Wendover Park? Was my uncle on good terms with his neighbours?"
+
+The lawyer coughed. "He did not go much into society. As I told you, he
+was a very eccentric man."
+
+Dick was quick to notice the tone in which the other spoke. "You mean
+that he was not well received?"
+
+"I mean that he lived his own life. Mr. Faversham was essentially a
+business man, and--and perhaps he could not understand the attitude of
+the old county families. Besides, feeling against him was rather strong
+when he bought Wendover Park."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I daresay you'll learn all about it in time. Enough to say now that Sir
+Guy Wendover, the previous owner, was in money difficulties, and the
+feeling was that your uncle took advantage of them in order to get hold
+of the place. Personally I don't pay much attention to such stories; but
+undoubtedly they affected your uncle's position. Possibly they may
+affect yours--for a time." The lawyer appeared to utter the last
+sentence as an afterthought.
+
+Presently the train stopped at a wayside station, where the two
+alighted. The sun was now high in the heavens, and the birds were
+singing gaily. Wooded hills sloped up from the station, while westward
+was a vast panorama of hill and dale.
+
+"I don't think you could find a fairer sight in all England," remarked
+Mr. Bidlake. "Ah, that's right. I see a motor-car is waiting for us."
+
+Dick felt as thought a weight rolled from his shoulders the moment he
+stood beneath the open sky. Yes, this was glorious! The air was laden
+with the perfume of bursting life. The chorus of the birds exhilarated
+him; the sight of the rich loamy meadows, where lambkins sported and
+cows fed lazily, made him feel that he was not following some chimera of
+the mind, but tangible realities.
+
+A chauffeur touched his cap. "Mr. Faversham and Mr. Bidlake, sir?" he
+inquired.
+
+A few minutes later the car was moving swiftly along beautiful country
+lanes, the like of which only a few English counties can show. Yes, Dick
+had to admit it. Beautiful as he thought the whole district to be when
+cycling through it years before, he had no idea it was like this. Every
+corner they turned revealed new loveliness. All nature seemed bent on
+giving him a great welcome to his new home.
+
+They had covered perhaps half the journey between the station and the
+house when the chauffeur jammed his foot on the brake suddenly and
+brought the car to a standstill. In front of them stood a small
+two-seater, by the open bonnet of which stood a young lady with hand
+uplifted. Evidently something had gone wrong with her machine, and the
+lane at this point was not wide enough for them to pass.
+
+Dick immediately alighted.
+
+"I am awfully sorry to inconvenience you," protested the girl, "but my
+engine has stopped, and, try as I may, I can't get it to start again."
+
+Her face was slightly flushed, partly with her endeavours to start the
+engine and partly with impatience; but this did not detract from her
+more than usually handsome appearance. For she was handsome; indeed,
+Dick thought he had never seen such a striking girl. And this was no
+wonder. It is only rare that nature produces such a perfect specimen of
+young womanhood as he saw that morning--perfect, that is, in face and
+form, perfect in colouring, in stature, in bearing. She was a
+brunette--great black flashing eyes, full red lips, raven-black hair,
+skin suffused with the glow of buoyant health. More than ordinarily
+tall, she was shaped like a Juno, and moved with all the grace and
+freedom of an athlete.
+
+"Help the lady, my man," said Mr. Bidlake to the chauffeur.
+
+"Sorry, sir," replied the man, "but I don't know anything about engines.
+I've only just learnt to drive. You see, sir, Mrs. Winkley didn't quite
+know what to do when----"
+
+"All right," interrupted Dick, with a laugh; "perhaps I can help you."
+
+"If you only could," laughed the girl. "I haven't had the thing long,
+but it never went wrong until to-day. I know how to drive pretty well,
+but as for understanding the engine, I'm a mere baby."
+
+She had a frank, pleasant voice, and laughed as she spoke, revealing
+perfect teeth.
+
+Dick, who had quite a gift for mechanism, quickly found some tools, and
+commenced testing the sparking-plugs like a man conversant with his
+work.
+
+"I'll have to take off my coat if you'll excuse me," he said presently.
+"I see you start the thing on a battery, and have no magneto. I'm sorry
+I don't know this class of car well, but I think I can see what's the
+matter."
+
+"What is it? Do tell me," she cried, with an eager laugh. "I've been
+studying motor manuals and all that sort of thing ever since I commenced
+to drive, but diagrams always confuse me."
+
+"The distributor seems to be wrong, and some wires have become
+disconnected. Have you been held up long?"
+
+"Oh, a quarter of an hour--more."
+
+"And running the battery all the time?"
+
+"I'm afraid so."
+
+"You must be careful or your battery'll run out of electricity; that
+would mean your being hung up for two days."
+
+"They told me that at the garage a little time ago. But what must I do?"
+and she laughed at him pleasantly.
+
+"If she doesn't start at once, get someone to adjust the parts. There, I
+wonder if she'll go now."
+
+He touched a switch, and the engine began to run.
+
+"She seems all right," he said, after watching the moving mass of
+machinery for some seconds.
+
+"Oh, you are good--and--thank you ever so much."
+
+"It's been quite a pleasure," replied Dick, putting on his coat. "It was
+lucky I came by."
+
+"It was indeed; but look at your hands. They are covered with oil. I
+_am_ sorry."
+
+"Nothing to be sorry for. Oil breaks no bones. Besides, I shall be able
+to wash them in a few minutes."
+
+"You are not going far, then?"
+
+"Only to Wendover Park. Do you know it?"
+
+"Know it! Why----" She checked herself suddenly, and Dick thought she
+seemed a little confused. "But I must be going now. Thank you again."
+
+She got into the car, and in a few seconds was out of sight.
+
+"Remarkably handsome young lady, isn't she?" remarked Mr. Bidlake. "Do
+you know who she is?" he asked the chauffeur.
+
+"Lady Blanche Huntingford, sir," replied the chauffeur.
+
+"Whew!" whistled Mr. Bidlake.
+
+"Anybody special?" asked Dick.
+
+The lawyer smiled. "The incident is decidedly interesting," he replied.
+"First, she is cousin to Sir Guy Wendover who used to own Wendover Park,
+and second, she is the daughter of Lord Huntingford, the proudest and
+most exclusive aristocrat in Surrey."
+
+"No? By Jove, she is handsome!"
+
+"It is said that the Huntingfords rule Social Surrey. If they take you
+up, your social status is assured; if they boycott you----" and the
+lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
+
+Dick was silent a few seconds. Evidently he was thinking deeply. "Isn't
+she glorious?" he cried presently. "I never saw such a dazzling girl.
+Did you notice her eyes--her complexion? I--I wouldn't have missed it
+for anything."
+
+The lawyer did not reply. Perhaps he had reasons for his silence.
+
+The car dashed on for another mile, and then Dick gave a cry of delight.
+
+"That's it, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes; that's it."
+
+They were looking at a lovely old mansion which stood on the slope of a
+hill. Stretching away from it were fine park-lands, and beyond these
+were wide-stretching woods. Looked at on that fair spring day, it was
+indeed a place to be proud of, to rejoice in.
+
+"I never dreamt it was so fine!" gasped Dick.
+
+"One of the finest places in England," was the lawyer's complacent
+reply.
+
+Dick looked like one fascinated. It appealed to and satisfied him
+altogether.
+
+"It's old, isn't it?"
+
+"Three hundred years. It is said that the gardens are a wonder."
+
+The car passed through some heavily wrought gates, and then rolled under
+an avenue of old trees. Dick could not speak; the thought of possessing
+such a place made him dumb. A few minutes later they drew up before the
+main entrance.
+
+Dick was the first to leap out. He was eager to enter, to claim
+possession, to examine every nook and corner of his new home. He put his
+foot on the bottom step leading to the door, and then stopped suddenly.
+He felt himself rooted to the ground, felt afraid to move.
+
+"I congratulate you again," said the lawyer. "I feel proud that I have
+the privilege to----"
+
+"Don't you see? There! Don't you see?" gasped Dick.
+
+"See?" repeated the lawyer. "Of course I see one of the most beautiful
+houses in England."
+
+"Yes, but nothing else?" he asked excitedly.
+
+"What do you mean?" queried the lawyer.
+
+But Dick did not reply. Although the lawyer had seen nothing, he saw in
+dim outline the face and form which had appeared to him when he was
+sinking in the turbulent waters of the Indian Ocean. Was this a warning
+that trouble was to overwhelm him again?
+
+Dick Faversham had no doubts. Whatever he might think later, he was at
+that time certain of what he saw. The sun was shining brightly, and
+there was nothing in the various objects by which he was surrounded to
+suggest the supernatural, and yet he saw the face of the angel. She
+seemed to be hovering over the steps which led to the main entrance of
+the house, and for the moment she looked as though she would forbid his
+entrance. But only for the moment. Slowly she faded away, slowly he lost
+sight of her, and by the time the servant, who had evidently seen the
+approach of the car, had reached the door she had gone.
+
+But he was sure he had seen her. The form he had seen hovering over him
+on the wild, turbulent sea was plainly visible to him at the door of
+this old Surrey mansion. The face, too, could not be mistaken. The same
+calm, benign expression, the same tender mouth. Goodness, purity,
+guardianship, all found their expression in those features. But there
+was something more. The eyes which had riveted his attention and haunted
+his memory for months seemed to convey something different to him now
+from what they had then. There was still the same yearning gaze, the
+same melting tenderness, but there was something more. They seemed to
+suggest fear, warning. Dick Faversham felt as though she wanted to tell
+him something, to warn him against some unknown danger. It is true the
+feeling was indefinite and difficult to put into words; but it was
+there. She might, while not forbidding him to enter the house which had
+so unexpectedly come into his possession, be trying to tell him of
+dangers, of possible calamity.
+
+"And do you say that you can see--that--that you saw nothing?" he almost
+gasped.
+
+"I can see a great deal," replied Mr. Bidlake. "I can see one of the
+loveliest scenes in England. I can see you standing at the entrance
+of--but what do you mean? You look pale--frightened. Aren't you well?"
+
+Dick opened his mouth to tell what he had seen, but he checked himself.
+Somehow the thought of opening his heart to this matter-of-fact lawyer
+seemed like sacrilege. He would not understand. He would tell him, just
+as Romanoff had told him weeks before, that his mind was unbalanced by
+the experiences through which he had passed, that the natural excitement
+caused by the news he had heard were too much for him, and caused him to
+lose his mental balance.
+
+"Yes, I am quite well, thank you."
+
+"Well, what do you mean? What do you think you saw?"
+
+At that moment the door opened, and the housekeeper, who had hurried to
+meet them, appeared, and the lawyer did not listen to his stammering
+reply.
+
+"Good-day, Mr. Bidlake," smiled the housekeeper. "I am glad you got here
+all right. Winkley had quite a difficulty in getting a chauffeur. I hope
+the one provided was satisfactory?"
+
+"It's all right, Mrs. Winkley," and the lawyer was very patronising as
+he spoke; "the man brought us here safely. This," and he turned towards
+Dick, "is Mr. Richard Faversham, the new owner of--hem--Wendover Park,
+and your new--master."
+
+"Indeed, sir," and Mrs. Winkley turned and looked nervously towards
+Dick, "I hope you'll be very--happy here, sir. I bid you welcome, sir."
+
+Dick smiled with frank pleasure and shook hands--a familiarity which
+pleased the housekeeper, but not the lawyer.
+
+"You got my letter, Mrs. Winkley?" Mr. Bidlake said hurriedly.
+
+"Yes, sir, also your telephone message yesterday. Wendover Park is a
+lovely place, Mr. Faversham."
+
+"It is, indeed, Mrs. Winkley. This Surrey air has given me an appetite,
+too."
+
+Dick was so nervous that he hardly knew what he was saying. As he
+glanced around the spacious hall and tried to realise that it was his
+own, and as he called to mind that for the last mile he had been passing
+through his own property, it seemed to be too wonderful to be true.
+
+"Yes, the air is very good, and I am glad you are hungry. Lunch will be
+ready in half an hour. I have prepared a bedroom for you, Mr. Faversham.
+I have assumed you are--staying here?"
+
+"Rather!" and Dick laughed as he spoke. "You must excuse me if I'm a
+little abrupt, Mrs. Winkley. You see, I imagine it will take me some
+little time to settle down to the new order of things."
+
+"I think I understand; it must be a wonderful experience for you. But I
+think you'll find everything all right. I have taken great care of
+everything since the late Mr. Faversham died. It's all just as he left
+it. No doubt you'll want to look over the house?"
+
+"Presently, Mrs. Winkley; but, first of all, I want to come to an
+understanding with you. I am a bachelor, and I don't think I have a
+relation in the world, so, for a time, I--shall make no changes in the
+place at all. What I mean to say is, that I hope you'll continue to be
+my housekeeper, and--and look after me generally. Mr. Bidlake has said
+all sorts of good things about you, so much so that I shall regard
+myself very fortunate if--if you'll remain in your present position."
+
+Dick didn't know at all why he said this, except that he had a feeling
+that something of the sort was expected from him.
+
+"I'm sure it's very kind of you to say so, sir," and Mrs. Winkley smiled
+radiantly. "Of course I've been a little bit anxious, not knowing what
+kind of--of gentleman the new owner would be, or what plans he might
+have. But, if you think I'll suit you, sir, I'll do my utmost to make
+you comfortable and look after your interests. I was housekeeper to Dr.
+Bell of Guildford when the late Mr. Faversham's sister died, and----"
+
+"Yes, I've heard about that," interrupted Dick. "I'm sure he was lucky
+to get you."
+
+"I did my best for him, sir, and he never grumbled. I lived in these
+parts as a girl, so I can get you plenty of references as to the
+respectability of my family."
+
+"I'm sure you can," Dick assented. He was glad that Mrs. Winkley was of
+the superior servant order rather than some superior person who had
+pretensions to being a fine lady. "By the way, of course you know the
+house well?"
+
+"Know the house well?" repeated Mrs. Winkley. She was not quite sure
+that she understood him.
+
+"Yes; know all the rooms?" laughed Dick nervously.
+
+"Why, certainly, sir. I know every room from the garret to the cellar,"
+replied Mrs. Winkley wonderingly.
+
+"And there are no ghosts, are there?"
+
+"Ghosts, sir? Not that I ever heard of."
+
+"I was only wondering. It's an old house, and I was thinking that there
+might be a family ghost."
+
+Mrs. Winkley shook her head. "Nothing of the sort, sir, to my knowledge.
+Wait a minute, though; I did hear when I was a girl that the elm grove
+was haunted. There's a lake down there, and there was a story years ago
+that a servant who had drowned herself there used to wander up and down
+the grove wringing her hands on Michaelmas Eve."
+
+"And where is the elm grove?"
+
+"It's away towards the North Lodge. You wouldn't see it the way you
+came, and it's hidden from here."
+
+"But the house? There's no legend that that has ever been haunted?"
+
+"No, sir. I suppose some of the Wendovers were very wild generations
+ago, but I never heard that any of their spirits ever came back again."
+
+Mrs. Winkley was pleased that her new master kept talking so long,
+although she came to the conclusion that he was somewhat eccentric.
+
+"Of course, it was foolish of me to ask," Dick said somewhat awkwardly;
+"but the thought struck me. By the way, how long did you say it was to
+lunch-time?"
+
+"Not quite half an hour, sir," replied Mrs. Winkley, looking at an old
+eight-day clock. "I'll speak to the cook and get it pushed forward as
+fast as possible. Perhaps you'd like a wash, sir? I'll show you to your
+room, if you would."
+
+"Thank you. After that I--I think, Mr. Bidlake, I'd like to go into the
+gardens."
+
+He was afraid he was making a bad impression upon his housekeeper, and
+he was angry with himself for not acting in a more natural manner. But
+he seemed to be under a strange influence. Although the thought of the
+supernatural had left him, his experience of a few minutes before
+doubtless coloured his mind.
+
+A few minutes later they were out in the sunlight again, and they had
+scarcely reached the gardens when a man of about fifty years of age made
+his way towards them.
+
+"Good morning, sir," he said, with a strong Scotch accent. "Have I the
+honour to speak to the new master?"
+
+"Yes; my name is Faversham."
+
+"I'm M'Neal, your second gardener, sir. I thought when I saw you I'd
+make bold to speak, sir. I've been here for thirty years, sir, and have
+always borne a good character."
+
+"I've no doubt you have," laughed Dick. "You look it."
+
+"Thank you, sir. I gave satisfaction to the late Mr. Faversham, and to
+Sir Guy Wendover before him, and I hope----"
+
+"That we shall get on well together. Of course we shall. I like the look
+of you."
+
+He felt better now. The sight of the broad expanse of the park and the
+smell of the sweet, pure air made him light-hearted again.
+
+"Indeed," he continued, "I may as well tell you right away that I intend
+to keep everybody that was here in my uncle's days. You can tell the
+others that."
+
+"Thank you, sir. But I'd like to remark that this war has made food
+dear."
+
+"I'll bear that in mind; you'll not find me unjust. All who serve me
+shall be well paid."
+
+"We've all done our best, sir," persisted M'Neal, who was somewhat of a
+character, "but I'll not deny that we shall all be the better for a
+master. Personally I'm not satisfied with the way things are looking."
+
+"No? I thought they looked beautiful."
+
+"Ah, but nothing to what they can look. We are, as you may say, in a
+kind of between time now. We've not planted out the beds, although we've
+prepared them. If you'll----"
+
+"Of course I will," Dick interrupted him, with a laugh, "but you must
+give me time before making definite promises."
+
+"If I might show you around," suggested M'Neal, "I think I could
+explain----"
+
+"Later, later," laughed Dick, moving away. "Mr. Bidlake, will you come
+over here with me? I want to speak to you privately."
+
+"Do you know," Mr. Bidlake told him, "that your uncle discharged M'Neal
+several times during the time he lived here?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because he followed him like a dog whenever he came into the grounds,
+and insisted on talking to him. He said the fellow gave him no rest."
+
+"But why did he take him on again?"
+
+"He didn't. But M'Neal took no notice of the discharges. He always
+turned up on the following morning, and went on with his work as though
+nothing had happened."
+
+"And my uncle paid him his wages?"
+
+"Yes. You see, the fellow is as faithful as a dog, although he's a
+nuisance. My word, what a view!"
+
+The lawyer made this exclamation as a turn in the path revealed a
+landscape they had not hitherto seen. It was one of those stretches of
+country peculiar to that part of Surrey, and as Dick looked he did not
+wonder at the lawyer's enthusiasm. Beyond the park, which was studded
+with giant oaks, he saw a rich, undulating country. Here and there were
+farmsteads nestling among the trees; again he saw stretches of
+woodland, while in the distance rose fine commanding hills. The foliage
+had far from reached its glory, but the tinge of green which was
+creeping over every hedgerow and tree contained a promise, and a charm
+that no poet could describe. And the whole scene was all bathed in
+spring sunlight, which the birds, delighting in, made into a vast
+concert hall.
+
+"My word, it is ripping!" cried Dick.
+
+"It's glorious! it's sublime!" cried the lawyer. "You are a fortunate
+man, Mr. Richard Faversham. Do you know, sir, that all you can see is
+yours?"
+
+"All mine?" Dick almost gasped.
+
+"Yes, all this and much more."
+
+For the first time Dick had a real feeling of possession, and something
+to which he had hitherto been a stranger entered his life. Up to now he
+had been poor. His life, ever since his father died, had been a
+struggle. He had dreamed dreams and seen visions, only to be
+disappointed. In spite of ambition, endeavour, determination, everything
+to which he had set his hand had failed him. But now, as if some fabled
+genii had come to his aid, fortune had suddenly poured her favours into
+his lap.
+
+And here was the earnest of it!
+
+This glorious countryside, containing farms, houses, villages, and
+wide-spreading lands, was his. All his! Gratified desire made his heart
+beat wildly. At last life was smiling and joyous. What a future he would
+have! With wealth like his, nothing would be impossible!
+
+"Yes, and much more," repeated the lawyer. "On what chances a man's
+fortunes turn."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Dick, who scarce knew what he was saying.
+
+"Only this," said Mr. Bidlake. "If that fellow had not been killed in a
+drunken brawl, none of this would be yours. As it is, you are one of the
+most fortunate men in England."
+
+"Yes, by Jove, I am."
+
+The lawyer looked at his watch. "Excuse me, Mr. Faversham, but it is
+lunch-time, and I must leave you at five o'clock."
+
+"I'm sorry you can't stay a few days."
+
+"Impossible, my dear sir, much as I'd like to. But I've made a little
+programme for you this afternoon, if it is quite convenient to you."
+
+"Yes?" queried Dick.
+
+"Yes; I've arranged for your steward, your head gamekeeper, and the
+other principal men on the estate to call here. I thought you might like
+to see them. There, I hear the lunch-gong."
+
+Dick went back to the house like a man in a dream.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+LADY BLANCHE MAKES HER APPEARANCE
+
+
+At six o'clock that evening Dick Faversham was alone. He had had
+interviews with his steward, his bailiff, his gamekeeper, his forester,
+his head gardener, and his head stableman, and now he was left to
+himself. Mr. Bidlake, after promising to come again in three days, had
+gone back to London, while the others had each gone to their respective
+homes to discuss the new master of Wendover Park and the changes which
+would probably take place.
+
+Dick had also gone over the house, and had taken note of the many
+features of his new dwelling-place. He had examined the library, the
+billiard-room, the dancing-room, the minstrels' gallery, the banqueting
+hall, and the many other apartments belonging to this fine old mansion.
+Evidently many of the rooms had for years been unused, but, as Mrs.
+Winkley had said, everything was "in perfect condition."
+
+His uncle belonged to that order of men who could not bear to let
+anything deteriorate for lack of attention, and he had spent his money
+freely. In a way, too, Charles Faversham had a sense of fitness. In all
+the improvements he had made, he saw to it that the character and spirit
+of the old place should in no way be disturbed. Thus, while every room
+was hygienic, and every fireplace fitted according to the most modern
+ideas, the true character of everything was maintained. Electric light
+was installed, but not a single fitting was out of accord with the age
+of the building. Modern science had in everything been perfectly blended
+with the spirit of the men who had erected this grand old pile centuries
+before.
+
+And Dick felt it all. He was enough of an artist to realise that
+nothing was out of place, that it was a home to rejoice in, to be proud
+of. If John Ruskin had been alive, and had accompanied him on his tour
+of inspection, there was little that the author of _The Seven Lamps of
+Architecture_ would have found fault with.
+
+Most of the furniture, too, was old, and had belonged to the Wendovers.
+When Mr. Charles Faversham had bought the estate, he had taken over
+everything practically as it stood. Pictures, tapestry, antique articles
+of furniture which had been in the house for centuries still remained.
+
+"Everything has such a homely, cosy feeling!" he exclaimed to himself,
+again and again. "The place is not one of those great, giant, homeless
+barracks; it's just an ideal home. It's perfect!"
+
+And it was all his! That was the thought that constantly came to his
+mind. This fact was especially made real to him during his interview
+with Mr. Boase, the steward. That worthy gentleman, a lawyer who lived
+in a little town, most of which belonged to the Wendover estate, made
+this abundantly plain by every word he spoke, by every intonation of his
+voice.
+
+Mr. Boase unrolled maps and plans in abundance. He placed before him
+lists of tenants, with nature and condition of their tenancy. He told
+him how much each farmer paid in rent, how much the house property was
+worth, what amount was spent each year in repairs, and finally the net
+amount of his rent-roll. And this was all apart from his investments
+elsewhere. It was simply fabulous. He who had always been poor, and had
+often been hard put to it to pay for food and clothes, found himself
+ridiculously wealthy. He had money to burn. Aladdin of romantic renown
+was not so much filled with wonder when the slave of the lamp appeared,
+ready to do his bidding, as was Dick as he realised his position.
+
+And he revelled in thought of it all. He was not of a miserly nature,
+but he gloried in the influence of the power of wealth, and he painted
+glowing pictures of his future. He saw the doors of the rich and the
+great open to him; he saw himself courted by people possessing old names
+and a great ancestry; he fancied himself occupying positions of
+eminence in the life of the nation; he saw proud beauties smiling on
+him.
+
+Nothing was impossible! He knew he had more than an average share of
+brains; his late employers had admitted as much to him. He also had the
+gift of oratory. On the few occasions he had attempted to address his
+fellows this had been abundantly proved. In the past he had been
+handicapped, but now----
+
+After dinner that night he walked out alone. He wanted to see his
+possessions, to feel his own earth beneath his feet, to feast his eyes
+on the glorious countryside.
+
+"It will take me a week," he reflected, "to get used to it all, to fully
+realise that it is all mine. I want to feel my feet, to formulate my
+plans, to sketch my future. Of course, I shall be alone for a time, but
+in a few days the neighbours will be sure to call on me. After that I
+must give a ball. Of course, it is a bad time just now, and it is a
+nuisance that so many of the young fellows have been called into the
+Army; but I'll be able to manage it," and then he pictured the great
+ballroom filled with laughter and gaiety.
+
+Then the memory of Lady Blanche Huntingford came to him. He saw her as
+she had appeared to him that morning. What a glorious creature she was!
+What great flashing eyes, what a complexion, what a figure! And she
+belonged to one of the oldest families in England. The Huntingfords were
+a great people before half the titled nobility of the present day were
+ever heard of.
+
+He called to mind what Mr. Bidlake had told him. If the Huntingfords
+recognised him, his social position was assured, for Lord Huntingford
+was the social magnate of the county. He was almost half in love with
+her already. He remembered her silvery laugh, the gleaming whiteness of
+her teeth. What a mistress she would make for Wendover Park! And he
+could win her love! He was sure he could, and when he did----
+
+He blessed the failure of her car to run that morning; blessed the
+knowledge he possessed whereby he had been able to render her a service.
+Of course, she would find out who he was, and then--yes, he would find
+the Open Sesame for every door.
+
+For the next few days things happened as Dick expected. He was given
+time to view his possessions, to take stock of his new position, and
+then the neighbours began to call. By this time Dick knew full
+particulars of all the old families in Surrey, and he was gratified at
+their appearance. Evidently he suffered from none of the antipathy which
+had been felt towards his uncle. He was young, he was good looking, he
+had the education and appearance of a gentleman, and people accepted him
+at his face value.
+
+One day his heart gave a great bound, for a servant told him that Lord
+and Lady Huntingford, accompanied by Lady Blanche Huntingford, were in
+the drawing-room. He knew then that his position in the society of the
+county would be assured. It was true that Lord Huntingford was
+poor--true, too, that his uncle had practically ejected Sir Guy Wendover
+from his old home, and that Sir Guy was a relative of the Huntingfords.
+But that would count for nothing, and the Huntingfords were the
+Huntingfords!
+
+"This is good of you, Lord Huntingford!" he cried, as he entered the
+room.
+
+"I came to give you a welcome," said Lord Huntingford somewhat
+pompously. "I trust you will be very happy here."
+
+"I'm sure I shall!" cried Dick, with the laugh of a boy. "Wendover Park
+feels like Paradise to me."
+
+"I know the place well," said the peer. "My Cousin Guy, as you may have
+heard, used to live here."
+
+"Yes, I have heard of it, and I'm afraid you must feel rather bitterly
+towards me as a consequence."
+
+"Not at all," replied Huntingford. "Of course, it is all ancient history
+now. We _did_ feel cut up about it at the time, but--but I congratulate
+you on possessing such a fine old place."
+
+"But for the fact that I so love it already," said Dick, "I should wish
+my uncle had secured some other place; but, for the life of me, I can't.
+It's too lovely. Anyhow, I'll try to be not an unworthy successor of Sir
+Guy. I hope you'll help me, Lord Huntingford, and you, Lady Huntingford
+and Lady Blanche. You see, I'm handicapped. I'm a bachelor, and I'm
+entirely ignorant of my duties. I shall look to you for help."
+
+This was sound policy on Dick's part. Lord Huntingford was a vain man,
+and loved to patronise.
+
+"You began all right," laughed Lady Blanche. "You helped a poor,
+forlorn, helpless motorist out of a difficulty."
+
+"You recognise me, then?"
+
+"Of course I do. I positively envied the way you tackled that engine of
+mine and put it right. Of course, I felt angry when I knew who you were.
+No, no, there was nothing personal about it. I only hated the thought
+that anyone other than a Wendover should live here. A family feeling,
+you know."
+
+"All that Wendover Park has is yours to command!" and Dick looked very
+earnest as he spoke.
+
+"Now, that's good of you. But don't be too liberal with your promises. I
+may take you at your word."
+
+"Try me!" cried Dick. "I should like to do something to atone. Not that
+I can give it up," he added, with a laugh. "I simply couldn't, you know.
+But--but----"
+
+"And how are you going to spend your time?" asked Lord Huntingford. "We
+are living in a critical age."
+
+"I shall make something turn up!" Dick cried heartily, "as soon as I
+know where I am."
+
+"And, meanwhile, I suppose you motor, ride, shoot, golf, and all the
+rest of it?" asked Lady Blanche.
+
+"I have all the vices," Dick told her.
+
+"You say you golf?"
+
+"Yes, a little. Would you give me a match?" he ventured.
+
+"I'd love to," and her eyes flashed into his.
+
+The next afternoon Dick met Lady Blanche on the golf links, and before
+the match was over he believed that he was in love with her. Never
+before had he met such a glorious specimen of physical womanhood. To him
+her every movement was poetry, her lithe, graceful body a thing in which
+to rejoice.
+
+After the match Dick motored her back to her home. He was in Arcadia as
+she sat by his side. The charm of her presence was to him like some
+fabled elixir. On their way they caught a glimpse of Wendover Park. The
+old house stood out boldly on the hillside, while the wide-stretching
+park-lands were plainly to be seen.
+
+"It's a perfect place," said the girl. "It just wants nothing."
+
+"Oh yes, it does," laughed Dick.
+
+"What?" she asked.
+
+"Can't you think? If you were a bachelor you would," and he watched her
+face closely as he spoke.
+
+He was afraid lest he might offend her, and he wondered if she saw his
+meaning. He thought he saw a flush surmount her face, but he was not
+sure. They were passing a cart just then, and he had to fix his
+attention on the steering-wheel.
+
+"Do you know," he went on, "it's a bit lonely there. I haven't many
+friends. And then, being a bachelor, I find it difficult to entertain.
+Not but what I shall make a start soon," he added.
+
+"I think you are to be envied," she remarked.
+
+"Of course I am. I'm one of the luckiest fellows in the world. By the
+way, I want to give a dance or something of that sort as a kind of
+house-warming."
+
+"How delightful."
+
+"Is it? But then, you see, I'm so ignorant that I don't know how to
+start about it."
+
+"Don't you? That's a pity. You must get help."
+
+"I must. I say, will you help me? There is no one I'd so soon have."
+
+He was sure this time. He saw the rosy tint on her face deepen. Perhaps
+she heard the tremor in his voice. But she did not answer him; instead,
+she looked away towards the distant landscape.
+
+"Will you?" he persisted.
+
+"What could I do?"
+
+"Everything. You know the people, know who I should invite, and what I
+should do. You are accustomed to that kind of thing. I am not."
+
+Still she was silent.
+
+"Will you?" he asked again.
+
+"Perhaps. If you really wish me to."
+
+She almost whispered the words, but he heard her, and to him there was
+something caressing in her tone.
+
+They passed up a long avenue of trees leading to her home, and a few
+seconds later the car stood at the door.
+
+"You'll come in and have some tea, won't you?"
+
+"May I?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Of course you may. Mother will be expecting you."
+
+As he rode back to Wendover Park that evening Dick was in Paradise.
+Nothing but the most commonplace things had been said, but the girl had
+fascinated him. She had appealed to his ambition, to his pride, to his
+admiration for perfect, physical womanhood. She was not very clever, but
+she was handsome. She was instinct with redundant health; she was
+glorious in her youth and vitality.
+
+"I'm in love," he said to himself more than once. "And she's
+wonderful--simply, gloriously wonderful. What eyes, what a complexion,
+what a magnificent figure! I wonder if----"
+
+I am dwelling somewhat on this part of Dick Faversham's life because
+I wish the reader to understand the condition of his mind, to
+understand the forces at work. Uninteresting as it may be, it is still
+important. For Dick passed through some wonderful experiences soon
+after--experiences which shook the foundations of his life, and which
+will be more truly understood as we realise the thoughts and feelings
+which possessed him.
+
+As I have said, he was in a state of bliss as he drove back to Wendover
+Park that evening, but as he neared his lodge gates a curious feeling of
+depression possessed him. His heart became heavy, forebodings filled his
+mind. It seemed to him that he was on the edge of a dreadful calamity.
+
+"What's the matter with me?" he asked himself again and again. "The sun
+is shining, the world is lovely, and I have all that heart can wish
+for."
+
+Still the feeling possessed him. Something was going to
+happen--something awful. He could not explain it, or give any reason for
+it, but it was there.
+
+Then suddenly his heart stood still. As the car drew up to his own door
+he again saw the face of the angel. She was hovering over the entrance
+just as he had seen her on the day he came to take possession. She
+seemed to dread something; there was pain almost amounting to agony in
+the look she gave him.
+
+He had alighted from the car, and he had a dim idea that a man was
+approaching to take it to the garage, but he paid no attention to him;
+he stood like one transfixed, looking at the apparition. He was aware
+that the car had gone, and that he was alone. In a vague way he supposed
+that the chauffeur, like the lawyer, had seen nothing.
+
+"Who are you? What do you want?"
+
+The words escaped him almost in spite of himself.
+
+But he heard no voice in reply. He thought he saw her lips trying to
+formulate words, but were not able.
+
+"Tell me," he persisted--"tell me who you are, why you appear to me.
+What do you want?"
+
+Again the apparition seemed to be trying to become audible, only to
+fail. Then, although he could hear no distinct voice, her answer seemed
+to come to him.
+
+"Fight, fight; pray, pray," she seemed to be saying. "Beware of the
+tempter. Fight, fight; pray, pray. Promise me."
+
+He was not afraid, but it seemed to him that he was face to face with
+eternal realities. He knew then that there were depths of life and
+experience of which he was ignorant.
+
+He heard steps in the hall, and then someone opened the door.
+
+There stood, smiling, debonair, sardonic, and--yes--wicked, Count
+Romanoff.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+COUNT ROMANOFF'S GOSPEL
+
+
+Count Romanoff!
+
+A weight seemed to settle on Dick Faversham's heart as he saw the
+sinister face of his visitor. During the excitement of the last few days
+he had scarcely given him a thought. The dark, saturnine stranger had
+shrunk away into the background of his life, and no longer seemed of
+importance to him. It is true he had now and then wondered whether he
+should ever see him again, but as there seemed no present likelihood of
+his doing so, he had practically dismissed him from his mind.
+
+His sudden appearance came to him like a shock. Besides, he was nervous,
+excited at what he had just experienced. Every nerve was tingling, every
+sense preternaturally awake. What did this apparition mean? Why should
+the same face and form appear to him again and again?--first in the
+smoke-room of the ship, then on the island, then as he first put foot
+into the new inheritance, and now again. What did it mean? Then during
+that awful struggle in the stormy sea.
+
+"Ha, Faversham. You see, I have taken you at your word."
+
+Dick's thoughts came to earth as the Count's voice reached him.
+
+"I'm glad to see you," he said cordially, and as he led the way to the
+library he was all that a host should be.
+
+"You see, I was in England, and, having a little spare time, I thought I
+would look you up. I hope I'm not taking too great a liberty?"
+
+"Liberty, my dear fellow! I should be annoyed beyond words if you had
+not come to see me. I have hosts of things to discuss with you.
+Besides," and Dick spoke like one deeply moved, "I cannot help
+remembering that but for you it is not likely I should be here. I should
+have been lying somewhere at the bottom of the Indian Ocean."
+
+"Oh, come now; let's have no more of that. Of course, I had the good
+luck to be of service to you, and jolly glad I am; no decent fellow
+could have done less than I did."
+
+"All the same, I cannot forget that I owe my life to you," cried Dick
+fervently. "Do you know, I wondered no end what happened to you; tell me
+about it."
+
+"Not until I hear about you. Of course, I can guess a great deal. The
+fact that you are here tells me that the wireless you got on the ship
+was not only _bona fide_ but important. You are master here, eh?"
+
+Dick nodded.
+
+"I've been told that your uncle was a very rich man. Is that so?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you are his heir?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I congratulate you. By Jove, it's a lovely place. I didn't know when
+I've seen anything I like so much. And I've seen a few houses, I can
+tell you. But really, now, and I hope I'm not impertinent, do you mean
+to tell me that you have entered into all old Charles Faversham's
+wealth?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Shake hands on it. I can think of no one more fitted to own 'big
+money,' as the Americans say. I'm glad of the privilege of seeing you in
+possession."
+
+It seemed to Dick that it was a new Romanoff that he saw. He was no
+longer pessimistic, cynical, saturnine. He looked younger, too, and no
+one could help admitting that he had that grand air that denotes birth
+and breeding.
+
+"I only arrived in London last night," went on Romanoff. "I got into
+Tilbury late in the afternoon, and after I got fixed up at my hotel I
+began to wonder about you. Presently I called to mind what you told me,
+and--here I am."
+
+"Of course you'll stay with me a bit?"
+
+"May I?"
+
+"May you? Why, of course you must, if you can. That goes without
+saying."
+
+"I say, you are awfully good. I should love to stay a bit. This is one
+of the loveliest corners in the world at the loveliest time of the year.
+Surrey in May! What can be more attractive!"
+
+"I'll have your room prepared at once, and, by the way, I'll send a man
+to London for your luggage."
+
+"That is good of you, Faversham. I may as well confess it now. I did
+bring a suit-case with me in the hope that you could put me up for the
+night, but of course----"
+
+"You might have known that I'd want you for a long time," Dick
+interrupted.
+
+A servant entered, and Dick gave his instructions. "Now tell me," he
+went on; "what did you do on leaving the island? I know practically
+nothing about anything. I was very ill, and got no better till the boat
+landed at Plymouth."
+
+Romanoff hesitated for a few seconds, then he replied:
+
+"Oh, I caught a boat bound for Australia."
+
+"Australia, eh?"
+
+"Yes. Our signals were seen by two vessels, one returning to England,
+and the other going to Australia, which, as luck would have it, stopped
+at Bombay for a few hours. So I took that."
+
+"And you didn't stay long in the Antipodes?"
+
+"No, I did not like the country, and I found it necessary to return to
+England."
+
+"I'm jolly glad."
+
+"Well, here I am anyhow. Isn't life a topsy-turvy business? Who would
+have thought when we exchanged commonplaces on that boat a short time
+ago we should forgather like this in a lovely old Surrey house? Facts
+beat fiction all to bits. Fiction is commonplace, tame, prosy; but
+facts--real life--are interesting. Now, tell me about your experiences."
+
+"Not yet. It's nearly dinner-time. I suppose you brought no evening
+clothes?"
+
+Romanoff laughed. "As a matter of fact, I did. Of course, I was not sure
+you were here; but I thought you might be, so I took the liberty of----"
+
+"Splendid," interrupted Dick. "There, the dressing-bell is ringing. I'll
+show you your room. My word, I'm awfully glad you've come. To tell you
+the truth, I was feeling a bit depressed."
+
+"You depressed! I say! Fancy the heir of all this being depressed."
+
+"But I was. The idea of spending the evening alone dismayed me. You see,
+a fellow can't be out every night, and--and there you are. But you've
+come."
+
+"And no one will call to-night?"
+
+"I don't expect so. Young Clavering, who is home on leave, might come
+over for a game of billiards, but I can't think of anyone else likely to
+turn up."
+
+"Clavering--Clavering. I don't think I know the name."
+
+"Oh, it is a good name in Surrey, I can assure you. It's a very old
+family, although I suppose it is frightfully poor. I've only met young
+Clavering once, but I liked him very much. Most of the young fellows
+around here are in the Army, and the older men are frightful old
+fossils. Here's your room. I hope you'll be comfortable."
+
+Romanoff looked around the room with evident pleasure. He walked to the
+window and gazed steadily at the landscape; then he turned to Dick and
+gave him a keen, searching glance.
+
+"You are a fortunate man, Faversham. Speaking as a Russian and also as
+one who has travelled all over the world, I say, commend me to England
+for comfort. Yes, I'll be all right, my friend."
+
+When Dick had gone Romanoff threw himself in a chair and gazed into
+vacancy. A change passed over his face. He was no longer cheerful and
+pleasant; the old sinister, threatening look had come into his eyes,
+while his mouth was cruel. Once an expression swept over his features
+which suggested a kind of mocking pity, but it was only for a moment.
+
+During dinner he was in a gay humour. Evidently he had thrown care to
+the winds, and lived for the pleasure of the moment. Dick found him
+fascinating. He talked pleasantly--at times brilliantly. His
+conversation scintillated with sardonic humour. He told stories about
+many countries. He related anecdotes about the Imperial House of the
+Romanoffs, and described the influence which Rasputin had on the Tzar
+and the Tzarina.
+
+"I cannot understand it," remarked Dick after one of these stories.
+
+"Understand what?"
+
+"How a man like the Tzar could allow a dirty charlatan like Rasputin to
+have such influence. After all, Nicholas was an educated man, and a
+gentleman."
+
+Romanoff laughed.
+
+"As well Rasputin as the others," he replied.
+
+"What others?"
+
+"The priests of the Holy Orthodox Church. Let me give you a bit of
+advice, Faversham; keep clear of all this religious rot. It's true that
+you in England pretend to be more advanced than the poor Russians, but
+at bottom there's no difference. Wherever religion creeps in, it's the
+same story. Religion means credulity, and credulity means lies,
+oppression, cant, corruption."
+
+"Did you meet Rasputin?"
+
+"Oh yes," replied Romanoff, with a sigh of resignation. "On the whole, I
+admired him."
+
+"I say, that's a bit too thick."
+
+"Anyhow, the fellow was interesting. He had a philosophy of his own. He
+recognised the fact that the world was populated by fools, and he
+determined to make the most of his chances. He interpreted religion in a
+way that would give the greatest possible gratification to his senses.
+His policy was to suck the orange of the world dry. 'Salvation through
+sin,' eh?" and Romanoff laughed as he spoke. "Well, it's about the most
+sensible religion I ever heard of."
+
+"It seems to me devilish and dirty," Dick spoke warmly.
+
+"Nonsense, my dear fellow. Of course, all religion is foolishness--that
+is, religion as is usually understood. But if there is to be a religion
+at all, Rasputin got hold of the true one."
+
+"You don't mean that?"
+
+Romanoff looked at Dick steadily for a few seconds. He seemed to be
+thinking deeply as though he were trying to understand his man.
+
+"Perhaps I don't," he admitted presently. "Sometimes one exaggerates in
+order to convey what is actually true. Still, there is a substratum of
+truth in the dirty monk's philosophy, as you'll find out before you are
+much older. By the way, the evening has turned cold, hasn't it?"
+
+"Do you find it so? The air of a night is often cold in the early
+summer. Have you finished? Then we'll go into my little den where I
+always have a fire of an evening."
+
+A few minutes later Romanoff was sprawling in a large easy-chair with
+his feet close to the fire.
+
+"How long have you been here?" he asked.
+
+"Not quite a month."
+
+"Been well received by your neighbours?"
+
+"On the whole, yes."
+
+Again Romanoff looked steadily at his companion. "Will you forgive me if
+I ask you a few questions?"
+
+"Certainly. Go ahead."
+
+"First, then, how do you like being a rich man?"
+
+Dick glanced around the room, and then gave a look towards the
+wide-spreading park-lands.
+
+"How can one help liking it?" he asked.
+
+"Exactly. You do not find money to be the root of all evil, then?"
+
+"Heavens, no!"
+
+"You would not like to be a poor man again?"
+
+"What in the world are you driving at? Of course, the very thought of it
+is horrible."
+
+"Just so. I am in my way a student of human nature, and I was a bit
+curious. Now for a second question. Who is she?"
+
+"Oh, I say."
+
+"Of course she exists."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"In my way I have the power of divination. When I look at a man I know
+something, not much perhaps, but something of his hopes. I felt sure
+before I spoke that you were in love. You've been quick about it, my
+young friend."
+
+"I don't know that I am in love."
+
+"Of course you are. Who is she?"
+
+"There's no one. At least not yet. I don't suppose she's given me a
+second's thought."
+
+"But you do. Is she young, beautiful? Is she rich, well connected?"
+
+"Young! beautiful!" laughed Dick.
+
+"Ah, I see. Not a rustic beauty, by any chance?"
+
+"Rustic beauty, eh? There's nothing rustic about Lady Blanche
+Huntingford."
+
+"Huntingford! That's one of the best known names in England."
+
+"Do you know it?"
+
+"Who doesn't? It's the biggest name in Debrett. But the Huntingfords are
+as poor as church mice."
+
+"What does that matter?"
+
+"You have enough for both, eh? Of course, that's your hope."
+
+"Why?" and Dick turned rather sharply on his interlocutor.
+
+"Oh, nothing personal, my friend. I'm only speaking from a long
+experience. The Huntingfords are poor and proud. I do not know of a more
+unpleasant combination. I've heard of Lady Blanche--she is about
+twenty-four, a great beauty, and so far has not succeeded in the
+marriage market. She's had several seasons in London, but the rich
+aristocrat has not turned up. That's why she may smile on a commoner--a
+newcomer--providing he's rich enough."
+
+"If you'd seen her, spoken with her, you would not talk like that."
+
+"Shouldn't I? Who knows? But it's nothing to worry about, my dear
+fellow. All talk about the love of women goes for nothing. It doesn't
+exist. Of course, there is such a thing as sexual attraction, but
+nothing else."
+
+"You are a terrible cynic, Romanoff."
+
+"I'm a citizen of the world, and I've gone around the world with my eyes
+open. But, as I said, you can have an easy mind. The ball is at your
+feet, my dear fellow. Whatever you want you can have."
+
+"Do be serious." Dick spoke lightly; all the same, he felt uneasy.
+
+"I _am_ serious," replied Romanoff. "With wealth like yours, you are
+master of the world; you can get all the world has to give."
+
+"I wish I could."
+
+"I tell you you can. Money is all-powerful. Just think, if you were
+poor, not a hope, not an ambition could be realised."
+
+"That won't do. Hosts of poor fellows have----"
+
+"Risen to position and power. Just so; but it's been a terrible
+struggle, a ghastly grind. In most cases, too, men don't get money until
+they are too old to enjoy it. But you are young, and the world's at your
+feet. Do you want titles? You can buy them. Power? fame? Again you can
+get them. Beautiful women? Love? Yes, even love of a sort you can buy,
+if you have money. Poverty is hell; but what heaven there is in this
+world can be bought."
+
+"Then you think the poor can't be happy?"
+
+"Let me be careful in answering that. If a man has no ambitions, if he
+has no desire for power, then, in a negative way, he may be happy
+although he's poor. But to you, who are ambitious through and
+through--you, who see visions and dream dreams--poverty would be hell.
+That's why I congratulate you on all this. And my advice to you is, make
+the most of it. Live to enjoy, my dear fellow. Whatever your eyes
+desire, take it."
+
+Dick realised that Romanoff was talking cheap cynicism, that, to use a
+journalistic term, it was "piffle" from thread to needle, and yet he was
+impressed. Again he felt the man's ascendancy over him, knew that he was
+swayed and moulded by a personality stronger than his own.
+
+Dick did not try to answer him, for at that moment there was a knock at
+the door and a servant entered.
+
+"Mr. and Miss Stanmore have called, sir."
+
+"I do not think I know them, do I?" asked Dick.
+
+"I don't know, sir. They live not far from the South Park gates. They
+are old residents, sir."
+
+Whether there was something in the tone of the man's voice, or whether
+he desired company other than Romanoff's, I cannot tell. Certain it is
+that, acting on impulse and scarcely realising what he was doing, he
+said:
+
+"Show them in here, Jenkins, will you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+BEATRICE STANMORE
+
+
+"You don't mind, do you?" asked Dick, turning to Romanoff when the man
+had left the room.
+
+"Not at all, my dear fellow. Why should I?"
+
+Again the servant returned and ushered in an old man and a young girl.
+The former was a striking-looking figure, and would be noticed in any
+crowd. Although old, he stood perfectly upright, and was evidently
+healthy and vigorous. His face was ruddy and almost unlined. His white
+beard and moustache were allowed to grow long, while his almost massive
+head was covered with a wealth of wavy white hair. Perhaps, too, his
+attire helped to make his appearance attractive, and his velvet
+dinner-jacket suggested the artist or the poet.
+
+"I hope you'll forgive me calling, Mr. Faversham," he said, taking
+Dick's outstretched hand, "but I'm an old man, as well as a man of
+moods. I've thought several times of dropping in to see you, but
+refrained. I was afraid you would have no use for an old buffer such as
+I. But to-night I felt I must, and here I am. This is my granddaughter,
+Beatrice."
+
+"It's awfully good of you to call, Mr. Stanmore, and you, too, Miss
+Stanmore."
+
+Dick looked at the girl full in the face as he spoke, and then all
+further words were frozen on his lips. The sight of Beatrice Stanmore
+caused his heart to beat wildly, and made him feel that a new influence
+had entered the room.
+
+And yet, at first sight, there was nothing remarkable in her presence.
+Picture a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl of eighteen--a girl with a sweet,
+winsome, yet mischievous smile, and a perfect complexion; a girl with
+well-formed features and an evident sense of humour--and you see
+Beatrice Stanmore. And yet your picture would be incomplete. What I have
+said suggests a somewhat commonplace girl, such as can be seen by the
+score in any country town. But she was not commonplace. Her blue eyes
+were large and haunting; sometimes they were sad, and yet there was a
+world of mirth and gladness stored in their liquid depths. She was only
+eighteen or nineteen years of age, and she did not look older than her
+years; but, if you took a second look at her, you would know that her
+thoughts were not always a child's thoughts--that she had longings too
+deep for words.
+
+She was dressed very simply. I cannot describe her apparel, but to Dick
+it was something light and diaphanous, which set oft a figure which was
+at once girlish and yet perfect in its proportions. I do not suppose
+that a connoisseur would call her beautiful, but she suggested
+health--health of body, of mind, of soul. It would be impossible to
+associate her with anything impure, rather a flash from her mirth-loving
+eyes would destroy all thought of such a thing.
+
+"I've seen her before," thought Dick, "but where?"
+
+No, it was only fancy. She was an utter stranger to him, and yet he was
+haunted with the thought that somewhere, at some time, they had met and
+known each other, that she had been with him in some crisis.
+
+"Please forgive us, Mr. Faversham," she said, with a laugh; "it's not my
+fault. I should never have had the courage to beard the lion in his
+den."
+
+"What lion? What den?" asked Dick, as he looked into the girl's sunny
+face.
+
+"Of course, you are the lion. You've been the talk of the countryside
+for weeks; and--and isn't this your den?"
+
+She spoke with all the simplicity and frankness of a child, and seemed
+to be perfectly unimpressed by the fact that she was talking with one
+who was spoken of as one of the richest young men in England.
+
+"It's I who am the culprit, Mr. Faversham," broke in the old man. "The
+impulse came upon me suddenly. I said to Beatrice, 'I am going to call
+on young Faversham,' and she jumped at the idea of a walk through the
+park, and that's why she's here with me. Please tell me if we are in the
+way."
+
+"In the way? I'm just delighted. And--but let me introduce you to Count
+Romanoff."
+
+Both Hugh Stanmore and his granddaughter looked towards Count Romanoff,
+who had risen to his feet. The light was shining fully upon his face,
+and Dick could not help feeling what a striking appearance he had. He
+half held out his hand to the newcomers and then suddenly withdrew it.
+
+Old Hugh Stanmore looked at the Count steadily for a few seconds, and
+then bowed in silence. It might seem as though something had frozen his
+urbanity and cheerfulness. He did not appear to notice the
+half-outstretched hand, and Dick felt as though there was an instinctive
+antipathy between them. As for Beatrice, she gave the Count a cold nod,
+and then, with a perfunctory, "How d'ye do?" turned to Dick again.
+
+"I'm so glad you've come here to live, Mr. Faversham," she said, with
+girlish enthusiasm.
+
+"You can't be gladder than I," replied Dick; "but, is there a special
+reason for your gladness?"
+
+"Of course there is. I've wanted for years to see the inside of this
+house, but I was frightfully afraid of your--your uncle. He always
+looked so stern, and so--so forbidding that I hadn't the courage to ask
+him. But you are different."
+
+"Then why haven't you called before?" asked Dick. "I've been here nearly
+a month, and yet I've never seen you before."
+
+"Of course, you must understand," and it was old Hugh Stanmore who
+replied, "that we are quite unimportant people. We live in that cottage
+not far from your South Lodge, and, not knowing you, we felt rather
+sensitive about calling."
+
+"But your name seems familiar. I'm sure I've heard it somewhere."
+
+"Not among the people around here, I imagine?"
+
+"No, I think not; but I seem to have heard of it, or seen it, years
+ago."
+
+"I fancy you are mistaken, although what you say is just possible. When
+I was at Cambridge I had tremendous ambitions, and, like thousands of
+other callow youths, I made up my mind to win fame. I was something of a
+linguist, and had a great longing to win renown as an Egyptologist and
+as an Assyrian scholar. However, I had no money to indulge in such
+luxuries, so on leaving Cambridge I looked to journalism for a living. I
+even wrote a novel," and he laughed merrily.
+
+"Splendid!" cried Dick. "What was the title of the novel?"
+
+"I won't tell you that," replied the old man. "I've drawn a very thick
+curtain over that effort. However, I might have done something if I'd
+persevered; but, luckily or unluckily for me, I had some money left to
+me. Not much, but enough to enable me to travel in the East."
+
+"Yes, and then?"
+
+"Oh, I'm afraid I did not shine as an Egyptologist, although I had some
+wonderful experiences and made some interesting acquaintances. I also
+contributed to that phase of literature."
+
+"I never saw your name in that connection," Dick confessed.
+
+"I expect not. You see, that was many years ago. Still, although my
+health would not stand the Eastern climate, I've kept up my interest in
+my early love. But I've been somewhat of a butterfly. On my return to
+England I conceived a passion for throwing paint in the eyes of the
+public, to quote John Ruskin. I even went so far as to get a few
+pictures hung in the Academy. But, in spite of that, I achieved no fame.
+Since then I've contributed occasional articles to the reviews, while
+such papers as _The Spectator_ and _The Times_ have printed some
+effusions of mine which I in my vanity have called poetry. Please
+forgive me for talking about myself in this way. I know it is frightful
+egotism on my part, but, as I'm one of your nearest neighbours, I'm in a
+way introducing myself."
+
+"It's awfully good of you," replied Dick. "I hope we shall see a good
+deal of each other."
+
+"I hope we shall," replied Hugh Stanmore. "I may as well confess it, Mr.
+Faversham, that although I am an old man, I am a creature of impulses. I
+do things without being able to give a reason for them. I talk without
+knowing why. Do you know that I've never spoken so much about myself to
+anyone in this district as I have to-night, and I've lived here for
+eighteen years?"
+
+"What--at the cottage you spoke of?"
+
+"Yes, at the cottage. I took up my residence there when my son died. He
+was an artist who would have won fame if he had lived; but it pleased
+the good God to take him away. I determined that I would try to bring
+what comfort I could into the life of his young wife. But I was not with
+her long. She died at the birth of this little girl here, three months
+later."
+
+A silence fell upon the little company.
+
+"There, there," laughed Hugh Stanmore, "there's nothing to be sad about.
+This life is only a beginning. Actual life comes next, as Browning says.
+Besides, I've been very happy looking after my little maid here. It's
+rather hard on her, having to see so much of an old man like myself. All
+the same, we've had a jolly time."
+
+"Old man!" cried Beatrice indignantly. "I assure you, Mr. Faversham,
+he's the youngest man in Surrey. Sometimes I am quite ashamed of his
+frivolity. I'm quite a staid, elderly person compared to him."
+
+"Anyhow," said the old man, rising, "we must be going now. But be
+assured of this, Mr. Faversham: no one wishes you joy in your new home
+more than I. We give you a glad welcome to the district, and if an old
+man's prayer and an old man's blessing are worth anything, you have
+them."
+
+"But please don't go yet," cried Dick. "It's only a little after nine
+o'clock, and--and I'm so glad to have you here. You see, you've only
+just come."
+
+"No, no, I know. But we'll be going now. Some other time, when you
+happen to be alone, I'll be glad to come and smoke a pipe with you--if I
+may?"
+
+"May! Of course. Besides, Miss Stanmore said she wanted to look over
+the house. When will you come, Miss Stanmore?"
+
+"I think it must be when you can let Granddad know that you are alone
+and have nothing to do," was the girl's reply. "I shall look forward to
+it tremendously."
+
+"So shall I," cried Dick. Then, forgetful of Romanoff, he added, "And I
+can assure you, you won't have long to wait."
+
+Throughout their conversation, only a part of which I have recorded,
+Romanoff had not spoken a word. Had Dick been watching him he would have
+seen that he was not at all pleased at the presence of the visitors.
+There was a dark, lowering look in his eyes, and almost a scowl on his
+face. It was evident that a strong feeling of antagonism existed.
+
+"Good-night, Mr. Faversham," said old Hugh Stanmore, holding out his
+hand; then, bowing gravely to Romanoff, he passed out of the room.
+
+"Oh, but I'll see you to the door, if you _will_ go," insisted Dick, as
+for a moment he held Beatrice Stanmore's hand in his. "Allow me."
+
+He passed through the hall by her side and opened the door. As he did
+so, he could barely repress an exclamation of wonder and delight, while
+both the old man and the young girl stood as if spellbound.
+
+It was one of those rare nights which constantly recur to one's
+remembrance in after days. It was now the end of May, and while the
+summer had not reached its full glory, the fullness of spring made the
+earth like a paradise. The sky was cloudless and the silver rays of a
+nearly full moon lit up the scene with an unearthly beauty. All around
+giant trees stood, while the flowers, which grew in rich profusion, were
+plainly to be seen. Away through the leafy trees could be seen the
+outline of the country. Here and there the birds, which had barely gone
+to rest, were chirping, while away in the distance a cuckoo proclaimed
+the advent of summer.
+
+For a few seconds they stood in silence, then Hugh Stanmore said
+quietly, "One can understand Charles Kingsley's dying words on such a
+night, Mr. Faversham."
+
+"What did he say?" asked Dick.
+
+"'How beautiful God must be,'" quoted Hugh Stanmore.
+
+Just then a bird burst forth into song--rich-noted, mellow, triumphant.
+
+"A nightingale!" cried the girl. "Look, Granddad, it is over on that
+tree." She went down the drive under the long avenue of trees as she
+spoke, leaving Hugh Stanmore and Dick together.
+
+"They can't be far away on such a night as this," murmured the old man.
+
+"Who can't be far away?"
+
+"The angels. The heavens are full of them. Ah, if we could only see!"
+
+"Do you believe in angels?"
+
+"Do I believe in them? How can I help believing? It is nearly nineteen
+years ago since my boy and his wife died. But they didn't leave me
+altogether. They come to me."
+
+"Have you seen them?" and Dick's eager question was uttered almost
+unconsciously.
+
+"No, not with my natural eyes. Why? I wonder. But I have felt them near
+me. I know they are watching over me. You see, they did not cease to
+love us when God took them away for some higher service. Naturally, too,
+they watch over Beatrice. They could not help it."
+
+He spoke quietly, and in an almost matter-of-fact way, yet with a
+suggestion of reverence in his tones.
+
+"Who knows who is watching over us now?" continued the old man. "Ah, if
+we could only see! 'Are they not all ministering spirits sent to
+minister to those who are heirs of Salvation?'"
+
+Dick felt a shiver pass through him. He reflected that on that very
+spot, only a few hours before, he had seen something, _something_--a
+luminous figure, a pale, sad face--sad almost to agony!
+
+"Mr. Faversham," asked Hugh Stanmore suddenly, "who is Count Romanoff?"
+
+"I don't know much about him," replied Dick. "He was a fellow-passenger
+on board the boat on which I was bound for Australia some time ago. Why
+do you ask?"
+
+"You know nothing else? Excuse me."
+
+"Only that he saved my life."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"Nothing. Only he will have a great influence on your life."
+
+"How do you know?" Dick was greatly excited.
+
+"I have no reason to give you. I only know."
+
+"Good or bad?" asked the young man eagerly.
+
+"I don't know. But did you notice that Beatrice didn't like him? And
+I've never once known her wrong in her estimate of people. There, look
+at her now, amongst the moon's rays under the trees. Doesn't she look
+like an angel? Yes, and she _is_ an angel--one of God's sweetest and
+purest and best. But as human as every woman ought to be. Good-night,
+Mr. Faversham. Yes, my darling, I'm coming," and the old man went down
+the drive with the activity of a boy.
+
+Dick watched them until they were out of sight. He was influenced more
+than he knew by their visit. Their presence, after Count Romanoff's
+cynicism, was like some sweet-scented balm; like a breeze from the
+mountains after the fetid atmosphere of a cavern.
+
+"Well, what did you think of them?" he asked of Romanoff on his return.
+
+The Count shrugged his shoulders. "There's not much to think, is there?"
+he asked.
+
+"I think there is a great deal. I found the old man more interesting
+than almost any caller I have had."
+
+"A dull, prosy, platitudinous old Polonius; as for the girl, she's just
+a badly behaved, unformed, bread-and-butter miss."
+
+Dick did not speak. The Count's words grated on him.
+
+"By the way," went on Romanoff, "I should like to meet Lady Blanche
+Huntingford. I think I knew the old Lord."
+
+"I promised to call to-morrow afternoon," replied Dick. "I'll take you
+over." But he was not so enthusiastic as the Count expected.
+
+After they had retired to their rooms that night, the Count sat long in
+soliloquy. Of what he was thinking it would be difficult to say. His
+face was like a mask.
+
+When he rose from his chair, however, there was a look of decision in
+his eyes.
+
+"The time has come sooner than I thought," he said aloud. "I must bring
+the matter to a head at once. Otherwise I shall lose him."
+
+And then he laughed in his grim, sardonic way, as if something had made
+him merry.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+UNCERTAINTY
+
+
+Dick rose early the following morning, and went for a walk in the park.
+When he returned he found the Count in the breakfast-room.
+
+"Quite a pattern young countryman," he laughed. "I saw you reflecting on
+the beauties of your own domains. Did you sleep well?"
+
+"Like a healthy dog. And you?"
+
+"I never sleep. I dream sometimes--that's all."
+
+"Still play-acting," laughed Dick.
+
+"No, there's not a more serious man in England than I, as a rule; but
+I'm not going to be serious to-day while the sun shines. When the sun
+goes down I shall be tragic. There, Richard is himself again!"
+
+He threw back his shoulders as he spoke, as though he would shift a
+weight from them. "I am hungry, Faversham," he laughed. "Let us eat.
+After breakfast I would love a ride. Have you a horse in your stables
+that you could lend me?"
+
+"Of course I have."
+
+"Good. Then we'll have a gallop till lunch. After that a-wooing we will
+go. I'm feverish to see the glorious Lady Blanche, the flower of the
+age, the beauty of the county. I say, Faversham, prepare to be jealous.
+I can be a most dangerous rival."
+
+"I can't think of you as a marrying man, Count. Domesticity and you are
+oceans apart."
+
+The Count laughed. "No, a man such as I never marries," he said.
+"Marriage! What an idiotic arrangement. But such things always follow
+religion. But for religion, humanity would be natural, happy."
+
+"Come, now. That won't do."
+
+"It is true, my friend. Ever and always the result of religion has been
+to raise unnatural barriers, to create sin. The man who founds a
+religion is an enemy to the race. The greatest enemy to the world's
+happiness was the Founder of Christianity."
+
+"In Heaven's name, why?"
+
+"Because He labelled natural actions as sins, because He was for ever
+emphasising a distinction between right and wrong. When there is no
+right, no wrong. The evolution of religion, and of so-called morality,
+is a crime, because it strikes at the root of human enjoyment. But,
+there, I'm getting serious, and I won't be serious. This is a day to
+laugh, to rejoice in, and I've an appetite like a hunter."
+
+Throughout the morning they carried out the programme Romanoff had
+suggested. Two of the best horses in the stables were saddled, and they
+rode till noon. During all this time the Count was in high spirits, and
+seemed to revel in the brightness of the day and the glory of the
+scenery.
+
+"After all, give me a living thing to deal with," he cried. "This craze
+for motor-cars is a sign of decadence. 'Enjoyment by machinery' should
+be the motto of every motorist. But a horse is different. A horse is
+sentient, intelligent. He feels what his rider feels; he enters into the
+spirit of whatever is going on."
+
+"But motoring can be jolly good sport," Dick rejoined.
+
+"Of course it can. But a motor is impersonal; it is a thing, not a
+being. You cannot make it your slave. It is just a matter of steel, and
+petrol, and oil. It never becomes afraid of you."
+
+"What of that?" asked Dick.
+
+"Without fear there is no real mastery," replied Romanoff.
+
+"But surely the mastery which is obtained through fear is an
+unsatisfactory sort of thing."
+
+Romanoff looked at Dick as though on the point of replying, but he was
+silent.
+
+"Anyhow, I love a horse," he ventured presently. "I love to feel his
+body alive beneath me, love to feel him spurn the ground beneath his
+feet."
+
+"Yes; I, too, love a horse," replied Dick, "and do you know, although
+I've only been here a month, this chap loves me. He whines a welcome
+when I go to the stable, and he kind of cries when I leave."
+
+"And he isn't afraid of you?" asked Romanoff.
+
+"Afraid!" cried Dick. "I hope not. I should hate to feel that a thing I
+loved was afraid of me."
+
+"Wait till you are married," laughed Romanoff.
+
+"I don't see what that has to do with it."
+
+"But it has everything to do with it. A wife should obey, and no woman
+obeys unless she fears. The one thing man has to do when he marries is
+to demand obedience, and until he has mastered the woman he gets none."
+
+"From the little experience I have, a woman is a difficult thing to
+master."
+
+"Everything can be mastered," replied Romanoff. "It sometimes requires
+patience, I'll admit, but it can always be done. Besides, a woman never
+respects her husband until he's mastered her. Find me a man who has not
+mastered his wife, and I'll show you a man whose wife despises him. Of
+course, every woman strives for mastery, but in her heart of hearts
+she's sorry if she gets it. If I ever married----" He ceased speaking.
+
+"Yes; if you married?"
+
+"I'd have obedience, obedience, obedience," and Romanoff repeated the
+word with increasing emphasis. "As you say, it might be difficult, but
+it can always be obtained."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Of course, if you go among the lower orders of people, the man obtains
+his wife's obedience by brute force. If she opposes him he knocks her
+down, thrashes her. But as you rise in the scale of humanity, the
+methods are different. The educated, cultured man never loses his
+temper, seldom utters an angry word. He may be a little sarcastic,
+perhaps, but nothing more. But he never yields. The wife cries, pleads,
+protests, goes into hysterics perhaps, threatens, but he never yields.
+He is polite, cold, cruel if you like, but he never shows a sign of
+weakness, and in the end he's master. And mastery is one of the great
+joys of life."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"I'm sure of it."
+
+Dick felt slightly uncomfortable. "You said you wouldn't be serious
+to-day, Romanoff," he laughed nervously, "and yet you talk as though
+something tragic were in the air."
+
+"I can assure you I'm in one of my light moods," replied the Count.
+"After all, of what account is a woman in a man's life? A diversion if
+you like--a creature necessary to his pleasure, but nothing more. When a
+man regards a woman as indispensable to his happiness, he's lost. Always
+look on a woman, whoever she may be, as a diversion, my friend," and
+Romanoff laughed quietly.
+
+After lunch, however, Romanoff's mood seemed changed. He spoke of his
+early days, and of his experiences in St. Petersburg and Moscow.
+
+"People talk about Paris being the great centre of pleasure," he said a
+little indignantly, "but it is nothing compared with St. Petersburg, or
+Petrograd, as it is called now. Some day, my friend, I must take you
+there; I must show you the sights; I must take you behind the scenes.
+Oh, I envy you!"
+
+"Why should you?" asked Dick.
+
+"Because you are young, because you have the world at your feet."
+
+"And haven't you?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. But, then, you go to everything fresh. You will
+drink the cup of life for the first time; you will drink deep and enjoy.
+But I can never again drink for the first time--there lies the
+difference."
+
+"But if the cup of life is good and sweet, why may not one drink it
+again, and again, and still find enjoyment?"
+
+Romanoff did not reply. He sat for a few seconds in silence, and then
+started up almost feverishly.
+
+"Let us away, my friend," he cried. "I am longing to see Lady Blanche
+Huntingford. How did you describe her? Velvety black eyes, rosy lips,
+hair as black as the raven's wing, tall, stately, shaped like a Juno
+and a Venus combined--was that it? Please don't let's waste any time.
+I'm anxious to be off."
+
+"Even although we are going in a motor."
+
+"Motors are useful, my friend. I may not like them, but I use them. For
+the matter of that, I use everything. I discard nothing."
+
+"Except religion," laughed Dick.
+
+"Oh, I have my religion," replied Romanoff. "Some time I'll tell you
+about it, but not now. The sunlight is the time for adventure, for love,
+for happiness. Let us be off."
+
+Evidently the Count was impressed by Lady Blanche. Directly he entered
+her presence he seemed to forget his cynicism, and to become
+light-hearted and gay.
+
+"Do you know, Lady Blanche," he said, "that I had an idea I had seen you
+somewhere. Your name was familiar, and when Faversham spoke of you, I
+felt I should be renewing an old acquaintance. Of course, I was
+mistaken."
+
+"Why 'of course'?"
+
+"The true reply would be too obvious, wouldn't it? Besides, it would be
+as trite and as clumsy as the repartee of an Oxford undergraduate."
+
+"You are beyond me," she sighed.
+
+Romanoff smiled. "Of course, you are laughing at me; all the same. I'll
+say this: I shall have no doubt from this time on as to whether I've met
+you. Do you know who I regard as the most favoured man in England?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"My friend Faversham, of course," and Romanoff glanced towards Dick, who
+sat listening and looking with a kind of wonder at the face of the girl.
+
+"Of course, Wendover is just lovely," she replied.
+
+"And only a very short motor-run from here," remarked Romanoff.
+
+The girl pouted as though she were vexed at his words, but it was easy
+to see she was not. There could be little doubt that she loved flattery,
+and although she felt slightly uncomfortable under the Count's ardent
+gaze, she was pleased at his admiration.
+
+She was also bent on being agreeable, and Dick felt that surely no
+handsomer woman ever lived than this glorious creature with whom he
+chatted and laughed. More than once he felt his heart beating wildly as
+her eyes caught his, and while he wished that Romanoff was not there, he
+felt it to be one of the happiest days of his life.
+
+"If Romanoff were not here I'd ask her to-day," he reflected. "It's true
+she's almost a stranger to me; but, after all, what does it matter? Love
+does not depend on a long acquaintance."
+
+For Dick felt sure he was in love. It is true there seemed a kind of
+barrier between them, a certain something that kept them apart. But that
+he put down to their different upbringing. She was a patrician, the
+child of long generations of aristocratic associations, while he,
+although his father and mother were gentlefolk, was a commoner. All his
+life, too, he had been poor, while during the last few years he had had
+to struggle constantly with poverty. It was no wonder, therefore, that
+there should be a kind of barrier between them. But that would break
+down. Already he was feeling more as if "he belonged" to his new
+surroundings, while his neighbours had received him with the utmost
+kindness. It was only a matter of time before he would feel at one with
+them all. Meanwhile, Lady Blanche charmed him, fascinated him. She
+appealed to him as a glorious woman, regal in her carriage, wondrous in
+her youth and beauty.
+
+Once during the afternoon they were alone together, and he was almost on
+the point of declaring his love. But something kept him back. What it
+was he could not tell. She was alluring, gracious, and seemed to offer
+him opportunities for telling her what was in his heart. And yet he did
+not speak. Perhaps he was afraid, although he could not have told what
+he feared.
+
+"When are you going to give me another game of golf?" he asked, as they
+parted.
+
+"I don't like threesomes," she laughed, looking towards Romanoff.
+
+"I share your antipathy," said Romanoff, "but could you not suggest
+someone who might bear with me while you and Faversham break the
+record?"
+
+"Please manage it," pleaded Dick.
+
+"There's a telephone at Wendover, isn't there?"
+
+"Of course there is. You'll ring me up and let me know, won't you?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+Her smile was bewildering, and as he felt the warm pressure of her hand
+he was in Arcadia.
+
+"I congratulate you, Faversham," remarked Romanoff, as they neared
+Wendover Park. "She's a glorious creature, simply glorious. Cleopatra
+was plain compared with her. My word, what a mistress for your new home.
+Such eyes, such hair, such a complexion--and what a magnificent figure.
+Yes, Faversham, you are a lucky man."
+
+"If I get her," sighed Dick.
+
+"Get her! Of course you'll get her. Unless----"
+
+"Unless what?" asked Dick as the other hesitated.
+
+Romanoff looked at him for some seconds very searchingly; then he
+sighed.
+
+"Yes, what is it?" persisted Dick, who felt uncomfortable under
+Romanoff's look.
+
+"I'm wondering."
+
+"Why and at what?"
+
+"If you are a wise man or a fool."
+
+"I'm afraid I don't understand."
+
+"No, but you will presently."
+
+There seemed to be something so ominous in his words that a feeling like
+fear possessed Dick's heart. He had always felt somewhat uncomfortable
+in Romanoff's presence, but now the feeling was so intensified that he
+dreaded what he might mean.
+
+"The sun is still shining," went on the Count, "and I told you that I
+should be in a festive mood until dark. In another hour the king of day
+will have disappeared; then I shall have some serious things to say to
+you."
+
+"Let's have no more play-acting," and Dick laughed nervously.
+
+"I can assure you, there'll be no play-acting. Everything will be
+real--desperately real. But I'm going to say no more now. After dinner
+I am going to be serious. But not until. See! Aren't you proud of it
+all? Don't you revel in it? Was there ever such a lovely old house,
+standing amidst such gorgeous surroundings? Look at those giant trees,
+man! See the glorious landscape! Was there ever such a lucky man! What a
+mistress Lady Blanche will make!"
+
+They were now passing up the long avenue which led to the house. Away in
+the distance they could see the mansion nestling amidst giant trees
+centuries old. From the house stretched the gardens, which were glorious
+in the beauty of early summer. And Dick saw it all, gloried in it all;
+but fear haunted him, all the same.
+
+"What is the meaning of this strange mood of yours, Romanoff?" he asked.
+
+"After dinner, my friend," laughed the other. "I'll tell you after
+dinner."
+
+Throughout dinner the Count was apparently light-hearted, almost to
+flippancy, but directly the servants had left them to their coffee and
+cigars his mood changed.
+
+"I told you I was going to be serious, didn't I?" he said slowly. "The
+time for laughter has ceased, Faversham. The next hour will be critical
+to you--ay, and more than critical; it will be heavy with destiny."
+
+"What in Heaven's name do you mean?"
+
+"Have you ever considered," and Romanoff enunciated every word with
+peculiar distinctness, "whether you are _really_ the owner of all
+this?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE REAL HEIR
+
+
+Dick Faversham could not repress a shudder as the other spoke. The
+Count's words were so ominous, so full of sinister meaning that for the
+moment he felt like crying out with fear. He mastered himself after a
+few seconds, however, and his reply was calm.
+
+"I see what you mean," he said quietly. "A few weeks ago I was poor, and
+without great expectation. Now----Naturally you wonder whether it is
+real to me, whether I can believe in my good fortune."
+
+"It goes deeper than that, Faversham," was the Count's rejoinder--"very
+much deeper than that."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"You believe that you are the owner of all this. You regard yourself as
+the lawful possessor of the Wendover Park estate, with all its farms,
+cottages, and villages; you also think of yourself as the owner of
+mining rights, shipping interests, and a host of other things, added to
+a very magnificent credit balance at your bankers'. Isn't that so?"
+
+"Of course I do. What have you to say against it?" Dick spoke almost
+angrily. He was greatly excited, not only by the Count's words, but by
+his manner of speech.
+
+"On the strength of it you have cast eyes of love on one of the most
+beautiful women in England; you have dreamed of marrying Lady Blanche
+Huntingford, who bears one of the oldest names in the land?"
+
+"And if I have, what then?"
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you that your fortune rests on a very slender,
+a very unsafe, foundation?"
+
+"I say, Count Romanoff----"
+
+"Don't be angry, my friend, and, above all, look at everything calmly."
+
+"Really, this is a trifle thick, isn't it? I'm afraid I must ask for an
+explanation of this peculiar manner of speech."
+
+"I deeply regret that I shall have to give an explanation," and there
+was curious vibration in Romanoff's voice. "But please, _please_,
+Faversham, don't think unkindly of me because of what I have to tell
+you. Perhaps I have been very clumsy, but I have been trying all day to
+prepare you for--for what you will regard as bad news."
+
+"Trying to prepare me? Bad news?"
+
+"Yes, my friend. I told you this morning that I was not going to be
+serious while the sun shone, but that after the sun went down I was
+going to be tragically in earnest. The time has come."
+
+"You spoke of my having no right here!" and a gleam of anger shot from
+Dick's eyes. "Might I suggest, Count, that it is a little out of the
+common for a guest to tell his host that he has no right to give him
+hospitality?"
+
+"I was afraid you might take it like that," and Romanoff spoke almost
+gently. "Doubtless I have been very clumsy, very gauche; all the same, I
+have come only in kindness."
+
+"Am I to understand, then, that you came here for the purpose of telling
+me that I am an impostor, an interloper? That, indeed, is interesting."
+
+"I came as a friend, a well-wisher--as one deeply, very deeply,
+interested in your welfare. I came as one who wants you to enjoy what
+you believe is your good fortune, and to marry the most beautiful woman
+in England. If, after you have heard me, you wish me to leave you, I
+will do so--sadly, I will admit, but I will leave you."
+
+"At least, do not deal in hints, in innuendoes. Tell me exactly what you
+mean, and perhaps you will also tell me what particular interest you
+have in the matter, and by what right you--you--talk in this way."
+
+"Faversham, let me first of all admit frankly that I took a great
+liking to you during the voyage that ended so--tragically. I am no
+longer a boy, and I do not take to people easily; but I felt an
+unaccountable interest in you. There were traits in your character that
+attracted me. I said to myself, 'I should like to know that young
+fellow, to cultivate his acquaintance.' That must be my reason for
+taking what interest I have in you. It would have been easy to let you
+drown, to--to listen to the appeal of the other occupants of the boat,
+and----"
+
+"Pardon me," interrupted Dick impulsively, "I have behaved like a cad. I
+forgot that I owed my life to you. But I was excited--angry. You see,
+the suggestion that I am here under false pretences naturally upsets me.
+But tell me what you mean. I do not understand you--I am bewildered by
+your hints."
+
+"Of course, I understand your feelings, and am not in the least
+offended. I think I know you too well not to take offence easily;
+besides, my desire, and my only desire, being to help you makes me
+impervious to ordinary emotions."
+
+"Still," cried Dick, "tell me what you mean. You say my position as
+owner of my Uncle Faversham's estates rests on a very slender, a very
+unsafe foundation. That is surely a serious statement to make. How do
+you know?"
+
+"Your uncle's will--yes, I will admit I went to Somerset House and paid
+a shilling for the right of reading it--states that he gave his fortune
+to his sister's sons, and after them to the next-of-kin."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Presently it came to pass that only one person stood between you and
+possession."
+
+"That is so. I did not know it at the time, but such, I am informed, was
+the case."
+
+"This person's name was Mr. Anthony Riggleton, at that time the only
+surviving son of your uncle's sister!"
+
+"That is so."
+
+Romanoff lay back in his chair and quietly smoked his cigar.
+
+"But why these questions?" persisted Dick.
+
+"I was only thinking, my friend, on what small issues fortune or poverty
+may rest."
+
+"But--but really----"
+
+"Here is the case as I understand it. Your lawyer told you that Mr.
+Anthony Riggleton, the only man who stood between you and all your
+uncle's possessions, was killed in a drunken brawl in Melbourne, and
+that on his death you became heir. That was why he sent you that
+wireless; that was why he summoned you back to England."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"But what if Mr. Anthony Riggleton is not dead?"
+
+"There is no doubt about that," replied Dick, in tones of relief. "Mr.
+Bidlake realised the importance of this, and sent to a lawyer in
+Melbourne to make investigations. Every care was taken, every possible
+loophole of mistake was investigated. I saw all the documents, all the
+newspaper reports."
+
+"Has it ever struck you that mistakes might be made about this?"
+
+"Of course. As a consequence I questioned Bidlake closely, and he told
+me that doubt was impossible."
+
+"Let me understand," and Romanoff continued to speak quietly. "Your
+position is that Anthony Riggleton, the then heir to all your Uncle
+Faversham's fortune, was living in Australia; that he was known in
+Melbourne; that he went to a house near Melbourne with some boon
+companions; that there was a night of orgy; that afterwards there was a
+quarrel; and that Mr. Anthony Riggleton was killed."
+
+"Evidently you've worked up the case," and there was a sneer in Dick's
+voice.
+
+"But I'm right, am I not?"
+
+"As far as you've gone, you are roughly right. Of course, his body was
+afterwards identified by----"
+
+"By the cashier of the bank from which he had drawn money, and by
+others," interrupted Romanoff. "But what if that cashier made a mistake?
+What if it paid him to make it? What if the others who identified the
+body were paid to do so? What if Mr. Anthony Riggleton is still alive?"
+
+"What if a hundred things are true?" cried Dick angrily. "One can ask
+such questions for ever. Of course, if Mr. Anthony Riggleton is still
+alive, I have no right here. If he is alive, I clear out."
+
+"And does the prospect please you?" and the Count looked at Dick like
+one anxious.
+
+"Of course, it doesn't please me. If it's true, I'm a pauper, or next
+door to one. If it's true, I should have to leave everything and go out
+into the world to begin again."
+
+"And give up all thought of Lady Blanche Huntingford," added the Count.
+
+"I say, Romanoff, if you've anything definite to tell me, tell it. I
+tell you honestly, I don't enjoy all this."
+
+"Of course you don't. The thought of giving up all this is like thinking
+of having your eyes pulled out, isn't it?"
+
+"But of course it's all rubbish. Of course you are imagining an ugly
+bogey man," and Dick laughed nervously.
+
+"I'm imagining nothing, Faversham."
+
+"Then you mean to tell me----"
+
+"That Mr. Anthony Riggleton is alive? Yes, I do."
+
+Dick gave the Count an angry look, then started to his feet and began to
+pace the room.
+
+"Of course it's all nonsense," he cried after a few seconds. "Please
+don't imagine that I'm going to accept a cock-and-bull sort of story
+like that. Do you think that Bidlake would be deceived? Do you imagine
+that the man he employed in Melbourne would be duped? No, no, I'm not
+such a fool as to accept that. Besides, what have you to do with it? Why
+did you come here in such a fashion, and with such a story? It does not
+look very friendly, does it?"
+
+"Why I came here, and why I have told you the truth, will leak out
+presently. You will see then that I came not as an enemy, but as a
+friend."
+
+"As a friend!" and there was an angry sneer in Dick's voice.
+
+"As a friend," repeated Romanoff. "Of course," he went on quietly, "I
+expected that you would take it in this way; but you will soon see that
+my motives are--not unworthy of a friend."
+
+"Tell me then how you came to know of this. Perhaps you will also give
+me some proofs that Mr. Anthony Riggleton, who was found dead, whose
+body was identified by responsible witnesses, has so miraculously come
+to life again. Believe me, this hearsay, this wonderful story does not
+appeal to me. Do you come to me with this--this farrago of nonsense with
+the belief that I am going to give up all this?" and he looked out of
+the window towards the far-spreading parks as he spoke, "without the
+most absolute and conclusive proof? If Mr. Anthony Riggleton is alive,
+where is he? Why does he not show himself? Why does he not come here and
+claim his own?"
+
+"Because I have stopped him from coming," replied Romanoff.
+
+"You have stopped him from coming?" cried Dick excitedly.
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Then you have seen him?"
+
+"I have seen him."
+
+"But how do you know it was he? Are Mr. Bidlake's inquiries to go for
+nothing? No, no, it won't do. I can't be deceived like that."
+
+"I know it was he because I have the most absolute proofs--proofs which
+I am going to submit to you."
+
+"You saw him, you say?"
+
+"I saw him."
+
+"But where?"
+
+"In Australia. I told you, didn't I, that--after leaving you I went to
+Australia? I told you, too, that I left Australia quickly because I did
+not like the country. That was false. I came because I wanted to warn
+you, to help you. You asked me just now why, if Mr. Anthony Riggleton
+was alive, he did not show himself. I will tell you why. If I had
+allowed him to do so, if he knew that he was heir to all you now
+possess, you would be a poor man. And I did not want you to be a poor
+man. I did not want your life to be ruined, your future sacrificed, your
+hopes destroyed. That's why, Faversham. That's why I left Australia and
+came here without wasting an hour. That's why I examined your uncle's
+will; that's why I came to warn you."
+
+"To warn me?"
+
+"To warn you."
+
+"Against what?"
+
+"Against dangers--against the dangers which might engulf you--ruin you
+for ever."
+
+"You speak in a tragic tone of voice."
+
+"I speak of tragic things. I told you that this was your hour of
+destiny. I told you the truth. This night will decide your future. You
+are a young fellow with your life all before you. You were born for
+enjoyment, for pleasure, for ease. You, unlike your uncle, who made all
+the wealth we are thinking of, are not a business genius; you are not a
+great master personality who can forge your way through difficult
+circumstances. You are not cast in that mould. But you can enjoy. You
+have barely felt your feet since you came into possession of great
+wealth, but already you have dreamt dreams, and seen visions. You have
+already made plans as to how you can suck the orange of the world dry.
+And to-night will be the time of decision."
+
+Dick laughed uneasily. "How?" he asked, and his face was pale to the
+lips.
+
+"Is there a photograph of Mr. Anthony Riggleton in the house?" asked
+Romanoff.
+
+"Yes, I came across one the other day. Would you like to see it?" He
+went to a drawer as he spoke and took a packet from it. "Here is the
+thing," he added.
+
+"Just so," replied Romanoff; "now look at this," and he took a
+photograph from his pocket. "It's the same face, isn't it? The same man.
+Well, my friend, that is the photograph of a man I saw in Australia,
+weeks after you got your wireless from Mr. Bidlake--months after the
+news came that Mr. Anthony Riggleton was dead. I saw him; I talked with
+him. He told me a good deal about himself, told me of some of his
+experiences in this house. There are a number of people in this
+neighbourhood who knew him, and who could identify him."
+
+"You are sure of this?" gasped Dick.
+
+"Absolutely."
+
+"And does he know--that--that his uncle is dead?"
+
+"Not yet. That's why I hurried here to see you. But he has made up his
+mind to come to England, and of course he intends coming here."
+
+"He told you this, did he?"
+
+"Yes. I came across him in a little town about five hundred miles from
+Melbourne, and when I found out who he was I thought of you."
+
+"But how do you explain the news of his death, the inquest, and the
+other things?"
+
+"I'll come to that presently. It's easily explained. Oh, there's no
+doubt about it, Faversham. I have seen the real heir to all the wealth
+you thought your own."
+
+"But what do you mean by saying that you stopped him from coming here?"
+and Dick's voice was husky.
+
+"I'm going to tell you why I stopped him. I'm going to tell you how you
+can keep everything, enjoy everything. Yes, and how you can still marry
+the woman you are dreaming of."
+
+"But if the real heir is alive--I--I can't," stammered Dick.
+
+"I'm here to show you how you can," persisted Romanoff. "Did I not tell
+you that this was the hour of destiny?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE DAY OF DESTINY
+
+
+Dick Faversham wiped away the beads of perspiration that stood thick
+upon his forehead. It seemed to him that he was surrounded by peculiar
+influences, that forces were at work which he could not understand. In
+one sense he did not at all believe in the story that Count Romanoff had
+told him. It appeared to him chimerical, unconvincing.
+
+It did not seem at all likely that a man of Mr. Bidlake's experience and
+mental acumen could have been so deceived. This subtle-minded lawyer,
+who had lived in London for so many years and had been spoken of as one
+of the most astute and level-headed men in the profession, would not be
+likely to communicate news of such great importance to him without being
+absolutely certain of his ground. He had shown him details of
+everything, too, and Mr. Bidlake was absolutely certain that Mr. Anthony
+Riggleton was dead, that he was murdered near Melbourne. The proofs of
+this were demonstrated in a hundred ways. No, he did not believe in
+Romanoff's story.
+
+Besides, it was absurd, on the face of it. Who was this Count Romanoff?
+He knew little or nothing of him. Though he owed his life to him, he
+knew nothing of his history or antecedents. He was afraid of him, too.
+He did not like his cynical way of looking at things, nor understand his
+mockery of current morality. And should he believe the bare word of such
+a man?
+
+And yet he did believe him. At the back of his mind he felt sure that he
+had spoken the truth.
+
+It came to him with ghastly force that he was not the owner of this fine
+old house, and of all the wealth that during the last few weeks he had
+almost gloated over. There was something in the tones of Romanoff's
+voice--something in his mocking yet intense way of speaking that
+convinced him in spite of himself.
+
+And the fact maddened him. To be poor now after these few brief weeks of
+riches would drive him mad. He had not begun to enjoy yet. He had not
+carried out the plans which had been born in his mind. He had only just
+entered into possession, and had been living the life of a pattern young
+man. But he had meant to enjoy, to drink the cup of pleasure to the very
+dregs.
+
+His mind swept like lightning over the conversation which had taken
+place, and every word of it was burnt into his brain. What did the Count
+mean by telling him that he could retain everything? Why did he persist
+in urging that he had hurried from Australia to England to save him from
+losing everything? What did he mean by telling him that this was his
+hour of destiny--that on his decision would depend the future of his
+life?
+
+"You mean--to say then, that--that----" he stammered, after a long,
+painful silence.
+
+"That Anthony Riggleton, the legal heir of old Charles Faversham, is
+alive," interrupted Romanoff. "I myself have seen him, have talked with
+him."
+
+"Does he know that he is--is the rightful heir?"
+
+"Not yet," and Romanoff smiled. "I took good care of that."
+
+"You mean----"
+
+"I mean that I did not save your life for nothing. When I had fully
+convinced myself that he was--who he said he was--I of course reflected
+on what it meant. I called to mind what you had told me on that island,
+and I saw how his being alive would affect you."
+
+"How did you know? I did not tell you the terms of the will. I did not
+know them myself."
+
+"Does it matter how I knew? Anyhow, he--Riggleton--would guess."
+
+"How did he know?"
+
+Romanoff shrugged his shoulders. "How should I know, my dear fellow? But
+one can easily guess. He knew he was next-of-kin to old Charles
+Faversham, and would naturally think he would inherit his wealth. But
+that is not all. Australia, although a long way from England, is not
+away from the lines of communication. Melbourne is quite a considerable
+city. It has newspapers, telephones, cablegrams, and a host of other
+things. But one thing Anthony Riggleton did not know: he did not know
+that the terms of the will were published in the Melbourne newspapers.
+He was afraid to go near Melbourne, in fact. He thought it best for the
+world to think of him as dead. Indeed, he paid a man to personate him in
+Melbourne, and that man paid the penalty of his deceit by his life."
+
+"It's anything but clear to me."
+
+"Then I'll make it clear. Riggleton had enemies in Melbourne whom it was
+necessary for him to see, but whom he was personally afraid to meet. He
+had served them very shabbily, and they had threatened him with
+unpleasant things. He had as a friend a man who resembled him very
+closely, and he offered this friend a sum of money if he would go to
+Melbourne and personate him. This man, ignorant of his danger, accepted
+the offer--now, do you see?"
+
+After he had asked many questions about this--questions which Romanoff
+answered freely--Dick looked long and steadily at a picture of old
+Charles Faversham which hung on the wall. He was trying to co-ordinate
+the story--trying to understand it.
+
+"And where is Anthony Riggleton now?"
+
+"He is in England."
+
+"In England! Then--then----"
+
+"Exactly," interrupted Romanoff. "You see what I meant when I said that
+the foundations of your position were very insecure. I do not imagine
+that Lady Blanche Huntingford would think very seriously about Dick
+Faversham if she knew the whole truth."
+
+"But--but--in England?"
+
+"Exactly. In England."
+
+"But you say he does not know--the truth?"
+
+"No. He may guess it, though. Who knows?"
+
+"But why did you not tell me this last night? Why wait till now before
+letting me know?"
+
+Again Romanoff smiled; he might be enjoying himself.
+
+"Because I like you, my friend. Because I wanted to see the state of
+your mind, and to know whether it was possible to help you."
+
+"To help me?"
+
+"To help you. I saw the kind of man you were. I saw what such wealth as
+you thought you possessed would mean to you. I saw, too, to what uses
+you could turn the power that riches would give you. So I made my
+plans."
+
+"But you say he is in England. If so, he will know--all!"
+
+"No, he does not. I took good care of that."
+
+"But he will find out."
+
+Romanoff laughed. "No, my friend, I have taken care of everything. As I
+told you, I like you, and I want you to be a great figure in the life of
+your country. That is why you are safe--for the present."
+
+Again Dick wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. It seemed
+to him as though he were standing on a precipice, while beneath him were
+yawning depths of darkness. All he had hoped for was mocking him, and he
+saw himself sinking under the stress of circumstances, just as on that
+terrible night he felt himself sinking in the deep waters. But there
+were no arms outstretched to save him, nor friendly help near him. He
+looked around the room, noble in its proportions, and handsomely
+appointed, and thought of all it suggested. He remembered his last
+interview with Mr. Bidlake, when that gentleman gave him an account of
+his possessions, and told him of the approximate amount of his fortune.
+And now it would all go to this man who was not even aware of the truth.
+It was all bewildering, maddening. Before he had properly begun to taste
+of the sweets of fortune they were being dashed from his lips. He felt
+as though he were losing his senses, that his brain was giving way
+under the stress of the news he had heard.
+
+Then his innate manhood began to assert itself. If what Romanoff had
+said were true, he must bear it. But, of course, he would not yield
+without a struggle. He would take nothing on the bare word of a man who,
+after all, was a stranger. Everything should be proved up to the hilt
+before he relinquished possession.
+
+"Safe for the present!" Dick repeated, and there was a note of angry
+scorn in his voice. "Of course, if--if you are not mistaken, there is no
+question of safety."
+
+"No question of safety?"
+
+"Certainly not. If Anthony Riggleton is alive, and if he is the true
+heir to old Charles Faversham, he must make his claim, as I assume he
+will."
+
+"Then you will yield without a struggle?" and there was a peculiar
+intonation in Romanoff's voice.
+
+"No," cried Dick, "I shall not yield without a struggle. I shall place
+the whole matter in Bidlake's hands, and--and if I'm a pauper, I
+am--that's all."
+
+"I know a better way than that."
+
+"I don't understand you."
+
+"No, but you will in a minute. Faversham, there's no need for you to fix
+up anything, no need for anyone to know what only you and I know."
+
+"Look here," and Dick's voice trembled. "Are you sure that this fellow
+you talk about is Anthony Riggleton--and that he is the lawful heir?"
+
+Romanoff gave Dick a quick, searching glance; then he gave a peculiar
+laugh. "Am I sure that the man is Anthony Riggleton? Here's the
+photograph he gave me of himself. I compared the photograph with the
+man, and I'm not likely to be mistaken. The photograph is the exact
+representation of the man. You have photographs of Riggleton in this
+house; compare them. Besides, he's been here repeatedly; he's known, I
+imagine, to the servants, to the neighbours. If he is allowed to make a
+claim, it will not be a question of Roger Tichborne and Arthur Orton
+over again, my friend. He will be able to prove his rights."
+
+"What do you mean by saying, 'if he is allowed to make his claim'?"
+asked Dick hoarsely. "Of course he'll be allowed."
+
+"Why of course?
+
+"Naturally he will."
+
+"That depends on you. Did I not tell you that this was your hour of
+destiny?"
+
+"Then the matter is settled. I will not usurp another man's rights. If
+he's the lawful owner, he shall have his own. Of course, he will have to
+prove it."
+
+"You don't mean that?"
+
+"Of course I do. Why not?"
+
+"Because it would be criminal madness--the act of a fool!"
+
+"It is the only attitude for a decent fellow."
+
+Again Romanoff let his piercing eyes fall on Dick's face. He seemed to
+be studying him afresh, as though he were trying to read his innermost
+thoughts.
+
+"Listen, my dear fellow," and the Count calmly cut the end of a fresh
+cigar. "I want to discuss this matter with you calmly, and I want our
+discussion to be entirely free from sentimental rubbish. To begin with,
+there is no doubt that the man Anthony Riggleton is alive, and that he
+is the legal owner of all Charles Faversham's fabulous fortune. Of that
+I've no doubt. If he came here everyone would recognise him, while there
+is not a lawyer, not a judge or jury in the land, who would not acclaim
+him the owner of all which you thought yours. But, as I said, I like
+you. You were meant to be a rich man; you were meant to enjoy what
+riches can give you. And of this I am sure, Faversham: poverty after
+this would mean hell to you. Why, man, think what you can have--titles,
+position, power, the love of beautiful women, and a thousand things
+more. If you want to enter public life the door is open to you. With
+wealth like yours a peerage is only a matter of arrangement. As for Lady
+Blanche Huntingford----" and the Count laughed meaningly.
+
+"But what is the use of talking like that if nothing really belongs to
+me?" cried Dick.
+
+"First of all, Faversham," went on the Count, as though Dick had not
+spoken, "get rid of all nonsense."
+
+"Nonsense? I don't understand."
+
+"I mean all nonsense about right and wrong, about so-called points of
+honour and that sort of thing. There is no right, and no wrong in the
+conventional sense of the word. Right! wrong! Pooh, they are only bogys
+invented by priests in days of darkness, in order to obtain power. It is
+always right to do the thing that pays---the thing that gives you
+happiness--power. The German philosophy is right there. Do the thing you
+can do. That's common sense."
+
+"It's devilish!" exclaimed Dick.
+
+"Your mind's unhinged, excited, or you wouldn't say so," replied
+Romanoff. "Now, look at me," and he fastened Dick's eyes by his intense
+gaze. "Do I look like a fanatic, a fool? Don't I speak with the
+knowledge of the world's wisdom in my mind? I've travelled in all the
+countries in the world, my friend, and I've riddled all their
+philosophies, and I tell you this: there is no right, no wrong. Life is
+given to us to enjoy, to drink the cup of pleasure to its depths, to
+press from the winepress all its sweets, and to be happy."
+
+He spoke in low, earnest tones, and as he did so, Dick felt as though
+his moral manhood were being sapped. The glitter of the Count's eyes
+fascinated him, and while under their spell he saw as the Count saw,
+felt as he felt.
+
+And yet he was afraid. There was something awesome in all
+this--something unholy.
+
+"Look here!" and Dick started to his feet. "What do you mean by coming
+to me in this way? Why should you so coolly assert that the moralities
+of the centuries are nonsense? Who are you? What are you?"
+
+Again the Count laughed.
+
+"Who am I? What am I?" he repeated. "You remember Napoleon Bonaparte's
+famous words: 'I am not a man. I am a thing. I am a force. Right and
+wrong do not exist for me. I make my own laws, my own morals.' Perhaps I
+could say the same, Faversham."
+
+"Napoleon found out his mistake, though," protested Dick.
+
+"Did he? Who knows? Besides, better taste the sweets of power, if only
+for a few years, than be a drudge, a nonentity, a poor, struggling worm
+all your days."
+
+"But what do you want? What have you in your mind?"
+
+"This, Faversham. If you will listen to me you will treat Anthony
+Riggleton as non-existent----"
+
+"As non-existent?"
+
+"Yes, you can with safety--absolute safety; and then, if you agree to my
+proposal, all you hope for, all you dream of, shall be yours. You shall
+remain here as absolute owner without a shadow of doubt or a shadow of
+suspicion, and--enjoy. You shall have happiness, my friend--happiness.
+Did I not tell you that this was your day of destiny?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE INVISIBLE HAND
+
+
+Again Dick felt as though he were gripped by an irresistible power, and
+that this power was evil. It was true that the Count sat in the chair
+near him, faultlessly dressed, urbane, smiling, with all the outward
+appearance of a polished man of the world; all the same, Dick felt that
+an evil influence dominated the room. The picture which Romanoff made
+him see was beautiful beyond words, and he beheld a future of sensuous
+ease, of satisfied ambition, of indescribable delights. And what he saw
+seemed to dull his moral sense, to undermine his moral strength.
+Moreover, the man had by his news undermined the foundations of life,
+shattered the hopes he had nourished, and thus left him unable to fight.
+
+"Tell me that this is a--a joke on your part," Dick said at length. "Of
+course it's not true."
+
+"Of course it is true."
+
+"Well, I'll have it proved, anyhow. Everything shall be sifted to the
+bottom."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I'll go and see Bidlake to-morrow. I'll tell him what you've said."
+
+"You will do no such thing." The Count spoke in the most nonchalant
+manner.
+
+"Why not? Indeed, I shall."
+
+"You will not. I'll tell you why. First, because it would be criminally
+insane, and second, because you would be cutting your own throat."
+
+"Please explain."
+
+"Understand," replied Romanoff, "that this is really nothing to me after
+all. I do not benefit by your riches, or lose by your poverty. Why, I
+wonder, am I taking an interest in the matter?" And for the moment he
+seemed to be reflecting. "I suppose it is because I like you--of course
+that is it. Besides, I saved your life, and naturally one has an
+interest in the life one has saved. But to explain: accept for the
+moment the conventional standards of right and wrong, good and evil, and
+what is the result? Suppose you give up everything to Riggleton--what
+follows? You give up all this to an unclean beast. You put power in the
+hands of a man who hasn't an elevated thought or desire. You, now--if
+you are wise, and retain what you have--can do some good with your
+money. You can bring comfort to the people on your estates; you can help
+what you believe worthy causes. You, Faversham, are a gentleman at
+heart, and would always act like one. Mind, I _don't_ accept
+conventional morality; it is no more to me than so much sawdust. But I
+do respect the decencies of life. My education has thrown me among
+people who have a sense of what's fit and proper. Anyhow, judging from
+your own standards, you would be doing an _immoral_ thing by handing
+this great fortune to Riggleton."
+
+"Tell me about him," and Dick felt a tightening at the throat.
+
+"Tell you about him! An unsavoury subject, my friend. A fellow with the
+mind of a pig, the tastes of a pig. What are his enjoyments? His true
+place is in a low-class brothel. If he inherited Wendover Park, he would
+fill these beautiful rooms with creatures of his own class--men and
+women."
+
+The Count did not raise his voice, but Dick realised its intensity; and
+again he felt his influence--felt that he was being dominated by a
+personality stronger than his own.
+
+"No, no," he continued, and he laughed quietly as he spoke; "copy-book
+morality has no weight with me. But I trust I am a gentleman. If, to use
+your own term, I sin, I will sin like a gentleman; I will enjoy myself
+like a gentleman. But this man is dirty. He wallows in filth--wallows in
+it, and rejoices in it. That is Anthony Riggleton. Morality! I scorn it.
+But decency, the behaviour of a gentleman, to act as a gentleman under
+every circumstance--that is a kind of religion with me! Now, then,
+Faversham, would it not be criminal madness to place all this in the
+hands of such a loathsome creature when you can so easily prevent it?"
+
+Of course, the argument was commonplace enough. It was a device by which
+thousands have tried to salve their consciences, and to try to find an
+excuse for wrong-doing. Had some men spoken the same words, Dick might
+not have been affected, but uttered by Romanoff they seemed to undermine
+the foundations of his reasoning power.
+
+"But if he is in England?" he protested weakly.
+
+"He is, but what then?"
+
+"He must know; he must. He is not an idiot, I suppose?"
+
+"No; he is cunning with a low kind of cunning--the cunning of a sensual
+beast. Some would say he is clever."
+
+"Then he must find out the truth."
+
+"Not if you say he must not."
+
+"What have I to do with it?"
+
+"Everything," and Romanoff's eyes seemed to be searching into Dick's
+innermost soul.
+
+"But how? I do not understand," and he nervously wiped his moist hands.
+
+"Say so, and he must be got rid of."
+
+"How?"
+
+Romanoff laughed quietly. "These are good cigars, Faversham," he said,
+like one who was vastly enjoying himself. "Oh, you can do that easily
+enough," he continued.
+
+"How?" asked Dick. He felt his eyes were hot as he turned them towards
+the other.
+
+"I said treat him as though he were non-existent. Well, let him _be_
+non-existent."
+
+"You mean--you mean----" and Dick's voice could scarcely be recognised.
+
+"Why not?" asked the Count carelessly. "The fellow is vermin--just dirty
+vermin. But he is a danger--a danger to the community, a danger to you.
+Why, then, if it can be done easily, secretly, and without anyone
+having the slightest chance of knowing, should you not rid the world of
+such a creature? Especially when you could save all this," and he looked
+around the room, "as well as marry that divine creature, and live the
+life you long to live."
+
+"Never!" cried Dick. "What?--murder! Not for all the wealth ever known.
+No, no--my God, no!"
+
+"If there are good deeds in the world, that would be a good deed,"
+persisted Romanoff. "You would be a benefactor to your race, your
+country," and there was a touch of pleading in his voice. "Why, man,
+think; I have him safe--safe! No one could know, and it would be a
+praiseworthy deed."
+
+"Then why not do it yourself?" cried Dick. There was a sneer as well as
+anger in his voice.
+
+"I am not the next heir to the Faversham estates," replied Romanoff.
+"What does it matter to me who owns all that old Charles Faversham
+gained during his life?"
+
+"Then why suggest such a thing? Why, it's devilish!"
+
+"Don't--please, don't be melodramatic," the Count drawled. "Would you
+not kill a rat that ate your corn? Would you not shoot any kind of
+vermin that infested your house? Well, Riggleton is vermin, human vermin
+if you like, but still vermin, and he is not fit to live. If I,
+Romanoff, were in your position, I would have no more hesitation in
+putting him out of existence than your gamekeeper would have in shooting
+a dog with rabies. But, then, I am not in your position. I have nothing
+to gain. I only take a friendly interest in you. I have hurried to you
+with all speed the moment I knew of your danger, and I have told you how
+you can rid the world of a coarse, dirty-minded animal, and at the same
+time save for yourself the thing nearest your heart."
+
+"Did he come in the same vessel with you?"
+
+"Suffice to say that I know he is in England, and in safe keeping."
+
+"Where? How? England has laws to protect everyone."
+
+"That does not matter. I will tell you if you like; but you would be
+none the wiser."
+
+"Then you have arranged this?"
+
+"If you like--yes."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Still the same silly question. Have you no sense of proportion,
+Faversham? Haven't I told you again and again?"
+
+Dick was almost gasping for breath, and as he buried his head in his
+hands, he tried to understand, to realise. In calmer moments his mind
+would doubtless have pierced the cheap sophistry of the Count, and
+discarded it. But, as I have said, he was greatly excited, bewildered.
+Never as now did he desire wealth. Never as now had the thought of
+winning Lady Blanche seemed the great thing in life to be hoped for. And
+he knew the Count was right--knew that without his money she would no
+more think of marrying him than of marrying the utmost stranger. And yet
+his heart craved after her. He longed to possess her--to call her his
+own. He saw her as he had never seen her before, a splendid creature
+whose beauty outshone that of any woman he had ever seen, as the sun
+outshone the moon.
+
+And this Anthony Riggleton, whom the Count described as vermin, stood in
+his way. Because of a quibble on his part this loathsome thing would
+ruin his future, dash his hopes to the ground, blacken his life.
+
+But the alternative!
+
+"No, of course not!" he cried.
+
+"You refuse?"
+
+"Certainly I do. I'm not a murderer."
+
+"Very well, go your own way. Go to your Mr. Bidlake, see him shrug his
+shoulders and laugh, and then watch while your cousin--your
+_cousin_!--turns this glorious old place into a cesspool."
+
+"Yes; rather than stain my hands in----I say, Romanoff," and the words
+passed his lips almost in spite of himself, "there must be some deep
+reason why you--you say and do all this. Do you expect to gain anything,
+in any way, because of my--retaining possession of my uncle's wealth?"
+
+For the first time the Count seemed to lose possession over himself. He
+rose to his feet, his eyes flashing.
+
+"What!" he cried; "do you mean that I, Romanoff, would profit by your
+poor little riches? What is all this to me? Why, rich as you thought you
+were, I could buy up all the Faversham estates--all--all, and then not
+know that my banking account was affected. I, Romanoff, seek to help a
+man whom I had thought of as my friend for some paltry gain! Good-night,
+Mr. Richard Faversham, you may go your own way."
+
+"Stop!" cried Dick, almost carried away by the vehemence of the other;
+"of course, I did not mean----"
+
+"Enough," and the Count interrupted him by a word and a laugh. "Besides,
+you do not, cannot, understand. But to rid your mind of all possible
+doubt I will show you something. Here is my account with your Bank of
+England. This is for pocket-money, pin-money, petty cash as your
+business men call it. There was my credit yesterday. In the light of
+that, do you think that I need to participate in your fortune, huge as
+you regard it?"
+
+Dick was startled as he saw the amount. There could be no doubt about
+it. The imprimatur of the Bank of England was plainly to be seen, and
+the huge figures stood out boldly.
+
+"I'm sure I apologise," stammered Dick. "I only thought that--that--you
+see----"
+
+"All right," laughed the Count, "let it be forgotten. Besides, have I
+not told you more than once that I am interested in you? I have shown
+you my interest, and----"
+
+"Of course you have," cried Dick. "I owe you my life; but for you I
+should not be alive to-day."
+
+"Just so. I want to see you happy, Faversham. I want you to enjoy life's
+sweetness. I want you to be for ever free from the haunting fear that
+this Anthony Riggleton shall ever cross your path. That is why----"
+
+He hesitated, as though he did not know what to say next.
+
+"Yes," asked Dick, "why what?"
+
+"That is why I want to serve you further."
+
+"Serve me further? How?"
+
+"Suppose I get rid of Riggleton for you?"
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"Suppose I offer to get rid of Riggleton for you? Suppose without your
+having anything to do with him, without knowing where he is, I offer to
+remove him for ever from your path--would you consent?"
+
+"I consent?"
+
+"Yes; I must have that. Would you give it?"
+
+"You--you--that is, you ask me if I will consent to--to his--his
+murder?"
+
+"Just that, my friend. That must be--else why should I do it? But--but I
+love you, Faversham--as if you were my son, and I would do it for your
+happiness. Of course, it's an unpleasant thing to do, even although I
+have no moral scruples, but I'll do it for you."
+
+Again Dick felt as though the ground were slipping from under his feet.
+Never before was he tempted as he was tempted now, never did it seem so
+easy to consent to wrong. And he would not be responsible. He had
+suggested nothing, pleaded nothing. His part would be simply to be
+blindly quiescent. His mind was confused to every issue save one. He had
+only to consent, and this man Riggleton, the true owner of everything,
+would be removed for ever.
+
+"And if I do not?" he asked.
+
+"Then nothing more need be said. But look at me, Faversham, and tell me
+if you will be such a fool. If there is any guilt, I bear it; if there
+is any danger, I face it; do you refuse, Faversham? I only make the
+offer for your sake."
+
+Again Dick felt the awful eyes of the Count piercing him; it was as
+though all his power of judgment, all his volition were ebbing away. At
+that moment he felt incapable of resistance.
+
+"And if I consent?" he asked weakly.
+
+"Of course you will, you _will_, you WILL," and the words were repeated
+with peculiar intensity, while the eyes of the two met. "I only make one
+stipulation, and I must make it because you need a friend. I must make
+it binding for your sake."
+
+He took a piece of paper from a desk and scribbled a few words.
+
+"There, read," he said.
+
+Dick read:
+
+"I promise to put myself completely under the guidance of Count Romanoff
+with regard to the future of my life."
+
+"There, sign that, Faversham," and the Count placed the pen in his hand.
+
+Without will, and almost without knowledge, Dick took the pen.
+
+"What do you want me to do?" asked Dick dully.
+
+"Sign that paper. Just put 'Richard Faversham' and the date. I will do
+the rest."
+
+"But--but if I do this, I shall be signing away my liberty. I shall make
+myself a slave to you."
+
+"Nonsense, my dear fellow. Why should I interfere with your liberty?"
+
+"I don't know; but this paper means that." He was still able to think
+consecutively, although his thoughts were cloudy and but dimly realised.
+
+"Think, Faversham. I am undertaking a dirty piece of work for your sake.
+Why? I am doing it because I want you to be free from Anthony Riggleton,
+and I am doing it because I take a deep interest in you."
+
+"But why should I sign this?"
+
+In spite of the Count's influence over him, he had a dull feeling that
+there was no need for such a thing. Even although he had tacitly
+consented to Romanoff's proposal he saw no necessity for binding
+himself.
+
+"I'll tell you why. It's because I know you--because I read your mind
+like a book. I want to make you my protege, and I want you to cut a
+figure in the life of the world. After all, in spite of Charles
+Faversham's wealth, you are a nobody. You are a commoner all compact.
+But I can make you really great. I am Romanoff. You asked me once if I
+were of the great Russian family, and I answered yes. Do you know what
+that means? It means that no door is closed to me--that I can go where I
+will, do what I will. It means that if I desire a man's aggrandisement,
+it is an accomplished fact. Not only are the delights of this country
+mine for the asking, but my name is an _Open Sesame_ in every land. My
+name and my influence are a key to unlock every door; my hand can draw
+aside the curtain of every delight. And there are delights in the world
+that you know nothing of, never dreamt of. As my protege I want them to
+be yours. A great name, great power, glorious pleasures, the smile of
+beautiful women, delights such as the author of _The Arabian Nights_
+only dimly dreamt of--it is my will that you shall have them all.
+Charles Faversham's money and my influence shall give you all this and
+more. But I am not going to have a fretful, puling boy objecting all the
+time; I am not going to have my plans for your happiness frustrated by
+conscience and petty quibbles about what is good and evil. That is why I
+insist on your signing that paper."
+
+Romanoff spoke in low tones, but every word seemed to be laden with
+meanings hitherto unknown to Dick. He saw pictures of exquisite
+delights, of earthly paradises, of joys that made life an ecstasy.
+
+And still something kept his hand still. He felt rather than reasoned
+that something was wrong--that all was wrong. He was in an abnormal
+state of mind; he knew that the influences by which he was surrounded
+were blinding him to truth, and giving him distorted fancies about
+life's values.
+
+"No," he said doggedly; "I won't sign, and I won't consent to this
+devilish deed."
+
+Again Romanoff laughed. "Look at me, Dick, my boy," he said. "You are
+not a milksop; you were made to live your whole life. Fancy you being a
+clerk in an office, a store--a poor little manikin keeping body and soul
+together in order to do the will of some snivelling tradesman! Think of
+it! Think of Anthony Riggleton living here, or in London, in Paris, in
+India--or wherever he pleases--squandering his money, and satiated with
+pleasure, while you--you----Pooh! I know you. I see you holding Lady
+Blanche in your arms. I see you basking in the smiles of beautiful women
+all over the world. I see the name of Faversham world-wide in its
+power. I see----" and the Count laughed again.
+
+All the while, too, he kept Dick's eyes riveted on his own--eyes which
+told him of a world of sensuous delights, and which robbed him of his
+manhood. No, he could not bear to become poor again, and he would not
+give up the delights he had dreamt of. Right! Wrong! Good! Evil! They
+were only words. The Count was right. It was his right to enjoy.
+
+"All right, I'll sign," he said.
+
+He dipped the pen into the ink, and prepared to inscribe his name, but
+the moment he placed his hand on the paper it felt as though it were
+paralysed.
+
+"There is something here!" he gasped.
+
+"Something here? Nonsense."
+
+"But there is. Look!"
+
+It seemed to him that a ray of light, brighter than that of the electric
+current that burnt in the room, streamed towards him. Above him, too, he
+saw the face that was now becoming familiar to him. Strange that he had
+forgotten it during the long conversation, strange that no memory of the
+evening before, when over the doorway he had seen an angel's face
+beaming upon him and warning him, had come to him.
+
+But he remembered now. The night on the heaving sea, the vision on the
+island, the luminous form over the doorway of the house, all flashed
+before him, and in a way he could not understand Romanoff's influence
+over him lessened--weakened.
+
+"Sign--sign there!" urged the Count, pointing towards the paper.
+
+"What is the matter with your eyes?" gasped Dick. "They burn with the
+light of hell fire."
+
+"You are dreaming, boy. Sign, and let's have a bottle of wine to seal
+the bargain."
+
+"I must be dreaming," thought Dick. "An angel's face! What mad, idiotic
+nonsense!"
+
+He still held the pen in his hand, and it seemed to him that strength
+was again returning to his fingers.
+
+"Where must I sign?" he muttered. "I can't see plainly."
+
+"There--right at the point of your pen," was the Count's reply.
+
+But Dick did not sign, for suddenly he saw a white, shadowy hand appear,
+which with irresistible strength gripped his wrist.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A SCRAP OF PAPER
+
+
+Suddenly the spell, or whatever had enchained him, was broken. There was
+a noise of wheels on the gravel outside, and the sound of footsteps in
+the hall. He heard the Count mutter a savage oath, and a moment later
+the door opened and he heard a happy, clear, girlish voice:
+
+"Oh, Mr. Faversham, forgive me for coming; but I really couldn't help
+myself."
+
+It was Beatrice Stanmore who, unheralded and unaccompanied, stood by his
+side.
+
+He muttered something, he knew not what, although he felt as though a
+weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and strength came back to his
+being.
+
+"I really couldn't," the girl went on. "Granddad left me just after a
+very early dinner, and then I felt awfully miserable and depressed. I
+didn't know why. It was just ghastly. Nothing had happened, and yet I
+knew--why, I couldn't tell--that something was terribly wrong. Then
+something told me that you were in danger, that unless I came to help
+you, you would be--oh, I can't put it into words! You are not in danger,
+are you?"
+
+"It was very kind of you to come," muttered Dick. "I'm no end glad to
+see you."
+
+"But--but I'm afraid!" she said in her childish way. "I don't know what
+Granddad will say to me. You see, you are a stranger to me, and I had no
+right to come. But I couldn't help it--I really couldn't. Someone seemed
+to be saying to me all the time, 'Mr. Faversham is in deadly peril; go
+to him--go to him quick! quick!' And I couldn't help myself. I kept
+telling myself that I was very silly, and all that sort of thing, but
+all the time I heard the voice saying, 'Quick, quick, or you'll be too
+late!' But I'm afraid it's all wrong. You are all right. You are in no
+danger, are you?"
+
+"I'm no end glad to see you," he repeated. "And it is awfully good of
+you to come."
+
+He still seemed to be under strange influences, but he no longer felt as
+though his strength was gone. His heart was strangely light, too. The
+presence of the girl by his side gave him comfort.
+
+"You are not angry with me, then? I've not done wrong, have I?"
+
+"Wrong? No! You have done quite right--quite. Thank you very, very
+much."
+
+"I'm glad of that. When I had left our house I wanted to run to you.
+Then I thought of the car. I've learnt to drive, and Granddad thinks I'm
+very clever at it. I simply flew through the park. But I'm glad you are
+in no danger. I must go now."
+
+She had not once looked at Romanoff; she simply stood gazing at Dick
+with wide-open, childish-looking eyes, and her words came from her
+almost pantingly, as though she spoke under the stress of great
+excitement. Then she looked at the paper before him.
+
+"You are not going to write your name on that, are you?" she asked.
+
+"No," he replied; "I'm not."
+
+"You must not," she said simply. "It would be wrong. When I heard the
+words telling me to come to you I--I saw--but no, I can't recall it. But
+you must not sign that. I'll go now. Good-night, and please forgive me
+for coming."
+
+"Please don't go yet."
+
+"But I must. I could not stay here. There's something wrong, something
+evil. I'm sure there is."
+
+She glanced nervously towards Romanoff, and shivered. "Good-night," she
+said, holding out her hand. "I really must go now. I think the danger is
+over--I feel sure it is; and Granddad will be anxious if he comes back
+and does not find me."
+
+"I'll see you to the door," said Dick. "I shall never cease to thank you
+for coming."
+
+Leaving the paper on the table, and without looking at Romanoff, he
+opened the door to her, and passed into the hall.
+
+"Yes; I shall never cease to thank you," he repeated--"never. You have
+saved me."
+
+"What from?" and she looked at him with a strangely wistful smile.
+
+"I don't know," he replied--"I don't know."
+
+When they stood together on the gravel outside the door, he gave a deep
+sigh. It seemed to him as though the pure, sweet air enabled him to lift
+every weight from himself. He was free--wonderfully, miraculously free.
+
+"Oh, it is heavenly, just heavenly here!" and she laughed gaily. "I
+think this is the most beautiful place in the world, and this is the
+most beautiful night that ever was. Isn't the avenue just lovely? The
+trees are becoming greener and greener every day. It is just as though
+the angels were here, hanging their festoons. Do you like my car? Isn't
+it a little beauty?"
+
+"Yes," replied Dick. "May--may I drive you back?"
+
+"Will you? Then you can explain to Granddad. But no, you mustn't. You
+must go back to your friend."
+
+"He isn't my friend," replied Dick almost involuntarily; "he's just--but
+perhaps you wouldn't understand."
+
+"He isn't a good man," she cried impulsively. "I don't like him. I know
+I ought not to say this. Granddad often tells me that I let my tongue
+run away with me. But he's not a good man, and--and I think he's your
+enemy."
+
+Dick was silent.
+
+"Is he staying with you long?" she went on.
+
+"No, not long."
+
+"I'm glad of that. He isn't nice. He's--he's--I don't know what. I shall
+tell Granddad I've been here."
+
+"He won't be angry, will he?"
+
+"No; he's never angry. Besides, I think he'll understand. You'll come
+and see us soon, won't you?"
+
+"I'm afraid I shall not be able to. I'm going away."
+
+"Going away?"
+
+"Yes; I'm leaving Wendover Park. At least, I expect so."
+
+"You don't mean for always?"
+
+"Yes; for always. To-night has decided it."
+
+She looked at him wistfully, questioningly.
+
+"Has that man anything to do with it? Is he driving you away?"
+
+"No; he wants me to stay."
+
+She again scanned his features in a puzzled, childish way. "Of course, I
+don't understand," she said.
+
+"No; I hardly understand myself," and he spoke almost involuntarily.
+"Thank you very much for coming."
+
+She clasped his hand eagerly. "I shall be very sorry if you go," she
+said, "but please don't do anything that man asks you. Please don't."
+
+"I won't," replied Dick.
+
+He started the car for her, and then watched her while she drove down
+the avenue. Then he stood for a few seconds looking at the great
+doorway. He might have been expecting to see there what had been so
+plainly visible before, but there was nothing.
+
+The grey old mansion was simply bathed in the light of the dying day,
+while the silvery moon, which was just rising behind the tree-tops, sent
+its rays through the fast-growing leaves. But as Beatrice Stanmore had
+said, it was a most wondrous night. All nature was glorying in life,
+while the light breezes seemed to bring him distant messages. The birds,
+too, even although the sun had set, perhaps an hour before, sent their
+messages one to another, and twittered their love-songs as they settled
+to their rest.
+
+He waited on the steps for perhaps five minutes, then he found his way
+back to Romanoff. For some seconds neither said anything; each seemed to
+have a weight upon his lips. Then Romanoff spoke.
+
+"You refuse, then?"
+
+"Yes; I refuse."
+
+"What do you refuse?"
+
+"Everything. I refuse to allow you to do that devilish deed. I refuse to
+obey you."
+
+Romanoff laughed as his eyes rested on Dick's face.
+
+"You know what this means, of course?"
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"Then--then I interfere no further."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+Romanoff waited a few seconds before he spoke again. "Of course, you are
+very silly, Faversham," he said. "Soon you'll be sorry for this, and
+some time you'll need my help. Meanwhile I'm tired, and will go to bed."
+
+He passed out of the room as he spoke, and Dick noticed that the scrap
+of paper was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+COUNT ROMANOFF'S DEPARTURE
+
+
+The next morning when Dick came downstairs he found Romanoff evidently
+prepared for a journey. His luggage had been brought into the hall, and
+he was looking at a time-table.
+
+"Faversham, I am sorry that we part in this way," he said.
+
+"Are you going?" asked Dick.
+
+The Count looked at him steadily, as if trying to divine his state of
+mind--to know if he had changed his purposes since the previous evening.
+
+"Naturally," he replied.
+
+"You have settled on your train?"
+
+"Yes; I go by the 10.43."
+
+"Then I will see that a car is in readiness."
+
+As may be imagined, Dick had spent a well-nigh sleepless flight, and he
+was in a nervous condition; but upon one thing he had decided. He would
+be studiously polite to the Count, and would in no way refer to the
+happenings of the previous night. Even yet he had not made up his mind
+about his visitor, except that he agreed with Beatrice Stanmore. The man
+still fascinated him; but he repelled him also. There was something
+mysterious, evil, about him; but the evil was alluring; it was made to
+seem as though it were not evil.
+
+"Should you alter your mind," said the Count on leaving, "this address
+will find me. After to-night at ten o'clock, it will be useless to try
+to find me."
+
+Dick looked at the card he had placed in his hand, and found the name of
+one of the best hotels in London.
+
+When he had gone, the young man felt strangely lonely and fearfully
+depressed. The air seemed full of foreboding; everything seemed to tell
+him of calamity. As the morning passed away, too, he, more than once,
+found himself questioning his wisdom. After all, the Count had asked
+nothing unreasonable. Why should he not promise to be guided by a man
+who was so much older and wiser than himself? One, too, who could so
+greatly help him in the future.
+
+Again and again he wandered around the house, and through the gardens.
+Again and again he feasted his eyes upon the beauty of the park and the
+glory of the district. And it was his no longer! Could he not even
+now----
+
+No; he could not! If Anthony Riggleton were alive, and was the true heir
+to old Charles Faversham's wealth, he should have it. The thought of
+doing what Romanoff had proposed made him shudder.
+
+But he would not give up without a struggle. After all, he was in
+possession, and he was accepted as the owner of Wendover Park as well as
+heir to enormous wealth. Why, then, should he give it up? No; he would
+fight for what he held.
+
+The day passed slowly away. He ate his lonely lunch in silence, and
+then, taking a two-seater car, ran it in the direction of Lord
+Huntingford's house. Just as he was passing the gates Lady Blanche
+appeared, accompanied by a girl of about her own age.
+
+Almost unconsciously he lifted his foot from the accelerator and pressed
+down the brake.
+
+"Alone, Mr. Faversham?" she asked, with a radiant smile.
+
+"Quite alone, Lady Blanche."
+
+"Your guest is gone, then?"
+
+"He left this morning."
+
+"Then--then please excuse the informality--but then we are neighbours;
+won't you come to dinner _en famille_ on Thursday night? Father will be
+delighted to see you. And, oh, I want to introduce you to my friend
+here."
+
+He did not catch the girl's name, but it did not matter. He had only
+eyes and ears for this glorious woman. Her face was wreathed with
+smiles, while her eyes shone brightly. Surely such a woman was never
+known before. In a moment he had forgotten the previous night--forgotten
+the great crisis in his life.
+
+"Thursday! I shall be delighted!" he cried, lifting his cap.
+
+The two passed on, and he resumed his drive. Why did he not ask them to
+accompany him? Why? Why?
+
+His mind was in a turmoil. The sight of Lady Blanche had set his nerves
+tingling, and caused his blood to course madly through his veins. Her
+smile, her look, her attitude could only mean one thing: she thought
+kindly of him--she thought more than kindly of him.
+
+Then he remembered. Wendover Park was not his--nothing was his. If
+Romanoff told him truly, he was a pauper. All--all would have to be
+sacrificed.
+
+Where he went that afternoon he had no recollection. He only knew that
+he drove the car at its utmost speed, and that the country through which
+he was passing was strange to him. He wanted to get away from himself,
+from his thoughts, from everything that reminded him of the truth.
+
+He returned to Wendover Park in time for dinner, and from eight to ten
+o'clock he sat alone. On his arrival he had asked whether there had been
+any callers, any message, and on receiving an answer in the negative, he
+had heaved a sigh of relief. In the library after dinner, however, the
+whole ghastly position had to be faced, and for two hours his mind was
+torn first this way and then that.
+
+But he did nothing. He could not do anything. How could he?
+
+The evening--the night passed, and there was no happening. Everything
+was orderly, quiet, commonplace. He might never have seen the luminous
+figure at the doorway, never felt that awesome gripping of his wrist;
+indeed, the whole experience might have been a dream, so unreal was it.
+
+The next day passed, and still nothing happened. More than once he was
+on the point of ringing up Mr. Bidlake, but he refrained. What could he
+say to the keen old lawyer?
+
+He did not leave the house during the whole day. Almost feverishly he
+listened to every sound. No footstep passed unnoticed, no caller but was
+anxiously scanned. Every time the telephone bell rang, he rushed to it
+with fast-beating heart, only to heave a sigh of relief when he
+discovered that there was no message concerning the things which haunted
+his mind.
+
+Still another night passed, and still nothing happened. He was beginning
+to hope that Romanoff had been playing a practical joke on him, and that
+all his fears were groundless.
+
+Then just before noon the blow came.
+
+The telephone bell tinkled innocently near him, and on putting the
+instrument to his ear he heard Mr. Bidlake's voice.
+
+"Is that you, Mr. Faversham?
+
+"Mr. Faversham speaking. You are Mr. Bidlake, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+This was followed by a cough; then the lawyer spoke again.
+
+"Will you be home this afternoon?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I want to see you very particularly. A strange thing has happened.
+Grotesque, in fact, and I want you to be prepared for--for anything."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I don't like telling you over the telephone. I'm tremendously upset. I
+can hardly speak collectedly."
+
+"I think I know. It has to do with Anthony Riggleton and the Faversham
+estates, hasn't it?"
+
+"How did you know? Yes; it has. It's terribly serious, I'm afraid. I'd
+better see you at once. Some arrangement, some compromise might be
+made."
+
+"You mean that Riggleton is not dead? That you've seen him?"
+
+He spoke quite calmly and naturally. Indeed, he was surprised at his
+command over himself.
+
+"Yes; he's just left me. He's been here for two hours. Of course, I
+tried at first to take his visit as a joke, but----"
+
+"You are convinced that it _was_ Riggleton?"
+
+"I can have no doubt about it--no possible doubt. He's deadly in earnest
+too, and his case is overwhelming--simply overwhelming. Never, outside
+the realms of the wildest romance, did I ever come across a case where a
+lawyer could be so completely mistaken. But I can't help it, and I'm
+afraid that--that your prospects for the future are materially altered.
+Of course you might----"
+
+"You are coming down here, you say. There's a good train from Victoria
+at 1.45. Can you catch it?"
+
+"Ye--s. I think so."
+
+"Then I'll send a car to meet you at this end."
+
+He rang the bell, altered the time of lunch, and then sat down to think.
+But not for long. Calmly as he had talked to the lawyer, his every nerve
+was quivering with excitement, every faculty was in tension.
+
+He went to the window and looked out.
+
+All he saw was his no longer. He had no doubt about it, and it seemed to
+him that an icy hand was placed upon his heart as he realised it.
+
+And he might have retained it!
+
+Was he glad or sorry because of what he had done? Every particle of his
+being was crying out for the life he longed to live, and yet----As he
+thought of the price he would have to pay, as he remembered Romanoff's
+words, he did not repent.
+
+He calmly waited for the lawyer's arrival.
+
+By four o'clock Mr. Bidlake was on his way back to London again, and
+Dick knew that his own fate was sealed. The lawyer had proved to him
+that he had no right to be there, and while he advised him to put on a
+bold face, and in the last extremity to try and compromise with Anthony
+Riggleton, he held out no hope. Anthony Riggleton was beyond doubt the
+true heir of old Charles Faversham, and he had undisputable proofs of
+the fact.
+
+"I am more upset than I can say, Faversham," said the lawyer, when he
+had described Riggleton's visit, "but we can't help ourselves. He is
+perfectly sure of his ground, and he has reason to be."
+
+"He convinced you entirely, then?"
+
+"Absolutely--absolutely."
+
+Dick was still calm. Perhaps the experiences of the last few days left
+him almost incapable of feeling.
+
+"What sort of fellow is he?"
+
+The lawyer puckered up his face, and shook his head dismally. "He will
+not be a Society favourite," was all he said.
+
+"But he has no doubts as to his plans?"
+
+"He says he's going to take possession immediately. If you offer any
+opposition, he will apply for an injunction."
+
+"Has he any money?"
+
+"He appeared to be quite well off. His clothes are quite new," added the
+lawyer, "and he sported some very flashy jewellery. I was impressed by
+the thought that he had someone behind him."
+
+"Did he say so?"
+
+"No, not definitely, but I formed that impression. Anyhow, you can be
+certain of this. He will lose no time in making his claim. Indeed, I
+should not be at all surprised if the papers don't contain some notice
+of his advent and his claims to-morrow morning."
+
+"You said something about a compromise."
+
+"Yes, you see"--and the lawyer coughed almost nervously--"this will be
+very awkward for you. You've no right here; you've been spending money
+which has not been your own. Still, your case is not without its good
+points. You are in possession, you have been accepted as the owner
+of--all this, and even although he has the prior claim, you would have
+great sympathy from a jury--should it come to that. I told him so. I
+don't promise anything, but it might be that he might be disposed to--do
+something considerable to persuade you to leave him in possession
+quietly."
+
+"As a kind of salve for my disappointment?" and there was an angry light
+in Dick's eyes.
+
+"If you like to put it that way, yes. But, bless my soul, it is close on
+four o'clock, and I must be going. I can't say how sorry I am, and--and
+if I can do anything----"
+
+"Is the fellow married?" interrupted Dick.
+
+"No--nothing of that sort. After all, no one but he stands in the way of
+possession."
+
+"What shall I do?" Dick asked himself. "I'm worse off than I was before.
+At any rate I was in the way of earning a few hundred pounds when that
+wireless came. But now everything is altered, and I don't know where to
+turn. Still----" and there was a grim, hard look in his eyes.
+
+Slowly he walked down the avenue towards the lodge gates. Away in the
+distance, as though coming towards him, he saw a young girl. It was
+Beatrice Stanmore. He took a few steps towards her, and then turned
+back. Something forbade his speaking to her; somehow she seemed closely
+connected with the black calamity which had fallen on him.
+
+He had barely returned to the house when he heard the tooting of a motor
+horn, and, looking out, he saw a large, powerful motor-car coming
+rapidly up the avenue. A minute later he heard voices in the
+hall--voices which suggested recognition. Then the door opened.
+
+"Mr. Anthony Riggleton!" said the servant excitedly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+RIGGLETON'S HOMECOMING
+
+
+A young fellow about twenty-eight years of age entered the room. He was
+a round-faced, thickly built man, and he carried himself with a swagger.
+Evidently it had been his desire to get himself up for the occasion. His
+clothes were new, and shouted aloud of his tastes. They suggested a
+bookmaker. He smoked a large cigar, and wore an aggressive buttonhole.
+He did not take off his hat on entering, but, having advanced a couple
+of steps, took a survey of the room.
+
+"Yes," he said, and his voice was somewhat thick; "I remember the old
+place well. It's as natural as life." Then, coming up to where Dick was,
+he continued, "Of course you know who I am?"
+
+Dick, who had difficulty in repressing his excitement, mentioned
+something about never having seen him before.
+
+"Oh, stow that!" said the newcomer. "I'm Tony Riggleton, I am. You know
+that well enough."
+
+"I don't see why I should," and Dick's voice was a little angry. He
+instinctively disliked Tony Riggleton.
+
+"I do, though. Why, Bidlake hasn't been gone half an hour. Hopper has
+just told me."
+
+Dick was silent. He did not see at the moment what there was for him to
+say.
+
+"You guess why I'm here?" he went on.
+
+"I'm not good at guessing." Dick felt that Riggleton had the whip hand
+of him, and while he did not intend to make any concessions to his
+whilom cousin, he felt sure what the upshot of their meeting would be.
+
+"Oh, I say, Faversham," and Riggleton moved farther into the room, "it's
+no use taking the high hand with me. Of course I don't blame you, and
+naturally you're cut up. Anyone would be in your place. But there's
+nothing green about me. All this show belongs to me, and I mean to
+finger the coin. That's straight. Mind, I've come down here in a
+friendly way, and I don't want to be unreasonable. See? I'm old
+Faversham's heir. Old Bidlake was obliged to own it, although he
+wriggled like a ferret in a hole. I can see, too, that you're a bit of a
+swell, and would suit his book better than I can; but I can make the
+money go. Don't you make any mistake."
+
+He laughed as he spoke, and made a pretence of re-lighting his cigar.
+
+"Come now," he went on, "let's have a bottle of champagne, and then we
+can talk over things quietly."
+
+"There's nothing to talk over as far as I can see," interposed Dick.
+
+"What do you mean by that?" In spite of his assertive attitude, he did
+not appear at ease, and was constantly casting furtive and suspicious
+glances towards Dick.
+
+"I mean," replied Dick, "that if you are old Charles Faversham's heir,
+and if you can prove it, there's nothing more to be said."
+
+"You mean that you'll clear out quietly?"
+
+There was evident astonishment in his voice. Apparently he had expected
+bluster, and perhaps a scene.
+
+"Of course I shall clear out quietly. Naturally there are formalities
+with which you'll have to comply; but, if you are the true owner, you
+are, and there's no more to be said."
+
+Riggleton looked at him with open-mouthed wonder, evidently staggered
+that Faversham was taking the matter so calmly.
+
+Dick was silent. The fellow was getting on his nerves, and he had
+difficulty in keeping calm.
+
+"Then you don't mean to fight it out?" he continued.
+
+"Why should I?" asked Dick quietly. "You have placed your papers in Mr.
+Bidlake's hands, and left everything for his examination. Your identity
+will have to be proved, and all that sort of thing; but I hope I've too
+much self-respect to try to hold anything that isn't mine."
+
+"Put it there!" cried Anthony Riggleton, holding out his hand. "That's
+what I call acting like a gentleman, that is. I sort of thought you'd
+get your monkey up, and--but there. It's all right. There's nothing
+fishy about me. I don't pretend to be a saint, I don't. In fact, I don't
+believe old Uncle Charlie ever meant me to come in for all his wad.
+S'welp me bob, I don't. I was never his sort, and I don't mind telling
+you that he as good as kicked me out from here. You see, I was always
+fond of a bit of life, and I've gone the whole hog in my time. But
+that's all over now."
+
+"You mean that you're going to reform?"
+
+"Reform! Not 'alf. No, Faversham; I'm going to have the time of my life.
+I'm going to--but--I say, have you been here ever since you thought you
+came in for the old man's whack?"
+
+"Yes; why?"
+
+"You _are_ a plaster saint. By gosh, you are! But you don't see me
+burying myself in this hole. Of course it's very grand, and all that
+sort of thing; but, no, thank you! Tony Riggleton is going the whole
+hog. What's the use of money else? Of course I shall use the place now
+and then. When I feel my feet a bit I shall get some music-hall people
+down here for week-ends, and all that sort of thing. But, as for living
+here like Bidlake says you have!--no, thank you. London's my mark! I
+tell you, I mean to paint the town red. And then, if I can get passports
+and that sort of tommy-rot, I'll do Paris and Madrid and Rome. You don't
+catch me burying myself like a hermit. Not a little bit. Now I've got
+the money, I mean to make it fly. I _should_ be a fool if I didn't!"
+
+The man was revealing himself by every word he spoke. His tastes and
+desires were manifested by his sensual lips, his small, dull eyes and
+throaty voice.
+
+"Now, look here, Faversham," he went on, "I'll admit you are different
+from what I expected you to be. I was prepared for a bit of a shindy,
+and that's straight. But you've taken a knock-down blow in a sporting
+way, and I want to do the thing handsome. Of course I own this show just
+as I own all the rest of the old man's estates; but there's nothing mean
+about me. Live and let live is my motto. You can stay on here for a week
+or a fortnight if you like. I don't want to be hard. For that matter,
+although I'm going back to town to-night, I'll come back on Saturday and
+bring some bits of fluff from the Friv, and we'll make a week-end of it.
+I expect you've plenty of fizz in the house, haven't you?"
+
+Dick was silent. The conversation, only a part of which I have recorded,
+so disgusted him that, although he was not a Puritan by nature, he felt
+almost polluted by the man's presence. It seemed like sacrilege, too,
+that this fellow should turn Wendover Park into a sty, as he evidently
+meant to do, and he found himself wondering whether, after all, he would
+not have been justified in accepting Romanoff's offer.
+
+"Come, what do you say?" went on Riggleton. "I tell you----" and then he
+went on to give details of his programme. "There's no need for you to be
+so down in the mouth," he concluded. "There's plenty of money, as you
+know, and I'll not be hard on you."
+
+The fellow was so coarsely patronising that Dick with difficulty kept
+himself from starting up and rushing from the room. At that moment,
+however, a servant entered and brought him a telegram, and a moment
+later his brain seemed on fire as he read:
+
+     "Riggleton's claim undoubtedly valid, but can still save situation
+     if you accept my terms.--ROMANOFF, Hotel Cosmopolitan."
+
+The words burnt into his brain; he felt as he had felt a few nights
+before when Romanoff had placed the paper before him to sign.
+
+"Any answer, sir?"
+
+He looked towards a pen which lay on the table before him. Why should he
+not send back an acceptance?
+
+"I say," said Riggleton, "is that about the estate? Because if it is, I
+demand to see it."
+
+His tone was loud and arrogant. The sight of the telegram had evidently
+aroused his suspicions and his desire to assert his mastery.
+
+"Oh, I mean it," he went on. "I'm an easy chap to get on with, but I'm
+master here. I tell you that straight."
+
+Dick felt as though his nerves were raw; the man's presence was
+maddening. And he had to give up everything to him!
+
+"It's a purely personal telegram," he replied. "I'm only considering how
+I shall answer it."
+
+He seized a telegraph form, and dipped a pen into an inkstand, but he
+did not write a word. His mind again flew back to the night when
+Romanoff tempted him, and when he had felt a hand grip his wrist.
+
+"Let's get out," he said, cramming the telegram into his pocket.
+
+"Yes; let's," assented Riggleton; "but let's have a drink before we go.
+I say, my man," and he turned to the servant, who still waited, "bring a
+bottle of fizz. Yes; do as you're told. I'm your new master. Everything
+belongs to me. See?"
+
+The servant turned to Dick. Doubtless there had been a great deal of
+excited conversation in the servants' quarters, and he awaited
+confirmation of what he had heard.
+
+"Do as he tells you," assented Dick, and then he left the room.
+
+But he could not help hearing what took place between Riggleton and the
+servant.
+
+"What do you mean by looking to him?" asked Riggleton angrily. "Any of
+your nonsense and it'll be right about face with you. I'm master here
+and no error. It was all a mistake about Faversham. Everything belongs
+to me. See? And look here, there's going to be a change here. I ain't no
+milksop, I can tell you, and the whole lot of you'll have to get a move
+on, or out you go. It isn't much time that I shall spend in this gloomy
+hole, but when I am here there'll be something doing. I shall get the
+place full of a jolly lot of girls, and Wendover Park won't be no mouldy
+church, nor no bloomin' nunnery. You can bet your life on that.
+There'll be plenty of booze, and plenty of fun. Now then, get that fizz,
+and be quick about it."
+
+The man's raucous, throaty voice reached him plainly, and every word
+seemed to scrape his bare nerves. He left the hall, and went out on the
+lawn where the sun shone, and where the pure spring air came to him like
+some healing balm.
+
+This, then, was his cousin! This was the man who was the heir of old
+Charles Faversham's great wealth!
+
+The whole situation mocked him. He believed he had done the thing that
+was right, and this was the result of it.
+
+Like lightning his mind swept over his experiences, and again he
+wondered at all that had taken place. He tried to understand his strange
+experiences, but he could not. His thoughts were too confused; his brain
+refused to grasp and to co-ordinate what he could not help feeling were
+wonderful events.
+
+He looked towards the great doorway, where, on the day of his coming to
+Wendover Park, he had seen that luminous figure which had so startled
+him. But there was nothing to be seen now. He wondered, as he had
+wondered a hundred times since, whether it was an objective reality, or
+only the result of a disordered imagination. There, in the bright
+sunlight, with Anthony Riggleton's raucous voice still grating on his
+ears, he could not believe it was the former. But if it were pure
+imagination, why--why----And again his mind fastened on the things
+which in spite of everything were beginning to revolutionise his life.
+
+Then a thought startled him. He realised that a change had come over
+him. If he had met Tony Riggleton a few months before, neither the man's
+presence nor his language would have so disgusted him. He had writhed
+with anger when Riggleton had unfolded his plans to him, and yet a
+little while before he himself had contemplated a future which was not,
+in essence, so far removed from what his cousin had so coarsely
+expressed. Yes; he could not blind himself to the fact that
+since--since----But no, nothing was clear to him.
+
+"I say, Faversham."
+
+He turned and saw that Riggleton had joined him.
+
+"Show me around a bit, will you? You see, the old man wouldn't have me
+here much, and--I should like to talk things over."
+
+"I think, when Mr. Bidlake has got everything in order----"
+
+"Oh, hang Bidlake! Besides, it's no use your talking about Bidlake. I've
+settled with him. You don't feel like talking, eh? Very well, let's go
+for a walk."
+
+Almost instinctively Dick turned down the drive which led to the cottage
+where Beatrice Stanmore lived.
+
+"Yes," reflected Riggleton, after they had walked some time in silence;
+"I suppose this kind of thing appeals to a poetical bloke like you seem
+to be. But it doesn't do for Tony R. I love a bit of life, I do. I
+always did. Did you ever hear that I ran away from school, and went off
+on my own when I was fifteen? Went to sea, I did, and knocked about the
+world. I had a rough time, too; that's why I've no polish now. But I
+know the value of money, I do, and you may bet your bottom dollar that
+I'll make things hum. Ah, here we are at the lodge gates."
+
+Dick looked across a meadow, and saw old Hugh Stanmore's cottage. Even
+although it was some little distance away he could see the gaily
+coloured flowers in the garden and the pleasant quaintness of the
+cottage. But it was no longer his. In future it would belong to this
+clown by his side, and----
+
+His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a motor, and a few seconds
+later he caught sight of Lady Blanche Huntingford in her two-seater car.
+His heart gave a leap as he saw her put her foot on the clutch, while
+the car slowed down by his side.
+
+The girl smiled into his face. "You've not forgotten your promise for
+to-morrow night, Mr. Faversham?" she said, and then, stopping the
+engine, she stepped lightly into the lane.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+FAVERSHAM'S RESOLUTION
+
+
+It seemed to Dick that nothing could have happened more unfortunately.
+Painfully aware as he was that Anthony Riggleton was standing by his
+side, and devouring every detail of the girl's appearance, he felt
+ashamed that she should see him. He wanted to run away, longed to disown
+all knowledge of the vulgar creature who accompanied him.
+
+"No, I've not forgotten, Lady Blanche," he managed to say.
+
+"And we may expect you?" There was eagerness in her voice, expectancy in
+the gladness of her bright eyes.
+
+"I--I'm afraid not," he stammered.
+
+The girl flashed a quick look upon him--a look partly of questioning,
+partly of disappointment. "Really, Mr. Faversham----" she protested, and
+then stopped. Perhaps she felt that something untoward had taken place.
+
+"You see," he went on confusedly, "while I'd just love to come, things
+have happened since I saw you. I did not know----" and almost
+unconsciously he glanced towards Riggleton.
+
+"I say, Faversham," and Riggleton put on his most fascinating smile,
+"introduce me to your lady friend, won't you? I don't think, when I've
+been in the neighbourhood before, that I've had the pleasure of meeting
+the young lady."
+
+But Dick was silent. He simply could not speak of the fellow as his
+cousin. Evidently, too, Riggleton felt something of what was passing in
+Dick's mind; perhaps, too, he noticed the haughty glance which the girl
+gave him, for an angry flush mounted his cheeks, and his small eyes
+burnt with anger.
+
+"Oh, you don't feel like it!" he exclaimed aloud. "And no wonder. Well,
+miss, I'll tell you who I am. I'm the owner of this place, that's what I
+am. My name's Anthony Riggleton, and I'm what the lawyers call
+next-of-kin to old Charles Faversham. That's why I'm boss here. There's
+been a big mistake, that's what there's been, and Dick Faversham got
+here, not under false pretences--I don't say that--but because people
+thought I was dead. But I ain't dead by a long chalk. I'm jolly well
+alive, and I'm the heir. That's the situation, miss. I thought I'd tell
+you straight, seeing we may be neighbours. As for Dick here, of course
+he's jolly well disappointed. Not that I mayn't do the handsome thing by
+him, seeing he means to be reasonable. I may make him my steward, or I
+might make him an allowance. See?"
+
+The girl made no response whatever. She listened in deadly silence to
+Riggleton, although the flush on her cheek showed that the man's words
+had excited her. Also she looked at Dick questioningly. She seemed to be
+demanding from him either an affirmation or a denial of what the man
+said. But Dick remained silent. Somehow he felt he could not speak.
+
+"You don't seem to take me, miss," went on Riggleton, who might have
+been under the influence of the champagne he had been drinking, "but
+what I'm telling you is gospel truth. And it may interest you to know
+that I mean to paint this part of the country red. Oh, I'll shake things
+up, never fear. Might you be fond of hunting, and that kind of thing,
+miss? Because after the war I mean to go in for it strong."
+
+Still Lady Blanche did not speak to him. The only reply she made was to
+get into her car and turn on the engine. "Good afternoon, Mr.
+Faversham," she said. "Then must I tell my father that you'll not be
+able to come to-morrow?"
+
+"Perhaps you'd better," replied Dick, "but--I'll explain later."
+
+Almost unconsciously he lifted his hat, while the car passed out of
+sight.
+
+"By gosh!" exclaimed Riggleton, "she's a stunner, she is!--a regular
+stunner. Who is she?"
+
+But Dick turned and hurried up the drive towards the house. He felt
+that he could no longer bear to be near the creature who had robbed him
+of everything worth living for.
+
+"I say, you needn't be so huffy," cried Riggleton, who again joined him.
+"Why didn't you introduce me? I don't know when I've seen such a
+stunning bit of fluff. She looks regular top-hole stuff too! And hasn't
+she got a figure? And I say, Faversham, seeing that I said I was
+prepared to do the handsome by you, you might have done the correct
+thing. What! Oh, I suppose you were riled because I told her how things
+are. But the truth was bound to come out, man! Do you think I would be
+such a ninny as not to let her know I was the bloomin' owner of this
+show? Tell me, who is she?"
+
+"Lady Blanche Huntingford."
+
+He uttered the name curtly, savagely. He was angry with himself for
+having spoken at all.
+
+"Whew! She's Lord Huntingford's daughter, is she?" and he gave a hoarse
+laugh. "Well, she's a beauty, she is--just a beauty!"
+
+He laughed again in high good-humour, indeed, he seemed to be enjoying
+himself vastly.
+
+"You are a deep one, Faversham, you are," he shouted, as he slapped Dick
+on the back. "Here was I calling you a fool for staying in this hole
+instead of going to London and gay Paree. But I see the reason now.
+Dining with her to-morrow night, were you? And it seems that I've spoilt
+your little game. Well, she's a bit of all right, that's what she is. A
+regular bit of all right. I don't know but after all I shall do the
+country squire touch, and make up to her. What are you looking like that
+for?"
+
+For Dick's face was crimson with rage. The fellow's coarse vulgarity was
+driving him mad.
+
+"Are you in love with her?" persisted Riggleton. "Is that it?"
+
+Still Dick did not speak. He was walking rapidly towards the house--so
+rapidly that Riggleton had difficulty in keeping up with him.
+
+"I say, don't be huffy," went on Tony. "I'm sorry if I didn't do the
+correct thing. I didn't mean anything wrong, and I'm not up to the ways
+of the swells. As I told you, I ran away from school, and got in with a
+rough set. That was why, when I came back here, Uncle Charlie cleared me
+out. But I don't believe in grudges, I don't, and I'm sorry if I've put
+your nose out. I can't say fairer than that, can I?"
+
+Dick felt slightly ashamed of himself. He was beginning to understand
+Riggleton better now, and to appreciate his coarse kindness.
+
+"It's all right, Riggleton," he said, "and no doubt you've done the
+natural thing. But--but I don't feel like talking."
+
+"Of course you don't," said Tony, "and of course my coming is a regular
+knock-out blow to you. If it was me, I'd have--well, I don't know what I
+wouldn't have done. But I'm not such a bad chap after all. And look
+here, I meant what I said, and I'm prepared to do the handsome thing.
+You play fair with me, and I'll play fair with you. See? I shall make an
+unholy mess of things if I'm left alone, and if you like I'll keep you
+on here. You shall be my steward, and I'll make you a good allowance.
+Then you can stay here, and I'll give you my word of honour that I'll
+not try to cut you out with Lady Blanche, although she takes the fancy
+of yours truly more than any bit of fluff I've seen for years."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, drop it!" cried Dick, exasperated.
+
+"All right," laughed Tony. "I don't mind. There's plenty of girls to be
+had. Besides, she's not my sort. She's too high and mighty for me.
+Besides," and he laughed raucously, "it all comes back to me now. Once
+when I was here before, I nearly got into trouble with her. I was
+trespassing on her father's grounds, and she came along and saw me. She
+told me to clear out or she'd set the dogs on me. Good Lord! I'd
+forgotten all about it, and I never thought I'd see her again. So if
+you're gone on her, I'll give you a clear field, my boy. I can't say
+fairer than that, now can I?"
+
+They had reached the house, and Dick again, almost unconsciously, looked
+at the great doorway. He dreaded, yet he almost longed to see the great
+haunting eyes of the figure which, whether imaginary or real, had become
+such a factor in his existence.
+
+But there was nothing. No suggestion of the luminous form appeared.
+
+Of course it was all a mad fancy--all the result of exciting and
+disturbing experiences.
+
+"Riggleton," he said, when they had reached the library, "I want to be
+quiet; I want to think. You don't mind, do you? I'll explain presently."
+
+"As you like, my boy. Think as much as you bloomin' well want to. I see
+the servant hasn't taken away the fizz, so I'll have another drink."
+
+Dick threw himself on a chair and covered his face with his hands. He
+tried to think, tried to co-ordinate events, tried to understand the
+true bearings of the situation. But he could not. His mind was either a
+blank or it was filled with mad, confusing thoughts.
+
+What should he do?
+
+He thought he had decided on his course of action before Riggleton's
+advent, but now everything was a wild chaos; he seemed to be in a
+maelstrom. Should he accept Riggleton's offer? The fellow was a fool;
+there could be no doubt about that--a coarse-minded, vulgar, gullible
+fool. With careful treatment, he, Dick, could still remain master of
+Wendover Park; he could have all the money he wanted; he could--and a
+vista of probabilities opened up before him. He was sure he could play
+with his cousin as a cat plays with a mouse. He could get him in his
+power, and then he could do what he liked with him.
+
+And why not?
+
+Perhaps, perhaps----He turned towards Riggleton, who was pouring out a
+glass of champagne and humming a popular music-hall song. Yes; he could
+mould the fellow like clay; he could make him do anything--_anything_!
+
+He was on the point of speaking, of starting a conversation which would
+naturally lead to the thing he had in his mind, but no words passed his
+lips. It seemed to him as though two distinct, two antagonistic forces
+were in the room. Almost unconsciously he took Romanoff's telegram from
+his pocket, and as he did so, he felt as though the sender was by his
+side; but even while he thought of the man he remembered something else.
+He remembered the night when he had unfolded his plans to him, and when
+he had pointed to the paper which he had prepared for him.
+
+Again he felt the grip of the hand upon his wrist, again he felt a
+presence which he could not explain--a presence which forbade him to
+sign away his liberty--his soul.
+
+He thought, too, how immediately afterwards that guileless child
+Beatrice Stanmore had rushed into the room, and had told him that she
+had been impelled to come to him.
+
+Suddenly a prayer came to his lips: "O God, help me! For Christ's sake,
+help me!"
+
+It was strange, bewildering. He was not a praying man. He had not prayed
+for years, and yet the prayer, unbidden, almost unthought of, had come
+into his heart.
+
+"Well, have you made up your mind?"
+
+It was Tony Riggleton's voice, and he felt like a man wakened out of a
+trance.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good. You take me on, eh? We'll be pals, and you'll stay on here as my
+steward?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What are you going to do, then?"
+
+"I'm going to London."
+
+"To London, eh? But when?"
+
+"To-night."
+
+"To-night! Well, I'm----But--but, all right. I'll drive you there in my
+car, and we'll make a night of it."
+
+"No, thank you. Look here, Riggleton, I'm very much obliged to you, and
+I appreciate all you have said; but our paths must lie apart."
+
+"Lie apart?" Tony's mind was a little confused. "You mean to say that
+you don't accept the allowance I'm willing to make you?"
+
+"I mean that. I thank you very much, but I don't accept."
+
+"But--but what are you going to do?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Have you any money?"
+
+"No. Yes, I have, though. I've a few pounds which I saved before I
+thought I--I was----"
+
+"Old Uncle Charlie's heir," concluded Tony as Dick hesitated. "But what
+about the estate?"
+
+"The lawyer must settle all that. I'm sorry I'm intruding here. I'll go
+and pack my things right away. Some day I'll repay you for the money
+I've spent while I've been here."
+
+"Look here," and Tony came to Dick's side, "don't you be a fool. You
+just take things sensibly. Pay me money! Money, be blowed! You just----"
+
+"No, thank you. I'll go now if you don't mind."
+
+He left the room as he spoke, and a few minutes later he had packed a
+small suit-case. He returned to the room where Tony still remained.
+
+"Good-bye, Riggleton; I'm off."
+
+"But you--you're mad."
+
+"I think I am. Good-bye."
+
+"But where are you going?"
+
+"To the station. If I make haste I shall catch the next train to
+London."
+
+Riggleton looked at him in open-mouthed wonder. "Well, you _are_ a
+fool!" he gasped.
+
+Dick rushed out of the house without a word to the servants. He felt as
+though he dared not speak to them. Something in his heart--something
+which he could not explain--was telling him to fly, and to fly quickly.
+
+When he reached the doorway he turned and looked. He wanted to see
+if--if----But there was nothing. The westering sun shed its bright rays
+not only on the house, but on the flowers which bloomed in glorious
+profusion; but there was no suggestion of anything beyond the ordinary
+to be seen.
+
+"Of course I _am_ a fool," he reflected; "perhaps I am mad," and then he
+again tried to understand the experiences which had so bewildered him.
+But he could not. All was confusion.
+
+He hurried along the drive which led to the lodge near which Beatrice
+Stanmore lived. He had a strange longing to see once more the home of
+the child who had come to him in the hour of his dire temptation.
+
+When he had gone some distance he turned to have a last look at the
+house. Never had it seemed so fair; never as now did he realise what he
+was leaving. What a future he was giving up! What a life he was
+discarding! Yes; he had been a fool--an egregious fool! Oh, the folly of
+his actions!--the mad folly!
+
+"Holloa, Mr. Faversham!"
+
+He turned and saw Beatrice Stanmore.
+
+"You are going away?"
+
+"Yes; I'm going to London."
+
+"And walking to the station? Why?"
+
+"Because I've no conveyance."
+
+The girl looked at him wonderingly. Questions seemed to hang upon her
+lips--questions which she dared not ask.
+
+"I'm going away," he went on, "because nothing is mine. There's been a
+great mistake--and so I'm going away. Do you understand?"
+
+She looked at him with childlike wonder. In years she was nearly a
+woman, but she was only a child in spirit.
+
+"But surely you need not go and leave everything?" she queried.
+
+"No; I need not go." He hardly knew what he was saying. He seemed like a
+man under a spell.
+
+"Then what makes you go?"
+
+"You," he replied. "Don't you remember? Good-bye."
+
+He hurried on without another word. He felt he was going mad, even if he
+were not mad already. And yet he had a kind of consciousness that he was
+doing right.
+
+"But I will come back some day," he said between his set teeth. "I'll
+not be beaten! Somehow--somehow I'll make my way. I'll conquer--yes,
+I'll conquer! At all hazards, I'll conquer!"
+
+There was a grim determination in his heart as he set his face towards
+the unknown.
+
+
+
+
+PART II.--THE SECOND TEMPTATION
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+MR. BROWN'S PROPHECY
+
+
+"Yes, Mr. Faversham; I see such a future before you as was never
+possible to any other Englishman."
+
+The speaker was a man about fifty years of age, short, stout, well fed,
+seemingly prosperous. A smile played around his lips---a smile which to
+a casual observer suggested a kindly, almost a childlike, innocence. He
+might have been interested in orphan schools, charity organisations, or
+any other philanthropic movement. His voice, too, was sympathetic and
+somewhat caressing, and his whole appearance spoke of a nature full of
+the milk of human kindness.
+
+The two men were sitting in the corner of a smoking-room in a London
+club. A most respectable club it was, whose members were in the main
+comprised of financiers, prosperous merchants, and men of the upper
+middle classes. Money was writ large everywhere, while comfort, solid
+comfort, was proclaimed by the huge, softly cushioned chairs, the
+thickly piled carpets, and the glowing fires. Any stranger entering the
+club would have said that its members were composed of men who, having
+plenty of this world's goods, meant to enjoy the comforts which their
+gains justly entitled them to.
+
+Dick Faversham, to whom the words were spoken, smiled, and the smile was
+not without incredulity and a sense of wonder.
+
+"Yes," went on the speaker, "you smile; you say in your heart that I am
+a bad example of my theories; but one mustn't be deceived by
+appearances. You think, because I am fat and prosperous, that I take no
+interest in my fellow-creatures, that I do not dream dreams, see
+visions, eh? Is not that so?"
+
+"Not at all," replied Dick; "but your views are so out of accord with
+all this," and he looked around the room as he spoke, "that I am
+naturally a bit puzzled."
+
+"It is because I have accustomed myself to this, because I have seen
+inside the minds of rich men, and thus understand their prejudices and
+points of view, that I also see the other things. You have seen me in
+places different from this, my friend."
+
+"Yes," replied Dick; "I have."
+
+"Little as you have realised it," went on the other, "I have watched you
+for years. I have followed you in your career; I have seen your
+sympathies expand; I have been thrilled with your passion too. You did
+not suspect, my friend, three years ago, that you would be where you are
+to-day, eh?"
+
+"No," assented Dick; "I didn't."
+
+"You have thought much, learnt much, suffered much, seen much."
+
+"Yes; I suppose so," and a wistful look came into his eyes, while his
+face suggested pain.
+
+"It is said," went on the stout man, "that there is no missioner so
+ardent, so enthusiastic, as the new convert; but, as I have told you,
+you do not go far enough."
+
+Dick was silent.
+
+"You are spoken of by many as a man with advanced ideas, as one who has
+an intense passion for justice, as one, too, who has advanced daring
+plans for the world's betterment; but I, the fat old Englishman, the
+respectable millionaire, the man whom Governments have to consider--mark
+that--the man whom Governments have to consider and consult, tell you
+that your scheme, your plans are mere palliatives, mere surface things,
+mere sticking-plasters on the great, gaping sores of our times. That if
+all your ideas were carried out--yes, carried out to the full--you would
+not advance the cause of humanity one iota. In a few months the old
+anachronisms, the old abuses, would again prevail, while you would be a
+back number, a byword, a fellow who played at reform because you neither
+had the vision to see the world's real needs nor the courage to attempt
+real reform. A back number, my dear sir, and a mere play-actor to boot."
+
+The fat man watched the flush on Dick's face as he spoke, and was
+apparently gratified.
+
+"You see," he went on, still watching Dick's face closely, "I am getting
+on in life, and I have shed my illusions. I have my own philosophy of
+life, too. I do not believe that the reformer, that the man who lives to
+relieve the woes of others must of necessity be a monk, a Peter the
+Hermit, a Francis of Assisi. The labourer is worthy his hire; the great
+worker should have a great reward. Why should honour, riches, fall into
+the lap of kings who do nothing, of an aristocracy which is no
+aristocracy? Youth is ambitious as well as altruistic. Thus ambitions
+should be ministered unto, realised. Shakespeare was only a shallow
+parrot, when he wrote the words, 'Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away
+ambition.' The man who flings away ambition becomes a pulpy reed. He
+lacks driving force, lacks elemental passions. If one opposes primitive
+instincts, one is doomed to failure."
+
+"Pardon me if I fail to see what you are driving at," interposed Dick.
+
+"You'll see in a minute," asserted the other. "What I urge is this: the
+man who sets up a new kingdom should be a king. It is his right. The man
+who sees a new earth, a more glorious earth, an earth where justice and
+right abound, and where neither poverty nor discontent is known--I say
+the man who sees that new earth and brings it to pass should rule over
+it as king. He should have, not the pomp and empty pageantry of a paltry
+hereditary king, but the honour, the power, the riches of the true
+king."
+
+The man paused as if he expected Dick to reply, but no reply was
+forthcoming. Still, the stout man was evidently satisfied by his survey
+of Dick's face, and he noted the flash of his eyes.
+
+"That is why, to come back to where we were a few minutes ago," he went
+on, "I see such a future for you as was never possible to any other
+Englishman. I see you, not only as the man who will revolutionise the
+life of this starved and corrupt country, not only as the man who will
+bring in a new era of prosperity and happiness for all who are citizens
+of the British Empire, but as the man who can enjoy such a position,
+such honours, such riches as no man ever enjoyed before. Do you follow
+me? The people who are redeemed will make haste to heap glory and honour
+upon their redeemer."
+
+"History does not bear that out," was Dick's reply.
+
+"No, and why, my friend? I will tell you. It is because the men who have
+aimed to be saviours have been fools. It is because they have been blind
+to the elemental facts of life. The first business of the saviour is not
+self-interest--I do not say that--but to regard his own welfare as
+essential to the welfare of others. The man who allows himself to be
+crucified is no true saviour, because by allowing it he renders himself
+powerless to save. No, no, I see you, not only as one who can be a great
+reformer, and as one who can strike death-blows at the hoary head of
+abuse, but as one who can lift himself into such fame and power as was
+never known before. The plaudits of the multitudes, the most glorious
+gifts of the world, the love of the loveliest women--all, all, and a
+thousand times more, can be yours. That is your future as I see it, my
+friend."
+
+"Do you know what I think of you?" asked Dick, with a nervous laugh.
+
+"It would be interesting to know," was the reply.
+
+"That your imaginative gifts are greater than your logical powers."
+
+The stout man laughed heartily. "I suppose I puzzle you," he replied.
+"You think it strange that I, the financier, the millionaire if you
+like, who eats well, drinks good wine, smokes good cigars, and who is a
+member of the most expensive clubs in London, should talk like this, eh?
+You think it strange that I, who two hours hence will be hobnobbing with
+financiers and Cabinet ministers, should be talking what some would
+call rank treason with an advanced labour leader, eh? But do not judge
+by outward appearances, my friend; do not be misled by the world's
+opinions. It is not always the ascetic who feels most acutely or
+sympathises most intensely.
+
+"As I told you, I have watched you for months--years. For a long time I
+did not trust you; I did not believe you were the man who could do what
+I saw needed doing. Even when I heard you talking to the masses of the
+people--yes, carrying them away with the passion of your words--I did
+not altogether believe in you. But at length I have come to see that you
+are the man for my money, and for the money of others."
+
+Again he looked at Dick keenly.
+
+"Ah, I astonish you, don't I? You have looked upon such as I as enemies
+to the race. You have not realised that there are dozens of millionaires
+in this city of millionaires who almost hate the money they have made,
+because they see no means whereby it can be used for the uplifting and
+salvation of the oppressed and downtrodden. They do not talk about it,
+yet so it is. I tell you frankly, I would at this moment give
+half--two-thirds--of all I possess if thereby I could carry out the
+dream of my life!"
+
+The man spoke with passion and evident conviction. There was a tremor in
+his voice, and his form became almost rigid. His eyes, too, flashed with
+a strange light--a light that spoke almost of fanaticism.
+
+"You already have in your mind what burns in mine like a raging
+furnace," he went on. "You see from afar what has become a fixed,
+settled conviction with me. You behold as a hazy vision what I have
+contemplated for a long time, until it is clearly outlined, thoroughly
+thought out. I will tell you what it is directly. And if that great
+heart of yours, if that fine quick mind of yours does not grasp it,
+assimilate it, and translate it into actuality, it will be one of the
+greatest disappointments of my life. I shall for evermore put myself
+down as a blind fool, and my faith in human nature will be lost for
+ever."
+
+"Tell me what it is," and Dick's voice was tense with eagerness.
+
+Months, years had passed since Dick had left Wendover Park, and both his
+life and thoughts had become revolutionised. Perhaps this was not
+altogether strange. His manner of life had been altered, his outlook
+altogether new.
+
+Even now as he looked back over those fateful days he could not
+understand them. They seemed to him rather as some wild fantastic series
+of dreams than as sane and sober realities. Yet realities they were,
+even although they were a mystery to him. Often in his quiet hours he
+caught himself thinking of the figure of the woman in the smoke-room of
+the outward-bound ship, which no one but himself could see, while again
+and again he almost shivered as he felt himself sinking in the black,
+turbulent sea, while conflicting powers seemed to be struggling to
+possess him. Indeed, the wonder of that night never left him. The light
+which shone in the darkness, the luminous form above him, the great,
+yearning, pitying eyes which shone into his, and the arms outstretched
+to save.
+
+Sometimes it was all visionary and unreal--so visionary was it that he
+could not believe in its reality, but at other times he could not doubt.
+It was all real--tremendously real. Especially was it so as he thought
+of those after days when he had fought the greatest battles of his life.
+Again and again he had seen himself in the library at Wendover while
+Romanoff stood beside him and told him of his plans; again and again had
+he recalled the moment when he took the pen in his hand to sign the
+paper, and had felt the grip on his wrist which had paralysed his hand.
+
+Was it real, or was it imaginary?
+
+"Suppose I had signed it?" he had often asked himself; "where should I
+be now? I should be a rich man--the owner of old Charles Faversham's
+huge fortune. Possibly I should have married Lady Blanche Huntingford
+and acted the part of the rich squire. But what would Romanoff have
+exacted of me? What would be my thoughts about Tony Riggleton?"
+
+Yes; those were wonderful days, whether they were a dream or a reality,
+and sometimes he called himself a fool for not following the Count's
+advice, while at others he shuddered to think of the dangers from which
+he had escaped.
+
+He had never seen nor heard of Lady Blanche since. On his arrival in
+London he had written an explanatory letter, and had expressed the hope
+that she would not lose interest in him. But he had received no reply.
+Evidently she regarded him as a kind of an impostor, with whom she could
+no further associate herself.
+
+Neither had he ever seen or heard of Romanoff. This dark, sinister man
+had passed away into the shadows, and only remained a strange memory, a
+peculiar influence in his life.
+
+Of Tony Riggleton he had heard various stories, all of which were of the
+same nature. Tony had been true to the programme he had marked out. He
+had filled Wendover Park with a motley crowd of men and women, and the
+orgies there were the talk of the neighbourhood. He had also a flat in
+London where he had indulged in his peculiar tastes.
+
+It was on hearing these stories that Dick had felt that he had acted the
+fool. He had become cynical, too, and laughed at the idea that virtue
+and honour were wise.
+
+"If I had followed Romanoff's advice," he had said to himself, "I might
+have----" And repeatedly he had recounted what he might have done with
+the wealth which he had thought was his.
+
+For many months Dick had a hard struggle to live. His few weeks of
+riches had unfitted him for the battle of life. Society was shaken to
+its foundations; the world was a maddening maze. Again and again he had
+offered himself for the Army--only to be rejected. He was conscious of
+no illness, but the doctors persistently turned him down.
+
+Presently he drifted towards the industrial North of England and became
+employed in a huge factory where thousands of people worked. It was here
+that Dick's life underwent a great change. For the first time he found
+himself the daily, hourly companion of grimy-handed toilers.
+
+This gave him a new vision of life; it placed new meanings on great
+problems; he was made to look at life from new angles. For the first
+time he felt the squalor, the ugliness of life. He lived in a grimy
+street, amidst grimy surroundings. He saw things as the working classes
+saw them, saw them with all their grey unloveliness, their numbing
+monotony.
+
+Still ambitious, still determined to carve out a career, he felt
+oppressed by the ghastly atmosphere in which he found himself. He was
+now fast approaching thirty, and he found himself unable to adapt
+himself to his new conditions. He thought of all he had hoped to do and
+be, and now by some sport of fate he had become engulfed in this
+maelstrom of life.
+
+Little by little the inwardness of it all appealed to him. He had to do
+with men and women who were drunken, foul-mouthed, depraved. What wonder
+that he himself was becoming coarsened every day! Things at which he
+would once have shuddered he now passed by with a shrug of his
+shoulders. How could the working classes be refined, how could they have
+exalted ideas amidst such surroundings?
+
+He noticed the tremendous disparity between the moneyed and the working
+classes. The former were deliberately exploiting the great world
+convulsion, and the peculiar conditions caused thereby, to make huge
+profits. It was all wrong--utterly wrong. What was the worker, on whose
+labour everything depended? Mere means for swelling the capitalists'
+profits. Who cared about them? Politicians talked glibly about what they
+meant to do; but they did nothing.
+
+Newspapers shrieked, and capitalists talked about the disloyalty of the
+working classes. How could men go on strike while the very existence of
+empire, civilisation, humanity hung in the balance? they asked. But what
+of their own disloyalty? What of those who held a pistol at the head of
+the Government, and threatened to disorganise the trade of the country
+and paralyse output, if they could not stuff their money-bags still
+fuller?
+
+And so on, and on. His new environment changed him--changed his
+sympathies, his thoughts, his outlook. He thought of Tony Riggleton
+spending the money these people were making for him in wild orgies among
+loose men and women, and he became angry and bitter.
+
+Little by little his superior education asserted itself. He found, too,
+that he had a remarkable aptitude for public speech. He discovered that
+he could sway huge multitudes by the burning fervour of his words. He
+was able to put into language what the people felt, and before long
+became a popular hero.
+
+The world was in a state of flux; old ideas, old conceptions were swept
+aside as worn-out fallacies. What ten years before were regarded as
+madmen's dreams no longer appeared either unreasonable or quixotic. The
+forces of life had become fluid, and it was the toiler of the nation who
+was to decide into what channels the new movements were to flow.
+
+And Dick became a doctrinaire, as well as a dreamer of a new heaven and
+a new earth. He became an ardent reader, too. He was surprised at the
+ease with which his mind grasped theories hitherto unknown to him, how
+he absorbed the spirit of unrest, and how he flung himself into the
+world's great fray.
+
+"Faversham's our man," people said on every side. "He's got eddication,
+he's got a fair grip on things, and he can knock the masters to
+smithereens when it comes to argument and the gilt o' th' gab."
+
+"But who is he?" asked others. "He's noan our sort. He was noan brought
+up a workin' man."
+
+"Nay, but he's a workin' man naa. He's worked side by side with the best
+on us, and he knows how to put things. I tell thee, he mun go into
+Parlyment. He'll mak 'em sit up. He mun be our member."
+
+This feeling became so strong that Dick was on two occasions selected to
+be one of deputations to the Prime Minister, and more than that, he was
+chosen to be the chief spokesman to state the workers' claims.
+
+In all this, not only were his sympathies aroused, but his vanity was
+appealed to. It was very pleasant to feel himself emerging from
+obscurity; the roar of cheering which the mention of his name elicited
+became as sweet as the nectar of the gods to him.
+
+Again he saw visions, and dreamt dreams. They were different from those
+of the old days, but they did a great deal to satisfy him. They told him
+of position, of power, of a place among the great ones of the world.
+Sometimes he was almost glad that Tony Riggleton inherited Charles
+Faversham's huge fortune. If he had retained it, and gained high
+position, that position would have been through the toil and brain of
+another. Now he would do everything by himself--unaided and alone.
+
+More than once during the many stormy and excited meetings Dick had
+attended, he had seen a kindly, benevolent-looking man, whose face
+suggested the milk of human kindness. Dick rather wondered how he came
+there, and on asking his name was told that he was called John Brown,
+and that, although he did not directly belong to the working classes, he
+was in deep sympathy with them, and had more than once subscribed to
+their funds. Presently Dick became acquainted with Mr. Brown, and
+something like intimacy sprang up between them.
+
+He found that Mr. Brown was a great admirer of his speeches, and more
+than once that gentleman had hinted that if he found any money
+difficulty in entering Parliament, he, John Brown, would see that the
+difficulty should be removed.
+
+"I am almost ashamed of being something of a capitalist," he confided to
+Dick, "but, at any rate, I can use what money I have for the advance of
+the cause which is so dear to me."
+
+Just before Dick was going to London the next time, he received a letter
+from Mr. Brown asking him to meet him at a well-known club. "I have
+certain things to say to you," he said, "certain propositions to make
+which I think will be worthy of your consideration."
+
+On Dick's arrival in London he made certain inquiries about Mr. Brown,
+which, however, did not help him much. He was by no means a prominent
+character, he learnt, but he was believed by many to be a man of
+enormous wealth. He was told, moreover, that he was somewhat eccentric,
+and loved doing good by stealth.
+
+It was therefore with aroused curiosity that Dick made his way to the
+club in question. He was not yet quite sure of his man, and so he
+determined to listen carefully to what Mr. Brown had to say without
+committing himself. Before long he found himself deeply interested. The
+stout, benevolent-looking man was revealing himself in a new light, and
+Dick found himself listening with fast-beating heart.
+
+"Yes; I will tell you what it is," said Mr. Brown. "I will make plain to
+you what I meant when I said that I see such a future before you as was
+never possible to any other Englishman."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+AN AMAZING PROPOSAL
+
+
+Dick unconsciously drew his chair nearer the fire, while every nerve in
+his body became tense. He felt that the millionaire had not brought him
+here for mere pastime.
+
+"Tell me," said Mr. Brown, "what your plans for the future are."
+
+"Too hazy to outline," was Dick's reply.
+
+"That's truer than you think, my friend--far truer than you think;
+that's why your position is so absurd. And yet you answer me falsely."
+
+Dick gave the other a look that was almost angry.
+
+"No, no, my friend," went on Mr. Brown; "do not mistake me. I do not
+accuse you of falsehood. You think you are speaking the truth. But you
+are not. In a way, your plans are defined. You mean to be Member of
+Parliament for Eastroyd. You mean to be the first Labour Member for that
+great working-class constituency. Already you have been approached by
+the various unions of the town, and you have been assured that you will
+be returned by a triumphant majority. And you've practically accepted,
+although you have persuaded yourself that you've not yet made up your
+mind. So far so good--or bad; but you are unsettled. There is something
+at the back of your mind that you can't explain. It doesn't satisfy you.
+Am I not speaking the truth?"
+
+"Perhaps," assented Dick.
+
+"And naturally, too. Oh, my young friend, I know--I know. I have been
+through it all. What is a Labour Member after all? Just one of a few
+others, who is submerged by the great so-called Liberal and Conservative
+Parties. What can he do? Speak now and then when he's allowed to, beat
+the air, be listened to by a handful of his own supporters, and then
+forgotten. Consider the history of the Labour Party. What influence has
+it really had on the life of the nation? My friend, the government of
+the country is still in the hands of the upper and middle classes in
+spite of all you do and say."
+
+"Pardon me," interrupted Dick, "but what are you driving at? What you
+say may be partly true, but at least the hope of the working classes,
+politically speaking, lies in the Labour Party."
+
+"Moonshine, my friend--mere moonshine. The atmosphere of the British
+House of Commons stifles the aspiration of the Labour Members. One by
+one they are absorbed into the old orthodox parties, and nothing is
+done. You know it, too. That's why the thought of becoming a Labour
+Member is unsatisfying to you. You would never be a real power, and you
+would always be regarded as an outsider, and you would never touch the
+helm of affairs."
+
+Dick was silent. After all, he was not a working man. He had social
+ambitions. He desired not only to be a prominent figure among the
+working classes; he wanted to be an equal of, a peer amongst the
+dominant forces of the world. He still remembered Lady Blanche
+Huntingford--as a Labour Member he would be outside her sphere.
+
+"You see it, don't you?" persisted Mr. Brown.
+
+"And if I do? What then?"
+
+"Everything then, my friend. Your present plans would end in nothing.
+Not only would you fail to do anything real for the people, but you
+yourself would be stultified. A Labour Member! What is he?--a man who,
+socially, is patronised; who is recognised only on sufferance; who, if
+he marries, must marry a commoner, a woman of the people, with all her
+limitations. Oh, I know, I know. And meanwhile the working people still
+continue to be trodden underfoot, and who toil for what they can squeeze
+out of their employers--their social superiors. Yes, yes, you are
+impatient with me. You say I am a long time in getting to my point. But
+be patient, my friend; I will get there. I only want you to realise the
+truth."
+
+"Then please get to your point," urged Dick a little impatiently.
+
+"I will," replied Mr. John Brown, and he placed his chubby hand on
+Dick's knee. "Here is the fact, my friend: we live in a time when
+nothing is impossible. The world is in travail, in wild convulsions. The
+new channels of life are not made. All the forces of life are in a state
+of flux. Now is the time for the real leader, the strong man. The great
+proletariat is waiting for that leader, longing for him. The people are
+tired of the old worn pathways; they are waiting for the new kingdom,
+the new deliverer."
+
+"You are still in the clouds," cried Dick. "Come down to the solid
+earth."
+
+"I will, my friend. England is ripe for real reform, ripe for the new
+order. The open sores of the country cannot be healed by
+sticking-plasters. They must be cauterised; the cancers must be cut out.
+In one word--Revolution!"
+
+Dick started to his feet, and took a hasty glance around the room. For a
+wonder, it was empty. They were alone.
+
+"You are mad!" he cried.
+
+"Of course I am," laughed Mr. Brown. "Every man is called mad who sees a
+new heaven and a new earth. But, my friend, I speak as an Englishman, as
+one who loves his country. I am a patriot, and I want to see a greater,
+grander England. I want to see a Britain that shall be happy,
+prosperous, contented. I want to destroy poverty, to smash up the old
+order of things--an order which has dragged squalor, misery, poverty,
+injustice, inequality at its heels. I am tired--_tired_ of seeing
+criminal wealth and mad luxury and waste on the one hand, and abject
+grinding poverty on the other. And to cure it all you must go to the
+roots of things; there must be great upheavals, revolutions. The land
+must be the people's, the mineral must be the people's, the water, the
+food, the wealth, the Army, the Navy, the _everything_ must belong to
+the people."
+
+"Bolshevism!" The word came from him abruptly--angrily.
+
+"Yes, Bolshevism," replied the other; "and what then?"
+
+"Russia!" and there was a sneer in Dick's voice as he uttered the word.
+
+"Yes, Russia if you like. And still, what then? Would you have Russia go
+on century by century as it had been going? Would you have scores upon
+scores of millions of men and women go on existing as they were
+existing? You know the history of Russia for ten centuries past. What
+has it been?--a criminal, bloated, corrupt, cruel, overbearing,
+persecuting aristocracy and bureaucracy on the one hand, and a welter of
+poor, suffering, starving, outraged, diseased, dying people on the
+other. That was Russia. And desperate diseases need desperate remedies,
+my friend. Of course, the very name of Russia is being shuddered at just
+now. But think, my friend. Birth is always a matter of travail, and
+Russia is being re-born. But wait. In ten years Russia will be regarded
+as the pioneer of civilisation--as the herald of a new age. Russia is
+taking the only step possible that will lead to justice, and to peace,
+and prosperity for all."
+
+"You don't mean that!" Dick scarcely knew that he spoke.
+
+"I am as certain of it as that I sit here. I swear it by whatever gods
+there be!"
+
+Plain, stout Mr. John Brown was changed. Dick forgot his fat, chubby
+hands, his round, benevolent, kindly, but commonplace face. It was a new
+Mr. John Brown that he saw. A new light shone in his eyes, a new tone
+had come to his voice, a seemingly new spirit inspired him.
+
+"I go further," cried Mr. Brown, "and I say this: England--the British
+Isles need the same remedy. All that you have been thinking about are
+sticking-plasters--palliatives, and not cures. What England needs is a
+Revolution. All the old corrupt, crushing forces must be destroyed, the
+old gods overthrown, and a new evangelist must proclaim a new gospel."
+
+"A madman's dream," protested Dick. "Let's talk of something else."
+
+"Not yet," replied Mr. John Brown. "Tell me this, you who long for a new
+heaven and a new earth--you who plead for justice, for fraternity, for
+brotherhood: do you believe that the programme--I mean the organised
+programme--of the Labour Party or the Socialist Party will ever bring
+about what you desire?"
+
+Dick was silent.
+
+"Ah, you are honest. You know it will not. In your heart of hearts you
+know, too, that nothing but a thorough upheaval, a complete Revolution
+of the bad old order of things can bring about what you desire. Patching
+up an old building whose walls are cracked, whose drains are corrupt,
+whose foundations are insecure, is waste of time and energy. If you want
+a new sanitary house the old place has to be demolished and the rubbish
+_cleared away_! That's it, my friend. That's what's needed in this
+country. The rubbish must be cleared away. That's what the people want.
+For the moment they are crying out for something, they hardly know what,
+but they will have a Revolution, and they are longing for a leader to
+lead them, a prophet to interpret their needs."
+
+"But for England to become another Russia!" Dick's response was that of
+a man who had not yet grasped all that was in the other's mind.
+
+"There is no need of that. Because England has not sunk to the depths of
+Russia, her revolution would be less violent. There would be no need for
+excesses, for violence. But here is the fact, my friend: three-fourths
+of our population belong to the wage-earning classes; they are the
+toilers and the moilers; let the true gospel be preached to them, let
+the true prophet and leader appear, and they would follow him."
+
+"And who is to be the prophet, the leader?"
+
+"You, my friend."
+
+"I!" gasped Dick.
+
+"You. Richard Faversham. You who have tasted the sweets of wealth. You
+who have toiled and sweated with the workers. You who have eyes to see,
+ears to hear. You who have the power to interpret the people's
+longings. You who have the qualities of the leader, who can take them to
+the Promised Land. You!"
+
+"Madness!"
+
+"You say that now. You will not say it in a few hours from now. You can
+understand now what I meant when I startled you an hour ago by saying
+that I see such a future before you as was never possible to any
+Englishman. You are young; you are ambitious. It is right you should be.
+No man who is not ambitious is worth a rotten stick to his age. Here is
+such a career as was never known before. Never, I say! Man, it's
+glorious! You can become the greatest man of the age--of all the ages!"
+
+Mr. Brown looked at Dick intently for a few seconds, and then went on,
+speaking every word distinctly.
+
+"A Labour Member, indeed! A voting machine at four hundred a year! The
+hack of his party organisation! Is that a career for a man like you?
+Heavens, such a thought is sacrilege! But this, my friend, is the
+opportunity of a life--of all time."
+
+"Stop!" cried Dick. "I want to grasp it--to think!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+"THE COUNTRY FOR THE PEOPLE"
+
+
+"But you _are_ mad," said the young man at length. "Even if you are
+right in your diagnosis of the disease from which the country is
+suffering, if the remedy you suggest is the only one, I am not the man
+you need. And even if I were, the remedy is impossible. England is not
+where France was a hundred years ago; she is not where Russia is
+to-day."
+
+"And you are not a Lenin, a Trotsky, eh?" and Mr. John Brown laughed
+like a man who had made a joke.
+
+"No, thank Heaven, I am not," and Dick spoke quickly. "I do not believe
+in the nationalisation of women, neither do I believe in the destruction
+of the most sacred institutions of life."
+
+"Of course you don't," replied Mr. John Brown, "and I am glad of it.
+Russia has gone to many excesses which we must avoid. But what can you
+expect, my friend? After centuries of oppression and persecution, is it
+any wonder that there has been a swing of the pendulum? The same thing
+was true of France a hundred years ago. France went wild, France lost
+her head, and neither Danton nor Robespierre checked the extravagances
+of the people. But, answer me this. Is not France a thousand times
+better to-day than when under the Bourbons and the Church? Is not such a
+Republic as France has, infinitely better than the reign of a corrupt
+throne, a rotten aristocracy, and a rottener Church? Besides, did not a
+great part of those who were guillotined deserve their doom?"
+
+"Perhaps they did; but--but the thing is impossible, all the same."
+
+"Why impossible?"
+
+"For one thing, Lenin and Trotsky are in a country without order and
+law. They murdered the Tzar and his family, and they seized the money of
+the Government and of the banks. Such a thing as you suggest would need
+millions, and you could not get any body of Englishmen to follow on the
+Russian lines. Besides--no, the thing is impossible!"
+
+"Money!" repeated Mr. John Brown, like a man reflecting. "I myself would
+place in your hands all the money you need for organisation and
+propaganda."
+
+"In _my_ hands!"
+
+"In your hands, my friend. Yes, in your hands. But we have talked enough
+now. You want time to think over what has been said. But will you do
+something, my friend?"
+
+"I don't know. I suspect not."
+
+"I think you will. To-night I want you to accompany me to a place where
+your eyes will be opened. I want you to see how deep are the feelings of
+millions, how strong is the longing for a leader, a guide. You, who have
+felt the pulses of the millions who live and act in the open, have no
+idea of what is felt by the millions who act in the dark."
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"Of course you don't. You and other so-called Labour leaders, because
+you mingle with a class which you call the people, think you know
+everything. You believe you know the thought, the spirit of the age.
+Come with me to-night and I will show you a phase of life hitherto
+unknown to you. You will come? Yes?"
+
+"Oh yes, I will come," replied Dick, with a laugh. The conversation had
+excited him beyond measure, and he was eager for adventure.
+
+"Good. Be at the entrance to the Blackfriars Underground Station
+to-night at eleven o'clock."
+
+"At eleven; all right."
+
+Mr. John Brown looked at his watch, and then gave a hasty glance round
+the room. He saw two portly looking men coming in their direction.
+
+"I am sure you will excuse me, Mr. Faversham. It is later than I
+thought, and I find I have appointments. But it has been very
+interesting to know your point of view. Good evening. Ah, Sir Felix, I
+thought you might drop in to-night," and leaving Dick as though their
+talk had been of the most commonplace nature, he shook hands with the
+newcomers.
+
+Dick, feeling himself dismissed, left the club, and a minute later found
+himself in the thronging crowd of Piccadilly. Taxicabs, buses, richly
+upholstered motor-cars were passing, but he did not heed them. People
+jostled him as he made his way towards Hyde Park gates, but he was
+unaware of it. His head was in a whirl; he was living in a maze of
+conflicting thoughts.
+
+Of course old John Brown was a madman! Nothing but a madman would
+advance such a quixotic programme! He pictured the club he had just
+left--quiet, orderly, circumspect--the natural rendezvous for City and
+West End magnates, the very genius of social order and moneyed
+respectability. How, then, could a respected member of such a place
+advance such a mad-brained scheme?
+
+But he had.
+
+Not that he--Dick Faversham--could regard it seriously. Of course he had
+during the last two years been drawn into a new world, and had been led
+to accept socialistic ideas. Some, even among the Socialists, called
+them advanced. But this!
+
+Of course it was impossible.
+
+All the same, there was a great deal in what John Brown had said. A
+Labour Member. A paid voting machine at L400 a year! The words rankled
+in his mind.
+
+And this scheme was alluring. The country for the people!...
+
+He made his way along the causeway, thinking of it.
+
+A Revolution! The old bad, mad order of things ended by one mighty
+upheaval! A new England, with a new outlook, a new Government!... A
+mighty movement which might grip the world. A new earth....
+
+And he--Dick Faversham?
+
+Here was scope for new enterprises! Here was a career! On the one hand,
+a paid working man member at L400 a year, regarded with a supercilious
+smile by the class to which he really belonged; and, on the other, a
+force which shook Society to its foundations--a leader whose name would
+be on all lips....
+
+Of course it was all nonsense, and he would drive it from his mind.
+
+And he would not meet Mr. John Brown that night. What a madcap idea to
+go to some midnight gathering--where, Heaven only knew! And for what?
+
+He had reached Park Lane, and almost unconsciously he turned eastward.
+
+He could not remember a single thing that had happened during his walk
+from Park Lane to Piccadilly Circus. The great tide of human life surged
+to and fro, but he was oblivious of the fact.
+
+He was thinking--wildly thinking.
+
+Then suddenly he gave a start. Just as he reached the Circus he saw a
+face which set his heart beating wildly.
+
+"Ah, Faversham, is that you?"
+
+"Count Romanoff!" Dick almost gasped.
+
+"Yes; who would have thought of seeing you? Still, the world is small."
+
+The Count was not changed. He still carried himself proudly, and was
+dressed to perfection. Also, he still seemed to regard others with a
+degree of indifference. He was the same contemptuous, cynical man of the
+world.
+
+"What are you doing, eh? Still living at Wendover Park?"
+
+"No. You know I am not."
+
+"No? Ah, I remember now. I have been knocking around the world ever
+since, and had almost forgotten. But your quondam cousin entered
+possession, didn't he? But you, what did you do?"
+
+"Oh, I--I drifted."
+
+"Drifted--where?--to what? You look changed. Things are not going well
+with you, eh?"
+
+"Yes--quite well, thank you."
+
+"Yes? You married Lady Blanche? But no, I should have heard of it."
+
+"No; I did not marry. I am living in Eastroyd."
+
+"Eastroyd! Where's that?"
+
+"Don't you know?"
+
+"Never heard of it before. Is it in England?"
+
+Dick was growing angry; there was a sneer in every tone of the man's
+voice. He felt a mad desire to make the Count see that he had become a
+man of importance.
+
+"Yes; it's in the North," he replied. "It's a huge town of a quarter of
+a million people. A great industrial centre."
+
+"And what are you doing there?"
+
+"I'm contemplating an invitation to become a Member of Parliament for
+the town. I'm assured that, if I accept, my return to the House of
+Commons is certain."
+
+"Ah, that's interesting. And which side will you take--Conservative or
+Liberal? Conservative, I suppose?"
+
+"No; I should stand as a Labour candidate."
+
+"As a----Surely I didn't hear you aright?"
+
+"Quite right. My sympathies have come to lie in that direction."
+
+"But--but--a Labour Member! I thought you had some pretensions to be a
+gentleman."
+
+Dick felt as though he had received the lash of a whip. He wanted to
+lash back, to make Romanoff feel what he felt. But no words came.
+
+"You have no sympathy with the working classes?" he asked feebly.
+
+"Sympathy! What gentleman could? See what they've done in my own
+country. I had little sympathy with Nicky; but great heavens, think! Of
+course I'm angry. I had estates in Russia; they had been in the families
+for centuries--and now! But the thing is a nightmare! Working classes,
+eh! I'd take every mal-content in Europe and shoot him. What are the
+working classes but lazy, drunken swine that should be bludgeoned into
+obedience?"
+
+"I don't think you understand the British working classes," was Dick's
+response.
+
+"No? I'm sure I don't want to. I prefer my own class. But pray don't let
+me keep you from them. Good evening."
+
+Without another word, without holding out his hand, the Count turned on
+his heel and walked away.
+
+The incident affected Dick in two ways. First of all, it made his
+experiences three years before in the Wendover Park very shadowy and
+unreal. In spite of everything, he had not been able to think of the
+Count save as an evil influence in his life, as one who desired to get
+him into his power for his own undoing. He had had a vague belief that
+in some way unknown to him, Romanoff desired to hold him in his grip for
+sinister purposes, and that he had been saved by an opposing power. Had
+he been asked to assert this he would have hesitated, and perhaps been
+silent. Still, at the back of his doubt the feeling existed. But now,
+with the memory of the Count's contemptuous words and looks in his mind,
+it all appeared as groundless and as unreal as the fabric of a dream. If
+he had been right, he would not have treated him in such a fashion.
+
+The other way in which the incident affected him was to arouse an angry
+determination to win a position equal to and superior to that which
+would be his as Charles Faversham's heir. He would by his own endeavours
+rise to such heights that even the Count's own position would pale into
+insignificance. After all, what were kings and princes? Their day was
+over. Soon, soon thrones all over the world would topple like ninepins;
+soon the power of the world would be in new hands.
+
+A Labour Member, indeed! Working people swine, were they? Soon the
+working people of the world would be masters! Then woe be to a useless,
+corrupt aristocracy! As for the leaders of the toilers...
+
+"I'll meet Mr. John Brown again to-night," he reflected. "I'll go to
+this, this!... I wonder what he has in his mind?"
+
+Meanwhile Count Romanoff wandered along Piccadilly till he came to St.
+James's Street. He was smiling as though something pleasant had happened
+to him. His eyes, too, shone with a strange light, and he walked like a
+victor.
+
+He walked past the Devonshire Club, and then turned into a street
+almost opposite St. James's Square. Here he looked at his watch and
+walked more slowly. Evidently he knew his way well, for he took several
+turnings without the slightest hesitation, till at length he reached a
+house at the corner of a street. He selected a key from a bunch, opened
+the door of the house, and entered. For a moment he stood still and
+listened; then, walking noiselessly along a thick carpet, he opened the
+door of a room and entered.
+
+"Sitting in the dark, eh? Reflecting on the destiny of nations, I
+suppose?"
+
+The Count's manner was light and pleasant. He was in a good humour. He
+switched on the light and saw Mr. John Brown. It would seem that they
+had met by appointment.
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Brown; "I was reflecting on the destiny of
+nations--reflecting, too, on the fact that the greatest victories of the
+world are won not by armies who fight in the open, but by brains that
+act in the dark."
+
+"You have seen him. I know that."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I know everything, my friend. You met him about an hour ago. You had a
+long talk with him. You have baited your hook, and thrown it. Before you
+could tell whether the fish would rise, you thought it better to wait.
+You decided to make further preparations."
+
+"Romanoff, I believe you are the devil."
+
+"Many a true word is spoken in jest, my friend. But, devil or not, am I
+not right?"
+
+"You have seen him? He has told you?"
+
+"He has told me nothing. Yes, he has, though. He has told me he had
+ambitions to be a Labour Member of Parliament."
+
+"But nothing more?"
+
+"Nothing more. I was passing along the street and spoke to him."
+
+The two were looking at each other eagerly, questioningly. Mr. John
+Brown's face had become flabby; the flesh around his eyes was baggy. The
+eyes had a furtive look, as though he stood in awe of his companion.
+Romanoff, too, in spite of his claim to omniscience, might be a little
+anxious.
+
+"The fellow's career is a miracle," remarked Mr. John Brown at length.
+"A millionaire one day, a pauper the next. And then to settle down as a
+toiler among toilers--to become the popular hero, the socialist leader,
+the rebel, the seer of visions, the daring reformer! A miracle, I say!
+But with proper guidance, he is the man we need. He can do much!"
+
+Count Romanoff laughed like one amused.
+
+"Germany is in a bad way, eh? Poor Wilhelm, what a fool! Oh, what a
+fool!"
+
+"Be quiet!" cried the other hoarsely. "Even here the walls may have
+ears, and if it were suspected that----"
+
+"Exactly, my friend," sneered the Count. "But tell me how you stand."
+
+For some time they talked quietly, earnestly, the Count asking questions
+and raising objections, while Mr. John Brown explained what he had in
+his mind.
+
+"Germany is never beaten," he said--"never. When arms fail, brains come
+in. Russia has become what Russia is, not by force of arms, but by
+brains. Whose? And Germany will triumph. This fellow is only one of many
+who are being used. A network of agencies are constantly at work."
+
+"And to-night you are going to introduce him to Olga?" and the Count
+laughed.
+
+"The most fascinating woman in Europe, my friend. Yes; to-night I am
+going to open his eyes. To-night he will fall in love. To-night will be
+the beginning of the end of Britain's greatness!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE MIDNIGHT MEETING
+
+
+Dick Faversham stood at the entrance of the underground station at
+Blackfriars Bridge. It was now five minutes before eleven, and the
+traffic along the Embankment was beginning to thin. New Bridge Street
+was almost deserted, for the tide of theatre-goers did not go that way.
+Dick was keenly on the look out for Mr. John Brown, and wondered what
+kind of a place he was going to visit that night.
+
+He felt a slight touch upon his shoulder, and, turning, he saw Mr. Brown
+go to the ticket office.
+
+"Third single for Mark Lane," he said, carelessly throwing down two
+coppers, yet so clearly that Dick could not help hearing him.
+
+Without hesitation Dick also went to the office and booked for the same
+place. Mr. Brown took no apparent notice of him, and when the train came
+in squeezed himself into a third-class compartment. Having secured a
+seat, he lit a cheap black cigar.
+
+Dick noticed that he wore a somewhat shabby over-coat and a hat to
+match. Apparently Mr. Brown had not a thought in his mind beyond that of
+smoking his cigar and reading a soiled copy of an evening paper.
+
+Arrived at Mark Lane, Mr. Brown alighted and, still without taking
+notice of Dick, found his way to the street. For some time he walked
+eastward, and then, having reached a dark alley, turned suddenly and
+waited for Dick to come up.
+
+"Keep me in sight for the next half-mile," he said quickly. "When I stop
+next, you will come close to me, and I will give you necessary
+instructions."
+
+They were now in a part of London which was wholly strange to the young
+man. There were only few passers-by. It was now nearly midnight, and
+that part of London was going to sleep. Now and then a belated traveller
+shuffled furtively along as though anxious not to be seen. They were in
+a neighbourhood where dark things happen.
+
+Evidently Mr. John Brown knew his way well. He threaded narrow streets
+and dark alleys without the slightest hesitation; neither did he seem to
+have any apprehension of danger. When stragglers stopped and gave him
+suspicious glances, he went straight on, unheeding.
+
+Dick on the other hand, was far from happy. He did not like his midnight
+journey; he did not like the grim, forbidding neighbourhood through
+which they were passing. He reflected that he was utterly ignorant where
+he was, and, but for a hazy idea that he was somewhere near the river,
+would not know which way to turn if by any chance he missed his guide.
+
+Presently, however, Mr. Brown stopped and gave a hasty look around.
+Everywhere were dark, forbidding-looking buildings which looked like
+warehouses. Not a ray of light was to be seen anywhere. Even although
+vast hordes of people were all around the spot where he stood, the very
+genius of loneliness reigned.
+
+He beckoned Dick to him, and spoke in low tones.
+
+"Be surprised at nothing you see or hear," he advised in a whisper.
+"There is no danger for either you or me. This is London, eh? And yet
+those who love England, and are thinking and working for her welfare,
+are obliged to meet in secret."
+
+"Still, I'd like to know where we are going," protested Dick. "I don't
+like this."
+
+"Wait, my young friend. Wait just five minutes. Now, follow me in
+silence."
+
+Had not the spirit of adventure been strong upon the young fellow, he
+would have refused. There was something sinister in the adventure. He
+could not at all reconcile Mr. John Brown's membership of the club he
+had visited that afternoon with this Egyptian darkness in a London slum.
+
+"Follow without remark, and without noise," commanded the older man,
+and then, having led the way a few yards farther, he flashed a light
+upon some narrow stone steps.
+
+Dick was sure he heard the movement of a large body of water. He was
+more than ever convinced that they were close to the Thames.
+
+Mr. Brown descended the steps, while Dick followed. His heart was
+beating rapidly, but he had no fear. A sense of curiosity had mastered
+every other feeling. At the bottom of the steps Mr. Brown stopped and
+listened, but although Dick strained his powers of hearing, he could
+detect no sound. The place might have been exactly what it appeared in
+the darkness--a deserted warehouse.
+
+"Now, then," whispered Mr. Brown, and there was excitement in his voice.
+
+A second later he tapped with his stick on what appeared to be the door
+of the warehouse. Dick, whose senses were keenly alert, counted the
+taps. Three soft, two loud, and again two soft ones.
+
+The door opened as if by magic. There was no noise, and Dick would not
+have known it was opened save for the dim light which was revealed. A
+second later he had entered, and the door closed.
+
+In the dim light Dick saw that he was following two dark forms.
+Evidently the person who had opened the door was leading the way. But he
+could discern nothing clearly; he thought they were passing through some
+kind of lumber room, but he could have sworn to nothing. After that
+there was a passage of some sort, and again they descended some more
+steps, at the bottom of which Dick heard what seemed the confused murmur
+of voices....
+
+Dick found himself standing in a kind of vestibule, and there was a
+sudden glare of light. Both he and Mr. John Brown were in a well-lit
+room, in which some two hundred people had gathered.
+
+When Dick's eyes had become accustomed to the light, he saw that he was
+in the midst of one of the most curious crowds he had ever seen. The
+people seemed of many nationalities, and the sexes appeared equally
+divided. Very few old people were present. In the main they were well
+dressed, and might have been comfortably situated. Nevertheless, it was
+a motley crowd--motley not so much because of any peculiarity in their
+attire as because of their personalities. What impressed Dick more than
+anything else was the look of fierce intelligence on their faces, and
+the nervous eagerness which characterised their every movement. Every
+look, every action spoke of intensity, and as Dick swept a hasty glance
+around the room, he felt that he was breathing an atmosphere which was
+altogether new to him--an atmosphere which was electric.
+
+The room was evidently arranged for a meeting. At one end was a platform
+on which was placed a table and half a dozen chairs, while the people
+who formed the audience were waiting for the speakers to appear.
+
+Then Dick realised that all eyes were turned towards himself and that a
+sudden silence prevailed. This was followed by what Dick judged to be a
+question of some sort, although he could not tell what it was, as it was
+asked in a language unknown to him.
+
+"It is all right. I, John Brown, vouch for everything."
+
+"But who is he?" This time the question was in English, and Dick
+understood that it referred to himself.
+
+"It is all right, I repeat," replied Mr. Brown. "My companion is a
+comrade, a friend, whom you will be glad to hear. Who is he? He is a
+Labour leader, and is chosen by the working people of Eastroyd to
+represent them in the British Parliament."
+
+A great deal of scornful laughter followed this. It might have been that
+Mr. Brown were trying to play a practical joke upon them.
+
+"Listen," said Mr. Brown. "I am not unknown to you, and I think I have
+proved to you more than once that I am in sympathy with your aims. Let
+me ask you this: have I ever introduced anyone who was not worthy and
+whose help you have not gladly welcomed?"
+
+There was some slight cheering at this, and Mr. Brown went on:
+
+"I need not assure you that I have taken every precaution--_every_
+precaution--or tell you that, if good does not come of my being here,
+harm will surely not come of it. This, my friends, is Mr. Richard
+Faversham of Eastroyd, whose fiery zeal on behalf of the world's toilers
+cannot be unknown to you."
+
+Again there was some cheering, and Dick noted that the glances cast
+towards him were less hostile, less suspicious.
+
+Mr. Brown seemed on the point of speaking further, but did not. At that
+moment a curtain at the back of the platform was drawn aside, and three
+men accompanied by two women appeared. It would seem that the time for
+the commencement of the meeting had come.
+
+Dick had some remembrance afterwards that one of the men addressed the
+meeting, and that he spoke about the opportunities which the times
+offered to the struggling millions who had been crushed through the
+centuries, but nothing distinct remained in his mind. Every faculty he
+possessed was devoted to one of the two women who sat on the platform.
+He did not know who she was; he had never seen her before, and yet his
+eyes never left her face.
+
+Never before had he seen such a woman; never had he dreamed that there
+could be anyone like her.
+
+Years before he had seen, and fancied himself in love with, Lady Blanche
+Huntingford. He had been captivated by her glorious young womanhood, her
+abundant vitality, her queenly beauty. But, compared with the woman on
+the platform, Blanche Huntingford was as firelight to sunlight.
+
+Even as he sat there he compared them--contrasted them. He remembered
+what he had thought of the proud Surrey beauty; how he had raved about
+her eyes, her hair, her figure; but here was a beauty of another and a
+higher order. Even in his most enthusiastic moments, Lady Blanche's
+intellectuality, her spirituality, had never appealed to him. But this
+woman's beauty was glorified by eyes that spoke of exalted thoughts,
+passionate longings, lofty emotions.
+
+Her face, too, was constantly changing. Poetry, humour, passion, pity,
+tenderness, scorn were expressed on her features as she looked at the
+speaker. This woman was poetry incarnate! She was pity incarnate! She
+was passion incarnate!
+
+Dick forgot where he was. He was altogether unconscious of the fact that
+he was in a meeting somewhere in the East End of London, and that things
+were being said which, if known to the police, would place the speaker,
+and perhaps the listeners, in prison. All that seemed as nothing; he was
+chained, fascinated by the almost unearthly beauty of the woman who sat
+on the little shabby-looking platform.
+
+Then slowly the incongruity of the situation came to him. The audience,
+although warmly dressed and apparently comfortably conditioned, belonged
+in the main to the working classes. They were toilers. Most of them were
+malcontents--people who under almost any conditions would be opposed to
+law and order. But this woman was an aristocrat of aristocrats. No one
+could doubt it any more than he could doubt the sunlight. Her dress,
+too, was rich and beautiful. On her fingers costly rings sparkled;
+around her neck diamonds hung. And yet she was here in a cellar
+warehouse, in a district where squalor abounded.
+
+The speaker finished; evidently he was the chairman of the meeting, and
+after having finished his harangue turned to the others on the platform.
+
+Dick heard the word "Olga," and immediately after the room was full of
+deafening cheers.
+
+The woman he had been watching rose to her feet and waited while the
+people continued to cheer. Fascinated, he gazed at her as her eyes swept
+over the gathering. Then his heart stood still. She looked towards him,
+and their eyes met. There might have been recognition, so brightly did
+her eyes flash, and so tender was the smile which came to her lips. She
+seemed to be saying to him, "Wait, we shall have much to say to each
+other presently." The air of mystery, which seemed to envelop her,
+enveloped him also. The hard barriers of materialism seemed to melt
+away, and he had somehow entered the realm of romance and wonder.
+
+Then her voice rang out over the audience--a voice that was rich in
+music. He did not understand a word she said, for she spoke in a
+language unknown to him. And yet her message reached him. Indeed, she
+seemed to be speaking only to him, only for him. And her every word
+thrilled him. As she spoke, he saw oppressed peoples. He saw men in
+chains, women crushed, trodden on, little children diseased, neglected,
+cursed. The picture of gay throngs, revelling in all the world could
+give them in pleasure, in music, in song, and wine, passed before his
+mind side by side with harrowing, numbing want and misery.
+
+Then she struck a new note--vibrant and triumphant. It thrilled him,
+made his heart beat madly, caused a riot of blood in his veins.
+
+Suddenly he realised that she was speaking in English, that she was
+calling to him in his own language. She was telling of a new age, a new
+era. She described how old things had passed away, and that all things
+had become new; that old barriers had been broken down; that old
+precedents, old prejudices which for centuries had crushed the world,
+were no longer potent. New thoughts had entered men's minds; new hopes
+stirred the world's heart. In the great cataclysm through which we had
+passed, nations had been re-born, and the old bad, mad world had passed
+away in the convulsions of the world's upheaval.
+
+"And now," she concluded, "what wait we for? We await the prophet, the
+leader, the Messiah. Who is he? How shall he come? Is he here? Is the
+man who is able to do what the world needs brave enough, great enough to
+say, like the old Hebrew prophet, 'Here am I, send me'?"
+
+And even as she spoke Dick felt that her eyes were fastened upon him,
+even as her words thrilled his heart. Something, he knew not what it
+was, formed a link between them--gave this woman power over him.
+
+There was no applause as she sat down. The feeling of the people was too
+intense, the magnetic charm of the speaker too great.
+
+Still with her eyes fixed upon Dick, she made her way towards him. He
+saw her coming towards him, saw her dark, flashing eyes, her white,
+gleaming teeth, felt the increasing charm of her wondrous face.
+
+Then there was a change in the atmosphere--a change indefinable,
+indescribable. Just above the woman's head Dick saw in dim outline what
+years before had become such a potent factor in his life. It was the
+face of the angel he had seen when he was sinking in the deep waters,
+and which appeared to him at Wendover Park.
+
+"Mr. Richard Faversham," said the woman who had so thrilled him that
+night, "I have long been waiting for this hour."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+"YOU AND I TOGETHER"
+
+
+For some time Dick Faversham was oblivious to the fact that the woman
+who had so fascinated him a few minutes before stood near him with hands
+outstretched and a smile of gladness in her eyes. Again he was under the
+spell of what, in his heart of hearts, he called "The Angel." Even yet
+he had no definite idea as to who or what this angel was, but there was
+a dim consciousness at the back of his mind that she had again visited
+him for an important reason. He was certain that her purposes towards
+him were beneficent, that in some way she had crossed the pathway of his
+life to help him and to save him.
+
+Like lightning the memory of that fearful night when he was sinking in
+the stormy sea came surging back into his mind. He remembered how he had
+felt his strength leaving him, while the cold, black waters were
+dragging him into their horrible depths. Then he had seen a ray of light
+streaming to him across the raging sea; he had seen the shadowy figure
+above him with outstretched arms, and even while he had felt himself
+up-borne by some power other than his own, the words had come to
+him--"Underneath are the Everlasting Arms."
+
+It was all shadowy and unreal--so much so that in later days he had
+doubted its objective reality, and yet there had been times when it had
+been the most potent force in his life. It had become such a great and
+glorious fact that everything else had sunk into insignificance.
+
+Then there was that scene in the library at Wendover. He had been on the
+point of signing the paper which Count Romanoff had prepared for him.
+Under this man's influence, right and wrong had appeared to him but a
+chimera of the imagination. The alternative which had appeared before
+him stood out in ghastly clearness. He had only to sign the paper, and
+all the riches which he thought were his would remain in his possession.
+But he had not signed it. Again that luminous form had appeared, while a
+hand, light as a feather, but irresistible in its power, had been laid
+upon his wrist, and the pen had dropped from his fingers.
+
+And now the angel had come to him again. Even as he looked, he could see
+her plainly, while the same yearning eyes looked into his.
+
+"Mr. Faversham!"
+
+He started, like a man suddenly wakened from a dream, and again he saw
+the woman who had been spoken of as Olga, and who had thrilled him by
+her presence and by the magic of her voice, standing by his side.
+
+"Forgive me," he said, "but tell me, do you see anyone on the platform?"
+
+The girl, for she appeared to be only two or three and twenty, looked at
+him in a puzzled kind of way.
+
+"No," she replied, casting her eyes in that direction; "I see no one.
+There is no one there."
+
+"Not a beautiful woman? She is rather shadowy, but she has wonderful
+eyes."
+
+"No," she replied wonderingly.
+
+"Then I suppose I was mistaken. You are Olga, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes; I am Olga."
+
+"And you made that wonderful speech?"
+
+"Was it wonderful?" and she laughed half sadly, half gaily.
+
+Suddenly the spell, or whatever it was, left him. He was Dick Faversham
+again--keen, alert, critical. He realised where he was, too. He had
+accompanied Mr. John Brown to this place, and he had listened to words
+which were revolutionary. If they were translated into action, all law
+and order as he now understood them would cease to be.
+
+Around him, too, chattering incessantly, was a number of long-haired,
+wild-eyed men. They were discussing the speech to which they had just
+listened; they were debating the new opportunities which the times had
+created.
+
+"Ah, you two have met!" It was Mr. John Brown who spoke. "I am glad of
+that. This is Olga. She is a Princess in Russia, but because she loved
+the poor, and sought to help them, she was seized by the Russian
+officials and sent to Siberia. That was two years ago. She escaped and
+came to England. Since then she has lived and worked for a new Russia,
+for a new and better life in the world. You heard her speak to-night.
+Did you understand her?"
+
+"Only in part," replied Dick. "She spoke in a language that was strange
+to me."
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. But, as you see, she speaks English perfectly. We
+must get away from here. We must go to a place where we can talk
+quietly, and where, you two can compare ideas. But meanwhile I want you
+to understand, Mr. Faversham, that the people you see here are typical
+of millions all over Europe who are hoping and praying for the dawn of a
+new day. Of course there are only a few thousands here in London, but
+they represent ideas that are seething in the minds of hundreds of
+millions."
+
+"Mr. Brown has told me about you," said Olga. "I recognised you from his
+description the moment I saw you. I felt instinctively what you had
+thought, what you had suffered, what you had seen in visions, and what
+you had dreamed. I knew then that you were the prophet--the leader that
+we needed."
+
+Dick gave her a quick glance, and again felt the spell of her beauty.
+She was like no woman he had ever seen before. Her eyes shone like
+stars, and they told him that this was a woman in a million. The quickly
+changing expressions on her face, the wondrous quality of her presence,
+fascinated him.
+
+"I shall be delighted to discuss matters with you," replied Dick. "That
+part of your speech which I understood made me realise that we are one
+in aim and sympathy. If you will come to my hotel to-morrow, we can
+speak freely."
+
+Olga laughed merrily. "I am afraid you do not understand, Mr.
+Faversham," she said. "I am a suspect; I am proscribed by your
+Government. A price has been placed on my head."
+
+Dick looked at her questioningly.
+
+"No; I am afraid I don't understand," was his reply.
+
+"Don't you see?" and again she laughed merrily. "I am looked upon as a
+dangerous person. News has come to your authorities that I am a menace
+to society, that I am a creator of strife. First of all, I am an alien,
+and as an alien I am supposed to subscribe to certain regulations and
+laws. But I do not subscribe to them. As a consequence I am wanted by
+the police. If you did your duty, you would try to hand me over to the
+authorities; you would place me under arrest."
+
+"Are--are you a spy, then?" Dick asked.
+
+"Of a sort, yes."
+
+"A German?"
+
+A look of mad passion swept over her face.
+
+"A German!" she cried. "Heaven forbid. No, no. I hate Germany. I hate
+the accursed war that Germany caused. And yet, no. The war was a
+necessity. The destruction of the old bad past was a necessity. And we
+must use the mad chaos the war has created to build a new heaven and
+create a new earth. What are nationalities, peoples, country boundaries,
+man-made laws, but the instruments of the devil to perpetuate crime,
+brutality, misery, devilry?"
+
+Dick shook his head. "You go beyond me," he said. "What you say has no
+appeal for me."
+
+"Ah, but it has," she cried; "that is why I want to talk with you. That
+is why I hail you as a comrade--yes, and more than a comrade. I have
+followed your career; I have read your speeches. Ah, you did not think,
+did you, when you spoke to the people in the grimy north of this country
+about better laws, better conditions--ay, and when you made them feel
+that all the people of _every_ country should be one vast
+brotherhood--that your words were followed, eagerly followed, by a
+Russian girl whose heart thrilled as she read, and who longed to meet
+you face to face?"
+
+"You read my speeches? You longed to see me?" gasped Dick.
+
+"Every word I read, Mr. Faversham; but I saw, too, that you were chained
+by cruel tradition, that you were afraid of the natural and logical
+outcome of your own words. But see, we cannot talk here!" and she
+glanced towards the people who had come up to them, and were listening
+eagerly.
+
+"Come, my friend," whispered Mr. Brown, "you are honoured beyond all
+other men. I never knew her speak to any man as she speaks to you. Let
+us go to a place where I will take you, where we can be alone. Is she
+not a magnificent creature, eh? Did you ever see such a divine woman?"
+
+"I'm perfectly willing," was Dick's reply, as he watched Olga move
+towards the man who had acted as chairman. Truly he had never seen such
+a woman. Hitherto he had been struck by her intellectual powers, and by
+what had seemed to him the spiritual qualities of her presence. But now
+he felt the charm of her womanhood. She was shaped like a goddess, and
+carried herself with queenly grace. Every curve of her body was perfect;
+her every movement was instinct with a glowing, abundant life. Her
+complexion, too, was simply dazzling, and every feature was perfect. A
+sculptor would have raved about her; an artist would have given years of
+his life to paint her. Her eyes, too, shone like stars, and her smile
+was bewildering.
+
+A few minutes later they were in the street, Dick almost like a man in a
+dream, Mr. John Brown plodding stolidly and steadily along, while Olga,
+her face almost covered, moved by his side. Dick was too excited to heed
+whither they were going; neither did he notice that they were being
+followed.
+
+They had just turned into a narrow alley when there was a quick step
+behind them, and a man in a police officer's uniform laid his hand on
+Olga's arm and said:
+
+"You go with me, please, miss."
+
+The girl turned towards him with flashing eyes.
+
+"Take your hand from me," she said; "I have nothing to do with you."
+
+"But I have something to do with you. Come, now, it's no use putting on
+airs. You come with me. I've been on the look out for you for a long
+while."
+
+"Help her! Get rid of the man!" whispered Mr. Brown to Dick. "For God's
+sake do something. I've a weak heart and can do nothing."
+
+"Now, then," persisted the policeman. "It's no use resisting, you know.
+If you won't come quiet, I may have to be a bit rough. And I _can_ be
+rough, I can assure you!"
+
+"Help! help!" she said hoarsely.
+
+She did not speak aloud, but the word appealed to Dick strongly. It was
+sacrilege for the police officer to place his hands on her; he
+remembered what she had told him, and dreaded the idea of her being
+arrested and thrown into prison.
+
+"You won't, eh?" grumbled the policeman. "We'll soon settle that."
+
+Dick saw him put his whistle to his lips, but before a sound was made,
+the young fellow rushed forward and instantly there was a hand-to-hand
+struggle. A minute later the police constable lay on the pavement,
+evidently stunned and unconscious, while Dick stood over him.
+
+"Now is our chance! Come!" cried Mr. Brown, and with a speed of which
+Dick thought him incapable, he led the way through a network of narrow
+streets and alleys, while he and the girl followed. A little later they
+had entered a house by a back way, and the door closed behind them.
+
+"Thank you, Faversham," panted Mr. Brown. "That was a narrow squeak,
+eh?"
+
+He switched on a light as he spoke, and Dick, as soon as his eyes had
+become accustomed to the light, found himself in a handsomely, even
+luxuriously, appointed room.
+
+"Sit down, won't you?" said Olga. "Oh, you need not fear. You are safe
+here. I will defy all the police officers in London to trace me now. Ah!
+thank you, Mr. Faversham! But for you I might have been in an awkward
+position. It would have been horrible to have been arrested--more
+horrible still to be tried in one of your law courts."
+
+"That was nothing," protested Dick. "Of course I could not stand by and
+see the fellow----"
+
+"Ah, but don't you see?" she interrupted merrily. "You have placed
+yourself in opposition to the law? I am afraid you would be found
+equally guilty with me, if we were tried together. Did I not tell you?
+There is a price on my head. I am spoken of as the most dangerous person
+in London. And you have helped me to escape; you have defeated the ends
+of justice."
+
+"But that is nothing," cried Mr. John Brown. "Of course, Mr. Faversham
+is with us now. It could not be otherwise."
+
+Every event of the night had been somewhat unreal to Dick, but the
+reality of his position was by no means obscure at that moment. He, Dick
+Faversham, who, when he had advocated his most advanced theories, had
+still prided himself on being guided by constitutional methods, knew
+that he had placed himself in a most awkward position by what he had
+done. Doubtless, efforts would be made to find him, and if he were
+discovered and recognised, he would have a very lame defence. In spite
+of the honeyed way in which Mr. Brown had spoken, too, he felt there was
+something like a threat in his words.
+
+But he cast everything like fear from his mind, and turned to the young
+girl, who had thrown off her cloak, and stood there in the brilliant
+light like the very incarnation of splendid beauty.
+
+"I would risk more than that for this opportunity of talking with you,"
+he could not help saying.
+
+"Would you?" and her glorious eyes flashed into his. "I am so glad of
+that. Do you know why? Directly I saw you to-night, I felt that we
+should be together in the greatest cause the world has ever known. Do
+you think you will like me as a co-worker? Do you believe our hearts
+will beat in unison?"
+
+Again she had cast a spell upon him. He felt that with such a woman he
+could do anything--dare anything.
+
+Still, he kept a cool head. His experiences of the last few years had
+made him wary, critical, suspicious.
+
+"I am going to be frank," she went on. "I am going to lay bare my heart
+to you. The cause I have at heart is the world's redemption; that, too,
+is the cause I believe you, too, have at heart. I want to destroy
+poverty, crime, misery; I want a new earth. So do you. But the way is
+dangerous, stormy, and hard. There will be bleeding footsteps all along
+the track. But you and I together!--ah, don't you see?"
+
+"I am afraid I don't," replied Dick. "Tell me, will you?"
+
+She drew her chair closer to him. "Yes; I will tell you," she said in a
+whisper.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE SO-CALLED DEAD
+
+
+"Don't be frightened at a word," she laughed. "I shall explain that word
+in a few minutes. But it will not need much explanation. At heart you
+and I are one."
+
+Dick waited in silence.
+
+"You do not help me," and her laugh was almost nervous. "And yet--oh, I
+mean so much. But I am afraid to put it into a word, because that word
+has been so misunderstood, so maligned. It is the greatest word in the
+world. It sweeps down unnatural barriers, petty creeds, distinctions,
+man-made laws, criminal usages. It is the dawn of a new day. It is the
+sunrise. It is universal liberty, universal right. It is the divine
+right of the People!"
+
+Still Dick was silent, and as she watched him she started to her feet.
+
+"Who have held the destinies of the great unnumbered millions in the
+hollow of their hands?" she cried passionately. "The few. The Emperors,
+the Kings, the Bureaucrats. And they have sucked the life blood of these
+dumb, suffering millions. They have crushed them, persecuted them, made
+them hewers of wood and drawers of water. Why have the poor lived? That
+they might minister to the rich. Just that and nothing more. Whether the
+millions have been called slaves, serfs, working classes--whatever you
+like--the result has been the same. They have existed that the few might
+have what they desired. But at last the world has revolted. The Great
+War has made everything possible. The world is fluid, and the events of
+life will be turned into new channels. Now is the opportunity of the
+People. Whatever God there is, He made the world and all that is in it
+for the People. In the past it has been robbed from them, but now it is
+going to be theirs! Don't you see?"
+
+Dick nodded his head slowly. This, making allowance for the extravagance
+of her words, was what he had been feeling for a long time.
+
+"Yes," he said presently; "but how are they to get it?"
+
+"Ah!" she laughed. "I brought you here to-night to tell you. You are
+going to give it them, my friend. With me to help you, perhaps, if you
+will have me. Will you? Look into my eyes and tell me that you see--that
+you understand?"
+
+Her eyes were as the eyes of a siren, but still Dick did not lose his
+head.
+
+"I see no other way of giving the people justice than by working on the
+lines I have been trying to work for years," he said.
+
+"Yes, you do," she cried triumphantly. "You are a Labour man--a
+Socialist if you like. You have a vision of better conditions for the
+working classes in England--the British Isles. But what is that? What
+does it all amount to? Sticking-plasters, _mon ami_--sticking-plasters."
+
+"Still, I do not understand," replied Dick.
+
+"But you do," she persisted, still with her great, lustrous eyes
+laughing into his, in spite of a certain seriousness shining from them.
+"Think a minute. Here we are at a crisis in the world's history. Unless
+a mighty effort is made now, power, property, everything will drift back
+to the old ruling classes, and that will mean what it has always meant.
+Still the same accursed anomalies; still the same blinding, numbing,
+crushing poverty on the one hand; still the same pampered luxury and
+criminal waste on the other. All things must be new, my friend--new!"
+
+"But how?"
+
+"In one word--Bolshevism. No; don't be startled. Not the miserable
+caricature, the horrible nightmare which has frightened the dull-minded
+British but a glorious thing! Justice for humanity, the world for the
+people! That's what it means. Not for one country, but for all the
+countries--for the wide world. Don't you see? The world must become one,
+because humanity is one. It must be. Disease in any part of the organism
+hurts the whole body. If wrong is done in Russia, England has to pay;
+therefore, all reform must be world wide; right must be done
+everywhere."
+
+"Words, words, words," quoted Dick.
+
+"And more than words, my friend. The most glorious ideal the world has
+ever known. And every ideal is an unborn event."
+
+"Beautiful as a dream, but, still, words," persisted Dick.
+
+"And why, my friend?"
+
+"Because power cannot be wrested from the hands in which it is now
+vested----"
+
+"That is where you are mistaken. Think of Russia."
+
+"Yes; think of Russia," replied Dick--"a nightmare, a ghastly crime,
+hell upon earth."
+
+"And I reply in your own language, 'Words, words, words.' My friend, you
+cannot wash away abuses hoary with age with rose water. Stern work needs
+stern methods. Our Russian comrades are taking the only way which will
+lead to the Promised Land. Do not judge Russia by what it seems to-day,
+but by what it will be when you and I are old. Already there are patches
+of blue in the sky. In a few years from now things will have settled
+down, and Russia, with all its wealth and all its possibilities, will
+belong to the people--the great people of Russia. That is what must be
+true of every nation. You talk of the great wealth of European
+countries, and of America. Who holds that wealth? Just a few
+thousands--whereas it should be in the hands of all--all."
+
+"And how will you do this mighty thing?" laughed Dick.
+
+"By the people not simply demanding, but taking their rights--taking it,
+my friend."
+
+"By force?"
+
+"Certainly by force. It is their right."
+
+"But how?"
+
+"Think, my friend. Do you believe the people will ever get their rights
+by what is called constitutional means? Do you think the landed
+proprietors will give up their lands? That the Capitalists will disgorge
+their millions? That the bourgeoisie will let go what they have squeezed
+from the sweat and toil of the millions? You know they will not. There
+is but one way all over the world. It is for the people everywhere to
+claim, to _force_, their rights."
+
+"Revolution!"
+
+"Yes, Revolution. Do not be afraid of the word."
+
+"Crime, anarchy, blood, ruin, the abolition of all law and order!"
+
+"What is called crime and anarchy to-day will be hailed a few years
+hence as the gospel which has saved the world."
+
+Dick could not help being influenced by her words. There was an
+intellectual quality in her presence which broke down his prejudices, a
+spiritual dynamic in her beauty and her earnestness which half convinced
+him.
+
+"Admitting what you say," he replied presently, "you only proclaim a
+will-o'-the-wisp. Before such a movement could be set on foot, you must
+have the whole people with you. You must have a great consensus of
+opinion. To do this you must educate the people. Then you must have a
+tremendous organisation. You would have to arm the people. And you would
+need leaders."
+
+She laughed gaily. "Now we are getting near it," she cried. "You've seen
+the vision. You've been seeing it, proclaiming it, unknowingly, for
+years, but you've not dared to be obedient to your vision. But you will,
+my friend. You will."
+
+She placed her hand on his arm, and looked half beseechingly, half
+coyly, into his face.
+
+"Do you not see with me?" she cried. "Could you not join with me in a
+great crusade for the salvation of the world? For I can be a faithful
+comrade--faithful to death. Look into my eyes and tell me."
+
+Again he looked into her eyes, and he saw as she saw, felt as she felt.
+His past life, his past work, seemed but as a mockery, while the vision
+she caused him to see was like a glimpse of Paradise. Even yet, however,
+a kind of hard, Saxon, common sense remained with him; and she appeared
+to realise it, for, still keeping her hand upon his arm, she continued
+her appeal. She told him what she had seen and heard, and tried to prove
+to him how impossible it was for the poor to have their rights save by
+rising in their millions, seizing the helm of power, and claiming,
+taking, their own. Still he was not altogether convinced.
+
+"You describe a beautiful dream," he said, "but, like all beautiful
+dreams, it vanishes when brought into contact with hard realities. What
+you speak of is only mob rule, and mob rule is chaos. To achieve
+anything you must have leaders, and when you get your leaders, you
+simply replace one set of rulers by another."
+
+"Of course we do," was her answer. "But with this difference. The
+present leaders are the result of an old bad system of selfish greed.
+They think and act for themselves instead of for the good of the people.
+But, with you as a leader, we should have a man who thinks only of
+leading the children of the world into Light."
+
+"I?--I?" stammered Dick.
+
+"Of course, you, my friend. Else why should I long to see you, speak
+with you, know you?"
+
+"Of course it's madness," he protested.
+
+"All great enterprises are madness," was her reply; "but it is Divine
+madness. You were born from the foundation of the world for this work.
+You have vision, you have daring, you have the essential qualities of
+the leader, for you have the master mind."
+
+It is easy for a young man to be flattered by a beautiful woman,
+especially when that woman is endowed with all charms, physical,
+intellectual, personal. Her hand was still on his arm; her eyes were
+still burning into his.
+
+"Of course it is impossible," he still persisted.
+
+"Why?" she asked.
+
+"A huge organisation which is international requires the most careful
+arrangement--secret but potent."
+
+"The organisation exists in outline."
+
+"Propaganda work."
+
+"It has been going on for years. Even such work as you have been doing
+has been preparing the way for greater things."
+
+"Money--millions of money!" he cried. "Don't you see? It's easy to talk
+of leading the people, but difficult to accomplish--impossible, in fact,
+in a highly organised country like this."
+
+"Give me your consent--tell me you will consent to lead us, and I will
+show you that this is already done. Even now a million British soldiers
+are ready--ready with arms and accoutrements!"
+
+Again she pleaded, again she fired his imagination! Fact after fact she
+related of what had been done, and of what could be done. It needed, she
+said, but the strong man to appear, and the poor, the suffering from
+every byway, would flock to his standard.
+
+"But don't you see?" cried Dick, half bewildered and altogether dazzled
+by the witchery of her words. "If I were to respond to your call, you
+would be placing not only an awful responsibility upon me, but a
+terrible power in my hands?"
+
+"Yes, I do see!" she cried; "and I glory in the thought. Look here, my
+friend, I have been pleading with you not for your own sake, but for the
+sake of others--for the redemption of the world. But all along I have
+thought of you--_you_. It is right that you should think of yourself.
+Every man should be anxious about his own career. This is right. We
+cannot go against the elementary truths of life. There must be the
+leaders as well as the led. And leadership means power, fame! Every
+strong man longs for power, fame, position. You do, my friend. For years
+you have been craving after it, and it is your right, your eternal
+right. And here is the other ground of my appeal, my friend. Such a
+position, such fame, such power is offered you as was never offered to
+any man before. To be a leader of the world! To focus, to make real the
+visions, longings, hopes of unnumbered millions. To make vocal, to
+translate into reality all the world has been sighing for--striving
+after. Great God! What a career! What a position!"
+
+"Ah--h!" and Mr. John Brown, who had been silent during the whole
+conversation, almost sobbed out the exclamation, "that is it! that is
+it! What a career! What a position to struggle after, to fight for!
+Power! Power! The Kings and Emperors of the world become as nothing
+compared with what you may be, my friend."
+
+Dick's heart gave a wild leap. Power! place! greatness! Yes; this was
+what he had always longed for. As the thought gripped him, mastered him,
+impossibilities became easy, difficulties but as thistledown.
+
+And yet he was afraid. Something, he knew not what, rose up and forbade
+him to do things he longed to do. He felt that every weakness of his
+life had been appealed to--his vanity, his selfishness, his desire for
+greatness, as well as his natural longing for the betterment of the
+world. And all the time the beautiful woman kept her hand on his arm.
+And her touch was caressing, alluring, bewildering. Her eyes, wondrous
+in their brilliance, fascinating, suggesting all the heart of man could
+long for, were burning into his.
+
+He rose to his feet. "I must go," he said. "I will consider what you
+have said."
+
+The woman rose too. She was nearly as tall as he, and she stood by his
+side, a queen among women.
+
+"And you will think kindly, won't you?" she pleaded. "You will remember
+that it is the dearest hope of my life to stand by your side, to share
+your greatness."
+
+Dick was silent as he made his way through the dark and silent streets
+with Mr. Brown by his side. He was still under the influences of the
+night through which he had passed; his mind was still bewildered.
+
+Just before he reached his hotel, he and Mr. Brown parted--the latter to
+turn down Piccadilly, Dick to make his way towards Bloomsbury. When Mr.
+Brown had gone, Dick stood and watched him. Was he mistaken, or did he
+see the figure of a man like Count Romanoff move from the doorstep of a
+large building and join him? Was it Count Romanoff's voice he heard? He
+was not sure.
+
+The night porter of his hotel spoke to him sleepily as he entered.
+
+"No Zepps to-night, sir," he said.
+
+"No; I think not. I fancy the Huns have given up that game."
+
+"Think so, sir? Well, there's no devilish thing they won't think of. I
+hear they're going to try a new dodge on us."
+
+"Oh, what?"
+
+"I don't know. But if it isn't one thing it's another. Nothing's too
+dirty for 'em. Good night--or, rather, good morning, sir."
+
+"Good morning."
+
+Dick went to bed, but not to sleep. Again and again his mind rehearsed
+the scenes through which he had passed. It all seemed like a dream, a
+phantasmagoria, and yet it was very wonderful.
+
+When daylight came he plunged into a bath, and as he felt the sting of
+the cold water on his body, he felt his own man again. His mind was
+clear; his senses were alert.
+
+After breakfast he went for a walk towards Hyde Park. The air was clear
+and exhilarating; the great tide of human life stirred his pulses and
+caused his blood to course freely through his veins. His mind was saner,
+more composed. He turned into the Park at the Marble Arch, and he
+watched the crowds of gaily dressed women and swiftly moving motor-cars.
+
+Presently his heart gave a wild leap. Coming towards him he saw Lady
+Blanche Huntingford. He thought he saw her smile at his approach, and
+with eager footsteps he moved towards her. He held out his hand. "This
+is indeed a pleasure, Lady Blanche," he said.
+
+She gave him a quick, haughty stare, and passed on. He was sure she
+recognised him, but she acted as though he did not exist. She had cut
+him dead; she had refused to know him. The woman's action maddened him.
+Yet why should she not refuse to recognise him? He was a nobody, whom
+she remembered as a kind of Roger Tichborne--an impostor.
+
+But she should know him! Again the memory of his recent experiences
+came surging back into his mind. He could reach a position where such as
+she would be as nothing, and like lightning his mind fastened upon
+Olga's proposal.
+
+Yes; he would accept. He would throw himself heart and soul into this
+great work. He would become great--yes, the greatest man in England--in
+the world! He would go back to his hotel and write to her.
+
+A little later he sat at a table in the writing-room of the hotel, but
+just as he commenced to write the pen dropped from his hand. Again he
+thought he felt that light yet irresistible hand upon his wrist--the
+same hand that he had felt in the library at Wendover Park.
+
+He gave a quick, searching glance around the room, and he saw that he
+was alone.
+
+"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked aloud.
+
+Again he looked around him. Did he see that luminous form, those
+yearning, searching eyes, the memory of which had been haunting him for
+years? He was not sure. But of this he was sure. The place seemed filled
+with a holy influence, and he thought he heard the words, "Watch and
+pray, that ye enter not into temptation."
+
+"Speak, speak, tell me who you are," he again spoke aloud. But no
+further answer came to him.
+
+Bewildered, wondering, he rose to his feet and sauntered around the
+room. His attention was drawn to a number of papers that were scattered
+on a table. A minute later he was reading an article entitled
+
+     "DO THE SO-CALLED DEAD SPEAK TO US?"
+
+The paper containing the article was a periodical which existed for the
+purpose of advocating spiritualism. It announced that a renowned medium
+would take part in a seance that very afternoon in a building not far
+away, and that all earnest and reverent seekers after truth were invited
+to be present.
+
+"I'll go," determined Dick as he read.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+VISIONS OF ANOTHER WORLD
+
+
+After Dick had decided to attend the seance he read the article more
+carefully. It purported to be written by a man who had given up all
+faith in religion and all forms of spiritual life. He had tried to find
+satisfaction in the pleasures and occupations of his daily existence,
+and had treated everything else as a played-out fallacy. Then two of his
+sons had been killed in the war, and life had become a painful, hollow
+mockery. By and by he became impressed by the thought that his sons were
+alive and wanted to speak to him. Sometimes, too, he had felt as though
+presences were near him, but who they were or what they meant he could
+not tell. After this he had by pure accident heard two people talking
+about their experiences at a seance, and one had distinctly stated that
+he had seen and spoken to a dear dead friend. This caused the writer to
+turn his attention to spiritualism. The result was that he remained no
+longer a materialist, but was an ardent believer in the spiritual world.
+He distinctly stated that he had had irrefutable assurance that his sons
+were alive, that they had spoken to him, and had brought him messages
+from the spirit world. Things which before had been bewildering and
+cruel now became plain and full of comfort. Life was larger, grander,
+and full of a great hope.
+
+Dick's heart warmed as he read. Surely here was light. Surely, too, he
+would be able to find an explanation to what for years had been a
+mystery to him.
+
+He thought of the conversations he had heard in Eastroyd, in relation to
+this, to which he had paid but little attention because his mind had
+been too full of other matters, but which were now full of
+significance. His mind again reverted to the discussion on the Angels
+at Mons. If there were no truth in the stories, how could so many have
+believed in them? How could there be such clear and definite testimonies
+from men who had actually seen?
+
+And had not he, Dick Faversham, both seen and heard? What was the
+meaning of the repeated appearances of that beautiful, luminous figure
+with great, yearning eyes and arms outstretched to save?
+
+Yes; he would go to this seance. He would inquire, and he would learn.
+
+He felt he had need of guidance. He knew he had come to another crisis
+in his life. The proposal which had been made to him was alluring; it
+appealed to the very depths of his being.
+
+Power, position, fame! That was what it meant. To take a leading part in
+the great drama of life, to be a principal factor in the emancipation of
+the world! But there was another side. If this movement was spreading
+with such gigantic strides--were to spread to England and dominate the
+thoughts and actions of the toiling millions of the country--what might
+it not mean?
+
+He was sure of nothing. He could not grasp the issues clearly; he could
+not see his way to the end. But it was grand; it was stupendous!
+Besides, to come into daily, hourly, contact with that sublime woman--to
+constantly feel the magnetic charm of her presence! The thought stirred
+his pulses, fired his imagination! How great she was, too. How she had
+swept aside the world's conventions and man-made moralities. She seemed
+like a warm breath from the lands of sunshine and song. And yet he was
+not sure.
+
+For hours he sat thinking, weighing pros and cons, trying to mark out
+the course of his life. Yes; he had done well. Since he had left
+Wendover Park he had become an influence in the industrial life of the
+North; he had become proclaimed a leader among the working classes; in
+all probability he would soon be able to voice their cause in the Mother
+of Parliaments.
+
+But what did it all amount to after all? A Labour Member of Parliament!
+The tool of the unwashed, uneducated masses! A voting machine at L400 a
+year! Besides, what could he do? What could the Labour Party do? When
+their programme was realised, if ever it was realised, what did it all
+amount to? The wealth, the power, would still be in the hands of the
+ruling, educated classes, while he would be a mere nobody.
+
+"Sticking-plasters."
+
+The term stuck to him--mocked him. He was only playing at reform. But
+the dream of Olga--the emancipation of the race! the dethronement of the
+parasites--the bloodsuckers of the world!--a new heaven and a new
+earth!--while he, Dick Faversham, would be hailed as the prophet, the
+leader of this mighty movement, with infinite wealth at his command and
+power unlimited. Power!
+
+Men professed to sneer at Trotsky; they called him a criminal, an
+outrage to humanity. But what a position he held! He was more feared,
+more discussed, than any man in the world--he who a few months before
+was unknown, unheard of. And he defied kings and potentates, for kings
+and potentates were powerless before him. While behind him was a new
+Russia, a new world.
+
+To be such a man in England! To make vocal and real the longings of the
+greatest Democracy in the world, and to lead it. That would mean the
+premier place in the world, and----
+
+So he weighed the position, so he thought of this call which had come to
+him.
+
+During the afternoon he left his hotel and made his way towards the
+house where the spiritualistic seance was to be held. In spite of all
+his dreams of social reforms, and the appeal made to his own ambitions,
+his mind constantly reverted to the vision which had again come to
+him--to the influences he could not understand.
+
+He found the house, and was admitted without difficulty. It was in a
+commonplace, shabby-looking street not far from Tottenham Court Road. On
+his arrival he was admitted into a room, where an absurd attempt had
+been made to give it an Oriental appearance. An old woman occupied the
+only arm-chair in the room. She looked up at his entrance, stared at him
+for a few seconds, and then muttered indistinctly. He was followed by
+half a dozen others who might have been habitues of the place.
+
+Presently a man entered, who glanced inquiringly around the room. He
+appeared to be about fifty years of age, and had light watery-looking
+eyes. He made his way to Dick.
+
+"You desire to be present at the seance?" he asked of Dick.
+
+"If I may?" was Dick's reply.
+
+"You come as a sincere, earnest, reverent inquirer?"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Is there any friend you have lost, any message you want to receive?"
+and he scrutinised Dick closely.
+
+"At a time like this, we have all lost friends," Dick replied.
+
+"Ah, then you come as an inquirer?"
+
+"That is true. I have come to learn."
+
+"Certainly. But of course there are certain expenses. Would it be
+convenient for you to give me ten shillings?"
+
+Dick gave him a ten-shilling note, whereupon the man turned to another
+visitor.
+
+"A great medium, but keen on business," Dick heard someone say.
+
+"Yes, but why not? Mediums must live the same as other people."
+
+Another man entered. He was much younger than the other. He looked very
+unhealthy, and his hands twitched nervously.
+
+"The room is ready," he said, and his voice was toneless. "Perhaps you
+would like to see it and examine it before the light is excluded, so
+that you may be sure there is no deception."
+
+Dick with two others accepted the man's invitation. The room into which
+he was led was carpetless and completely unfurnished save for a number
+of uncushioned chairs and a plain deal table. Nothing else was visible.
+There was not a picture on the walls, not a sign of decoration. Dick
+and the others professed satisfaction with what they had seen.
+
+A few minutes later the others joined them, accompanied by the man who
+had been spoken of as a "great medium," also the man with the nervous,
+twitching hands, who Dick afterwards learned was the leader of the two
+mediums.
+
+"My friends," he said, "will you seat yourselves around the table? We
+promise you nothing. The spirits may come, and they may not. I,
+personally, am a medium of the old order. I do not pretend to tell you
+what spirits say; I make no claim to be a clairvoyant. If the spirits
+come they will speak for themselves--if they wish to speak. If there are
+persons here who desire a message from the spirit world they will, if
+they receive such a message at all, receive it direct from the spirits.
+I pretend to explain nothing, just as I promise nothing. But in the past
+spirits have come to such gatherings as this, and many comforting
+messages have been given. That is all."
+
+The party then sat down at the table, placed their hands upon it in such
+a way that the fingers of one person joined those of the persons sitting
+next, and thus formed a circle. All light was excluded.
+
+For three minutes there was silence. No sound was heard; no light was
+seen. All was darkness and silence.
+
+Then suddenly there was a faint voice--a child's voice. It sounded as
+though it came from the ceiling.
+
+"I am come," wailed the voice.
+
+"Yes, and I am come." This time the voice seemed to come from the
+direction of the window. It was hoarse, and coarse.
+
+"Who are you?
+
+"I am Jim Barkum. I was killed at Mons."
+
+"Anything to tell us?"
+
+"No; nothin' except I'm all right. I come fro' Sheffield. If you could
+tell my mother, Emily Barkum, that I'm very happy I'd be very thankful."
+
+"What's your mother's address?"
+
+"Number 14 Tinkers Street."
+
+After this a number of other spirits purported to come, one of whom
+said he was the son of a sitter in the circle, and that he had been
+killed in the war.
+
+"Will you reveal yourself?" said the medium.
+
+Some phosphorous light shone in the darkness, in the radiance of which
+was the outline of a face.
+
+"Do you recognise it?" asked the medium.
+
+"It might be Jack," Dick heard a voice say.
+
+After this there seemed to be a quarrel among the spirits. There was a
+good deal of confused talk and a certain amount of anger expressed. Also
+a number of feeble jokes were passed and far-away laughter heard.
+Evidently the spirits were in a frolicsome humour.
+
+Dick, whose purpose in coming to the seance was not to take part in a
+fiasco, grew impatient. In his state of mind he felt he had wasted both
+money and time. It was true he had seen and heard what he could not
+explain, but it amounted to nothing. Everything seemed silly beyond
+words. There was nothing convincing in anything, and it was all
+artificial.
+
+"I should like to ask a question," he ventured at length.
+
+"Go ahead," said a voice, which seemed to come from the ceiling.
+
+"I should like to ask this: why is it that you, who have solved the
+great secret of death, should, now you are permitted to come back and
+speak to those of us who haven't, talk such horrible drivel?"
+
+"Hear! hear!" assented a member of the circle.
+
+"Oh, it's this way," answered the spirit: "every one of you sitting here
+have your attendant spirits. If you are intellectual, intellectual
+spirits attend you and come to talk to you, but as you are not they just
+crack silly jokes."
+
+There was laughter at this, not only from the sitters, but among the
+spirits, of which the room, by this time, seemed to be full.
+
+"That's not bad," replied Dick. "One might think you'd said that before,
+but as it happens we are not all fools, and I personally would like
+something more sensible. This is a time when thousands of hearts are
+breaking," he added.
+
+"What would you like to know?"
+
+It was another voice that spoke now--a sweeter and more refined voice,
+and might have belonged to a woman.
+
+"I would like to know if it is true that each of us have attendant
+spirits, as one of you said just now?"
+
+"Yes; that is true."
+
+"You mean guardian angels?"
+
+"Yes; if you like to call them that. But they are not all guardian
+angels. There are spirits who try to do harm, as well as those who try
+to guard and to save."
+
+"Are they here now?"
+
+"Yes; they are here now. I can see one behind you at this moment."
+
+The atmosphere of the room had suddenly changed. It seemed as though
+something solemn and elevating had entered and driven away the
+frivolous, chattering presences which had filled the room. A hush had
+fallen upon the sitters too, and all ears seemed to be listening
+eagerly.
+
+"You say you can see a spirit behind me now?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me, is it a good spirit or a bad one?"
+
+"I do not know. The face is hidden."
+
+"But surely you can cause the face to be seen. I am anxious to learn--to
+know."
+
+"I think I can tell directly. Wait."
+
+There was a silence for perhaps ten seconds; then the voice spoke again.
+
+"The spirit will not show its face," it said, "but it is always with
+you. It never leaves you night nor day."
+
+"Why does it not leave me?"
+
+"I cannot tell; I do not know."
+
+"Tell me," persisted Dick, "you do not seem like the other spirits who
+have been here--if they are spirits," he added in an undertone. "Can you
+not find out if I am watched over for any particular purpose?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I can. I can see now. It is a guardian angel, and she loves
+you."
+
+"She loves me--why does she love me?"
+
+"When she was alive she loved you. I think you were engaged. But she
+died, and you never married her. But she is always watching over
+you--trying to help you. Were you ever engaged to anyone who died?"
+
+"That is surely a leading question," was Dick's retort. "Is that all you
+can tell me?"
+
+"That is all, except that you have enemies, one in particular, who is
+trying to do you harm, and your guardian angel is always near you,
+seeking to protect you. Have you an enemy?"
+
+"Possibly--I don't know. Is that enemy a man or a woman?"
+
+"I cannot tell. Everything is becoming hazy and dim. I am not a spirit
+of the highest order. There, everything is blank to me now."
+
+After this the seance continued for some time, but as far as Dick was
+concerned, it had but little definite interest. Many things took place
+which he could not explain, but to him they meant nothing. They might
+have been caused by spirits, but then again they might have been the
+result of trickery. Nothing was clear to him except the one outstanding
+fact that no light had been thrown on the problem of his life. He wanted
+some explanation of the wonderful apparition which had so affected his
+life, and he found none. For that matter, although the spirit world had
+been demonstrated to him, he had no more conviction about the spirit
+world after the seance than he had before. All the same, he could not
+help believing, not because of the seance, but almost in spite of it,
+that a presence was constantly near him, and that this presence had a
+beneficent purpose in his life.
+
+"You were not convinced?" asked a man of him as presently he left the
+house.
+
+Dick was silent.
+
+"Sometimes I think I am, and sometimes I think I am not," went on the
+man. "It's all a mystery. But I know one thing."
+
+"What?" asked Dick.
+
+"My old mother, who held fast to the old simple faith in Christ, had no
+doubts nor fears," was the man's reply. "I was with her when she was
+dying, and she told me that angels were beckoning to her. She said she
+saw the face of her Lord, and that He was waiting to welcome her on the
+other side. I wish I could see as she saw."
+
+"Did she believe in angels?" asked Dick.
+
+"She had no doubt," replied the man. "She said that God sent His angels
+to guard those they loved, and that those angels helped them to fight
+evil spirits."
+
+"Accepting the idea of a spirit world, it seems reasonable," and Dick
+spoke like one thinking aloud rather than to be answering the man.
+
+"Did not angels minister to Christ after He was tempted of the Devil?"
+persisted the man. "Did not angels help the Apostles? I don't think I'll
+bother about spiritualism any more. There may be truth in it; there may
+not; but I'd rather get hold of the faith my mother had."
+
+"I wonder?" mused Dick, as he went away alone. "I wonder? But I'll have
+to send an answer to Olga. My word, what a glorious woman, and what a
+career! But I don't see my way clear."
+
+He made his way back to his hotel, thinking and wondering. He felt he
+had come to a crisis in his life, but his way was not plain, and he did
+not know where to look for light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+ROMANOFF'S PHILOSOPHY
+
+
+Count Romanoff sat in a handsomely furnished room. It formed a part of a
+suite he had taken in a fashionable London hotel. He was smoking a
+cigar, while at his side was a tray with several decanters containing
+spirits.
+
+He seemed to be puzzled, and often there was an angry gleam in his eyes,
+a cruel smile on his lips.
+
+"I am not sure of him," he muttered, "and so far I've failed altogether.
+More than once I was certain that I had him--certain that he was bound
+to me hand and foot, and then----"
+
+He started to his feet and strode impatiently across the room. He
+appeared angry. Looking out of the window, he could see the tide of
+human beings which swept hither and thither in the London street.
+
+"Good and evil," he said aloud--"good and evil. Those people are all the
+time tempted, and yet--and yet----But I'll have him. It's only a matter
+of time now."
+
+He heard a knock at the door, and started violently. For a
+self-contained, strong man, he seemed at times to be peculiarly
+apprehensive.
+
+"Yes; come in. Ah, it's you, is it? I was expecting you."
+
+"Count Romanoff, are you ever surprised?" It was Mr. John Brown who
+spoke, and who quietly came into the room.
+
+"Rarely," replied the Count. "Why should I? After all, the events of
+life are a matter of calculation. Certain forces, certain powers of
+resistance--and there you are."
+
+"It takes a clever man to calculate the forces or the powers of
+resistance," replied Mr. Brown.
+
+"Just so. Well, I am clever."
+
+Mr. Brown looked at him curiously, and there was an expression almost of
+fear in his eyes.
+
+"Count Romanoff," he said, "I wonder sometimes if you are not the
+Devil--if there is a devil," he added as if in afterthought.
+
+"Why, do you doubt it?"
+
+"I don't know. It would be difficult to explain some things and some
+people unless you postulate a devil."
+
+The Count laughed almost merrily. "Then why not accept the fact?" he
+asked.
+
+"Do you?" asked Mr. Brown.
+
+"I have no doubt of it. I--but wait. You must clear the ground. The
+existence of a devil presupposes evil--and good. If what the world calls
+evil is evil--there is a devil."
+
+"You speak like one who knows."
+
+"I do know."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Because----But look here, my friend, you did not come here to discuss
+_that_ problem."
+
+"No; I did not. I came because I wanted to discuss----"
+
+"A young man called Richard Faversham. Very well, let's discuss him,"
+and the Count took a fresh cigar and lit it.
+
+"I've been thinking a good deal since I saw you last," said Mr.
+Brown--"thinking pretty deeply."
+
+The Count for reply looked at Mr. Brown steadily, but spoke no word.
+
+"I have been wondering at your interest in him," said Mr. Brown. "He's
+not your sort."
+
+"Perhaps that's a reason," he suggested.
+
+"Still I do not understand you."
+
+"But I understand you. I know you through and through. You, although you
+are a member of the best London clubs, although you pass as a Britisher
+of Britishers, and although you bear a good old commonplace English
+name, hate Britain, and especially do you hate England. Shall I tell you
+why?"
+
+"Not aloud, my friend--not aloud; there may be servants outside--people
+listening," and Mr. Brown spoke in a whisper.
+
+"I _shall_ speak aloud," replied the Count, "and there is no one
+listening. I feel in a communicative, garrulous mood to-night, and it's
+no use mincing words. You hate England, because you are German at heart,
+and a German by birth, although no one knows it--but me. I also hate
+England."
+
+"Why?" asked Mr. Brown.
+
+"Because it stands for those things I abominate. Because, in spite of
+its so-called materialism, it still holds fast to the old standards of
+religion, and all that religion means. It stands for what the world
+calls progress, for civilisation, and Democracy. And I hate Democracy."
+
+"You are a Russian," commented Mr. Brown--"a Russian aristocrat,
+therefore you would naturally hate Democracy."
+
+"Am I?" and the Count laughed. "Well, call me that if you like."
+
+"You told me so when we first met."
+
+"Did I? I know you came to me in a sad way. You began to doubt your
+country, and your country's victory. You saw that it would never gain
+what it desired and hoped on the battlefield. You realised that this
+England--this Britain that you had scorned--was mightier than you
+thought. You saw that John Bull, whom I hate as much as you, was
+practically invincible."
+
+"Yes; I could not help realising that. I admitted it to you, and you
+told me to----"
+
+"Take special note of Faversham. I told you his story."
+
+"Yes, you did, and I accepted your advice. I went to Eastroyd; I made
+his acquaintance."
+
+"And were impressed by the power he had obtained over the working
+classes, the Democracy, that we hear so much about. As you told me, he
+had taken up their cause, and that he had developed the gift of public
+oratory so assiduously that his power over working-class audiences was
+almost magnetic."
+
+"But look here, Count, I----"
+
+"Pardon me a moment. I had studied Faversham for years. For reasons of
+my own, I wanted him to do certain things."
+
+Mr. Brown sat quietly, watching the Count, who ceased speaking suddenly,
+and seemed to be staring into vacancy.
+
+"Did you ever read a book by a man named John Bunyan, called _The Holy
+War_?" he asked, with seeming irrelevance.
+
+Mr. Brown laughed. "Years ago, when I was a boy," he replied.
+
+"A wonderful book, my friend. I have read it many times."
+
+"_You_ read it many times! Why, what interest could such a book have for
+you?"
+
+"A very deep interest," and there was a curious intonation in his voice.
+
+"What interest?" asked Mr. Brown.
+
+The Count rose to his feet and knocked some ash from the end of his
+cigar. "Corpo di Bacco!" he cried. "Did not the man get deep? The city
+of Mansoul! And the Devil wanted to get it. So he studied the
+fortifications. Eyegate, nosegate, touchgate, eargate he saw, he
+understood!"
+
+"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Mr. Brown in astonishment.
+
+"There is one passage which goes deep," went on the Count as though Mr.
+Brown had not spoken. "It contained some of the deepest philosophy of
+life; it went to the roots of the whole situation. I had it in my mind
+when I advised you to make Faversham's acquaintance."
+
+"What passage?" asked Mr. Brown, still failing to catch the drift of the
+other's words.
+
+"It is this," and the Count spoke very quietly. "_For here lay the
+excellent wisdom of Him who built Mansoul, that the walls could never be
+broken down, nor hurt by the most mighty adverse potentate, unless the
+townsmen gave consent thereto._"
+
+Mr. Brown looked puzzled. "I don't follow you," he said.
+
+"Don't you? Bunyan wrote in parable, but his meaning is plain. He said
+that Diabolus could never conquer Mansoul except by the consent of
+Mansoul. Well, I saw this: England--Britain--could never be conquered
+except by the consent of the people of England. United, Britain is
+unconquerable."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Therefore, I made you see that if your country, which stands for force,
+and militarism, and barbarism, was to conquer England you must get
+England divided; you must get her own forces in a state of disunity. A
+country at war with itself is powerless. Set class against class,
+interest against interest, party against party, and you produce chaos.
+That is the only hope of your country, my friend. The thing was to get a
+man who could do this for you."
+
+"And you thought of Faversham?"
+
+"I told you to make his acquaintance."
+
+"Which I have done. The results you know."
+
+"Are you satisfied with the results?"
+
+Mr. John Brown was silent a few seconds. Evidently he was thinking
+deeply.
+
+"He is no Bolshevist at heart," he said.
+
+"Are you?"
+
+"I? Great heavens, no! I hate it, except for my enemies. But it has
+served our purpose so far. Russia is in a state of chaos; it is
+powerless--bleeding at our feet. If Russia had remained united, we, the
+Germans, would have been crushed, beaten, ruined. As it is----"
+
+"I love the condition of Russia," and Romanoff spoke almost exultantly.
+"I love it! It is what I hoped for, strove for, prayed for!"
+
+"You--a Russian--say that! And _you_ pray?"
+
+"Yes; I pray. What then?"
+
+"But you did not pray to God?" and there was a note of fear in Mr.
+Brown's voice.
+
+"I prayed to my own god," replied Romanoff, "who is a very good
+counterpart of the god of your Kaiser. The good old German god, eh?" and
+he laughed ruthlessly. "And what is he, my friend? A god of force, a god
+of cruelty. Ruthlessness, mercilessness, anything to win. That's the
+German god. I prayed to that."
+
+Mr. Brown almost shuddered.
+
+"Yes; the condition of Russia is one of the great joys of my life. It
+means victory--victory for me, for you--if we can only get England to
+follow Russia's example."
+
+"If we only could," assented Mr. Brown.
+
+"And there are elements at work which, properly used, will bring this
+about," went on the Count. "I, Romanoff, tell you so. And Faversham is
+your man."
+
+"He is no Bolshevist," again urged Mr. Brown. "At heart he knows what it
+means. That's why I am nearly hopeless about him. Give him time to
+think, and he will see that it will mean chaos--ruin to the things he
+has been taught to love."
+
+"Before Adam ate the forbidden fruit two things happened," remarked
+Romanoff.
+
+"What?"
+
+"First the serpent worked. Then the woman."
+
+"The woman! Yes; the woman!"
+
+"Human nature is a curious business," went on the Count. "There are
+several points at which it is vulnerable. I have made a special point of
+studying human nature, and this I have seen."
+
+"I don't quite follow you."
+
+"I don't speak in riddles, my friend. Take a strong character like
+Faversham, and consider it. What is likely to appeal to it? As I
+understand the case, there are three main channels of appeal. First,
+money, and all that money means. Next there is ambition, greed for
+power, place, position, dominance. Then there is the eternal thing--the
+Senses. Drink, gluttony, drugs, women. Generally any one of these things
+will master a man, but bring them altogether and it is certain he will
+succumb."
+
+"Yes, yes, I see."
+
+"Money, and all that money brings, is not enough in Faversham's case.
+That I know. But he is intensely ambitious--and--and he is young."
+
+"That is why you told me to introduce him to Olga?"
+
+"A woman can make a man do what, under ordinary circumstances, he would
+scorn to do. If you advocated Bolshevism to him, even although you
+convinced him that he could be Lenin and Trotsky rolled into one, and
+that he could carry the Democracy of Britain with him, he would laugh at
+you. I saw that yesterday after your conversation with him. He was
+attracted for an hour, but I saw that he laughed at your proposals. That
+was why I told you to let him see and hear Olga. Now, tell me of their
+meeting."
+
+Mr. Brown described in correct detail Dick's experiences in the East of
+London.
+
+"Never did I believe a woman could be such a siren," Mr. Brown
+concluded. "She charmed, she magnetised, she fascinated."
+
+"Is he in love with her?" asked the Count.
+
+"If he is not he must be a stone," said Mr. Brown.
+
+"Yes, but is he? I told you to watch him--to report to me."
+
+"I do not know. He did not consent readily; he must have time to think,
+he said. But, man, he cannot resist her!"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"But have you ever heard of any man who could resist her blandishments?
+Has she not been called a sorceress?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know--but he promised her nothing?"
+
+"He said he would let her know later."
+
+"Then he has resisted. My friend, I do not understand him. But--but--let
+me think."
+
+"He was greatly impressed not only by her, but by her arguments," went
+on Mr. Brown presently. "I tell you, the woman is a sibyl, a witch. She
+was wonderful--wonderful. While I listened, I--even I--almost believed
+in her description of Bolshevism. A new heaven, and a new earth! I tell
+you, I almost believed in it. She pictured a paradise, an El Dorado, an
+Elysium, and she made Faversham see, understand. I tell you, he cannot
+resist her, and if he promises her, as he will, I can see England in a
+state of chaos in six months. Then--then----"
+
+But the Count did not seem to be listening. His eyes were turned towards
+the streets, but he saw nothing.
+
+"He went to a spiritualistic seance this afternoon," he said presently.
+
+"What?--Faversham?"
+
+"Yes, Faversham. What do you think it means?"
+
+"I cannot think. He has never struck me as that sort of fellow."
+
+"Look here, Brown, have you had many intimate talks with him?"
+
+"Intimate? Yes, I think so."
+
+"What have you talked about?"
+
+"Always about the condition of the people, politics, and things of that
+nature."
+
+"Have you ever discussed religion with him?"
+
+"I don't believe he has any religion."
+
+"I wonder?"
+
+"What do you wonder?"
+
+"I say, during your conversations with him--during your visits to
+Eastroyd--have you ever heard, have you ever discovered, that he is in
+love with anyone?"
+
+"Never. He has taken no notice of women since I have known him. He seems
+to have been engrossed in his socialistic work. Mind, I doubt whether,
+at heart, he is even a socialist, much less a Bolshevist."
+
+"That does not matter if we can get him to enlist in Olga's crusade. He
+has enough influence among, not only the working classes of the country,
+but among the leaders of the working classes all over the land, to
+create disturbances. He can inspire strikes; he can cause anarchy among
+the people. He can imbue them with Bolshevist ideals; he can make great
+promises. That done, the British Army is powerless. Without coals, and
+without the means of transport--don't you see?"
+
+"Of course I see. That's what I've had in my mind from the first. If
+that can be done, Germany will be master of the world!"
+
+"And more than that," and the Count spoke exultantly, "I shall have him,
+body and soul."
+
+"But we must be very careful. If our plans leak out, my life will not be
+worth a row of pins."
+
+Again the Count paced the room. He did not seem to be heeding Mr. Brown.
+His face worked convulsively, his eyes burned red, his hands clenched
+and unclenched themselves.
+
+"I vowed I'd have him," he reflected--"vowed he should be mine. Left by
+himself he will do great things for what is called the good of the
+world. He will work for sobriety, purity, British national life. The man
+has powers, qualities which mean great things for what pietists call the
+world's betterment. But he is an aristocrat at heart; he loves money,
+and, more, he loves position, fame. He is as ambitious as Napoleon. He
+longs for power. But he has a conscience; he has a strong sense of what
+he calls right and wrong. I thought I had him down at Wendover. But I
+failed. Why, I wonder? But I will not fail this time. Olga will dull his
+conscience. She has charmed, fascinated him. She will make him her
+slave. Then--then----"
+
+"Yes, yes," broke in Mr. Brown, who had only half understood the Count's
+monologue; "then he will cause a revolution here in England, and Britain
+as a fighting power will be paralysed. But I am not sure of him. He
+loves his country, and unless Olga gets hold of him, and that soon, he
+will see what our plans mean, and he will refuse to move hand or foot.
+You see, we've got no hold on him."
+
+"We've every hold on him," almost snapped the Count. "We've appealed to
+his every weakness, and Olga will do the rest. I select my tools
+carefully, my friend."
+
+A knock was heard at the door, and the Count impatiently opened it. "I
+am engaged; I cannot be disturbed," he said.
+
+"The lady said she must see you," protested the servant, "so I--I
+thought I'd better come."
+
+The Count looked beyond the man, and saw a woman closely veiled.
+
+"Show the lady in," and a few seconds later she threw off her wraps and
+revealed her face.
+
+"Olga?" cried both men together.
+
+"Yes; I thought I'd better brave all danger. I've heard from him."
+
+"From Faversham?"
+
+"Yes; a long telegram."
+
+"What does he say?" gasped Mr. Brown.
+
+"I have it here," replied Olga breathlessly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+A VOICE FROM ANOTHER WORLD
+
+
+Dick Faversham walked along Oxford Street thinking deeply. Although he
+had been by no means convinced by what he had seen and heard, he could
+not help being impressed. The whole of the proceedings might be
+accounted for by jugglery and clever trickery, or, on the other
+hand, influences might have been at work which he could not
+understand--influences which came from the unseen world. But nothing
+satisfied him. Everything he had experienced lacked dignity. It was
+poor; it was sordid. He could not help comparing the outstanding
+features of the seance with the events which had so affected him. The
+face of the woman in the smoking-room of the steamer, the sublime figure
+which had upheld him when he was sinking in the wild, stormy sea, was
+utterly removed from the so-called spirits who had obeyed the summons of
+the mediums, and acted through them. How tawdry, too, were the so-called
+messages compared with the sublime words which had come to him almost
+like a whisper, and yet so plainly that he could hear it above the roar
+of the ocean:
+
+"The Eternal God is thy Refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting
+Arms."
+
+This was sublime--sublime in the great comfort it gave him, sublimer
+still in what it signified to the life of the world.
+
+"It's true, too!" he exclaimed aloud, as he threaded his way along the
+crowded thoroughfare. "True!"
+
+He stopped as the meaning of the words came to him:
+
+"The Eternal God is thy Refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting
+Arms."
+
+And because that was true, everything was possible!
+
+As he thought of it, his materialism melted like snow in a tropical sun,
+and he realised how superficial and how silly his past scepticism had
+been.
+
+God was behind all, underneath all, in all, through all. And if that was
+true, He had a thousand agents working to do His will, an infinite
+variety of means whereby His purposes were carried out. He, Dick
+Faversham, could not understand them; but what of that? God was greater
+than the thoughts of the creatures He had made.
+
+But what of his own immediate actions? He had promised Olga that he
+would that very day send her a telegram where and when he could meet
+her, and that this telegram would signify his intention to fall in with
+her plans. She had given him directions where this telegram was to be
+sent, and he had to confess that he had looked forward to meeting her
+again with no ordinary pleasure.
+
+The memory of their strange conversation on the previous night, and the
+picture of her glorious womanhood came to him with a strange vividness.
+Well, why should he not send the telegram?
+
+He passed a post office just then, and turned as though he would enter.
+But he did not pass through the doorway. Something, he could not tell
+what, seemed to hold him back. He thought little of it, however, and
+still made his way along Oxford Street, towards High Holborn.
+
+Again the problem of the future faced him, and he wondered what to do.
+Somehow, he could not tell why, but the thought of meeting the beautiful
+Russian did not seem to be in accord with the sublime words which were
+surging through his brain:
+
+"The Eternal God is thy Refuge."
+
+He found himself thinking of the wondrous face which had appeared to him
+as he stood at the door of Wendover Park, and he remembered the words
+that came to him.
+
+"Pray, pray!" the voice had said. "Watch and pray!"
+
+"God help me!" he cried almost involuntarily. "Great God help me!"
+
+He still threaded his way through the crowd in the great thoroughfare,
+almost unconscious of what he did. He was scarcely aware that he had
+uttered a cry to Heaven for help. He passed the end of Chancery Lane and
+then came to the old timbered houses which stand opposite Gray's Inn
+Road. But this ancient part of London did not appeal to him. He did not
+notice that the houses were different from others. He was almost like a
+man in a dream.
+
+Then suddenly he found himself in Staple Inn. How he had come there he
+did not know. He had no remembrance of passing through the old doorway,
+but he was there, and the change from the roar of the great thoroughfare
+outside and the silence of this little sequestered nook impressed him.
+
+There was not a soul visible in the little square. As all Londoners
+know, Staple Inn is one of the smallest and quietest in the metropolis.
+The houses which form it are mostly occupied by professional men, and
+there is scarcely ever anything like traffic there. But this afternoon
+there was no one to be seen, and the change from the crowded highway was
+pleasant.
+
+"What in the world am I doing here?" he asked himself.
+
+But before he had time to answer the question he had propounded he
+realised a strange sensation. Although he could see nothing, he felt
+that some presence was near him.
+
+"Listen."
+
+The word was scarcely above a whisper, but he heard it plainly. He
+looked around him, his senses alert, but nothing was to be seen.
+
+"Can you hear me?"
+
+"Yes." He spoke the word almost involuntarily, and his voice seemed
+strange to his own ears.
+
+"Do you know Drury Lane?"
+
+"Yes," and he looked around wonderingly, trying to locate the voice.
+
+"To-night, at nine o'clock, you must go to Drury Lane. You must walk
+westward until you come to Blot Street. Turn up at Blot Street, and keep
+along the right side. You must turn at the third street. You are sure
+you are following my instructions?"
+
+"Yes, yes," he answered excitedly. "Who are you? Where are you?"
+
+"You must walk along the third street for about twenty steps, stopping
+at the door marked 13A. You will knock five times in quick succession.
+You will wait five seconds, then you will give two more knocks louder
+than the first. The door will be opened, and you will be asked your
+business. Your reply will be two words, 'Victory,' 'Dominion.' You will
+be admitted without further questions. After that use your own
+judgment."
+
+Suddenly there was a change as if in the whole atmosphere. He had, as it
+seemed to him, been in a kind of trance, but now he was more than
+ordinarily awake. And he was alone. Whatever had been near him was gone.
+The voice had ceased speaking.[1]
+
+[Footnote 1: In view of the fact that the above incident may be regarded
+as utterly unbelievable, I may say that an experience of the same nature
+was related to me only a few weeks ago, far more wonderful than the one
+I have recorded. Concerning the good faith of those who told the
+incident, it is above all suspicion, and of its authenticity there seems
+no room for doubt. I cannot further enter into details for obvious
+reasons.--THE AUTHOR.]
+
+For some time Dick Faversham stood alone in the square without moving
+hand or foot. He was in a state of astonishment which was beyond the
+power of words to describe. But he had no doubt that he had heard the
+voice; he was as certain that some presence which he could not see had
+been near him as that he was certain he stood there at that moment.
+
+Outside the square in Holborn the tide of traffic rolled on. Conveyances
+filled with human life rushed eastward and westward; men and women,
+oblivious to the fact of any world save their own, made their way to
+their destinations; but inside the square a man felt he had been in
+touch with mystery, eternity.
+
+He moved into High Holborn like a man in a dream, and stood for a few
+seconds watching the faces of the passers-by.
+
+"And not one of them seems to realise that the spirit world is all
+around them," he reflected.
+
+He never thought of disobeying the commands he had received. The voice
+had come to him with a note of authority; the message was one which must
+be obeyed.
+
+Slowly he made his way westward again, and presently came to a post
+office. He entered without hesitation, wrote a telegram, gave it to the
+clerk, and, having paid for its dispatch, again made his way along the
+street.
+
+"There, that's done with," he said, with a sigh of relief.
+
+At nine o'clock that night he found himself in Drury Lane following the
+instructions he had received. He was quite calm, although his heart
+throbbed with expectancy. He had little or no thought of what he was
+going to see or hear; enough for him that he was obeying instructions,
+that he was acting upon the commands which had come to him for his good.
+For he had no doubt that these commands were somehow for his benefit.
+Almost unconsciously he associated the presence near him with the one
+who had hovered over him with arms outstretched when he had been sinking
+in the stormy sea.
+
+He had no difficulty in finding Blot Street, and quickly found himself
+at the third turning of that shabby-looking thoroughfare.
+
+"Chainley Alley," he read in the dim light of the darkened street lamp
+at the corner.
+
+The place was very quiet. He was now away from the traffic of the broad
+streets, and ordinary business had ceased for the day. There was nothing
+to mark Chainley Alley from a hundred others which may still be found in
+the centre of London. It was simply a dark, grimy little opening which,
+to the ordinary passer-by, presented no interest whatever. A minute
+later he stood at 13A. All was dark here, and it was with difficulty
+that he discerned the number. He listened intently, but heard no sound,
+and then, with a fast-beating heart, he knocked five times in quick
+succession. Then, waiting five seconds, he knocked again according to
+instructions.
+
+The door opened as if by magic. It might seem that he was expected. But
+the passage into which he looked was as black as ink; neither could he
+hear anything.
+
+Then suddenly the silence was broken. "Who are you? What do you want?"
+asked someone unseen.
+
+"'Victory,' 'Dominion,'" he whispered.
+
+A dim light shone, and he saw what looked like a woman of the caretaker
+order. Evidently the house was bigger than he imagined, for the woman
+led him down a long corridor which suggested that it was a way to
+another and a larger block of buildings in the rear.
+
+She opened a door and told him to go in. "You will wait there till I
+call you," she whispered, and then closed the door behind him.
+
+There was a thick rug on the floor, which muffled the sound of his
+footsteps, but there was no furniture in the room save a deal table and
+one straight-backed chair. A tiny gas-jet burnt on the wall, which,
+however, was extinguished a few seconds after the door had closed.
+
+"This is darkness with a vengeance," reflected Dick, but the fact did
+not trouble him so much because he had brought a small electric lamp
+with him. He switched on this light and saw that the room had no outlet
+at all, save the door. There was neither window nor fireplace, and, in
+fact, was little more than a large cupboard.
+
+Before he had time to realise what this might mean, he heard the sound
+of footsteps, which seemed to be close by; this was followed by
+murmuring voices. Then there were more footsteps, and the voices became
+clearer.
+
+"Is he come?" he heard one man say.
+
+"Not yet. But he'll soon be here. He did not promise to get here till
+half-past nine."
+
+From that time there was a general hum of conversation, which was
+intermingled by the clinking of glasses. It might be that he was close
+to a kind of club-room, and that the members were arriving and ordering
+refreshments. The conversation continued, now indistinct, and again more
+clear. Dick caught snatches of it, but it was not connected, and
+conveyed but little meaning to him.
+
+Suddenly he heard everything plainly, and a sentence struck him. "I hope
+he'll be careful," he heard someone say. "The whole lot of us would
+swing if we were found here together." The man spoke in German, and
+Dick's interest became tense.
+
+"More likely be shot," someone retorted, with a laugh.
+
+"But we're safe enough. This is the first time we've been here, and
+every care has been taken."
+
+"I know," said someone, who appeared doubtful, "but if the British
+Secret Service people have been fools in the past, they are sharp enough
+now. Schleswig thought he was as safe as houses, but he was cleverly
+nabbed, and now he's cold meat."
+
+"Never mind," said another voice, "our turn is coming. Gott in Himmel,
+won't we let them know when we are masters of London! Even now the
+English don't know that their country is a powder magazine. They little
+think that, in spite of their Alien Acts and the rest of it, the country
+is still riddled with friends of the Fatherland. Hark, he's coming!"
+
+This was followed by a general shuffling of feet, and Dick instinctively
+felt that something of importance was about to happen. He wondered at
+the ease with which he could now hear. Evidently the partition which hid
+him from the room in which the conspirators had met (for evidently they
+were conspirators) was thin, or else there must have been some secret
+channel by which the sounds reached him. He realised, too, that these
+people had not entered by way of Chainley Alley, but that their room
+must have an outlet somewhere else. Possibly, probably too, as they had
+used this meeting-place for the first time that night, these people
+would be ignorant of the closet where he was hidden.
+
+Dick heard a new voice, and he detected in a moment that it was a voice
+of authority. I will not attempt to relate all he heard, or attempt to
+give a detailed description of all that took place. I will only briefly
+indicate what took place.
+
+The newcomer, who was evidently the person for whom the others had
+waited, seemed to regard those to whom he spoke as his subordinates. He
+was apparently the leader of a movement, who reported to his workers
+what progress had been made, and who gave them instructions as to the
+future.
+
+He began by telling them that things were not going altogether well for
+the Fatherland, although he had no doubt of final victory.
+
+But England--Great Britain--was their great enemy, and, unless she were
+conquered, Germany could never again attempt to be master of the world.
+But this could never be done altogether by force of arms.
+
+"Russia is conquered!" he declared; "it lies bleeding, helpless, at our
+feet, but it was not conquered on the battlefield. By means of a
+thousand secret agencies, by careful and skilful propaganda, by huge
+bribes, and by playing on the ignorance of the foolish, we set the
+Bolshevist movement on foot, and it has done our work. Of course it has
+meant hell in Russia, but what of that? It was necessary for the
+Fatherland, and we did our work. What, although the ghastliest outrages
+are committed, and millions killed, if Germany gains her ends!"
+
+What was done in Russia was also being done in Great Britain, he assured
+them. Of course, our task was harder because the people had, on the
+whole, been well conditioned and had the justest Government in the
+world. But he had not been dismayed. Thousands of agencies existed, and
+even among the English the Germans had many friends. The seeds which had
+been sown were bringing forth their harvest.
+
+They had fermented strikes, and the English people hadn't known that
+they had done it. If some of the key industries, such as coal and
+transport, could be captured, England was doomed. This could be done by
+Bolshevism; and it was being done.
+
+"But what real progress has been made?" someone dared to ask presently.
+
+"We have workers, agents in all these industries," replied the man, "and
+I'm glad to tell you that we have won a new recruit, who, although he is
+a patriotic Englishman, will help our cause mightily. Our trusted
+friend, Mr. John Brown, has got hold of a man who has a tremendous
+influence among not only the working-class people in various unions, but
+among the leaders of those unions, and who will be of vast help in our
+cause, and of making Great Britain another Russia; that done, victory
+is ours."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"A young man named Faversham. John Brown has had him in hand for months,
+and has now fairly made him his tool. Even to-night, comrades, we shall
+get him into our net."
+
+"Tell us more about him," cried someone; but before the speaker could
+reply, some sort of signal was evidently given, for there was a general
+stampede, and in an incredibly short time silence reigned.
+
+Almost unconsciously Dick switched on his electric lamp and looked at
+his watch. It was eleven o'clock. Although he had not realised it, he
+had been in the little cupboard of a room more than an hour and a half,
+while these men had been plotting the ruin and the destruction of the
+country he loved.
+
+For some time he could not grasp all he had heard, but the meaning of it
+was presently clear to him. The thought almost overwhelmed him. He had
+unwittingly been again and again playing into the hands of the enemy.
+
+"I must get out of this," he reflected after a few seconds. "I must get
+back to the hotel and think it all out."
+
+"You can go now." It was the woman who showed him there who spoke.
+
+A few seconds later he was in the open air, making his way towards Drury
+Lane.
+
+"Thank God!"
+
+The words passed his lips involuntarily. It seemed the natural
+expression of his heart.
+
+Almost unconsciously he found his way back to his hotel. He had no
+remembrance afterwards of the streets he had traversed, or of the
+turnings he had taken. His mind was too full of the thought that but for
+his wonderful experience in Staple Inn the facts he had learnt that
+night would not have been made known to him.
+
+On reaching his hotel he made his way to his sitting-room, and on
+opening the door he saw a letter lying on the table, which on
+examination he found to be signed "Olga."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+OLGA MAKES LOVE
+
+
+In order to relate this story in a connected manner it is necessary to
+return to Count Romanoff's rooms, where, a few hours earlier, both the
+Count and Mr. John Brown were startled by the sudden entrance of Olga.
+
+"Let me see the telegram," the Count said, holding out his hand. His
+voice was somewhat hoarse, and his eyes had a peculiar glitter in them.
+
+The girl handed it to him without a word.
+
+    "_Impossible for me to come. Am leaving London almost
+    immediately._--FAVERSHAM."
+
+"What time did you get this?" he asked.
+
+"I scarcely know. Almost directly I got it I came to you. I thought it
+best. Do you think it is true? Do you believe he will leave London?"
+
+The Count was silent for a few seconds. "It would seem so, wouldn't it?"
+he answered grimly. "But he must _not_ leave London. At all hazards, he
+must be kept here."
+
+"But it means that Olga has failed," cried Mr. John Brown. "It means
+that we have lost him!"
+
+"We have not lost him. I'll see to that," and there was a snarl in
+Romanoff's voice. "Olga Petrovic, all now depends on you. At your peril
+you must keep him here; you must win him over. If you fail, so much the
+worse for you."
+
+Evidently the girl was angered. "Do you threaten me?" she said, with
+flashing eyes.
+
+"And if I do, what then?"
+
+"Simply that I will not be threatened. If you speak to me in that
+fashion, I refuse to move another finger."
+
+"I am not in the habit of having my plans destroyed by the whims of a
+petulant woman," said the Count very quietly. "I tell you that if you
+fail to keep him in London, and if you fail to make him your slave,
+ready to obey your every bidding, you pay the penalty."
+
+"What penalty?"
+
+"What penalty?" and the Count laughed. "Need you ask that? You are in my
+power, Countess Olga Petrovic. I know every detail of your
+history--every detail, mind you--from the time you were waiting-maid to
+the Czarina. Yours is a curious history, Countess. How much would your
+life be worth if it were known to the British authorities that you were
+in London? What would our German friends do to you if they knew the part
+you played at Warsaw?"
+
+"You know of that?" she gasped.
+
+"I know everything, Countess. But I wish you no harm. All I demand is
+that you gain and keep Faversham in your power."
+
+"Why are you so anxious for him to be in my power?"
+
+"Because then he will be in my power."
+
+"Your power? Why do you wish him in your power? Do you want to do him
+harm?"
+
+"Harm!" Then Romanoff laughed. "And if I do, what then?"
+
+"That I refuse to serve you. Carry out your threats; tell the British
+authorities who I am. Tell the Germans what I did at Warsaw. I do not
+care. I defy you. Unless you promise me that you will not do Faversham
+harm, I will do nothing."
+
+"Why are you interested as to whether I will do Faversham harm?"
+
+"I am--that's all."
+
+The Count was silent for a few seconds. Evidently his mind was working
+rapidly. "Look at me!" he cried suddenly, and, as if by some power she
+could not resist, she raised her eyes to his.
+
+The Count laughed like one amused.
+
+"You have fallen in love with him, eh?"
+
+The girl was silent, but a flush mounted her cheeks.
+
+"This is interesting," he sneered. "I did not think that Olga Petrovic,
+who has regarded men as so many dogs of the fetch-and-carry order, and
+who has scorned the thought of love, should have fallen a victim to the
+malady. And to a thick-headed Englishman, too! Surely it is very
+sudden."
+
+"You sneer," she cried, "but if I want to be a good woman; what then?"
+
+The Count waved his hand airily. "Set's the wind in that quarter, eh?
+Well, well. But it is very interesting. I see; you love him--you, Olga
+Petrovic."
+
+"And if I do," she cried defiantly, "what then?"
+
+"Only that you will obey me the more implicitly."
+
+"I will not obey you," she cried passionately. "And remember this, I am
+not a woman to be played with. There have been many who have tried to
+get the better of Olga Petrovic, and--and you know the result."
+
+"La, la!" laughed the Count, "and so my lady threatens, does she? And do
+you know, if I were susceptible to a woman's beauty, I should rejoice to
+see you angry. Anger makes you even more beautiful than ever. For you
+are beautiful, Olga."
+
+"Leave my beauty alone," she said sullenly. "It is not for you anyhow."
+
+"I see, I see. Now listen to me. If you do not obey me in everything, I
+go to Richard Faversham, and I tell him who and what you are. I give him
+your history for the last ten years. Yes, for the last ten years. You
+began your career at eighteen and now you are twenty-eight. Yes, you
+look a young girl of twenty-two, and pride yourself upon it. Now then,
+Countess, which is it to be? Am I to help you to win the love of
+Faversham--yes and I can promise you that you shall win his love if you
+obey my bidding--or am I to go to him and tell him who Olga Petrovic
+really is?"
+
+The girl looked at him angrily, yet piteously. For the first time she
+seemed afraid of him. Her eyes burnt with fury, and yet were full of
+pleading at the same time. Haughty defiance was on her face, while her
+lips trembled.
+
+"But if you tell him, you destroy my plans. You cannot do that, Count!"
+It was Mr. John Brown who spoke, and there was a note of terror in his
+voice.
+
+"_Your_ plans! What do I care for your plans?" cried the Count. "It is
+of my own plans I am thinking."
+
+"But I thought, and as you know we agreed----"
+
+"It is not for you to think, or to question my thoughts," interrupted
+the Count. "I allow no man to interpret my plans, or to criticise the
+way in which I work them out. But rest contented, my dear friend, John
+Brown," he added banteringly, "the success of your plans rests upon the
+success of my own."
+
+While they were speaking Olga Petrovic gazed towards the window with
+unseeing eyes. She looked quite her age now: all suggestion of the young
+girl had gone, she was a stern, hard-featured woman. Beautiful she was,
+it is true, but with a beauty marked by bitter experience, and not the
+beauty of blushing girlhood.
+
+"Well, Countess Olga, which is it to be?" asked Romanoff, who had been
+watching her while he had been speaking to Mr. Brown.
+
+"What do you want me to do?"
+
+"Do! Keep him in London. Enlist his sympathies. Make him your slave as
+you have made other men your slaves. Bind him to you hand and foot. Make
+him love you."
+
+A strange light burned in the girl's eyes, for at the Count's last words
+she had seemingly thrown off years of her life. She had become young and
+eager again.
+
+"Swear to me that you mean him no harm, and I will do it," was her
+reply. "If I can," she added, as an afterthought.
+
+"Do you doubt it?" asked Romanoff. "Have you ever failed when you have
+made up your mind?"
+
+"No, but I do not feel certain of him. He is not like those others.
+Besides, I failed last night. In his heart he has refused me already. He
+said he was leaving London almost immediately, which means that he does
+not intend to see me again."
+
+"And you want to see him again?"
+
+"Yes," she replied defiantly; "I do."
+
+"Good." He seized a telephone receiver as he spoke and asked for a
+certain number. Shortly after he was connected with Dick's hotel.
+
+"Mr. Richard Faversham of Eastroyd is staying with you, isn't he?"
+
+"Mr. Richard Faversham? Yes, sir."
+
+"Is he in?"
+
+"No, sir, he went out a few minutes ago."
+
+"Did he say when he was likely to return?"
+
+"No, sir, he said nothing."
+
+"But you expect him back to-night?"
+
+"As far as I know, sir."
+
+"Thank you. Either I, or a lady friend, will call to see him to-morrow
+morning at ten o'clock on a very important matter. Tell him that, will
+you?"
+
+"Certainly, sir. What name?"
+
+But the Count did not reply. He hung up the telephone receiver instead.
+
+"Why did you say that?" asked Olga. "How dare I go to his hotel in broad
+daylight?"
+
+"You dare do anything, Countess," replied the Count. "Besides, you need
+not fear. Although you are wanted by the British authorities, you are so
+clever at disguise that no detective in Scotland Yard would be able to
+see through it." He hesitated a moment, and then went on: "If we were in
+Paris I would insist on your going to see him to-night, but Mrs. Grundy
+is so much in evidence in England that we must not risk it."
+
+"But if they fail to give him your message?" she asked. "Suppose he
+leaves to-morrow morning before I can get there?" Evidently she was
+eager to carry out this part of his plans.
+
+"He will not leave," replied Romanoff; "still, we must be on the safe
+side. You must write and tell him you are coming. There is ink and paper
+on yonder desk."
+
+"What shall I write?" she asked.
+
+"Fancy Olga Petrovic asking such a question," laughed the Count. "Word
+your letter as only you can word it, and he will spend a sleepless night
+in anticipation of the joy of seeing you."
+
+She hesitated for a few seconds, and then rushing to the desk began to
+write rapidly.
+
+"And now," said Romanoff, when she had finished, "to avoid all danger
+we must send this by a special messenger."
+
+Thus it was, when Dick Faversham returned from Chainley Alley that night
+that he found the letter signed "Olga" awaiting him.
+
+It was no ordinary letter that he read. A stranger on perusing it would
+have said that it was simply a request for an interview, but to Dick it
+was couched in such a fashion that it was impossible for him to leave
+London before seeing her. For this is what he had intended to do. When
+he had sent the telegram a few hours earlier his mind was fully made up
+never to see her again. Why he could not tell, but the effect of his
+strange experience in Staple Inn was to make him believe that it would
+be best for him to wipe this fascinating woman from the book of his
+life. Her influence over him was so great that he felt afraid. While in
+her presence, even while she fascinated him, he could not help thinking
+of the fateful hours in Wendover Park, when Romanoff stood by his side,
+and paralysed his manhood.
+
+But as he read her letter, he felt he could do no other than remain.
+Indeed he found himself anticipating the hour of her arrival, and
+wondering why she wished to see him.
+
+He had come to London ostensibly on business connected with his probable
+candidature in Eastroyd, and as he had to see many people, he had
+engaged a private sitting-room in the hotel. To this room he hurried
+eagerly after breakfast the following morning, and although he made
+pretensions of reading the morning newspaper, scarcely a line of news
+fixed itself on his memory. On every page he saw the glorious face of
+this woman, and as he saw, he almost forgot what he had determined as he
+left Chainley Alley.
+
+Precisely at ten o'clock she was shown into the room, and Dick almost
+gave a gasp as he saw her. She was like no woman he had ever seen
+before. If he had thought her beautiful amidst the sordid surroundings
+of the warehouse in the East End of London, she seemed ten-fold more so
+now, as slightly flushed with exercise, and arrayed in such a fashion
+that her glorious figure was set off to perfection, she appeared before
+him. She was different too. Then she was, in spite of her pleading
+tones, somewhat masterful, and assertive. Now she seemed timid and
+shrinking, as though she would throw herself on his protection.
+
+"Are you sure you are safe in coming here?" he asked awkwardly. "You
+remember what you told me?"
+
+"You care then?" she flashed back. Then she added quickly, "Yes, I do
+not think anyone here will recognise me. Besides, I had to take the
+risk."
+
+"Why?" he questioned.
+
+"Because your telegram frightened me."
+
+"Frightened you? How?"
+
+"Because--oh, you will not fail me, will you? I have been building on
+you--and you said you were leaving London. Surely that does not mean
+that all my hopes are dashed to the ground? Tell me they are not."
+
+Her great dark eyes flashed dangerously into his as she spoke, while her
+presence almost intoxicated him. But he mastered himself. What he had
+heard the previous night came surging back to his memory.
+
+"If your hopes in any way depend on me, I am afraid you had better
+forget them," he said.
+
+"No, no, I can never forget them. Did you not inspire them? When I saw
+you did I not feel that you were the leader we needed? Ah no, you cannot
+fail me."
+
+"I cannot do what you ask."
+
+"But why? Only the night before last you were convinced. You saw the
+vision, and you had made up your mind to be faithful to it. And oh, you
+could become so great, so glorious!"
+
+He felt the woman's magnetic power over him; but he shook his head
+stubbornly.
+
+"But why?" she pleaded.
+
+"Because I have learned what your proposal really means," he replied,
+steeling himself against her. "I was carried away by your pleading, but
+I have since seen that by doing what you ask I should be playing into
+the hands of the enemies of my country, the enemies of everything worth
+living for."
+
+"You mean the Germans; but I hate Germany. I want to destroy all
+militarism, all force. I want the world to live in peace, in prosperity,
+and love."
+
+"I cannot argue with you," replied Dick; "but my determination is fixed.
+I have learnt that Mr. John Brown is a German, and that he wants to do
+in England what has been done in Russia, so that Germany may rule the
+world."
+
+"Mr. John Brown a German!" she cried like one horror-stricken. "You
+cannot mean that?"
+
+"Did you not know it?"
+
+"I? Oh no, no, no! you cannot mean it! It would be terrible!"
+
+She spoke with such passion that he could not doubt her, but he still
+persisted in his refusal.
+
+"I have seen that what you dream of doing would turn Europe, the world,
+into a hell. If I were to try to persuade the people of this country to
+follow in the lines of Russia, I should be acting the part of a criminal
+madman. Not that I could have a tithe of the influence you suggested,
+but even to use what influence I have towards such a purpose would be to
+sell my soul, and to curse thousands of people."
+
+She protested against his statement, declaring that her purposes were
+only beneficent. She was shocked at the idea that Mr. John Brown was a
+German, but if it were true, then it only showed how evil men would
+pervert the noblest things to the basest uses. She pleaded for poor
+humanity; she begged him to reconsider his position, and to remember
+what he could do for the betterment of the life of the world. But
+although she fascinated him by the magic of her words, and the witchery
+of her presence, Dick was obdurate. What she advocated he declared meant
+the destruction of law and order, and the destruction of law and order
+meant the end of everything sacred and holy.
+
+Then she changed her ground. She was no longer a reformer, pleading for
+the good of humanity, but a weak woman seeking his strength and
+guidance, yet glorious in her matchless beauty.
+
+"If I am wrong," she pleaded, "stay with me, and teach me. I am lonely
+too, so lonely in this strange land, and I do so need a friend like you,
+strong, and brave, and wise. And oh, I will be such an obedient pupil!
+Ah, you will not leave London, will you? Say you will not--not yet."
+
+Again she almost mastered him, but still he remained obdurate.
+
+"I must return to my work, Miss----You did not tell me your name." And
+she thought she detected weakness in his tones.
+
+"My name is Olga Petrovic," she replied. "In my own country, when I had
+a country, I was Countess Olga Petrovic, and I suppose that I have still
+large estates there; but please do not call me by your cold English term
+'Miss.' Let me be Olga to you, and you will be Dick to me, won't you?"
+
+"I--I don't understand," he stammered.
+
+"But you do, surely you do. Can you look into my eyes, and say you do
+not? There, look at me. Yes, let me tell you I believe in the sacredness
+of love, the sacredness of marriage. Now you understand, don't you? You
+will stay in London, won't you, and will teach a poor, ignorant girl
+wherein she is in error."
+
+He understood her now. Understood that she was making love to him,
+asking him to marry her, but still he shook his head. "I must return to
+my work," he said.
+
+"But not yet--tell me not yet. Forgive me if I do not understand English
+ways and customs. When I love, and I never loved before, I cannot help
+declaring it. Now promise me."
+
+A knock came to the door, and a servant came bearing cards on a tray.
+
+"Mr. Hugh Edgeware," "Miss Beatrice Edgeware," he read. He held the
+cards in his hands for a second, then turned to the woman, "I must ask
+you to excuse me," he said. "I have friends who have come to see me."
+
+Olga Petrovic gave him a look which he could not understand, then
+without a word left the room, while he stood still like a man
+bewildered.
+
+"Show them up," he said to the servant.
+
+
+
+
+PART III.--THE THIRD TEMPTATION
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+THE COUNT'S CONFEDERATE
+
+
+Count Romanoff sat alone in his room. On one side the window of his room
+faced Piccadilly with its great seething tide of human traffic, from
+another St. James's Park was visible. But the Count was not looking at
+either; he was evidently deep in his own thoughts, and it would appear
+that those thoughts were not agreeable.
+
+He was not a pleasant-looking man as he sat there that day. He was
+carefully dressed, and had the appearance of a polished man of the
+world. No stranger would have passed him by without being impressed by
+his personality--a dark and sinister personality possibly, but still
+striking, and distinguished. No one doubted his claim to the title of
+Count, no one imagined him to be other than a great personage. But he
+was not pleasant to look at. His eyes burnt with a savage glare, his
+mouth, his whole expression, was cruel. It might seem as though he had
+been balked in his desire, as though some cruel disappointment had made
+him angry.
+
+More than once his hands clenched and unclenched themselves as he
+muttered angrily, savagely, while again and again a laugh of vindictive
+triumph passed his lips. And yet even in his laugh of triumph there was
+something of doubt. He was perturbed, he was furious.
+
+"But he shall be mine," he said at length, "mine! and then----"
+
+But his tone lacked certainty; his eyes burnt with anger because he had
+not been able to accomplish his designs.
+
+"It might be that he was especially watched over," he reflected, as
+though some beneficent Providence were fighting for him. "Providence!
+Providence! As though----!"
+
+He started to his feet and began to pace the room. His stride was angry,
+his whole appearance suggested defeat--a defeat which he had determined
+to transform to triumph.
+
+"Good! Evil!" he cried. "Yes, that is it. Good! Evil! And I have given
+myself over to evil, and I have sworn that evil could be made stronger
+than good! I have sworn to exemplify it, in the case of that young fool,
+Dick Faversham. I thought I should have accomplished it long ago but I
+have so far failed, failed!"
+
+He still continued to pace the room, although apparently he was
+unconscious of the fact. There was a far-off look in his eyes, a look
+that almost suggested despair.
+
+"Does it mean after all that right is stronger than wrong, that right is
+more eternally established in the world than wrong? That in the sweep of
+events the power of right is slowly but surely conquering and crushing
+the evil, that the story of what is called evolution is the story of the
+angel in man overcoming the beast?"
+
+Again he laughed, and the laugh had a cruel ring in it.
+
+"No, no; evil is triumphant. Nearly two thousand years have passed since
+the Man of Nazareth was crucified, and yet for years the devil has been
+triumphant. Europe has been deluged in blood, world hatreds have been
+created, murder has been the order of the day, and the earth has been
+soaked in blood. No, no; evil is triumphant. The Cross has been a
+failure, and Him who died on it defeated!"
+
+He paused in his angry march around the room, and again he looked
+doubtful.
+
+"No, no," he cried; "cruelty, lies, treason, have not triumphed. Germany
+is beaten; her doctrine that might was right--a doctrine born in
+hell--has been made false. After all this sword-clanging, all the
+vauntings about an invincible army, materialism, devilry, have failed.
+Germany is being humbled to the dust, and her militarism defeated and
+disgraced."
+
+The thought was evidently wormwood to him, for his features worked
+convulsively, his eyes were bloodshot. It might seem that the triumph of
+right filled him with torture.
+
+Presently he shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and lifted his hands
+above his head as though he would throw a burden from him.
+
+"But that is not my affair," he cried. "It was for me to conquer that
+man, to make him my slave. I swore to do it. I had every chance, and I
+thought that he, young, ambitious, and subject to all human passions,
+would be an easy victim. He was no dreamer, he had none of the makings
+of an ascetic, much less a saint, and yet so far he has beaten me. He
+still lives what is called the clean, healthy life. He still mocks me.
+It might be that he is specially guarded, that some angel of good were
+constantly fighting against me, constantly defeating me."
+
+The thought seemed to disconcert Romanoff. A look almost like fear swept
+over his features, and again something like despair came into his eyes.
+
+"But no, I have other weapons in my armoury yet," he reflected. "He is
+no religious fanatic, no pious prig with ideals, he is still ambitious,
+still craves for all the things that humanity longs for."
+
+A clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour of six.
+
+"He should soon be here," he reflected. "I told him not to waste a
+second."
+
+At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a second later a man
+entered who gave the appearance of having come from a distance.
+
+He was a mild, placid-looking creature whose very walk suggested that he
+was constantly making an apology for his existence. A creature not of
+highways, but of byways, a humble Uriah Heep sort of fellow who could
+act like a whipped cur in his desire to curry favour, but who in his
+hour of triumph would show his fangs, and rend his victim without mercy.
+
+"You are back to time, Slyme. Well, what news?"
+
+By this time Romanoff was the great gentleman again--haughty,
+patronising, calm, and collected.
+
+"Of course your honour has heard that he's in? I wired the moment I
+knew."
+
+"Yes, I knew that before I got your wire. A servant in the hotel here
+told me the moment it was ticked off on the tape. Of course I expected
+that. Naturally it was uncertain, as all such things are. One can
+calculate on the actions of the few; but not on those of the many. Human
+nature is a funny business."
+
+"Isn't it, your Excellency? It's a remark I've often dared to make; one
+can never tell what'll happen. But he's in; he's the Member for
+Eastroyd."
+
+"With over a thousand majority."
+
+"I've discovered that he's coming up to town by the midnight train from
+Eastroyd."
+
+"Ah!" The Count's eyes flashed with interest.
+
+"Yes, he seemed very much delighted at his victory, and is coming up I
+suppose to consult with other Members of his party."
+
+"Of course he's delighted with his victory. For heaven's sake refrain
+from remarking on the obvious. Tell me about the election."
+
+"What does your honour, that is, your lordship, want to hear about? What
+phase of the election, I mean?"
+
+"You had your instructions. Report on them."
+
+"Well, if I may say so," remarked Slyme apologetically, "although he has
+over a thousand majority, he has very much disappointed the people."
+
+"Why? In what way?"
+
+"He isn't so much of a firebrand as he was. The people complain that he
+is too mealy-mouthed."
+
+"Less of a people's man, do you mean?"
+
+"I don't say that quite. But he's more moderate. He talks like a man
+trying to see all sides of a question."
+
+The Count reflected a few seconds, and then snapped his fingers.
+
+"And his private life?" the Count questioned.
+
+"As far as I could find out, blameless."
+
+"Have the wealthier classes taken up with him at all?"
+
+"No, not actively. But they are far less bitter towards him. They are
+saying that he's an honest man. I do not say that for myself. I'm only
+quoting," added the little man.
+
+Romanoff asked many questions on this head, which the little man
+answered apologetically, as if with a desire to know his employer's
+views before making direct statements.
+
+"There are generally a lot of scandals at a political election," went on
+the Count. "I suppose that of Eastroyd was no exception?" He said this
+meaningly, as though there were an understanding between them.
+
+Little Polonius Slyme laughed in a sniggering way. "Polonius" was the
+name by which he was known among his friends, and more than once the
+Count used it when addressing him.
+
+"I made many inquiries in that direction," he replied; "I even went so
+far as to insinuate certain things," he added with a covert look towards
+the Count. "I had some success, but not much."
+
+But the Count's face was like a mask. Polonius Slyme could tell nothing
+of his thoughts.
+
+"I did not think your lordship would be offended?" he queried with a
+cunning look in his eyes.
+
+"Go on."
+
+"I had some success, but not much."
+
+"What were your insinuations about? Drink, drug-taking, debt,
+unfaithfulness to his class?--what?"
+
+"Oh, there was no possibility of doing anything on those lines,
+although, as I said, there was some disappointment on the last head. But
+that's nothing. I reflected that he was a young man, and a bachelor--a
+good-looking bachelor." He added the last words with a suggestive
+giggle.
+
+"I see. Well?"
+
+"Of course he is a great favourite with the fair sex. By dint of very
+careful but persistent investigation I discovered that two ladies are
+deeply in love with him."
+
+Romanoff waited in silence.
+
+"One is the daughter of a wealthy manufacturer, quite the belle of the
+town among the moneyed classes. I inquired about her. There is no doubt
+that she's greatly interested in him."
+
+"And he?"
+
+"He's been seen in her company."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. She would be a good match for him, that's all. There was a
+rumour that she had visited his lodgings late at night."
+
+"Which rumour you started?"
+
+"I thought it might be useful some day. As for the other woman, she's a
+mill girl. A girl who could be made very useful, I should think."
+
+"Yes, how?"
+
+"She's undoubtedly very much in love with him--after her own fashion.
+She possesses a kind of gipsy beauty, has boundless ambitions, is of a
+jealous disposition, and would stop at nothing to gain her desires."
+
+"And is Faversham friendly with her?"
+
+"Just friendly enough for one to start a scandal in case of necessity.
+And the girl, as you may say, not being overburdened with conscientious
+scruples, could be made very useful."
+
+Romanoff reflected for some time, then he turned to Slyme again.
+
+"Slyme," he said, "I don't think you need go any further in that
+direction. Faversham is scarcely the man to deal with in the way you
+suggest. Still you can keep them in mind. One never knows what may
+happen."
+
+Polonius Slyme was evidently puzzled. He looked cautiously,
+suspiciously, at the face of the other, as if trying to understand him.
+
+"I have tried to do your lordship's will," he ventured.
+
+"Yes, and on the whole I'm satisfied with what you've done. Yes, what is
+it?"
+
+"If your lordship would deign to trust me," he said.
+
+"Trust you? In what way?"
+
+"If you would tell me what is in your mind, I could serve you better,"
+he asserted, with a nervous laugh. "All the time I have been acting in
+the dark. I don't understand your lordship."
+
+The Count smiled as though he were pleased.
+
+"What do you want to know?" he asked.
+
+"I am very bold, I know, and doubtless I am not worthy to have the
+confidence of one so great and so wise as your lordship. But I have
+tried to be worthy, I have worked night and day for you--not for the
+wages, liberal though they are, but solely for the purpose of being
+useful to you. And I could, I am sure, be more useful if I knew your
+mind, if I knew exactly what you wanted. I am sure of this: if I knew
+your purposes in relation to Faversham, if I knew what you wanted to do
+with him, I could serve you better."
+
+The Count looked at Slyme steadily for some seconds.
+
+"I allow no man to understand my mind, my purposes," the Count answered.
+
+"Certainly, your lordship," assented the little man meekly; "only your
+lordship doubtless sees that--that I am handicapped. I don't think I'm a
+fool," he added; "I am as faithful as a dog, and as secret as the
+grave."
+
+"You want to know more than that," replied Romanoff harshly.
+
+Polonius Slyme was silent.
+
+"You want to know who I am," continued the Count. "You have been puzzled
+because I, who am known as a Russian, should interest myself in this man
+Faversham, and up to now you, in spite of the fact that you've hunted
+like a ferret, have found out nothing. More than that, you cannot think
+why I fastened on you to help me, and, cunning little vermin that you
+are, you stopped at nothing to discover it."
+
+"But only in your interest," assented the little man eagerly; "only
+because I wanted to deserve the honour you have bestowed upon me."
+
+"I am disposed to be communicative," went on the Count; "disposed to
+make something of a confidante of you. Of my secret mind, you, nor no
+man, shall know anything, but I will let you know something."
+
+Polonius Slyme drew nearer his master and listened like a fox. "Yes,
+your lordship," he whispered.
+
+"Look here, Polonius, you have just told me that you are a man of
+brains: suppose that you wanted to get a strong man in your power, to
+make him your slave, body and soul, what would you do? Suppose also that
+you had great, but still limited power, that your knowledge was wide,
+but with marked boundaries, how would you set to work?"
+
+"Every man has his weaknesses," replied Polonius. "I should discover
+them, fasten upon them, and make my plans accordingly."
+
+"Yes, that's right. Now we'll suppose that Faversham is the man, what
+would you regard as his weaknesses?"
+
+"Pride, ambition, a love, almost amounting to a passion, for power,"
+answered the little man quickly. "That would mean a longing for wealth,
+a craving for fame."
+
+"And conscience?" queried the Count.
+
+"He has a conscience," replied the little man; "a conscience which may
+be called healthily normal."
+
+"Just so. Now I'll tell you something. I've placed wealth in his way,
+and he has rejected it for conscience sake. I've tempted him with power
+and fame, almost unlimited power and fame, and although he's seen the
+bait, he has not risen to it."
+
+Polonius was silent for some time. Evidently he was thinking deeply;
+evidently, too, he saw something of what lay behind the Count's words,
+for he nodded his head sagely, and into his cunning eyes came a look of
+understanding.
+
+"Of course you do not care to tell me why you want to make him your
+slave, body and soul?" he whispered.
+
+"No!" the Count almost snarled. "No man may know that."
+
+"You ask what I would do next?"
+
+"Yes, I ask that."
+
+"No man is invulnerable," said the little man, as though he were talking
+to himself. "No man ever was, no man ever will be. Every man has his
+price, and if one can pay it----"
+
+"There is no question of price," said the Count eagerly; "nothing need
+stand in the way, any price can be paid."
+
+"I see, I see," and the little man's foxy eyes flashed. "You want to
+work the man's moral downfall," he added. "You want to make him a slave
+to your will--_not_ to make him a saint?"
+
+The Count was silent.
+
+"If I wanted to make such a man a slave to my will, and I had such means
+as you suggest, I should find a woman to help me. A woman beautiful,
+fascinating, unscrupulous. I would instruct her to be an angel of light.
+I would make her be the medium whereby he could obtain all that such as
+he desires, and I would make him believe that in getting her he would
+find the greatest and best gift in life, a gift whereby all that was
+highest and best in this life, and in the life to come, could be got. At
+the same time she must be a _woman_, a woman that should appeal to his
+desires, and make his pulses throb at the thought of possessing her."
+
+For some time they spoke eagerly together, the Count raising point after
+point, which the little man was not slow to answer.
+
+"Polonius, did I not know otherwise, I should say you were the devil,"
+laughed Romanoff.
+
+"I know you are," replied the little man in great glee.
+
+"What do you mean?" and there was a kind of fear in the Russian's voice.
+
+"Only that your cleverness is beyond that of ordinary mankind. You have
+thought of all this long before you asked me."
+
+"Have I? Perhaps I have; but I wanted your opinion."
+
+"The difficulty is to find the woman."
+
+"In two minutes she will be here. Go into the next room and watch, and
+listen. After she has gone, you shall tell me what you think of her."
+
+A minute later the door opened, and Olga Petrovic entered the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+IN QUEST OF A SOUL
+
+
+"Good evening, Countess. Thank you for coming so promptly. Be seated,
+won't you?"
+
+Olga Petrovic looked at the Count eagerly, and accepted the chair he
+indicated. She looked older than when she left Dick Faversham after the
+interview I have described, and there were indications on her face that
+she had suffered anxious thoughts, and perhaps keen disappointment. But
+she was a strikingly beautiful woman still. Tall, magnificently
+proportioned; and almost regal in her carriage. She was fast approaching
+thirty, but to a casual observer she appeared only two- or
+three-and-twenty. She had the air of a grand lady, too, proud and
+haughty, but a woman still. A woman in a million, somewhat captivating,
+seductive; a woman to turn the head of any ordinary man, and make him
+her slave. One felt instinctively that she could play on a man's heart
+and senses as a skilful musician plays on an instrument.
+
+But not a good woman. She had a world of experience in her eyes. She
+suggested mystery, mystery which would appear to the unwary as Romance.
+Because of this she could impress youth and inexperience by her
+loveliness, she could appear as an angel of light.
+
+She was magnificently dressed, too. Every detail of her glorious figure
+was set off to the full by her _costumier_, and her attire spoke of
+wealth, even while this fact was not ostentatious or even intended. In
+short, her _costumier_ was an artist who knew her business.
+
+Evidently, if ever she had been in danger by appearing in public, that
+danger was over. There was no suggestion of fear or apprehension in her
+demeanour.
+
+"Why do you wish to see me?" she asked abruptly.
+
+"I am quite aware," said Romanoff, without taking any apparent notice of
+her question, "that I took a liberty in asking you to come here. I
+should have asked you when it would have been convenient for you to
+graciously receive me at your flat. For this I must crave your pardon."
+
+There was something mocking in his voice, a subtle insinuation of power
+which the woman was not slow to see.
+
+"You asked me to come here because you wanted me, and because you knew I
+should come," she replied. "You knew, too, that I could not afford to
+disobey you."
+
+"We will let that drop," replied the Count suavely. "I count myself
+honoured by your visit. How could it be otherwise?" and he cast an
+admiring glance towards her.
+
+The woman watched him closely. It seemed as though, in spite of their
+acquaintance, she did not understand him.
+
+"You see," went on Romanoff, "our Bolshevism is a thing of the past. The
+proletariat of England will have none of it. A few malcontents may have
+a hankering after it; but as a class the people of England see through
+it. They see what it has done for Russia, and they know that under a
+Bolshevist regime all liberty, all safety, all prosperity would be gone
+for ever."
+
+The woman nodded.
+
+"Besides," went on the Count, "you are in a far more becoming position
+as the Countess Petrovic, with estates in Russia and elsewhere, than as
+Olga, the high priestess of a wild and irresponsible set of fanatics."
+
+"You have changed your views about those same fanatics," responded the
+woman rather sullenly.
+
+"Have I? Who knows?" was the Count's smiling and enigmatical reply. "But
+I did think they might have served my purpose."
+
+"What purpose?"
+
+"Dear lady, even to you I cannot disclose that. Besides, what does it
+matter?"
+
+"Because I would like to know. Because--because----" There she broke off
+suddenly.
+
+"Because through it the man Faversham crossed your path, eh?" and the
+smile did not leave his face.
+
+"You knew that Bolshevism would fail in England," cried the woman. "You
+knew that the whole genius of the race was against it. Why then did you
+try to drag--Faversham into it? Why did you tell me to dazzle him with
+its possibilities, to get him involved in it to such a degree that he
+would be compromised?"
+
+"Ah, why?"
+
+"But he would have none of it," retorted the woman. "He saw through it
+all, saw that it was an impossible dream, because in reality it was, and
+is, a wild delusion and a nightmare."
+
+"Perhaps that was your fault," replied Romanoff. "Perhaps your powers of
+fascination were not as great as I thought. Anyhow----"
+
+"Have you seen him lately?" she interrupted. "You know where he is? What
+he is doing?"
+
+Her voice vibrated with eagerness; she looked towards Romanoff with a
+flash of pleading in her great lustrous eyes.
+
+"Don't you read the newspapers?"
+
+"Not the English. Why should I? What is there in them for me? Of course
+I get the Polish and the Russian news."
+
+"If you read the English newspapers you would have no need to ask where
+he is," replied Romanoff.
+
+"Why, has he become famous?"
+
+As if in answer to her question there was a knock at the door, and a
+servant entered bringing three London evening papers.
+
+"There," said the Count, pointing to some bold headlines--"there is the
+answer to your question."
+
+"Great Labour Victory in Eastroyd," she read. "Triumphant Return of Mr.
+Richard Faversham."
+
+Her eyes were riveted on the paper, and almost unheeding the Count's
+presence she read an article devoted to the election. Especially was her
+attention drawn to the Career of the Successful Candidate.
+
+"Although Mr. Faversham, because of his deep sympathy with the aims of
+the working classes, has been returned to Parliament by them," she read,
+"he is not a typical Labour Member. As the son of a scholar, and the
+product of one of our best public schools, he has naturally been
+associated with a class different from that which has just given him its
+confidence. Years ago he was regarded as the heir of one of our great
+commercial magnates, and for some time was in possession of a great
+country house. His association with the middle classes, however, has not
+lessened his passionate interest in the welfare of the poor, and
+although he has of late become less advanced in his views, there can be
+no doubt that he will be a strong tower to the party with which he has
+identified himself."
+
+"He will be in London to-morrow," remarked Romanoff, when presently the
+woman lifted her head.
+
+"In London? To-morrow!"
+
+The Count noted the eagerness with which she spoke.
+
+"Yes," he said; "to-morrow."
+
+"And he will be a great man?"
+
+"Not necessarily so," answered Romanoff. "He will be a Labour Member at
+four hundred pounds a year. He will have to be obedient to the orders of
+his party."
+
+"He never will! He is not a man of that sort!"
+
+Her voice was almost passionate. Evidently her interest in him was deep.
+
+"Won't he? We shall see. But he will find it hard to live in London on
+four hundred pounds a year. London is not a cheap city in these days.
+You see he has all the instincts of his class."
+
+"Will he be one of the working men? Will he live as they live? Will he
+be of their order?" asked Olga.
+
+"You seem greatly interested, Countess."
+
+"Naturally. I--I----"
+
+"Yes, I remember your last interview."
+
+The woman's eyes flashed with anger. She suggested the "woman scorned."
+
+"You made love to him, didn't you, Countess? And he--he politely
+declined your advances?" Romanoff laughed as he spoke.
+
+The woman started to her feet. "Did you get me here to taunt me with
+that?" she cried. "Besides, did I not obey your bidding? Was it not at
+your command that I----"
+
+"Yes, but not against your will, Countess. You had what our French
+neighbours call the _grand passion_ for Faversham, eh?"
+
+"Why do you taunt me with that?"
+
+"Because the game is not played out. I do not break my promise, and I
+promised you that he should be yours--yours. Well, the time has come
+when my promise may be fulfilled."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Countess, are you still in love with Faversham?"
+
+"I don't know. Sometimes I think I hate him. Tell me, why have you
+brought me here to-day?"
+
+"To give you your opportunity. To tell you how, if you still love
+Faversham, you can win him; and how, if you hate him, you can have your
+revenge. Surely, Olga Petrovic, you are not the kind of woman who sits
+down meekly to a snub. To offer your love to a man, and then accept a
+cold rebuff. I thought I knew you better."
+
+Deeply as his words wounded her, she did not forget her caution.
+
+"What interest have you in him?" she asked. "I have never been able to
+understand you."
+
+"No, I am not easily understood, and I do not make my motives public
+property. But Faversham will in future live in London. He, although he
+is a Labour Member, will have but little sympathy, little in common with
+his confreres. He will be lonely; he will long for the society of women,
+especially for those who are educated, fascinating, beautiful. Olga, are
+you the woman to be beaten? Listen, he with his tastes, will need money.
+You can give it to him. He will be lonely; he will need companionship.
+You have a beautiful flat in Mayfair, and you can be as fascinating as
+an angel."
+
+She listened to every word he said, but her mind might be far away.
+
+"Why do I care for him?" she cried passionately. "What is he to me? A
+middle-class Englishman, with an Englishman's tastes and desires, an
+Englishman with the morality of his class. Just a plain, stupid,
+uninteresting bourgeois, a specimen of the self-satisfied Puritan."
+
+"You found him vastly interesting though."
+
+"Yes, but why should I? Why do I care what becomes of him? He is nothing
+to me."
+
+"He can be something to you though, Countess; you are a beautiful,
+fascinating woman. You can appeal to every man's weaknesses, no matter
+what they are. With time and opportunity no man can resist you. Say the
+word, and I will give you these opportunities."
+
+"You mean----?"
+
+"That I want him to be yours. You want him, and I owe you at least
+this."
+
+"You have some other purpose."
+
+"And if I have, what then? He will be yours, body and soul. Tell me, are
+you still in love with him?"
+
+The woman walked to the window, and looked out on the tide of human
+traffic in Piccadilly. For some time she seemed to be lost in thought,
+then she burst out passionately.
+
+"I am angry whenever I think of him. He was as cold as an icicle; I was
+like a woman pleading with a stone. Something seemed to stand between
+us--something--I don't know what."
+
+"What, you?" and there was a taunt in the Count's voice. "You, Olga
+Petrovic, said to be the most beautiful, the most dangerous woman in
+Europe, you whom no man has been able to resist, but who have fascinated
+them as serpents fascinate birds? Are you going to be beaten by this
+middle-class Englishman, this Labour Member of Parliament with L400 a
+year? Will you have him boast that Countess Olga Petrovic threw herself
+at him, and that he declined her without thanks?"
+
+"Has he boasted that?" she cried hoarsely.
+
+"What do you think?" laughed the Count. "Is he not that kind of man?"
+
+"No," the word came from her involuntarily. "Only----"
+
+"Only he is much in favour with the ladies at Eastroyd. I have just been
+told that."
+
+"I hate him!" she said, and her voice was hoarse.
+
+"I wonder?" queried the Count mockingly.
+
+"Do you know, have you found out who his visitors were that day, that
+morning when I saw him last?"
+
+"An old man and a chit of a girl."
+
+"Yes, I know that; I saw them as I left the room. The man might have
+been a poet, an artist, and the girl was an unformed, commonplace miss.
+But he did not regard them as commonplace. His eyes burnt with a new
+light as he read their cards. I saw it. I believe I should have had him
+but for that. I had conquered him; he was ready to fall at my feet; but
+when he read their names, I knew I had lost. Who were they?"
+
+"I have not discovered. They could have been only casual acquaintances.
+I have had him watched ever since he left London that day, and he has
+never seen them since. Of course he may be in love with her. It may be
+that he prefers an English wayside flower to such a tropical plant as
+yourself. That he would rather have youth and innocence than a woman
+twenty-eight years of age, who--who has had a past."
+
+"He never shall! Never!"
+
+Her eyes flashed dangerously. She had evidently decided on her course.
+
+"You may have to play a bold, daring game," insinuated the Count.
+
+"I will play any game. I'll not be beaten."
+
+"You love him still--you who never loved any man for more than a month!
+And Faversham----"
+
+"You must find out where he lives, you must let me know."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"You may leave everything to me."
+
+"Mind, Olga, you may have to appear an Angel of Light in order to win
+him. In fact I think that will have to be your plan. He has all the
+old-fashioned morality of the middle-classes."
+
+"We shall see!" cried the woman triumphantly.
+
+"I may trust you then?"
+
+"Tell me why you wish this? Suppose I--I love him really, suppose I am
+willing to become his slave? Suppose I want to settle down to--to quiet
+domestic happiness, to loving motherhood? Suppose I want to be good--and
+to pray?"
+
+The Count's eyes burnt red with anger as she spoke, while his features
+were contorted as if with pain.
+
+"Stop that," he almost snarled. "I know you, Olga Petrovic, I know too
+much about you. Besides, the Bolshevists have taken your estates,
+and--but why argue? You love luxury, don't you? Love beautiful dresses,
+love your life of ease, love what money can buy, money that you can't
+get without me?"
+
+"You must tell me all I need to know," she answered with sullen
+submissiveness.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then I will go."
+
+"And you will not fail?"
+
+"No, I will not fail."
+
+She left the room without another word, while Romanoff returned to his
+chair, and sat for some time immovable. His face was like a mask. His
+deep impenetrable eyes were fixed on vacancy.
+
+"Yes, Polonius, you can come in. I can see that you are almost tired of
+watching me. But my face tells you nothing, my little man."
+
+Polonius Slyme slinked into the room like a whipped cur.
+
+"Look here, little man," went on the Count, "I pay you to watch others,
+not me. The moment you begin to spy on me, that moment you cease to be
+my servant. Do you understand?"
+
+"But, indeed, your lordship----"
+
+"Do not try to deny. I know everything. I forgive you for this once; but
+never again. Obey me blindly, unquestioningly, and all will be well with
+you, but try to spy upon me, to discover anything about me, and the lost
+souls in hell may pity you. Ah, I see yow understand."
+
+"Forgive me, my lord. I will obey you like a slave."
+
+"What do you think of her?"
+
+"She is magnificent, glorious! She can turn any man's brain. She is a
+Circe, a Sybil, a Venus--no man with blood in his veins can resist her!"
+
+"That is your opinion, eh?"
+
+"I never saw such a creature before. And--and she has no conscience!"
+
+The Count laughed. "Now, Slyme, I have some more work for you."
+
+"To watch her!" he cried eagerly, rubbing his hands.
+
+"No, not yet. That may be necessary some time, but not now. I have other
+work for you."
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"To-morrow morning you will go to Surrey. I will give you all
+particulars about the trains and the stations presently. You will go to
+a place known as Wendover Park. Near one of the lodge gates of this
+house is a pretty cottage. It was occupied, and probably still is, by a
+man called Hugh Stanmore and his granddaughter. You must find out
+whether he is still there, and learn all you can about them. Report all
+to me. You understand?"
+
+"Perfectly, your Highness," replied Polonius, whose terminology in
+relation to the Count was uncertain.
+
+"You will report to me."
+
+"Yes, certainly, my lord, everything."
+
+"Very well, now go."
+
+The night came on, and the room grew dark, but Count Romanoff did not
+switch on the light. He sat alone in the dark thinking, thinking.
+
+"I have him now," he muttered presently. "Master, you shall have Richard
+Faversham's soul."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+VOICES IN THE NIGHT
+
+
+Dick Faversham was on his way to London. He was going there as the
+Member for Eastroyd, and he was somewhat excited. He was excited for
+several reasons. Naturally he was elated at being a Member of
+Parliament, and he looked forward with pleasant anticipation to his
+political life in the Metropolis, and to his experiences in the House of
+Commons. But that was not all. This was his first visit to London since
+he had experienced those strange happenings which we described some time
+ago. As the train rushed on through the night he became oblivious to the
+presence of his fellow-passengers in the recollection of the events
+which were a mystery to him then, even as they were a mystery now.
+
+Especially did his mind revert to that wonderful experience in Staple
+Inn. He had heard a voice although he saw nothing, and that voice had
+meant a great deal to him. More than once he had wondered if he had done
+right in being silent about what had taken place afterwards. Ought he
+not to have gone to the police and told them what he had heard? But he
+had not been able to make up his mind to do this. Somehow everything had
+been associated with what had come to him in Staple Inn, and of that he
+could not speak. It would be sacrilege to do so. Besides, it might not
+have been necessary. From the fact that the traitors had left the house
+so suddenly, he concluded that the police were cognizant of their
+existence.
+
+But his eyes had been opened. That was why, when Olga Petrovic visited
+him, he was unresponsive. And yet he was not sure.
+
+Should he ever see this beautiful woman again, he wondered?
+
+He was afraid of her even while he longed to see her. Even then he
+recalled the tones of her voice, and the look in her eyes as she had
+pleaded with him. He had felt himself yielding to her pleading, all the
+barriers of his being seemed to be breaking down before the power of her
+glorious womanhood.
+
+Then there was the coming of Hugh Stanmore and his granddaughter. They
+were the last persons he had expected to see, and yet the sight of their
+names seemed to break the spell which Olga Petrovic had cast over him.
+
+There seemed no reason why they should come, and their interview,
+considering the circumstances under which he had seen them last was of a
+very prosy nature. Hugh Stanmore had happened to meet with a man who was
+a Government official, and who had told him of one Richard Faversham who
+was one of a deputation to his department, and who had pleaded
+passionately for certain things which the working-classes desired. This
+led to his learning the name of his hotel, and to the visit which had
+followed.
+
+Hugh Stanmore had scarcely referred to his life at Wendover, and seemed
+to be in ignorance of Tony Riggleton's whereabouts. Dick wondered at
+this after the interview, and reproached himself with not asking many
+questions. At the time, however, he seemed to be indifferent.
+
+To Beatrice he spoke only a few words. She appeared to be shy and
+diffident. If the truth must be told, she seemed ill at ease, and not at
+all pleased that her grandfather had brought her there. She was far less
+a child than when he had seen her at Wendover, and he had reflected that
+she was neither so interesting nor so good-looking as she had been two
+or three years before. Still, he was glad to see her, and he remembered
+the pleasant smile she had given him when she had left the room. His
+conversation with Hugh Stanmore had been almost entirely about his life
+at Eastroyd, and the conditions which obtained there.
+
+He realised, too, that a subtle change had come over his opinions on
+his return to Eastroyd. Not that he had less interest in the class whose
+cause he had espoused; but he knew that he had been led to take larger
+views.
+
+That was why some discontent had been felt among his most ardent
+supporters. Even those who had worked hardest for him during the
+election felt it incumbent upon them to raise a note of warning as they
+accompanied him to the station that night.
+
+"It's all very well, Dick, lad," said one advanced Socialist, "but we
+mun make a bold front. I don't hold with Bolshevism, or owt of that
+sort; but the Capitalist is the enemy of the working man, and we mun put
+those money-bags in their right place."
+
+It was a cold, dark, wintry morning when he arrived in London. The
+station and the streets were almost empty, the vehicles were few, and he
+felt cold and lonely. He had made no arrangements for his stay in the
+Metropolis, but he felt sure that the manager of the hotel where he had
+previously made his home would find him temporary accommodation. As it
+was impossible to get a taxi, he left his luggage at the station, and
+determined to walk. He knew the way well, and as the distance was only
+about a mile, he started with comparative cheerfulness.
+
+As I have said, the streets were well-nigh deserted, and not a single
+soul passed him as he made his way up Euston Road. Nevertheless he had
+the feeling that he was being followed. More than once he looked around,
+but could see no one. Several times, too, he felt sure he heard
+following footsteps, but when he stopped there was silence.
+
+When he turned at St. Pancras Church he looked up and down the street,
+but nothing suspicious met his gaze. A milkman's cart, a drayman's
+waggon, and that was all. The street lamps threw a sickly light on the
+cold wet road, and the houses were dark. London looked asleep.
+
+For some time after he had passed St. Pancras Church he heard nothing;
+but, as he neared Woburn Square, he again heard footsteps. It seemed to
+him, too, that he was surrounded by dark influences. Something sinister
+and evil seemed to be surrounding him. He was not afraid, and his
+nerves were steady, but his brain was filled with strange fancies.
+
+Almost unconsciously his mind reverted to Count Romanoff. He had seen
+him only once since he had left Wendover Park, and the man was still an
+enigma to him. He had a thousand times reflected on the strange
+happening in the library there, but although he felt he had been saved
+from something terrible, he had not definitely associated the Count with
+anything supernatural. For Dick was not cast in a superstitious mould.
+
+The footsteps drew nearer, and again he looked around. Was it a fact, or
+was it fancy that he saw a dark form which hurriedly passed from his
+sight?
+
+He was aware a few seconds later that he was walking more rapidly, and
+that something like fear was in his heart.
+
+"Listen."
+
+He heard the word plainly, and stopped. All was silent here. He saw that
+he was in one of the several squares which exist in the neighbourhood,
+but he was not sure which. He did not think it was Woburn Square, but it
+might be Taviton Square. He was not intimately acquainted with that part
+of London.
+
+"Yes, what is it? Who are you?"
+
+He spoke aloud, spoke almost unconsciously, but there were no answering
+words. He was the only person there. He moved to a lamp and looked at
+his watch; he had a vague idea that he wanted to know the time. The
+watch pointed to half-past one. Evidently he had forgotten to wind it,
+for he knew his train was due to arrive something after three, and that
+it was late.
+
+He was about to start again when he thought he heard the words:
+
+"Go to Wendover."
+
+But there was nothing distinct. No voice reached him, and no one was in
+sight. At that moment the wind wailed across the open space, and moaned
+as it passed through the leafless branches of the trees. The wind seemed
+to formulate the same words.
+
+"Go to Wendover."
+
+"Of course it's all fancy," he reflected. "I expect my nerves are
+playing me tricks. I never knew I had any nerves; but I've been through
+an exciting time. I've been making speeches, meeting committees, and
+replying to deputations for the last fortnight, and I expect I'm about
+done up. After all, fighting an election is no make-believe."
+
+A shiver passed through him. To say the least of it, even although it
+might be pure fancy, there was something uncanny about it all, and he
+could not help reflecting on his past experience.
+
+He did not move, but stood like one spellbound, listening to the wind as
+it soughed its way through the shrubs and trees which grew in the centre
+of the Square.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked again. "What do you want?"
+
+He was sure there was a voice this time. It rose above the wailing wind,
+but he could see no one.
+
+"You are in danger--great danger!"
+
+"What danger? Who are you?"
+
+"'Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.'"
+
+He recognised the words. They were spoken by One Whose Name he always
+held in reverence, spoken to His disciples in a far back age, before the
+knowledge of science and critical investigation had emerged from its
+swaddling clothes. But they were spoken in a woman's voice, spoken in
+almost wailing accents.
+
+His whole being was filled with a great awe. The voice, the words coming
+to him, at such a time and in such a way, filled him with a great
+wonder, solemnised him to the centre of his being.
+
+"If it were not a woman's voice, I might think it was He Himself who
+spoke," he said in a hoarse whisper.
+
+Then he thought of the footsteps, thought of the ominous, sinister
+influences which had surrounded him a few minutes before.
+
+"Lord, Lord Jesus Christ, help me!"
+
+He said the words involuntarily. They had passed his lips before he knew
+he had spoken.
+
+Was there any answer to his prayer? He only knew that he did not feel
+any fear, that a great peace came into his heart. He felt as he had
+never felt before, that God was a great reality. Perhaps that was why he
+was no longer lonely. There in the heart of the greatest city of the
+world, there in the darkness of a winter night, he was filled with a
+kind of consciousness that God was, that God cared, that he was not an
+orphan for whom no one cared, but a child of the Universal Father.
+
+He looked up and saw the clouds swept across the sky. Here and there was
+a break through which a star shone. Eyes of heaven, they seemed to him.
+Yes, the spirit world was very near to him. Perhaps, perhaps--who
+knew?--there were messengers of the Unseen all around him.
+
+    "Earth is crammed with heaven,
+    And every common bush afire with God."
+
+Where had he heard those words? Ah yes, was it not Elizabeth Barrett
+Browning who wrote them, wrote them while in Italy, where she sojourned
+with her husband, the greatest poet of his time?
+
+Again he looked around him, but nothing could be seen by his natural
+eyes. The houses, the trees, the gardens all lay wrapped in the gloom of
+the cold and darkness of that wintry morning, there in the heart of
+London. All the same it seemed that something had been born within him,
+something which he could not define, and again he seemed to hear, as he
+had heard years before, the glorious words which turned to naught the
+ribald and trifling scepticism of men:
+
+"The Eternal God is thy Refuge, and underneath are the Everlasting
+Arms."
+
+The sublimity of the message appealed to him. Surely no greater words
+were ever spoken. They peopled the dark wintry heavens with angels, they
+made everything possible.
+
+"Lord, tell me what to do."
+
+The prayer came naturally to his lips. It seemed to him that there was
+nothing else for him to say. But there were no answering words. All was
+silent, save for the soughing of the wind across the square. And yet I
+am wrong. He did hear words; they might be born of his own
+consciousness, and have no objective reality whatever, but again the
+wind seemed to speak to him.
+
+"Go to Wendover."
+
+Why should he go to Wendover? He had no right to be there, and from the
+rumours that he had heard, Tony Riggleton had turned the old house into
+a scene of drunken and sensual orgies. But in answer to his question the
+wailing wind seemed to reiterate, as if in a kind of dreary monotony,
+the same words, "Go to Wendover, go to Wendover."
+
+Then suddenly everything became mundane.
+
+"Good-night, or good morning rather."
+
+It was a policeman who spoke, and who looked rather suspiciously at the
+lonely looking young man.
+
+"Good morning," replied Dick; "it's not long to daylight is it?"
+
+"Another hour or two yet. Lost your way?"
+
+"I've come from King's Cross. I travelled by the midnight train, and
+there were no conveyances to be got."
+
+"Ah, petrol's a bit scarce yet; but I hear we shall have more soon.
+Anywhere you want to get?"
+
+"Yes, I'm going to Jones' Hotel."
+
+"That's close to the British Museum; and only a few minutes away. I
+suppose your room's booked all right. The hotels are very crowded in
+London just now."
+
+"That'll be all right. Good morning, and thank you!"
+
+"That's all right, sir. Go to the end of the square, turn to the right,
+then take the second street to the left and you are there."
+
+A few minutes later Dick was at the hotel. The night porter knew him
+well, and showed him into the smoke-room, where there was a good fire,
+and comfortable arm-chairs.
+
+"You'll be all right here till breakfast, sir, won't you? After that you
+can see the manager."
+
+Five minutes later Dick was asleep.
+
+A few hours later he met some of his political confreres, two of whom
+begged him to lodge with them.
+
+It was not much of a place they assured him, but the best their money
+would run to. "Four hundred a year's very little in London, and that
+you'll find out before long," one of them assured him.
+
+"Every penny has to be looked after, and by living two or three together
+we can do things cheaper."
+
+After seeing their lodgings, however, Dick determined to look around for
+himself. He did not relish the idea of sharing apartments with others.
+He wanted privacy, and he felt, although, like himself, these men were
+"Labour Members," that he had little in common with them.
+
+"I thought of trying to get a small, cheap flat," he said.
+
+"Not to be thought of with our pay," was the laughing response. "Of
+course you being a bachelor may have saved up a bit, or it may be that
+you think you'll be able to make a few pounds by journalism."
+
+"Some do it, don't they?" he asked.
+
+"They all want to do it, that's why there's so little chance. But I hear
+you are a bit of a swell, been to a public school and all that kind of
+thing, so you may have friends at court. Done anything that way?"
+
+Dick shook his head. "Never," he replied; "but no one knows what he can
+do till he tries."
+
+After considerable difficulty Dick happened upon a service flat which,
+although it cost more than he had calculated upon, was so convenient,
+and appealed to him so strongly, that he took it there and then.
+
+Indeed he felt a pleasant sense of proprietorship, as he sat alone in
+his new home that night. The room was very small, but it was cosy. A
+cheerful fire burnt in the grate, and the reading-lamp threw a grateful
+light upon the paper he held in his hand.
+
+"I must get a writing-desk and some book-cases, and I shall be as right
+as rain," he reflected. "This is princely as a sitting-room, and
+although the bedroom is only a box, it's quite big enough for me."
+
+He closed his eyes with lazy contentment, and then began to dream of his
+future. Yes, ambition was still strong within him, and the longing to
+make a material, yes, an international, reputation was never so
+insistent as now. He wondered if he could do it, wondered whether being
+a Labour Member would ever lead to anything.
+
+"A voting machine at four hundred a year."
+
+He started up as though something had strung him. He remembered who had
+said those words to him, remembered how they had wounded him at the time
+they were spoken. Was that all he was after his hopes and dreams? He had
+been a big man at Eastroyd. People had stopped in the streets to point
+him out; but in London he was nobody.
+
+"A voting machine at four hundred a year!"
+
+Yes, but he would be more. He had proved that he had brains, and that he
+could appeal to the multitude. He had his feet on the ladder now,
+and----
+
+His mind suddenly switched off. He was no longer in his newly acquired
+flat, he was walking from King's Cross to Jones' Hotel, he was passing
+through a lonely square.
+
+"Go to Wendover."
+
+How the words haunted him. Every time the wind blew he had heard them,
+and----
+
+He started to his feet. "Well, why not? I have nothing to do to-morrow,
+and I can get there in a couple of hours."
+
+The next morning he eagerly made his way to Victoria Station.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+DICK HEARS STRANGE NEWS
+
+
+"Good mornin', sir."
+
+The porter touched his cap and looked at Dick curiously.
+
+"Good morning, Wheelright. You are here still?"
+
+"Yes, sir. They took the other chap, and left no one in his place, so to
+speak. So me and the stationmaster have had to do everything. I was sort
+of superannuated, so to speak, when you was 'ere, so I had to take on my
+old job when Ritter went. However, I'd 'ear that he'll soon be back."
+
+"Yes, the boys are coming home now."
+
+"And a good job, too. Not but what me and the stationmaster have carried
+on, so to speak, and I'm as good a man as ever I was."
+
+Dick remembered old Wheelright well. He did odd jobs at the station
+during his short stay at Wendover Park, and was known among the people
+in the neighbourhood as "Old So-to-speak." He was also noted as an
+inveterate gossip.
+
+"Comin' down to live 'ere again, so to speak?" he queried, looking at
+Dick curiously.
+
+"No," replied Dick. "Just paying a short visit. I shall be returning by
+the 4.20 at the latest."
+
+Wheelright shuffled on at Dick's side. He was much tempted to ask him
+further questions, but seemed afraid.
+
+"You don't know where--where Squire Riggleton is, I suppose, sir?
+
+"Why do you ask that?"
+
+"I was wondering, that's all. There's been a good deal of talk about
+him, so to speak. Some say he was took for the army just the same as if
+he hadn't sixpence. I have heard he was took prisoner by the Germans,
+too. But some people _will_ talk. Have you heard 'bout his being killed,
+sir?"
+
+"No, I never heard that."
+
+"Ah." He looked at Dick questioningly, and then ventured further. "He
+didn't do hisself much credit as a squire," he added.
+
+"Indeed."
+
+"No, there was nice carryings on, so I've heard. But then some people
+will talk. However, there's no doubt that Mrs. Lawson, who had her two
+daughters as servants there in your day, took them both away. It was no
+place for respectable Christians to live, she said."
+
+Dick made no reply. He had just come by train, and was the only
+passenger who alighted. Old Wheelright immediately recognised him. He
+did not feel altogether at ease in listening to him while he discussed
+his cousin, but was so interested that he let him go on talking. The
+truth was that Dick did not know why he was there, except that he had
+obeyed the command he had heard when walking from King's Cross. As he
+stood there that day he was not sure whether he had heard a voice or
+whether it was only an impression. But the words haunted him, and he
+felt he could do no other than obey. Now he was here, however, he did
+not know where to go, or what to do. He felt sensitive about going to
+the house which he had thought was his, and asking for admission. The
+action would call up too many painful memories. And yet he did not like
+going back without once again seeing the home that had meant so much to
+him.
+
+"You know that people have talked a lot about _you_, sir?"
+
+"I dare say."
+
+"And everybody was sorry when you left. It was all so funny. Young
+Riggleton he came to the Hare and Hounds, and told the landlord all
+about it."
+
+"Indeed."
+
+"Yes. I did hear that the London lawyers called him over the coals for
+talking so much, so to speak. But some people will talk. However, as I'd
+say, 'twasn't the lawyer's business. If Riggleton liked to talk, that's
+his business. Still I s'pose he had a drop of drink in him, or p'r'aps
+he mightn't a' done it. He told the landlord that he'd offered you a
+good job if you'd stay, but as the landlord said, 'How could you expect
+a gentleman like Mr. Faversham to stay as a servant where he'd been
+master?' I suppose he did make the offer, sir?"
+
+"Is the same housekeeper at Wendover?" asked Dick, not noticing
+Wheelright's questions.
+
+"Oh yes, bless you, sir, yes. I've been told she gave notice to leave
+like the other servants; but Riggleton went away instead. He said he
+couldn't stand living in a cemetery. That's what he called Wendover,
+sir. He came back a few times, but only for a day or two. From what I
+hear he hasn't showed his face there for years. All the same, it's kept
+in good repair. I suppose the London lawyer do see to that."
+
+The old man went on retailing the gossip of the neighbourhood, but
+beyond what I have recorded he said little that interested Dick. After
+all, why should he care about stories concerning Anthony Riggleton, or
+pay attention to the scandalous tales which had been afloat? He had no
+doubt but that Mr. Bidlake would have given him all information about
+his cousin, if he had called and asked him; but he had not gone.
+
+He made his way along the country lanes, scarcely seeing a single soul.
+He was angry with himself for coming, and yet he knew that he had not
+been able to help himself. He was there because he had been drawn there
+by an irresistible impulse, or because he was under the power of
+something, or someone whom he dared not disobey.
+
+The day was dark and cloudy, and the air was dank and cold. The trees
+were leafless, not a flower appeared, and the whole countryside, which
+had once appeared to him so glorious, now seemed grim and depressing.
+
+"Of course, I'm a fool," he muttered savagely, but still he trudged
+along until he came to the lodge gates. How proud he had been when he
+had first seen them! How his heart had thrilled at the thought that all
+he saw was his own, his very own! But now he had no right there. He
+might have been the veriest stranger.
+
+He had carefully avoided the entrance near which old Hugh Stanmore
+lived. He did not want the old man to know of his visit.
+
+He was altogether unnoticed by the people who lived in the lodge, and a
+few seconds later was hurrying up the drive. Yes, in spite of the
+winter, in spite of the leafless trees, the place was very beautiful.
+The noble avenue under which he was walking was very imposing, the
+rhododendron, and a dozen other kinds of shrubs relieved the wintry
+aspect. Besides, the woods were so restful, the fine park lands were the
+finest he had ever seen.
+
+And he had thought they were all his. He for a short time had been
+master of everything!
+
+Suddenly the house burst on his view, and with a cry, almost like a cry
+of pain, he stood still, and looked long and yearningly. No wonder he
+had loved it. It was all a country home should be.
+
+And it might have been his! If he had obeyed Romanoff; but no; even then
+he felt thankful that he had not yielded to the man who tempted him.
+
+For a moment he thought of turning back. It would be too painful to go
+and ask for permission to go in. But he did not turn back. As if urged
+on by some unseen power he made his way towards the entrance.
+
+He had an eerie feeling in his heart as he approached the steps. He
+called to mind his first visit there, when he had asked the lawyer if he
+saw anything. For a moment he fancied he saw the outline of a shadowy
+form as he saw it then. But there was nothing. The grey stone walls,
+half hidden by ivy, stood before him as they stood then, but that
+wondrous face, with pitiful pleading eyes, was not to be seen.
+
+He felt half disappointed at this. He could understand nothing, but he
+had a feeling that it was the form of someone who loved him, someone
+sent to protect him.
+
+At first he had fought the idea. He had told himself that he was too
+matter-of-fact, that he had too much common sense to think of an optical
+illusion as something supernatural; but as event after event took place
+he could not help being possessed by the thought that he was under the
+guardianship of something, someone who watched over him, helped him. He
+never spoke about it to anyone; it was too sacred for discussion.
+
+But there was nothing. He heard no voice, saw no form, and a feeling
+like disappointment crept into his heart. Dick Faversham was not a
+morbid fellow, and he had a feeling of dislike for anything like
+occultism. As for spiritualism, in the ordinary sense of the word, it
+made no appeal to him. But this was different. Somehow he had a kind of
+consciousness that the spirit world was all around him, and that the
+Almighty Beneficence used the inhabitants of that spirit world to help
+His children.
+
+No, there was nothing. His visit had been purposeless and vain, and he
+would find his way back to the station. Then suddenly the door opened,
+and the old housekeeper appeared.
+
+"It is, it _is_ Mr. Faversham!"
+
+But he did not speak. A weight seemed on his lips.
+
+"Come in, sir, come in."
+
+Before he realised what had taken place he stood in the entrance hall,
+and the door closed behind him.
+
+"Are you come for good?"
+
+The housekeeper's voice was tremulous with excitement, and her eyes were
+eagerly fastened on his face.
+
+Dick shook his head. "No, I'm only here for a few minutes."
+
+"But he's dead."
+
+"Who's dead?"
+
+"That man. The man Riggleton. Haven't you heard about it?"
+
+"No, I've not heard."
+
+"But there were rumours, and I thought you'd come to tell me they were
+true. Oh, I am sorry, so sorry. I should love to have you here as master
+again. It was such a joy to serve you. And that man, he nearly drove me
+mad. He brought bad people here. He filled the house with a lot of low
+men and women. And there were such goings on. I stood it as long as I
+could, and then I told him I must leave the house at once. So did
+several of the servants. He begged me to stop, he offered to double my
+wages, but I told him I must go, that I was a respectable woman, and had
+served only gentry who knew how to behave themselves. Then he said he
+would leave himself, and he persuaded me to stay on. Didn't you hear,
+sir?"
+
+"No, I did not hear. I went away to the North of England."
+
+"Oh, there were such stories. I suppose he threw away a fortune in
+London."
+
+"Is he there now?" asked Dick.
+
+"I don't know. I asked Mr. Bidlake, but he would tell me nothing. The
+last I heard was that he was forced into the army, and was killed."
+
+"How long was that ago?"
+
+"Several months now."
+
+"And you've heard nothing since?"
+
+"No, sir; nothing."
+
+"Well, I will go now."
+
+"But you'll stay for lunch? I'm not stinted in any way, and Mr. Bidlake
+sends me a liberal allowance for the expenses of the house. I can easily
+manage lunch, sir, and it would be such a joy to me."
+
+"You are very kind, and I appreciate it very much; but I really
+couldn't--after what took place. I'll go to the Hare and Hounds and have
+some bread and cheese."
+
+"Couldn't you, sir? I'm so sorry, and it's a long way to Lord
+Huntingford's."
+
+"Yes, of course, that's out of the question."
+
+"But you must have lunch somewhere, and you couldn't go to the Hare and
+Hounds."
+
+"Oh yes, I could. I dare say Blacketter would give me some bread and
+cheese. That will be all I shall need."
+
+The housekeeper began to rub her eyes. "It's just awful," she sobbed.
+"To think that you who were master here, and whom we all liked so much,
+should have to go to a place like that. But I know. Mr. Stanmore is at
+home; he'll be glad to welcome you there."
+
+"Mr. Stanmore is at home, is he?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He called here yesterday, and Miss Beatrice is at home too.
+They were both here. Mr. Stanmore brought Sir George Weston over to see
+the house."
+
+"Sir George Weston?" and Dick felt a strange sinking at his heart as he
+heard the words. "I don't seem to remember the name."
+
+"He's from the west, sir, from Devonshire, I think. It has been said
+that he came to see Miss Beatrice," and the housekeeper smiled
+significantly.
+
+"You mean----"
+
+"I don't know anything, sir; it may be only servants' gossip. He's said
+to be a very rich man, and has been serving in Egypt. Some say that he
+came to discuss something about Egypt with Mr. Stanmore; but it was
+noticed that he was very attentive to Miss Beatrice."
+
+"He's been staying at the cottage, then?"
+
+"For nearly a week, sir."
+
+"Is he there now?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. All I know is that he was here with them yesterday.
+Mr. Stanmore brought a letter from Mr. Bidlake authorising me to show
+them over the house."
+
+"Is Sir George a young man? You said he was in the army, didn't you?"
+Dick could not understand why his heart was so heavy.
+
+"About thirty, I should think, sir. Yes, I believe he had a high command
+in our Egyptian army. He's a great scholar too, and Mr. Stanmore said
+that this house was the finest specimen of an Elizabethan house that he
+knew of. A very pleasant gentleman too. It's not my business, but he'd
+be a good match for Miss Beatrice, wouldn't he? Of course Mr. Stanmore
+belongs to a very good family, but I suppose he's very poor, and Miss
+Beatrice has hardly a chance of meeting anyone. You remember her, sir,
+don't you? She was little more than a child when you were here, but
+she's a very beautiful young lady now."
+
+The housekeeper was fairly launched now, and was prepared to discuss the
+Stanmores at length, but Dick hurried away. He would have loved to have
+gone over the house, but he dared not; besides, in a way he could not
+understand, he longed to get into the open air, longed to be alone.
+
+"I hope, oh, I do hope that something'll happen," said the housekeeper
+as he left the house; but what she did not tell him.
+
+A little later Dick found himself on the drive leading to Hugh
+Stanmore's cottage. He had not intended to take this road, but when he
+realised that he was in it, he did not turn back. Rather he hurried on
+with almost feverish footsteps.
+
+Sir George Weston had been spending a week at the cottage, had he? Why?
+Was it because he was an Egyptologist, and interested in Hugh Stanmore's
+previous researches, or was he there because of Beatrice, as the
+servants' gossip said? It was nothing to him, but he had an overwhelming
+desire to know. Was Beatrice Stanmore a beautiful girl? She had not
+appealed to him in this light when her grandfather brought her to see
+him months before; but girls often blossomed into beauty suddenly.
+Still, wasn't it strange that Weston should stay at the cottage a week?
+
+Of course he would not call. He was simply taking the longer road to the
+station. Yes, he could plainly see the house through the trees, and----
+
+"Is that Mr. Faversham? Well, this is a surprise; but I _am_ glad to see
+you."
+
+It was old Hugh Stanmore who spoke, while Dick in a strangely nervous
+way took the proffered hand.
+
+"Come to look at your old house, eh? I see you've come from that
+direction."
+
+"Yes, I have been--talking with my old housekeeper," he stammered.
+
+"And you've never been here before since--you left?"
+
+Dick shook his head.
+
+"Well, well, life's a strange business, isn't it? But come in, my dear
+fellow. You're just in time for lunch."
+
+Dick began to make excuses, but the other refused to listen, and they
+entered the cottage together.
+
+"I'm afraid I couldn't presume upon your kindness so far."
+
+"Kindness! Nonsense. Of course you must. Besides, I see that you are a
+Member of Parliament, and a Labour Member too. I must talk with you
+about it. Lunch will be on the table in five minutes."
+
+"You are sure I shouldn't be bothering you?" He had an overwhelming
+desire to stay.
+
+"Bother! What bother can there be? I'm only too delighted to see you.
+Come in."
+
+They entered the cottage together.
+
+"Oh, by the way," went on Hugh Stanmore, as they entered a cosy
+sitting-room, "let me introduce you to Sir George Weston."
+
+A strikingly handsome man of about thirty rose from an arm-chair and
+held out his hand. He was in mufti; but it was impossible to mistake him
+for anything but a soldier. Head erect, shoulders squared, and a
+military bearing proclaimed him to be what he was.
+
+"Glad to see you, Mr. Faversham," said Sir George heartily "I suppose
+you've come down to see----" He stopped abruptly. He felt he had made a
+_faux pas_.
+
+"It's all right," said Dick with a laugh. He felt perfectly at ease now.
+"Yes, I came to see the old place which years ago I thought was mine.
+You've heard all about it, I've no doubt?"
+
+"Jolly hard luck," sympathised Sir George. "But anyhow you----"
+
+"Ah, here's Beatrice," broke in Hugh Stanmore. "Beatrice, my dear,
+here's an old friend dropped in to lunch with us. You remember Mr.
+Faversham, don't you?"
+
+The eyes of the two met, and then as their hands met Dick's friendly
+feeling towards Sir George Weston left him. He could not tell why.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+BEATRICE CONFESSES
+
+
+Dick Faversham saw at a glance that Beatrice Stanmore had ceased being a
+child. She was barely twenty. She was girlish in appearance, and her
+grandfather seemed to still regard her as a child. But her childhood had
+gone, and her womanhood had come. Rather tall, and with a lissom form,
+she had all a girl's movements, all a girl's sweetness, but the flash of
+her eyes, the compression of her lips, the tones of her voice, all told
+that she had left her childhood behind. But the first blush of her
+womanhood still remained. She retained her child's naturalness and
+winsomeness, even while she looked at the world through the eyes of a
+woman.
+
+Dick was struck by her beauty too. When years before she had rushed into
+the library at Wendover, almost breathless in her excitement, she had
+something of the angularity, almost awkwardness, of half-development.
+That had all gone. Every movement was graceful, natural. Perfect health,
+health of body, health of mind had stamped itself upon her. She had no
+suggestion of the cigarette-smoking, slang-talking miss who boasts of
+her freedom from old-time conventions. You could not think of Beatrice
+Stanmore sitting with men, smoking, sipping liqueurs, and laughing at
+their jokes. She retained the virginal simplicity of childlikeness. All
+the same she was a woman. But not a woman old beyond her years. Not a
+woman who makes men give up their thoughts of the sacredness of
+womanhood.
+
+No one could any more think of Beatrice Stanmore being advanced, or
+"fast," than one could think of a rosebud just opening its petals to the
+sun being "fast."
+
+She had none of the ripe beauty of Lady Blanche Huntingford, much less
+the bold splendour of Olga Petrovic. She was too much the child of
+nature for that. She was too sensitive, too maidenly in her thoughts and
+actions. And yet she was a woman, with all a woman's charm.
+
+Here lay her power. She was neither insipid nor a prude. She dared to
+think for herself, she loved beautiful dresses, she enjoyed pleasure and
+gaiety; but all without losing the essential quality of
+womanhood--purity and modesty. She reminded one of Russell Lowell's
+lines:
+
+    "A dog rose blushing to a brook
+    Ain't modester, nor sweeter."
+
+That was why no man, however blase, however cynical about women, could
+ever associate her with anything loud or vulgar. She was not neurotic;
+her healthy mind revolted against prurient suggestion either in
+conversation or in novels. She was not the kind of girl who ogled men,
+or practised unwomanly arts to attract their attention. No man, however
+bold, would dream of taking liberties with her. But she was as gay as a
+lark, her laughter was infectious, the flash of her eyes suggested all
+kinds of innocent mischief and fun. She could hold her own at golf, was
+one of the best tennis players in the district, and could ride with
+gracefulness and fearlessness.
+
+Does someone say I am describing an impossible prodigy? No, I am trying
+to describe a sweet, healthy, natural girl. I am trying to tell of her
+as she appeared to me when I saw her first, a woman such as I believe
+God intended all women to be, womanly, pure, modest.
+
+She was fair to look on too; fair with health and youth and purity. A
+girl with laughing eyes, light brown hair, inclined to curl. A sweet
+face she had, a face which glowed with health, and was unspoilt by
+cosmetics. A tender, sensitive mouth, but which told of character, of
+resolution and daring. A chin firm and determined, and yet delicate in
+outline. This was Beatrice Stanmore, who, reared among the sweet Surrey
+hills and valleys, was unsmirched by the world's traffic, and who
+recoiled from the pollution of life which she knew existed. A girl
+modern in many respects, but not too modern to love old-fashioned
+courtesies, not too modern to keep holy the Sabbath Day, and love God
+with simple faith. A religious girl, who never paraded religion, and
+whose religion never made her monkish and unlovely, but was the joy and
+inspiration of her life.
+
+"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Faversham," she said. "I've often wondered
+why you never came to Wendover."
+
+"In a way it was very hard to keep away," was Dick's reply. "On the
+other hand, I had a kind of dread of seeing it again. You see, I had
+learnt to love it."
+
+"I don't wonder. It's the dearest old house in the world. I should have
+gone mad, I think, if I'd been in your place. It was just splendid of
+you to take your reverse so bravely."
+
+"I had only one course before me, hadn't I?"
+
+"Hadn't you? I've often wondered." She gave him a quick, searching
+glance as she spoke. "Are you staying here long?"
+
+"No, only a few hours. I return to London this afternoon. I came down
+to-day just on impulse. I had no reason for coming."
+
+"Hadn't you? I'm glad you came."
+
+"So am I."
+
+There was a strange intensity in his tones, but he did not know why he
+spoke with so much feeling.
+
+"Of course Granddad and I have often talked of you," she went on. "Do
+you know when we called on you that day in London, I was disappointed in
+you. I don't know why. You had altered so much. You did not seem at all
+like you were when we saw you down here. I told Granddad so. But I'm so
+glad you are Member of Parliament for Eastroyd, and so glad you've
+called. There, the lunch is ready. Please remember, Mr. Faversham, that
+I'm housekeeper, and am responsible for lunch. If you don't like it, I
+shall be offended."
+
+She spoke with all the freedom and frankness of a child, but Dick was
+not slow to recognise the fact that the child who had come to Wendover
+when Romanoff was weaving a web of temptation around him, had become a
+woman who could no longer be treated as a child.
+
+"Are you hungry, Sir George?" she went on, turning to her other visitor.
+"Do you know, Mr. Faversham, that these two men have neglected me
+shamefully? They have been so interested in rubbings of ancient
+inscriptions, and writings on the tombs of Egyptian kings, that they've
+forgotten that I've had to cudgel my poor little brains about what they
+should eat. Housekeeping's no easy matter in these days."
+
+"That's not fair," replied Sir George. "It was Mr. Stanmore here, who
+was so interested that he forgot all about meal-times."
+
+The soldier was so earnest that he angered Dick. "Why couldn't the fool
+take what she said in the spirit of raillery?" he asked himself.
+
+"Adam over again," laughed Beatrice. "'The woman tempted me and I did
+eat.' It's always somebody else's fault. Now then, Granddad, serve the
+fish."
+
+It was a merry little party that sat down to lunch, even although Dick
+did not seem inclined for much talk. Old Hugh Stanmore was in great
+good-humour, while Beatrice had all the high spirits of a happy, healthy
+girl.
+
+"You must stay a few hours now you are here, Mr. Faversham," urged the
+old man presently. "There's not the slightest reason why you should go
+back to town by that four something train. It's true, Sir George and I
+are going over to Pitlock Rectory for a couple of hours, but we shall be
+back for tea, and you and Beatrice can get on all right while we are
+away."
+
+Sir George did not look at all delighted at the suggestion, but Beatrice
+was warm in her support of it.
+
+"You really must, Mr. Faversham," she said. "I shall be alone all the
+afternoon otherwise, for really I can't bear the idea of listening to
+Mr. Stanhope, the Rector of Pitlock, prose about mummies and fossils and
+inscriptions."
+
+"You know I offered to stay here," pleaded Sir George.
+
+"As though I would have kept you and Granddad away from your fossils,"
+she laughed. "Mr. Stanhope is a great scholar, a great Egyptologist,
+and a great antiquary, and you said it would be your only chance of
+seeing him, as you had to go to the War Office to-morrow. So you see,
+Mr. Faversham, that you'll be doing a real act of charity by staying
+with me. Besides, there's something I want to talk with you about. There
+is really."
+
+Sir George did not look at all happy as, after coffee, he took his seat
+beside old Hugh Stanmore, in the little motor-car, but Dick Faversham's
+every nerve tingled with pleasure at the thought of spending two or
+three hours alone with Beatrice. Her transparent frankness and
+naturalness charmed him, the whole atmosphere of the cottage was so
+different from that to which for years he had been accustomed.
+
+"Mr. Faversham," she said, when they had gone, "I want you to walk with
+me to the great house, will you?"
+
+"Certainly," he said, wondering all the time why she wanted to go there.
+
+"You don't mind, do you? I know it must be painful to you, but--but I
+want you to."
+
+"Of course I will. It's no longer mine--it never was mine, but it
+attracts me like a magnet."
+
+Five minutes later they were walking up the drive together. Dick was
+supremely happy, yet not knowing why he was happy. Everything he saw was
+laden with poignant memories, while the thought of returning to the
+house cut him like a knife. Yet he longed to go. For some little
+distance they walked in silence, then she burst out suddenly.
+
+"Mr. Faversham, do you believe in premonitions?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So do I. It is that I wanted to talk with you about."
+
+He did not reply, but his mind flashed back to the night when he had sat
+alone with Count Romanoff, and Beatrice Stanmore had suddenly and
+without warning rushed into the room.
+
+"Do you believe in angels?" she went on.
+
+"I--I think so."
+
+"I do. Granddad is not sure about it. That is, he isn't sure that they
+appear. Sir George is altogether sceptical. He pooh-poohs the whole
+idea. He says there was a mistake about the Angels at Mons. He says it
+was imagination, and all that sort of thing; but he isn't a bit
+convincing. But I believe."
+
+"Yes." He spoke almost unconsciously. He had never uttered a word about
+his own experiences to anyone, and he wondered if he should tell her
+what he had seen and heard.
+
+"It was a kind of premonition which made me go to see you years ago,"
+she said quietly. "Do you remember?"
+
+"I shall never forget, and I'm very glad."
+
+"Why are you very glad?"
+
+"Because--because I'm sure your coming helped me!"
+
+"How did it help you?"
+
+"It helped me to see, to feel; I--I can't quite explain."
+
+"That man--Count Romanoff--is evil," and she shuddered as she spoke.
+
+"Why do you say so?"
+
+"I felt it. I feel it now. He was your enemy. Have you seen him since?"
+
+"Only once. I was walking through Oxford Circus. I only spoke a few
+words to him; I have not seen him since."
+
+"Mr. Faversham, did anything important happen that night?"
+
+"Yes, that night--and the next."
+
+"Did that man, Count Romanoff, want you to do something which--which was
+wrong? Forgive me for asking, won't you? But I have felt ever since that
+it was so."
+
+"Yes." He said the word slowly, doubtfully. At that moment the old house
+burst upon his view, and he longed with a great longing to possess it.
+He felt hard and bitter that a man like Tony Riggleton should first have
+made it a scene of obscene debauchery and then have left it. It seemed
+like sacrilege that such a man should be associated with it. At that
+moment, too, it seemed such a little thing that Romanoff had asked him
+to do.
+
+"If I had done what he asked me, I might have been the owner of Wendover
+Park now," he added.
+
+"But how could that be, if that man Riggleton was the true heir?" she
+asked.
+
+"At that time there seemed--doubt. He made me feel that Riggleton had no
+right to be there, and if I had promised the Count something, I might
+have kept it."
+
+"And that something was wrong?"
+
+"Yes, it was wrong. Of course I am speaking to you in absolute
+confidence," he added. "When you came you made me see things as they
+really were."
+
+"I was sent," she said simply.
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"I don't know. And do you remember when I came the second time?"
+
+"Yes, I remember. I shall never forget."
+
+"I never felt like it before or since. Something seemed to compel me to
+hasten to you. I got out the car in a few seconds, and I simply flew to
+you. I have thought since that you must have been angry, that you must
+have looked upon me as a mad girl to rush in on you the way I did. But I
+could not help myself. That evil man, Romanoff, was angry with me too;
+he would have killed me if he had dared. Do you remember that we talked
+about angels afterwards?"
+
+"I remember."
+
+"They were all around us. I felt sure of it. I seemed to see them.
+Afterwards, while I was sorry for you, I felt glad you had left
+Wendover, glad that you were no longer its owner. I had a kind of
+impression that while you were losing the world, you were saving your
+soul."
+
+She spoke with all a child's simplicity, yet with a woman's earnestness.
+She asked no questions as to what Romanoff had asked him to do in order
+to keep his wealth; that did not seem to come within her scope of
+things. Her thought was that Romanoff was evil, and she felt glad that
+Dick had resisted the evil.
+
+"Do you believe in angels?" she asked again.
+
+"Sometimes," replied Dick. "Do you?"
+
+"I have no doubt about them. I know my mother often came to me."
+
+"How? I don't quite understand. You never saw her--in this world I
+mean--did you?"
+
+"No. But she has come to me. For years I saw her in dreams. More than
+once, years ago, when I woke up in the night, I saw her hovering over
+me."
+
+"That must have been fancy."
+
+"No, it was not." She spoke with calm assurance, and with no suggestion
+of morbidness or fear. "Why should I not see her?" she went on. "I am
+her child, and if she had lived she would have cared for me, fended for
+me, because she loved me. Why should what we call death keep her from
+doing that still, only in a different way?"
+
+Dick was silent a few seconds. It did not seem at all strange.
+
+"No; there seems no real reason why, always assuming that there are
+angels, and that they have the power to speak to us. But there is
+something I would like to ask you. You said just now, 'I know that my
+mother often came to me.' Has she ceased coming?"
+
+Beatrice Stanmore's eyes seemed filled with a great wonder, but she
+still spoke in the same calm assured tones.
+
+"I have not seen her for three years," she said; "not since the day
+after you left Wendover. She told me then that she was going farther
+away for a time, and would not be able to speak to me, although she
+would allow no harm to happen to me. Since that time I have never seen
+her. But I know she loves me still. It may be that I shall not see her
+again in this life, but sometime, in God's own good time, we shall
+meet."
+
+"Are you a Spiritualist?" asked Dick, and even as he spoke he felt that
+he had struck a false note.
+
+She shook her head decidedly. "No, I should hate the thought of using
+mediums and that sort of thing to talk to my mother. There may be truth
+in it, or there may not; but to me it seems tawdry, sordid. But I've no
+doubt about the angels. I think there are angels watching over you. It's
+a beautiful thought, isn't it?"
+
+"Isn't it rather morbid?" asked Dick.
+
+"Why should it be morbid? Is the thought that God is all around us
+morbid? Why then should it be morbid to think of the spirits of those He
+has called home being near to help us, to watch over us?"
+
+"No," replied Dick; "but if there are good angels why may there not be
+evil ones?"
+
+"I believe there are," replied the girl. "I am very ignorant and simple,
+but I believe there are. Did not Satan tempt our Lord in the wilderness?
+And after the temptation was over, did not angels minister to Him?"
+
+"So the New Testament says."
+
+"Do you not believe it to be true?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+SIR GEORGE'S LOVE AFFAIR
+
+
+The great house stood out boldly against the wintry sky, and Dick
+Faversham could plainly see the window of the room where, years before,
+he had taken the pen to sign the paper which would have placed him in
+Count Romanoff's power. Like lightning his mind flashed back to the
+fateful hour. He saw himself holding the pen, saw the words which
+Romanoff had written standing clearly out on the white surface, saw
+himself trying to trace the letters of his name, and then he felt the
+hand on his wrist. It was only a light touch, but he no longer had the
+power to write.
+
+Was it a moral impulse which had come to him, or was it some force which
+paralysed his senses, and made him incapable of holding the pen? It
+seemed to be both. He remembered having a loathing for the thing
+Romanoff wanted him to do. Even then he felt like shuddering at the dark
+influences which sapped his will-power, and made wrong seem like right.
+But there was more than that. Some force _outside_ himself kept him from
+writing.
+
+And he was glad. True, he was a poor man, and instead of owning the
+stately mansion before him, he would presently return to his tiny flat,
+where he would have to calculate about every sixpence he spent. But he
+was free; he was master of his soul. He was a man of some importance
+too. He was the Labour Member for Eastroyd; he had secured the
+confidence of many thousands of working people, and his voice was
+listened to with much respect by Labour leaders, and in Labour
+conferences.
+
+But he was not quite satisfied. He did not want to be the representative
+of one class only, but of all classes. He remembered that he had been
+lately spoken of as being "too mealy-mouthed," and as "having too much
+sympathy with the employers."
+
+"A voting machine at four hundred a year!"
+
+Romanoff's words still stung him, wounded him. He longed for a larger
+life, longed to speak for all classes, longed to mingle with those of
+his own upbringing and education.
+
+"What are you thinking of?"
+
+For the moment he had forgotten the girl at his side, almost forgotten
+the subject they had been discussing.
+
+"Of many things," he replied.
+
+"You were thinking of that man, Count Romanoff."
+
+"Was I? Yes, I suppose I was. How did you know?"
+
+"Telepathy," she replied. "Shall we go back?"
+
+"If you will. Did you not say you wanted to go to the house?"
+
+"I don't think I do now. I'm afraid it would be painful to you. But, Mr.
+Faversham, I'm glad I helped you; glad you do not own Wendover Park."
+
+"So am I," he replied; "the price would have been too terrible."
+
+She looked at him questioningly. She did not quite understand his words.
+
+"I wonder if you would think it an impertinence if I asked you to
+promise me something," she said.
+
+"Nothing you could ask would be an impertinence," he responded eagerly;
+"nothing."
+
+"That Count Romanoff is evil," she said, "evil; I am sure he is. I know
+nothing about him, but I am sure of what I say. Will you promise to have
+nothing to do with him? I think you will meet him again. I don't know
+why, but I have a feeling that you will. That is why I wanted to say
+this, and I wanted to say it in sight of the house which you love."
+
+"I promise," replied Dick. "It is very good of you to have so much
+interest in me."
+
+"In a way, I don't know that I have very much interest," she said
+simply; "and I'm afraid I'm acting on impulse. Granddad says that that
+is my weakness."
+
+"I don't think it is a weakness. I'm not likely to see Count Romanoff
+again; but I promise, gladly promise, that if I do I'll yield to him in
+nothing. Is that what you mean?"
+
+"Yes, that's what I mean."
+
+Her humour suddenly changed. She seemed to have no further interest in
+Wendover Park, or its possessor, whoever it might be, and their
+conversation became of the most commonplace nature. They chatted about
+the possibilities of peace, the future of Germany, and the tremendous
+problems Britain would have to face, but all interest in the question
+which had engrossed her mind seemed to have left her. Dick was to her
+only an ordinary acquaintance who had casually crossed the pathway of
+her life, and who might never do so again. Indeed, as presently they
+reached the highroad, he thought she became cold and reserved, it might
+seem, too, that he somewhat bored her.
+
+Presently they heard the sound of horses' hoofs coming toward them, and
+they saw a lady on horseback.
+
+"That's Lady Blanche Huntingford," she said; "do you know her?"
+
+"I did know her slightly," replied Dick, who felt no excitement whatever
+on seeing her.
+
+"Oh yes, of course you did. She's a great beauty, isn't she?"
+
+"I suppose so." Dick remembered how, in London months before, she had
+refused to recognise him.
+
+For a moment Lady Blanche seemed surprised at seeing Dick. She
+scrutinised him closely, as if she was not quite sure it was he. Then
+her colour heightened somewhat, and with a nod which might have embraced
+them both, she passed on.
+
+"We must get back to the house," Beatrice said; "Granddad and Sir George
+will have returned by this time, and they will want their tea."
+
+"Sir George is leaving you to-morrow, isn't he?" asked Dick.
+
+"Yes," she replied, and Dick's heart grew heavy as he saw the look in
+her eyes. He did not know why.
+
+"He's a great soldier, I suppose? I think I've been told so."
+
+"The greatest and bravest man in the army," she replied eagerly. "He's
+simply splendid. It's not often that a soldier is a scholar, but
+Granddad says there are few men alive who are greater authorities on
+Egyptian questions."
+
+A feeling of antagonism rose in Dick's heart against Sir George Weston,
+he felt angry that Beatrice should think so highly of him.
+
+"He's a Devonshire man, isn't he?" he asked.
+
+"Yes; he has a lovely old place down there. The house is built of grey
+granite. It is very, very old, and it looks as though it would last for
+hundreds and hundreds of years. It is situated on a wooded hillside, and
+at the back, above the woods, is a vast stretch of moorland. In front is
+a lovely park studded with old oaks."
+
+"You describe the place with great enthusiasm." There was envy in his
+tones, and something more than envy.
+
+"Do I? I love Devonshire. Love its granite tors, its glorious hills and
+valleys. No wonder it is called 'Glorious Devon.'"
+
+By the time they reached the cottage Sir George Weston and Hugh Stanmore
+had returned, and tea was on the table. Sir George seemed somewhat
+excited, while old Hugh Stanmore was anything but talkative. It might
+seem as though, during the afternoon, the two had talked on matters of
+greater interest than the tombs of Egyptian kings.
+
+When the time came for Dick to depart, Hugh Stanmore said he would walk
+a little way with him. For a happy, and singularly contented man, he
+appeared much disturbed.
+
+"I am so glad you came, Mr. Faversham," said Beatrice as she bade him
+good-bye. "We had a lovely walk, hadn't we?"
+
+"Wonderful," replied Dick. "I shall never forget it."
+
+"And you'll not forget your promise, will you?"
+
+"No, I shall not forget it."
+
+"You will let us know, won't you, when you are going to speak in the
+House of Commons? I shall insist on Granddad taking me to hear you."
+
+Sir George Weston looked from one to the other suspiciously. He could
+not understand her interest in him.
+
+"What do you think of Weston?" asked Hugh Stanmore, when they had walked
+some distance together.
+
+"I suppose he's a very fine soldier," evaded Dick.
+
+"Oh yes, there's no doubt about that. But how did he strike
+you--personally?"
+
+"I'm afraid I didn't pay much attention to him. He seemed a pleasant
+kind of man." Dick felt very non-committal. "Do you know him well?"
+
+"Yes; fairly well. I met him before the war. He and I were interested in
+the same subjects. He has travelled a great deal in the East. Of course
+I've known of his family all my life. A very old family which has lived
+in the same house for generations. I think he is the eighth baronet. But
+I was not thinking of that. I was thinking of him as a man. You'll
+forgive my asking you, won't you, but do you think he could make my
+little girl happy?"
+
+Dick felt a strange weight on his heart. He felt bitter too.
+
+"I am afraid my opinion would be of little value," he replied. "You see
+I know nothing of him, neither for that matter am I well acquainted with
+Miss Stanmore."
+
+"No, I suppose that's true, and perhaps I ought not to have asked you. I
+often scold Beatrice for acting so much on impulse, while I am
+constantly guilty of the same offence. But I don't look on you as a
+stranger. Somehow I seem to know you well, and I wanted your opinion. I
+can speak freely to you, can't I?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"He has asked me this afternoon if I'll consent to Beatrice becoming his
+wife."
+
+Dick was silent. He felt he could not speak.
+
+"Of course, from a worldly standpoint it would be a good match," went on
+Hugh Stanmore. "Sir George is a rich man, and has a fine reputation, not
+only as a scholar and a soldier, but as a man. There has never been a
+blemish on his reputation. He stands high in the county, and could give
+my little girl a fine position."
+
+"Doubtless," and Dick hardly knew that he spoke.
+
+"I don't think I am a snob," went on the old man; "but such things must
+weigh somewhat. I am not a pauper, but, as wealth is counted to-day, I
+am a poor man. I am also old, and in the course of nature can't be here
+long. That is why I am naturally anxious about my little Beatrice's
+future. And yet I am in doubt."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"Whether he could make her happy. And that is everything as far as I am
+concerned. Beatrice, as you must have seen, is just a happy child of
+nature, and is as sensitive as a lily. To be wedded to a man who is
+not--how shall I put it?--her affinity, her soul comrade, would be
+lifelong misery to her. And unless I were sure that Sir George is that,
+I would not think of giving my consent."
+
+"Aren't you forgetful of a very important factor?" asked Dick.
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Miss Stanmore herself. In these days girls seem to take such matters
+largely into their own hands. The consent of relations is regarded as a
+very formal thing."
+
+"I don't think you understand, Faversham. Beatrice is not like the
+common run of girls, and she and I are so much to each other that I
+don't think for a moment that she would marry any man if I did not give
+my sanction. In fact, I'm sure she wouldn't. She's only my
+granddaughter, but she's all the world to me, while--yes, I am
+everything to her. No father loved a child more than I love her. I've
+had her since she was a little mite, and I've been father, mother, and
+grandfather all combined. And I'd do anything, everything in my power
+for her welfare. I know her--know her, Faversham; she's as pure and
+unsullied as a flower."
+
+"But, of course, Sir George Weston has spoken to her?"
+
+"No, he hasn't. For one thing, he has very strict ideas about
+old-fashioned courtesies, and, for another, he knows our relations to
+each other."
+
+"Do you know her mind?--know whether she cares for him--in that way?"
+asked Dick.
+
+"No, I don't. I do know that, a week ago, she had no thought of love for
+any man. But, of course, I couldn't help seeing that during the past
+week he has paid her marked attention. Whether she's been aware of it, I
+haven't troubled to ascertain."
+
+In some ways this old man was almost as much a child as his
+granddaughter, in spite of his long life, and Dick could hardly help
+smiling at his simplicity.
+
+"Of course, I imagine she'll marry sometime," and Dick's voice was a
+trifle hoarse as he spoke.
+
+"Yes," replied Hugh Stanmore. "That is natural and right. God intended
+men and women to marry, I know that. But if they do not find their true
+mate, then it's either sacrilege or hell--especially to the woman.
+Marriage is a ghastly thing unless it's a sacrament--unless the man and
+the woman feel that their unity is of God. Marriage ceremonies, and the
+blessing of the Church, or whatever it is called, is so much mockery
+unless they feel that their souls are as one. Don't you agree with me?"
+
+"Yes, I do. I suppose," he added, "you stipulate that whoever marries
+her--shall--shall be a man of wealth?"
+
+"No, I shouldn't, except in this way. No man should marry a woman unless
+he has the wherewithal to keep her. He would be a mean sort of fellow
+who would drag a woman into want and poverty. But, of course, that does
+not obtain in this case."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't help, or advise you," said Dick. "I'm afraid I'm a
+bit of an outsider," and he spoke bitterly. "Neither do I think you will
+need advice. Miss Stanmore has such a fine intuition that----"
+
+"Ah, you feel that!" broke in Hugh Stanmore almost excitedly. "Yes, yes,
+you are right! I can trust her judgment rather than my own. Young as she
+is, she'll choose right. Yes, she'll choose right! I think I'll go back
+now. Yes, I'll go back at once. Our conversation has done me good, and
+cleared my way, although I've done most of the talking. Good-night,
+Faversham. I wish you well. I think you can do big things as a
+politician; but I don't agree with you."
+
+"Don't agree with me? Why?"
+
+"I don't believe in these party labels. You are a party man, a Labour
+man. I have the deepest sympathy with the toilers of the world. I have
+been working for them for fifty years. Perhaps, too, the Labour Party is
+the outcome of the injustice of the past. But all such parties have a
+tendency to put class against class, to see things in a one-sided way,
+to foster bitterness and strife. Take my advice and give up being a
+politician."
+
+"Give up being a politician! I don't understand."
+
+"A politician in the ordinary sense is a party man; too often a party
+hack, a party voting machine. Be more than a politician, be a statesman.
+All classes of society are interdependent. We can none of us do without
+the other. Capital and labour, the employer and the employee, all depend
+on each other. All men should be brothers and work for the common
+interest. Don't seek to represent a class, or to legislate for a class,
+Faversham. Work for all the classes, work for the community as a whole.
+And remember that Utopia is not created in a day. Good-night. Come and
+see us again soon."
+
+Hugh Stanmore turned back, and left Dick alone. The young man felt
+strangely depressed, strangely lonely. He pictured Hugh Stanmore going
+back to the brightness and refinement of his little house, to be met
+with the bright smiles and loving words of his grandchild, while he
+plodded his way through the darkness. He thought, too, of Sir George
+Weston, who, even then, was with Beatrice Stanmore. Perhaps, most likely
+too, he was telling her that he loved her.
+
+He stopped suddenly in the road, his brain on fire, his heart beating
+madly. A thousand wild fancies flashed through his brain, a thousand
+undefinable hopes filled his heart.
+
+"No, it's impossible, blankly impossible!" he cried at length. "A
+will-o'-the-wisp, the dream of a madman--a madman! Why, even now she may
+be in his arms!"
+
+The thought was agony to him. Even yet he did not know the whole secret
+of his heart, but he knew that he hated Sir George Weston, that he
+wished he had urged upon old Hugh Stanmore the utter unfitness of the
+great soldier as a husband for his grandchild.
+
+But how could he? What right had he? Besides, according to all
+common-sense standards nothing could be more suitable. She was his equal
+in social status, and every way fitted to be his wife, while he would be
+regarded as the most eligible suitor possible.
+
+"A voting machine at four hundred a year!"
+
+Again those stinging words of Count Romanoff. And old Hugh Stanmore had
+spoken in the same vein. "A party hack, a party voting machine!"
+
+And he could not help himself. He was dependent on that four hundred a
+year. He dared ask no woman to be his wife. He had no right. He would
+only drag her into poverty and want.
+
+All the way back to town his mind was filled with the hopelessness of
+his situation. The fact that he had won a great victory at Eastroyd and
+was a newly returned Member of Parliament brought him no pleasure. He
+was a party hack, and he saw no brightness in the future.
+
+Presently Parliament assembled, and Dick threw himself with eagerness
+into the excitement which followed. Every day brought new experiences,
+every day brought new interests.
+
+But he felt himself hampered. If he only had a few hundreds a year of
+his own. If only he could be free to live his own life, think his own
+thoughts. Not that he did not agree with many of the ideas of his party.
+He did. But he wanted a broader world, a greater freedom. He wanted to
+love, and to be loved.
+
+Then a change came. On returning to his flat late one night he found a
+letter awaiting him. On the envelope was a coroneted crest, and on
+opening it he saw the name of Olga Petrovic.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+THE DAWN OF LOVE
+
+
+The letter from Olga ran as follows:
+
+     "DEAR MR. FAVERSHAM,--I have just discovered your address, and I
+     am writing to congratulate you on the fine position you have won.
+     It must be glorious to be a Member of the Mother of Parliaments,
+     to be a legislator in this great free country. I rejoice, too,
+     that you have espoused the cause of the toilers, the poor. It is
+     just what I hoped and expected of you. You will become great, my
+     friend; my heart tells me so. Your country will be proud of you.
+
+     "I wonder whether, if in spite of your many interests and duties,
+     you will have time to visit a lonely woman? There are so many
+     things I would like to discuss with you. Do come if you can. I
+     shall be home to-morrow afternoon, and again on Friday. Will you
+     not have pity on me?--Yours,
+
+     OLGA PETROVIC."
+
+Dick saw that her address was a fashionable street in Mayfair, and
+almost unconsciously he pictured her in her new surroundings. She was no
+longer among a wild-eyed, long-haired crew in the East End, but in the
+centre of fashion and wealth. He wondered what it meant. He read the
+letter a second time, and in a way he could not understand, he was
+fascinated. There was subtle flattery in every line, a kind of clinging
+tenderness in every sentence.
+
+No mention was made of their last meeting, but Dick remembered. She had
+come to him after that wonderful experience in Staple Inn--on the
+morning after his eyes had been opened to the facts about what a number
+of Bolshevists wanted to do in England. His mind had been bewildered,
+and he was altogether unsettled. He was afraid he had acted rudely to
+her. He had thought of her as being associated with these people. If he
+had yielded to her entreaties, and thrown himself into the plans she had
+made, might he not have become an enemy to his country, to humanity?
+
+But what a glorious creature she was! What eyes, what hair, what a
+complexion! He had never seen any woman so physically perfect. And,
+added to all this, she possessed a kind of charm that held him,
+fascinated him, made him think of her whether he would or not.
+
+And yet her letter did not bring him unmixed pleasure. In a way he could
+not understand he was slightly afraid of her, afraid of the influence
+she had over him. He could not mistake the meaning of her words at their
+last meeting. She had made love to him, she had asked him to marry her.
+It is true he had acted as though he misunderstood her, but what would
+have happened if old Hugh Stanmore and Beatrice had not come? The very
+mystery which surrounded her added to her charm. Who _was_ she? Why did
+she go to the East End to live, and how did she possess the means to
+live in Mayfair?
+
+He walked around his little room, thinking hard. For the last few days
+his parliamentary duties had excited him, kept him from brooding; but
+now in the quietness of the night he felt his loneliness, realised his
+longing for society. His position as a Labour Member was perfectly
+plain. His confreres were good fellows. Most of them were hard-headed,
+thoughtful men who took a real interest in their work. But socially they
+were not of his class. They had few interests in common, and he realised
+it, even as they did. That was why they looked on him with a certain
+amount of suspicion. What was to be his future then? A social gulf was
+fixed between him and others whose equal he was, and whatever he did he
+would be outside the circle of men and women whose tastes were similar
+to his own.
+
+No, that was not altogether true. Hugh Stanmore and Beatrice treated him
+as a friend. Beatrice!
+
+The very thought of her conjured up all sorts of fancies. He had not
+heard from her, or of her since his visit to Wendover. Was she engaged
+to Sir George Weston, he wondered?
+
+He knew now that he had never loved Lady Blanche Huntingford. He had
+been attracted to her simply because of her looks, and her social
+position. At the time she had appealed to him strongly, but that was
+because he had regarded her as a means whereby he could attain to his
+social ambitions. But a change had come over him since then--a subtle,
+almost indescribable change. The strange events of his life had led him
+to see deeper. And he knew he had no love for this patrician woman. When
+he had seen her last she had not caused one heart-throb, he was almost
+indifferent to her.
+
+But Beatrice! Why did the thought of her haunt him? Why was he angry
+with Sir George Weston, and bitter at the idea of his marrying this
+simple country girl? As for himself he could never marry.
+
+The following morning he wrote to Countess Olga Petrovic. It was a
+courteous note saying that at present he was too engaged to call on her,
+but he hoped that later he might have that pleasure. Then he plunged
+into his work again.
+
+About a fortnight after his visit to Hugh Stanmore, a letter came to him
+from the housekeeper at Wendover. He had told her his London address,
+and she had taken advantage of her knowledge by writing.
+
+"There are all sorts of rumours here about Mr. Anthony Riggleton," she
+wrote; "and we have all been greatly excited. Some soldiers have been in
+the neighbourhood who declare that they know of a certainty that he is
+dead. I thought it my duty to tell you this, sir, and that is my excuse
+for the liberty I take in writing.
+
+"Perhaps, sir, you may also be interested to learn that Sir George
+Weston and Miss Beatrice Stanmore are engaged to be married. As you may
+remember, I told you when you were here that I thought they would make a
+match of it. Of course she has done very well, for although the
+Stanmores are a great family, Mr. Stanmore is a poor man, and Miss
+Beatrice has nothing but what he can give her. It is said that the
+wedding will take place in June."
+
+The letter made him angry. Of course he understood the old lady's
+purpose in writing. She thought that if Anthony Riggleton died, the
+estate might again revert to him, and she hoped he would find out and
+let her know. She had grown very fond of him during his short sojourn
+there, and longed to see him there as master again. But the letter made
+him angry nevertheless. Then as he read it a second time he knew that
+his anger was not caused by her interest in his future, but because of
+her news about Beatrice Stanmore. The knowledge that she had accepted
+this Devonshire squire made his heart sink like lead. It seemed to him
+that the sky of his life had suddenly become black.
+
+Then he knew his secret; knew that he loved this simple country girl
+with a consuming but hopeless love. He realised, too, that no one save
+she had ever really touched his heart. That this was why Lady Blanche
+Huntingford had passed out of his life without leaving even a ripple of
+disappointment or sorrow.
+
+Oh, if he had only known before! For he had loved her as he had walked
+by her side through Wendover Park; loved her when he had almost calmly
+discussed her possible marriage with Sir George Weston. Even then he had
+hated the thought of it, now he knew why His own heart was aching for
+her all the time.
+
+But what would have been the use even if he had known? He was a
+homeless, penniless man. He could have done nothing. He was not in a
+position to ask any woman to be his wife.
+
+His mood became reckless, desperate. What mattered whatever he did? Were
+not all his dreams and hopes so much madness? Had he not been altogether
+silly about questions of right and wrong? Had he not been Quixotic in
+not fighting for Wendover? Supposing he had signed that paper, what
+could Romanoff have done? He almost wished--no, he didn't; but after
+all, who could pass a final judgment as to what was right and wrong?
+
+While he was in this state of mind another letter came from Olga
+Petrovic.
+
+"Why have you not visited me, my friend?" she wrote. "I have been
+expecting you. Surely you could have found time to drop in for half an
+hour. Besides, I think I could help you. Lord Knerdon was here yesterday
+with one or two other Members of the Government. He expressed great
+interest in you, and said he would like to meet you. Has he not great
+influence? I shall be here between half-past three and six to-morrow,
+and some people are calling whom I think you would like to know."
+
+Lord Knerdon, eh? Lord Knerdon was one of the most respected peers in
+the country, and a man of far-reaching power. He would never call at the
+house of an adventuress. Yes, he would go.
+
+The street in which Olga Petrovic had taken up her abode was made up of
+great houses. Only a person of considerable wealth could live there.
+This he saw at a glance. Also three handsome motor-cars stood at her
+door. He almost felt nervous as his finger touched the bell.
+
+She received him with a smile of welcome, and yet there was a suggestion
+of aloofness in her demeanour. She was not the woman he had seen at
+Jones' Hotel long months before, when she had almost knelt suppliant at
+his feet.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Faversham," she cried, and there was a suggestion of a foreign
+accent in her tones, "I am pleased to see you. It is good of such a busy
+man to spare a few minutes."
+
+A little later she had introduced him to her other visitors--men and
+women about whose position there could not be a suggestion of doubt. At
+least, such was his impression. She made a perfect hostess, too, and
+seemed to be a part of her surroundings. She was a great lady, who met
+on equal terms some of the best-known people in London. And she was
+queen of them all. Even as she reigned over the motley crew in that
+queer gathering in the East of London, so she reigned here in the
+fashionable West.
+
+In a few minutes he found himself talking with people of whom he had
+hitherto known nothing except their names, while Olga Petrovic watched
+him curiously. Her demeanour to him was perfectly friendly, and yet he
+had the feeling that she regarded him as a social inferior. He was
+there, not because he stood on the same footing as these people, but on
+sufferance. After all, he was a Labour Member. Socially he was an
+outsider, while she was the grand lady.
+
+People condoled with her because her Russian estates had been stolen
+from her by the Bolshevists, but she was still the Countess Olga
+Petrovic, bearing one of the greatest names in Europe. She was still
+rich enough to maintain her position in the wealthiest city in the
+world. She was still a mystery.
+
+Dick remained for more than an hour. Although he would not admit it to
+himself, he hoped that he might be able to have a few minutes alone with
+her. But as some visitors went, others came. She still remained kind to
+him; indeed, he thought she conveyed an interest in him which she did
+not show to others. But he was not sure. There was a suggestion of
+reserve in her friendliness; sometimes, indeed, he thought she was cold
+and aloof. There were people there who were a hundred times more
+important than he--people with historic names; and he was a nobody.
+Perhaps that was why a barrier stood between them.
+
+And yet there were times when she dazzled him by a smile, or the turn of
+a sentence. In spite of himself, she made him feel that it was a
+privilege of no ordinary nature to be the friend of the Countess Olga
+Petrovic.
+
+When at length he rose to go she made not the slightest effort to detain
+him. She was courteously polite, and that was all. He might have been
+the most casual stranger, to whom she used the most commonplace forms of
+speech. Any onlooker must have felt that this Polish or Russian
+Countess, whatever she might be, had simply a passing interest in this
+Labour Member, that she had invited him to tea out of pure whim or
+fancy, and that she would forget him directly he had passed the
+doorstep. And yet there was a subtle something in her manner as she held
+out her hand to him. Her words said nothing, but her eyes told him to
+come again.
+
+"Must you go, Mr. Faversham? So pleased you were able to call. I am
+nearly always home on Thursdays."
+
+That was all she said. But the pressure of her hand, the pleading of her
+eyes, the smile that made her face radiant--these somehow atoned for the
+coldness of her words.
+
+"Well, I've called," thought Dick as he left the house, "and I don't
+intend to call again. I don't understand her; she's out of my world, and
+we have nothing in common."
+
+But these were only his surface thoughts. At the back of his mind was
+the conviction that Olga Petrovic had an interest in him beyond the
+ordinary, that she thought of him as she thought of no other man. Else
+why that confession months before? Why did she ask him to call?
+
+She was a wonderful creature, too. How tame and uninteresting the other
+women were compared with her! Her personality dominated everything, made
+everyone else seem commonplace.
+
+She captivated him and fascinated him even while something told him that
+it was best for him that he should see nothing more of her. The mystery
+that surrounded her had a twofold effect on him: it made him long to
+know more about her even while he felt that such knowledge could bring
+him no joy.
+
+But this she did. She kept him from brooding about Beatrice Stanmore,
+for the vision of this unsophisticated English girl was constantly
+haunting him, and the knowledge that his love for her was hopeless made
+him almost desperate. He was a young man, only just over thirty, with
+life all before him. Must he for ever and ever be denied of love, and
+the joys it might bring to his life? If she had not promised herself to
+Sir George Weston, all might be different. Yes, with her to help him and
+inspire him, he would make a position for her; he would earn enough to
+make a home for her. But she was not for him. She would soon be the wife
+of another. Why, then, should he not crush all thoughts of her, and
+think of this glorious woman, compared with whom Beatrice Stanmore was
+only as a June rosebud to a tropical flower?
+
+A few days later he called on Olga Petrovic again. This time he spent a
+few minutes alone with her. Only the most commonplace things were said,
+and yet she puzzled him, bewildered him. One minute she was all smiles
+and full of subtle charm, another he felt that an unfathomable gulf lay
+between them.
+
+In their conversation, while he did not speak in so many words of the
+time she had visited him at his hotel, he let her know that he
+remembered it, and he quickly realised that the passionate woman who had
+pleaded with him then was not the stately lady who spoke to him now.
+
+"Every woman is foolish at times," she said. "In hours of loneliness and
+memory we are the creatures of passing fancies; but they are only
+passing. I have always to remember that, in spite of the tragic
+condition of my country, I have my duty to my race and my position."
+
+Later she said: "I wonder if I shall ever wed? Wonder whether duty will
+clash with my heart to such a degree that I shall go back to my own
+sphere, or stay here and only remember that I am a woman?"
+
+He wondered what she meant, wondered whether she wished to convey to him
+that it might be possible for her to forsake all for love.
+
+But something, he could not tell what, made him keep a strong hold upon
+himself. It had become a settled thought in his mind by this time that
+at all hazards he must fight against his love for Beatrice Stanmore. To
+love her would be disloyal to her; it would be wrong. He had no right to
+think thoughts of love about one who had promised to be the wife of
+another man.
+
+Yet his heart ached for her. All that was best in him longed for her.
+Whenever his love for her was strongest, he longed only for the highest
+in life, even while his conscience condemned him for thinking of her.
+
+Dick paid Olga Petrovic several visits. Nearly always others were there,
+but he generally managed to be alone with her for a few minutes, and at
+every visit he knew that she was filling a larger place in his life.
+
+His fear of her was passing away, too, for she was not long in showing
+an interest in things that lay dear to his heart. She evidenced a great
+desire to help him in his work; she spoke sympathetically about the
+conditions under which the toilers of the world laboured. She revealed
+fine intuitions, too.
+
+"Oh yes," she said on one occasion, "I love your country. It is
+home--home! I am mad, too, when I think of my insane fancies of a year
+ago. I can see that I was wrong, wrong, all wrong! Lawlessness, force,
+anarchy can never bring in the new day of life and love. That can only
+come by mutual forbearance, by just order, and by righteous discipline.
+I was mad for a time, I think; but I was mad with a desire to help. Do
+you know who opened my eyes, Mr. Faversham?"
+
+"Your own heart--your own keen mind," replied Dick.
+
+"No, my friend--no. It was you. You did not say much, but you made me
+see. I believe in telepathy, and I saw with your eyes, thought with your
+mind. Your eyes pierced the darkness, you saw the foolishness of my
+dreams. And yet I would give my last penny to help the poor."
+
+"I'm sure you would," assented Dick.
+
+"Still, we must be governed by reason. And that makes me think, my
+friend. Do you ever contemplate your own future?"
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"And are you always going to remain what you are now?"
+
+"I do not follow you."
+
+"I have thought much about you, and I have been puzzled. You are a man
+with great ambitions--high, holy ambitions--but if you are not careful,
+your life will be fruitless."
+
+Dick was silent.
+
+"Don't mistake me. I only mean fruitless comparatively. But you are
+handicapped, my friend."
+
+"Sadly handicapped," confessed Dick.
+
+"Ah, you feel it. You are like a bird with one wing trying to fly.
+Forgive me, but the best houses in London are closed to you; you are a
+paid Labour Member of Parliament, and thus you represent only a
+class--the least influential class. You are shut out from many of the
+delights of life. Channels of usefulness and power are closed to you.
+Oh, I know it is great to be a Labour Member, but it is greater to be
+independent of all classes--to live for your ideals, to have enough
+money to be independent of the world, to hold up your head as an equal
+among the greatest and highest."
+
+"You diagnose a disease," said Dick sadly, "but you do not tell me the
+remedy."
+
+"Don't I?" and Dick felt the glamour of her presence. "Doesn't your own
+heart tell you that, my friend?"
+
+Dick felt a wild beating of his heart, but he did not reply. There was a
+weight upon his tongue.
+
+A minute later she was the great lady again--far removed from him.
+
+He left the house dazzled, almost in love with her in spite of Beatrice
+Stanmore, and largely under her influence. He had been gone only a few
+minutes when a servant brought a card.
+
+"Count Romanoff," she read. "Show him here," she added, and there was a
+look in her eyes that was difficult to understand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE ETERNAL STRUGGLE
+
+
+Count Romanoff was faultlessly dressed, and looked calm and smiling.
+
+"Ah, Countess," he said, "I am fortunate in finding you alone. But you
+have had visitors, or, to be more exact, a visitor."
+
+"Yes; I have had visitors. I often have of an afternoon."
+
+"But he has been here."
+
+"Well, and what then?"
+
+The Count gazed at her steadily, and his eyes had a sinister gleam in
+them.
+
+"I have come to have a quiet chat with you," he said--"come to know how
+matters stand."
+
+"You want to know more than I can tell you."
+
+Again the Count scrutinised her closely. He seemed to be trying to read
+her mind.
+
+"Olga," he said, "you don't mean to say that you have failed? He has
+been in London some time now, and as I happen to know, he has been here
+often. Has not the fish leaped to the bait? If not, what is amiss?
+What?--Olga Petrovic, who has turned the heads of men in half the
+capitals of Europe, and who has never failed to make them her slaves,
+fail to captivate this yokel! I can't believe it."
+
+There was sullen anger in her eyes, and at that moment years seemed to
+have been added to her life.
+
+"Beaten!" went on the Count, with a laugh--"Olga Petrovic beaten! That
+is news indeed."
+
+"I don't understand," said the woman. "Something always seems to stand
+between us. He seems to fear me--seems to be fighting against me."
+
+"And you have tried all your wiles?"
+
+"Listen, Count Romanoff, or whatever your name may be," and Olga
+Petrovic's voice was hoarse. "Tell me what you want me to do with that
+man."
+
+"Do? Make him your slave. Make him grovel at your feet as you have made
+others. Make him willing to sell his soul to possess you. Weave your net
+around him. Glamour him with your fiendish beauty. Play upon his hopes
+and desires until he is yours."
+
+"Why should I?"
+
+"Because it is my will--because I command you."
+
+"And what if I have done all that and failed?"
+
+"You fail! I can't believe it. You have not tried. You have not
+practised all your arts."
+
+"You do not understand," replied the woman. "You think you understand
+that man; you don't."
+
+The Count laughed. "There was never a man yet, but who had his price,"
+he said. "With some it is one thing, with some it is another, but
+all--all can be bought. There is no man but whose soul is for sale; that
+I know."
+
+"And you have tried to buy Faversham's soul, and failed."
+
+"Because I mistook the thing he wanted most."
+
+"You thought he could be bought by wealth, position, and you arranged
+your plans. But he was not to be bought. Why? You dangled riches,
+position, and a beautiful woman before his eyes; but he would not pay
+the price."
+
+"I chose the wrong woman," said the Count, looking steadily at Olga,
+"and I did not reckon sufficiently on his old-fashioned ideas of
+morality. Besides, I had no control over the woman."
+
+"And you think you have control over me, eh? Well, let that pass. I have
+asked you to tell me why you wish to get this man in your power, and you
+will not tell me. But let me tell you this: there is a strange power
+overshadowing him. You say I must practise my arts. What if I tell you
+that I can't?"
+
+"I should say you lie," replied the Count coolly.
+
+"I don't understand," she said, as if talking to herself. "All the time
+when he is with me, I seem to be dealing with unseen forces--forces
+which make me afraid, which sap my power."
+
+The Count looked thoughtful.
+
+"I thought I had captivated him when that German man brought him to the
+East End of London," she went on. "I saw that I bewildered him--dazzled
+him. He seemed fascinated by my picture of what he could become. His
+imagination was on fire, and I could see that he was almost held in
+thrall by the thought that he could be a kind of uncrowned king, while I
+would be his queen. He promised to come to me again, but he didn't. Then
+I went to see him at his hotel, and if ever a woman tempted a man, I
+tempted him. I know I am beautiful--know that men are willing to become
+slaves to me. And I pleaded with him. I offered to be his wife, and I
+almost got him. I saw him yielding to me. Then suddenly he turned from
+me. A servant brought him a card, and he almost told me to go."
+
+"You saw who these visitors were?"
+
+"Yes; an old man and a slip of a girl. I do not know who they were.
+Since he has been living in London, I have watched my opportunities, and
+he has been here. I have flattered him; I have piqued his curiosity. I
+have been coy and reserved, and I have tried to dazzle him by smiles, by
+hand pressures, and by shy suggestions of love. But I cannot pierce his
+armour."
+
+"And you will give up? You will confess defeat?"
+
+The woman's eyes flashed with a new light. "You little know me if you
+think that," she cried angrily. "At one time I--yes, I, Olga
+Petrovic--thought I loved him. I confessed it to you, but now--now----"
+
+"Yes, now?" questioned the Count eagerly.
+
+"Now that thought is not to be considered. I will conquer him; I will
+make him my slave. He shall be willing to sacrifice name, position,
+future, anything, everything for me--_everything_."
+
+"Only, up to now, you've failed."
+
+"Because, because--oh, Romanoff, I don't understand. What is he? Only
+just a commonplace sort of man--a man vulnerable at a hundred
+points--and yet I cannot reach him."
+
+"Shall I tell you why?" asked the Count.
+
+"Tell me, tell me!" she cried. "Oh, I've thought, and thought. I've
+tried in a hundred ways. I've been the grand lady with a great position.
+I've been an angel of light who cares only for the beautiful and the
+pure. I've appealed to his ambition--to his love for beautiful things.
+I've tried to make him jealous, and I've nearly succeeded; but never
+altogether. Yes; he is just a clever man, and very little more; but I
+can't reach him. He baffles me. He does not drink, and so I cannot
+appeal to that weakness. Neither is he the fast man about town that can
+be caught in my toils. He honours, almost venerates, pure womanhood,
+and----"
+
+"Tah!" interrupted the Count scornfully.
+
+"You do not believe it?"
+
+"Woman is always man's weak point--always!"
+
+"But not his--not in the way you think. I tell you, he venerates ideal
+womanhood. He scorns the loud-talking, free-spoken women. He told me his
+thought of woman was like what Wordsworth painted. At heart I think he
+is a religious man."
+
+"Listen," said the Count, "I want to tell you something before I go. Sit
+here; that's it," and he drew a chair close to his side.
+
+He spoke to her half earnestly, half cynically, watching her steadily
+all the time. He noted the heaving of her bosom, the tremor of her lips,
+the almost haunted look in her eyes, the smile of satisfied desire on
+her face.
+
+"That is your plan of action," he concluded. "Remember, you play for
+great stakes, and you must play boldly. You must play to win. There are
+times when right and wrong are nothing to a man, and you must be willing
+to risk everything. As for the rest, I will do it."
+
+Her face was suffused half with the flush of shame, half with excited
+determination.
+
+"Very well," she said; "you shall be obeyed."
+
+"And I will keep my compact," said the Count.
+
+He left her without another word, and no sign of friendship passed
+between them.
+
+When he reached the street, however, there was a look of doubt in his
+eyes. He might have been afraid, for there was a kind of baffled rage on
+his face.
+
+He stopped a passing taxi, and drove straight to his hotel.
+
+"Is he here?" he asked his valet as he entered his own room.
+
+"He is waiting, my lord."
+
+A minute later the little man who had visited him on the day after Dick
+Faversham's return to Parliament appeared.
+
+"What report, Polonius?" asked Romanoff.
+
+"Nothing of great importance, I am afraid, my lord, but something."
+
+"Yes, what?"
+
+"He went to Wendover on the day I was unable to account for his
+whereabouts."
+
+"Ah, you have discovered that, have you?"
+
+"Yes; I regret I missed him that day, but I trust I have gained your
+lordship's confidence again."
+
+The Count reflected a few seconds. "Tell me what you know," he said
+peremptorily.
+
+"He went down early, and had a talk with an old man at the station. Then
+he walked to the house, and had a conversation with his old
+housekeeper."
+
+"Do you know what was said?"
+
+"There was not much said. She told him there were rumours that Anthony
+Riggleton was dead."
+
+The Count started as though a new thought had entered his mind; then he
+turned towards his spy again.
+
+"He did not pay much attention to it," added Polonius, "neither did he
+pay much attention to what she told him about Riggleton's doings at
+Wendover."
+
+"Did he go through the house?"
+
+"No; he only stayed a few minutes, but he was seen looking very hard at
+the front door, as though something attracted him. Then he returned by
+another route, and had lunch with that old man who has a cottage near
+one of the lodge gates."
+
+"Hugh Stanmore--yes, I remember."
+
+"After lunch he went through the park with the old man's granddaughter.
+They were talking very earnestly."
+
+The Count leapt to his feet.
+
+"You saw this girl?" he asked.
+
+"Yes. A girl about twenty, I should think. Very pretty in a simple,
+countrified way. She is very much loved among the cottage people. I
+should say she's a very religious girl. I'm told that she has since
+become engaged to be married to a Sir George Weston, who was a soldier
+in Egypt."
+
+"Sir George Weston. Let me think. Yes; I remember. Ah, she is engaged to
+be married to him, is she?"
+
+"That is the rumour. Sir George was staying at Stanmore's cottage at the
+time of Faversham's visit. He left the day after."
+
+"And Faversham has not been there since?"
+
+"No, my lord."
+
+"Well, go on."
+
+"That is all I know."
+
+"Then you can go; you know my instructions. Remember, they must be
+obeyed to the very letter."
+
+"They shall be--to the very letter."
+
+The Count entered another room, and opened a safe. From it he took some
+papers, and read carefully. Then he sat thinking for a long time.
+Presently he looked at his watch.
+
+Daylight had now gone, early as it was, for winter still gripped the
+land. Some days there were suggestions of spring in the air, but they
+were very few. The night was cold.
+
+The Count went to the window, and looked out over St. James's Park.
+Great, black ominous-looking clouds rolled across the sky, but here and
+there were patches of blue where stars could plainly be seen. He had
+evidently made up his mind about something.
+
+His servant knocked at the door.
+
+"What time will your lordship dine?"
+
+"I shall not dine."
+
+"Very good, my lord."
+
+Count Romanoff passed into the street. For some time he walked, and
+then, hailing a taxi-cab, drove to London Bridge. He did not drive
+across the bridge, but stopped at the Cannon Street end. Having paid
+the driver, he walked slowly towards the southern bank of the river.
+Once he stood for more than a minute watching while the dark waters
+rolled towards the sea.
+
+"What secrets the old river could tell if it could speak," he muttered;
+"but all dark secrets--all dark."
+
+He found his way to the station, and mingled with the crowd there.
+
+Hours later he was nearly twenty miles from London, and he was alone on
+a wide heath. Here and there dotted around the outskirts of the heath he
+saw lights twinkling.
+
+The sky was brighter here; the clouds did not hang so heavily as in the
+city, while between them he occasionally saw the pale crescent of a
+waxing moon. All around him was the heath.
+
+He paid no heed to the biting cold, but walked rapidly along one of the
+straight-cut roads through the heather and bushes. It was now getting
+late, and no one was to be seen. There were only a few houses in the
+district, and the inhabitants of these were doubtless ensconced before
+cosy fires or playing games with their families. It was not a night to
+be out.
+
+"What a mockery, what a miserable, dirty little mockery life is!" he
+said aloud as he tramped along. "And what pigmies men are; what paltry,
+useless things make up their lives! This is Walton Heath, and here I
+suppose the legislators of the British Empire come to find their
+amusement in knocking a golf-ball around. And men are applauded because
+they can knock that ball a little straighter and a little farther than
+someone else. But--but--and there comes the rub--these same men can
+think--think right and wrong, do right and wrong. That fellow
+Faversham--yes; what is it that makes him beat me?"
+
+Mile after mile he tramped, sometimes stopping to look at the sullen,
+angry-looking clouds that swept across the sky, and again looking around
+the heath as if trying to locate some object in which he was interested.
+
+Presently he reached a spot where the road cut through some woodland.
+Dark pine trees waved their branches to the skies. In the near distance
+the heath stretched away for miles, and although it was piercingly cold,
+the scene was almost attractive. But here it was dark, gloomy,
+forbidding. For some time he stood looking at the waving pine trees; it
+might have been that he saw more than was plainly visible.
+
+"What fools, what blind fools men are!" he said aloud. "Their lives are
+bounded by what they see, and they laugh at the spiritual world; they
+scorn the suggestion that belting the earth are untold millions of
+spirits of the dead. Here they are all around me. I can see them. I can
+see them!"
+
+His eyes burnt red; his features were contorted as if by pain.
+
+"An eternal struggle," he cried--"just an eternal struggle between right
+and wrong, good and evil--yes, good and evil!
+
+"And the good is slowly gaining the victory! Out of all the wild, mad
+convulsions of the world, right is slowly emerging triumphant, the
+savage is being subdued, and the human, the Divine, is triumphing."
+
+He lifted his right hand, and shook his fist to the heavens as if
+defiantly.
+
+"I had great hopes of the War," he went on. "I saw hell let loose; I saw
+the world mad for blood. Everywhere was the lust for blood; everywhere
+men cried, 'Kill! kill!' And now it is over, and wrong is being
+defeated--defeated!"
+
+He seemed to be in a mad frenzy, his voice shook with rage.
+
+"Dark spirits of hell!" he cried. "You have been beaten, beaten! Why,
+even in this ghastly war, the Cross has been triumphant! Those
+thousands, those millions of men who went out from this land, went out
+for an ideal. They did not understand it, but it was so. They felt dimly
+and indistinctly that they were fighting, dying, that others might live!
+And some of the most heroic deeds ever known in the history of the world
+were done. Men died for others, died for comradeship, died for duty,
+died for country. Everywhere the Cross was seen!
+
+"And those fellows are not dead! They are alive! they have entered into
+a greater life!
+
+"Why, even the ghastly tragedy of Russia, on which we built so much,
+will only be the birth-pains which precede a new life!
+
+"Everywhere, everywhere the right, the good, is emerging triumphant!"
+
+He laughed aloud, a laugh of almost insane mockery.
+
+"But men are blind, blind! They do not realise the world of spirits that
+is all around them, struggling, struggling. But through the ages the
+spirits of the good are prevailing!
+
+"That is my punishment, my punishment spirits of hell, my punishment!
+Day by day I see the final destruction of evil!"
+
+His voice was hoarse with agony. He might have been mad--mad with the
+torture of despair.
+
+"All around me, all around me they live," he went on. "But I am not
+powerless. I can still work my will. And Faversham shall be mine. I
+swore it on the day he was born, swore it when his mother passed into
+the world of spirits, swore it when his father joined her. What though
+all creation is moving upwards, I can still drag him down, down into
+hell! Yes, and she shall see him going down, she shall know, and then
+she shall suffer as I have suffered. Her very heaven shall be made hell
+to her, because she shall see her son become even what I have become!"
+
+He left the main road, and followed a disused drive through the wood.
+Before long he came to a lonely house, almost hidden by the trees. A
+dark gloomy place it was, dilapidated and desolate. Years before it had
+perchance been the dwelling-place of some inoffensive respectable
+householder who loved the quietness of the country. For years it was for
+sale, and then it was bought by a stranger who never lived in it, but
+let it fall into decay.
+
+Romanoff found his way to the main entrance of the house, and entered.
+He ascended a stairway, and at length found his way to a room which was
+furnished. Here he lit a curiously-shaped lamp. In half an hour the
+place was warm, and suggested comfort. Romanoff sat like one deep in
+thought.
+
+Presently he began to pace the room, uttering strange words as he
+walked. He might have been repeating incantations, or weaving some
+mystic charms. Then he turned out the lamp, and only the fire threw a
+flickering light around the room.
+
+"My vital forces seem to fail me," he muttered; "even here it seems as
+though there is good."
+
+Perspiration oozed from his forehead, and his face was as pale as death.
+
+Again he uttered wild cries; he might have been summoning unseen powers
+to his aid.
+
+"They are here!" he shouted, and there was an evil joy in his face. Then
+there was a change, fear came into his eyes. Looking across the room, he
+saw two streaks of light in the form of a cross, while out of the
+silence a voice came.
+
+"Cease!" said the Voice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+HIS GUARDIAN ANGEL
+
+
+Romanoff ceased speaking, and his eyes were fixed on the two streaks of
+light.
+
+"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked.
+
+"I am here to bid you desist."
+
+"And who are you?"
+
+Slowly, between him and the light, a shadowy figure emerged. Second
+after second its shape became more clearly outlined, until the form of a
+woman appeared. But the face was obscure; it was dim and shadowy.
+
+Romanoff's eyes were fixed on the figure; but he uttered no sound. His
+tongue was dry, and cleaved to the roof of his mouth. His lips were
+parched.
+
+The face became plainer. Its lineaments were more clearly outlined. He
+could see waves of light brown hair, eyes that were large and yearning
+with a great tenderness and pity, yet lit up with joy and holy resolve.
+A mouth tender as that of a child, but with all the firmness of mature
+years. A haunting face it was, haunting because of its spiritual beauty,
+its tenderness, its ineffable joy; and yet it was stern and strong.
+
+It was the face of the woman whom Dick Faversham had seen in the
+smoke-room of the outward-bound vessel years before, the face that had
+appeared to him at the doorway of the great house at Wendover.
+
+"You, you!" cried Romanoff at length. "You! Madaline?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Why are you here?"
+
+"To plead with you, to beseech you to let my son alone."
+
+A change came over Romanoff's face as he heard the words. A new
+strength seemed to have come to him. Confidence shone in his eyes, his
+every feature spoke of triumph.
+
+"Your son! His son!" he cried harshly. "The son of the man for whom you
+cast me into the outer darkness. But for him you might have been the
+mother of _my_ son, and I--I should not have been what I am."
+
+"You are what you are because you have always yielded to the promptings
+of evil," replied the woman. "That was why I never loved you--never
+could love you."
+
+"But you looked at me with eyes of love until he came."
+
+"As you know, I was but a child, and when you came with your great name,
+your great riches, you for a time fascinated me; but I never loved you.
+I told you so before he came."
+
+"But I loved you," said Romanoff hoarsely. "You, the simple country
+girl, fascinated me, the Russian noble. And I would have withheld
+nothing from you. Houses, lands, position, a great name, all--all were
+yours if you would have been my wife. But you rejected me."
+
+"I did not love you. I felt you were evil. I told you so."
+
+"What of that? I loved you. I swore I would win you. But you--you--a
+simple country girl, poor, ignorant of the world's ways, resisted me,
+me--Romanoff. And you married that insipid scholar fellow, leaving me
+scorned, rejected. And I swore I would be revenged, living or dead. Then
+your child was born and you died. I could not harm you, you were beyond
+me, but your son lived. And I swore again. If I could not harm you, I
+could harm him, I could destroy him. I gave myself over to evil for
+that. I, too, have passed through the doorway which the world calls
+death; but powers have been given me, powers to carry out my oath. While
+his father was alive, I could do nothing, but since then my work has
+been going forward. And I shall conquer, I shall triumph."
+
+"And I have come here to-night to plead with you on my son's behalf. He
+has resisted wrong for a long time. Leave him in peace."
+
+"Never," cried Romanoff. "You passed into heaven, but your heaven shall
+be hell, for your son shall go there. He shall become even as I am. His
+joy shall be in evil."
+
+"Have you no pity, no mercy?"
+
+"None," replied Romanoff. "Neither pity nor mercy have a place in me.
+You drove me to hell, and it is my punishment that the only joy which
+may be mine is the joy of what you call evil."
+
+"Then have pity, have mercy on yourself."
+
+"Pity on myself? Mercy on myself? You talk in black ignorance."
+
+"No, I speak in light. Every evil you do only sinks you deeper in mire,
+deeper in hell."
+
+"I cannot help that. It is my doom."
+
+"It is not your doom if you repent. If you turn your face, your spirit
+to the light."
+
+"I cannot repent. I am of those who love evil. I hate mercy. I despise
+pity."
+
+"Then I must seek to save him in spite of you."
+
+"You cannot," and a laugh of savage triumph accompanied his words. "I
+have made my plans. Nothing which you can do will save him. He has been
+given to me."
+
+For a few seconds there was tense unnatural silence. The room was full
+of strange influences, as though conflicting forces were in opposition,
+as though light and darkness, good and evil, were struggling together.
+
+"No, no, Madaline," went on Romanoff. "Now is my hour of triumph. The
+son you love shall be mine."
+
+"Love is stronger than hate, good is stronger than evil," she replied.
+"You are fighting against the Eternal Spirit of Good; you are fighting
+against the Supreme Manifestation of that Goodness, which was seen two
+thousand years ago on the Cross of Calvary."
+
+"The Cross of Calvary!" replied Romanoff, and his voice was hoarse; "it
+is the symbol of defeat, of degradation, of despair. For two thousand
+years it has been uplifted, but always to fail."
+
+"Always to conquer," was the calm reply. "Slowly but surely, age after
+age, it has been subduing kingdoms, working righteousness, lifting man
+up to the Eternal Goodness. It has through all the ages been overcoming
+evil with good, and bringing the harmonies of holiness out of the
+discord of sin."
+
+"Think of this war!" snarled Romanoff. "Think of Germany, think of
+Russia! What is the world but a mad hell?"
+
+"Out of it all will Goodness shine. I cannot understand all, for full
+understanding only belongs to the Supreme Father of Lights. But I am
+sure of the end. Already the morning is breaking, already light is
+shining out of the darkness. Men's eyes are being opened, they are
+seeing visions and dreaming dreams. They are seeing the end of war, and
+talking of Leagues of Nations, of the Brotherhood of the world."
+
+"But that does not do away with the millions who have died in battle. It
+does not atone for blighted and ruined homes, and the darkness of the
+world."
+
+"Not one of those who fell in battle is dead. They are all alive. I have
+seen them, spoken to them. And the Eternal Goodness is ever with them,
+ever bearing them up. They have done what they knew to be their duty,
+and they have entered into their reward."
+
+"What, the Evil and the Good together?" sneered Romanoff. "That were
+strange justice surely."
+
+"Shall not the Judge of all the Earth do Right? They are all in His
+care, and His pity and His love are Infinite. That is why I plead with
+you."
+
+"What, to spare your son? If what you say is true I am powerless. But I
+am not. Wrong is stronger than right. I defy you."
+
+"Then is it to be a fight between us?"
+
+"If you will. He must be mine."
+
+"And what then?" There was ineffable sorrow in the woman's voice. "Would
+you drag him into aeons of pain and anguish to satisfy your revenge?"
+
+"I would, and I will. What if right is stronger than wrong, as you say?
+What if in the end right shall drag him through hell to heaven? I shall
+still know that he has lived in hell, and thus shall I have my
+revenge."
+
+"And I, who am his mother, am also his ministering angel, and it is my
+work to save him from you."
+
+"And you are powerless--powerless, I tell you?"
+
+"All power is not given to us, but God has given His angels power to
+help and save."
+
+"If you have such power, why am I not vanquished?"
+
+"Have you not been vanquished many times?"
+
+"Not once!" cried Romanoff. "Little by little I have been enveloping him
+in my toils."
+
+"Think," replied the other. "When he was tossing on the angry sea, whose
+arms bore him up? Think again, why was it when you and he were in the
+library together at Wendover, and you tempted him to sell his soul for
+gain;--whose hand was placed on his, and stopped him from signing the
+paper which would have made him your slave?"
+
+"Was it you?" gasped Romanoff.
+
+"Think again. When the woman you selected sought to dazzle him with wild
+dreams of power and ambition, and who almost blinded him to the truth,
+what led him to discard the picture that came to him as inventions of
+evil? Who helped to open his eyes?"
+
+"Then you--you," gasped Romanoff--"you have been fighting against me all
+the time! It was you, was it?"
+
+"I was his mother, I am his mother; and I, who never intentionally did
+you harm, plead with you again. I love him, even as all true mothers,
+whether on earth or in the land of spirits, love their children. And I
+am allowed to watch over him, to protect him, to help him. It is my joy
+to be his guardian angel, and I plead with you to let him be free from
+your designs."
+
+"And if I will--what reward will you give me?"
+
+"I will seek to help you from your doom--the doom which must be the lot
+of those who persist in evil."
+
+"That is not enough. No, I will carry out my plans; I will drag him to
+hell."
+
+"And I, if need be, will descend into hell to save him."
+
+"You cannot, you cannot!" and triumph rang in his voice. "I swore to
+drag him to hell, swore that his soul should be given over to evil."
+
+The woman's face seemed to be drawn with pain, her eyes were filled with
+infinite yearning and tenderness. She moved her lips as if in speech,
+but Romanoff could distinguish no words. Then her form grew dimmer and
+dimmer until there was only a shadowy outline of what had been clear and
+distinct.
+
+"What do you say? I cannot hear!" and his voice was mocking.
+
+The man continued to look at the place where he had seen her, but, as
+her form disappeared, the two shafts of light grew more and more
+luminous. He saw the bright shining Cross distinctly outlined, and his
+eyes burnt with a great terror. Then out of the silence, out of the wide
+spaces which surrounded the house, out of the broad expanse of the
+heavens, words came to him:
+
+"Underneath, _underneath_, UNDERNEATH are the Everlasting Arms."
+
+Fascinated, Romanoff gazed, seeing nothing but the shining outline of
+the Cross, while the air seemed to pulsate with the great words I have
+set down.
+
+Then slowly the Cross became more and more dim, until at length it
+became invisible. The corner of the room which had been illumined by its
+radiance became full of dark shadows. Silence became profound.
+
+"What does it mean?" he gasped. "She left me foiled, defeated, in
+despair. But the Cross shone. The words filled everything."
+
+For more than a minute he stood like one transfixed, thinking, thinking.
+
+"It means this," he said presently, and the words came from him in
+hoarse gasps, "it means that I am to have my way; it means that I shall
+conquer him--drag him to hell; but that underneath hell are the
+Everlasting Arms. Well, let it be so. I shall have had my revenge. The
+son shall suffer what the mother made me suffer, and she shall suffer
+hell, too, because she shall see her son in hell."
+
+He turned and placed more wood on the fire, then throwing himself in an
+arm-chair he sat for hours, brooding, thinking.
+
+"Yes, Olga will do it," he concluded after a long silence. "The story of
+the Garden of Eden is an eternal principle. 'The woman tempted me and I
+did eat,' is the story of the world's sin. He is a man, with all a man's
+passions, and she is a Venus, a Circe--a woman--and all men fall when a
+woman tempts."
+
+All through the night he kept his dark vigils; there in the dark house,
+with only flickering lights from the fire, he worked out his plans, and
+schemed for the destruction of a man's soul.
+
+In the grey dawn of the wintry morning he was back in London again; but
+although the servants looked at him questioningly when he entered his
+hotel, as if wondering where he had been, he told no man of his doings.
+All his experiences were secret to himself.
+
+During the next few days the little man Polonius seemed exceptionally
+busy; three times he went to Wendover, where there seemed to be many
+matters that interested him. Several times he made his way to the War
+Office, where he appeared to have acquaintances, and where he asked many
+questions. He also found his way to the block of buildings where Dick
+Faversham's flat was situated, and although Dick never saw him, he
+appeared to be greatly interested in the young man's goings out and his
+comings in. He also went to the House of Commons, and made the
+acquaintance of many Labour Members. Altogether Polonius's time was much
+engaged. He went to Count Romanoff's hotel, too, but always late at
+night, and he had several interviews with that personage, whom he
+evidently held in great awe.
+
+More than a week after Romanoff's experiences at Walton Heath, Olga
+Petrovic received a letter which made her very thoughtful. There was a
+look of fear in her eyes as she read, as though it contained disturbing
+news.
+
+And yet it appeared commonplace and innocent enough, and it contained
+only a few lines. Perhaps it was the signature which caused her cheeks
+to blanch, and her lips to quiver.
+
+This was how it ran:
+
+     "DEAR OLGA,--You must get F. to take you to dinner on Friday
+     night next. You must go to the Moscow Restaurant, and be there
+     by 7.45 prompt. Please look your handsomest, and spare no pains
+     to be agreeable. When the waiter brings you liqueurs be
+     especially fascinating. Act on the Berlin plan. This is very
+     important, as a danger has arisen which I had not calculated
+     upon. The time for action has now come, and I need not remind
+     you how much success means to you.
+
+     "ROMANOFF.
+
+     "P.S.--Destroy this as you have destroyed all other correspondence
+     from me. I shall know whether this is done.--R."
+
+
+This was the note which had caused Olga Petrovic's cheeks to pale. After
+reading it again, she sat thinking for a long time, while more than once
+her face was drawn as if by spasms of pain.
+
+Presently she went to her desk, and taking some scented notepaper, she
+wrote a letter. She was evidently very particular about the wording, for
+she tore up several sheets before she had satisfied herself. There was
+the look of an evil woman in her eyes as she sealed it, but there was
+something else, too; there was an expression of indescribable longing.
+
+The next afternoon Dick Faversham came to her flat and found Olga
+Petrovic alone. He had come in answer to her letter.
+
+"Have I done anything to offend you, Mr. Faversham?" she asked, as she
+poured out tea.
+
+"Offend me, Countess? I never thought of such a thing. Why do you ask?"
+
+"You were so cold, so distant when you were here last--and that was
+several days ago."
+
+"I have been very busy," replied Dick.
+
+"While I have been very lonely."
+
+"Lonely! You lonely, Countess?"
+
+"Yes, very lonely. How little men know women. Because a number of silly,
+chattering people have been here when you have called, you have
+imagined that my life has been full of pleasure, that I have been
+content. But I haven't a friend in the world, unless----" She lifted her
+great languishing eyes to his for a moment, and sighed.
+
+"Unless what?" asked Dick.
+
+"Nothing, nothing. Why should you care about the loneliness of a woman?"
+
+"I care a great deal," replied Dick. "You have been very kind to me--a
+lonely man."
+
+From that moment she became very charming. His words gave her the
+opening she sought, and a few minutes later she had led him to the
+channel of conversation which she desired.
+
+"You do not mind?" she said presently. "I know you are the kind of man
+who finds it a bore to take a woman out to dinner. But there will be a
+wonderful band at The Moscow, and I love music."
+
+"It will be a pleasure, a very great pleasure," replied Dick.
+
+"And you will not miss being away from the House of Commons for a few
+hours, will you? I will try to be very nice."
+
+"As though you needed to try," cried Dick. "As though you could be
+anything else."
+
+She looked half coyly, half boldly into his eyes.
+
+"To-morrow night then?" she said.
+
+"Yes, to-morrow night. At half-past seven I will be here."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+AT THE CAFE MOSCOW
+
+
+During the few days which had preceded Dick's visit to the Countess
+Olga's house, he had been very depressed. The excitement which he had at
+first felt in going to the House of Commons as the Member for Eastroyd
+had gone. He found, too, that the "Mother of Parliaments" was different
+from what he had expected.
+
+The thing that impressed him most was the difficulty in getting anything
+done. The atmosphere of the place was in the main lethargic. Men came
+there for the first time, enthusiastic and buoyant, determined to do
+great things; but weeks, months, years passed by, and they had done
+nothing. In their constituencies crowds flocked to hear them, and
+applauded them to the echo; but in the House of Commons they had to
+speak to empty benches, and the few who remained to hear them, yawned
+while they were speaking, and only waited because they wanted to catch
+the Speaker's eye.
+
+Dick had felt all this, and much more. It seemed to him that as a
+legislator he was a failure, and that the House of Commons was the most
+disappointing place in the world. Added to this he was heart-sore and
+despondent. His love for Beatrice Stanmore was hopeless. News of her
+engagement to Sir George Weston had been confirmed, and thus joy had
+gone out of his life.
+
+Why it was, Dick did not know; but he knew now that he had loved
+Beatrice Stanmore from the first time he had seen her. He was constantly
+recalling the hour when she first came into his life. She and her
+grandfather had come to Wendover when he was sitting talking, with
+Romanoff, and he remembered how the atmosphere of the room changed the
+moment she entered. His will-power was being sapped, his sense of right
+and wrong was dulled; yet no sooner did she appear than his will-power
+came back, his moral perceptions became keen.
+
+It was the same at her second visit. He had been like a man under a
+spell; he had become almost paralysed by Romanoff's philosophy of life,
+helpless to withstand the picture he held before his eyes; yet on the
+sudden coming of this bright-eyed girl everything had changed. She made
+him live in a new world. He remembered going outside with her, and they
+had talked about angels.
+
+How vivid it all was to him! Everything was sweeter, brighter, purer,
+because of her. Her simple, childish faith, her keen intuition had made
+his materialism seem so much foolishness. Her eyes pierced the dark
+clouds; she was an angel of God, pointing upward.
+
+He knew the meaning of it now. His soul had found a kindred soul, even
+although he had not known it; he had loved her then, although he was
+unaware of the fact. But ever since he had learnt the secret of his
+heart he had understood.
+
+But it was too late. He was helpless, hopeless. She had given her heart
+to this soldier, this man of riches and position. Oh, what a mockery
+life was! He had seen the gates of heaven, he had caught a glimpse of
+what lay beyond, but he could not enter, and in his disappointment and
+hopelessness, despair gnawed at his heart like a canker.
+
+Thus Dick Faversham was in a dangerous mood. That was why the siren-like
+presence of Olga Petrovic acted upon his senses like an evil charm. Oh,
+if he had only known!
+
+At half-past seven on the Friday night he called at her flat, and he had
+barely entered the room before she came to him. Evidently she regarded
+it as a great occasion, for she was resplendently attired. Yet not too
+much so. Either she, or her maid, instinctively knew what exactly suited
+her kind of beauty; for not even the most critical could have found
+fault with her.
+
+What a glorious creature she was! Shaped like a goddess, her clothes
+accentuated her charms. Evidently, too, she was intent on pleasing him.
+Her face was wreathed in smiles, her eyes shone with dangerous
+brightness. There was witchery, allurement in her presence--she was a
+siren.
+
+Dick almost gave a gasp as he saw her. A girl in appearance, a girl with
+all the winsomeness and attractiveness of youth, yet a woman with all a
+woman's knowledge of man's weakness--a woman bent on being captivating.
+
+"Do I please your Majesty?" and her eyes flashed as the words passed her
+lips.
+
+"Please me!" he gasped. "You are wonderful, simply wonderful."
+
+"I want you to be pleased," she whispered, and Dick thought he saw her
+blush.
+
+They entered the motor-car together, and as she sat by his side he felt
+as though he were in dreamland. A delicate perfume filled the air, and
+the knowledge that he was going to dine with her, amidst brightness and
+gaiety, made him forgetful of all else.
+
+They were not long in reaching The Moscow, one of the most popular and
+fashionable restaurants in London. He saw at a glance, as he looked
+around him, that the wealth, the beauty, the fashion of London were
+there. The waiter led them to a table from which they could command
+practically the whole room, and where they could be seen by all. But he
+took no notice of this. He was almost intoxicated by the brilliance of
+the scene, by the fascination of the woman who sat near him.
+
+"For once," she said, "let us forget dull care, let us be happy."
+
+He laughed gaily. "Why not?" he cried. "All the same, I wonder what my
+constituents at Eastroyd would say if they saw me here?"
+
+She gave a slight shrug, and threw off the light gossamer shawl which
+had somewhat hidden her neck and shoulders. Her jewels flashed back the
+light which shone overhead, her eyes sparkled like stars.
+
+"Let us forget Eastroyd," she cried; "let us forget everything sordid
+and sorrowing. Surely there are times when one should live only for
+gladness, for joy. Is not the music divine? There, listen! Did I not
+tell you that some of the most wonderful artists in London play here?
+Do you know what it makes me think of?"
+
+"I would love to know," he responded, yielding to her humour.
+
+"But I must not tell you--I dare not. I am going to ask a favour of you,
+my friend. Will you grant it, without asking me what it is?"
+
+"Of course I will grant it."
+
+"Oh, it is little, nothing after all. Only let me choose the wine
+to-night."
+
+"Why not? I am no wine drinker, and am no judge of vintages."
+
+"Ah, but you must drink with me to-night. To-night I am queen, and you
+are----"
+
+"Yes, what am I?" asked Dick with a laugh, as she stopped.
+
+"You are willing to obey your queen, aren't you?"
+
+"Who would not be willing to obey such a queen?" was his reply.
+
+The waiter hovered around them, attending to their slightest wants. Not
+only was the restaurant noted as being a rendezvous for the beauty and
+fashion of London, but it boasted the best _chef_ in England. Every dish
+was more exquisite than the last, and everything was served in a way to
+please the most captious.
+
+The dinner proceeded. Course followed course, while sweet music was
+discoursed, and Dick felt in a land of enchantment. For once he gave
+himself over to enjoyment--he banished all saddening thoughts. He was in
+a world of brightness and song; every sight, every sound drove away dull
+care. To-morrow he would have to go back to the grim realities of life;
+but now he allowed himself to be swept along by the tide of laughter and
+gaiety.
+
+"You seem happy, my friend," said the woman presently. "Never before did
+I see you so free from dull care, never did I see you so full of the joy
+of life. Well, why not? Life was given to us to be happy. Yes, yes, I
+know. You have your work to do; but not now. I should feel miserable for
+days if I thought I could not charm away sadness from you--especially
+to-night."
+
+"Why to-night?"
+
+"Because it is the first time we have ever dined together. I should pay
+you a poor compliment, shouldn't I, if when you took me to a place where
+laughter abounded I did not bring laughter to your lips and joy to your
+heart. Let us hope that this is the first of the many times we may dine
+together. Yes; what are you thinking about?"
+
+"That you are a witch, a wonder, a miracle of beauty and of charm.
+There, I know I speak too freely."
+
+He ceased speaking suddenly.
+
+"I love to hear you speak so. I would rather--but what is the matter?"
+
+Dick did not reply. His eyes were riveted on another part of the room,
+and he had forgotten that she was speaking. Seated at a table not far
+away were three people, two men and a woman. The men were Sir George
+Weston and Hugh Stanmore. The woman was Beatrice Stanmore. Evidently the
+lover had brought his fiancee and her grandfather there that night. It
+seemed to Dick that Weston had an air of proprietorship, as he acted the
+part of host. He watched while the baronet smiled on her and spoke to
+her. It would seem, too, that he said something pleasant, for the girl
+laughed gaily, and her eyes sparkled with delight.
+
+"You see someone you know?" and Olga Petrovic's eyes followed his gaze.
+"Ah, you are looking at the table where that pretty but rather
+countrified girl is sitting with the old man with the white hair, and
+the other who looks like a soldier. Ah yes, you know them, my friend?"
+
+"I have seen them--met them," he stammered.
+
+"Ah, then you know who they are? I do not know them, they are strangers
+to me; but I can tell you about them. Shall I?"
+
+"Yes." His eyes were still riveted on them, and he did not know he had
+spoken.
+
+"The girl is the younger man's fiancee. They have lately become engaged.
+Don't you see how he smiles on her? And look how she smiles back. She is
+deeply in love with him, that is plain. There, don't you see--she has a
+ring on her engagement finger. They are very happy. I think the man has
+brought the girl and the old man here as a kind of celebration dinner.
+Presently they will go to some place of amusement. She seems a poor
+simpering thing; but they are evidently deeply in love with each other.
+Tell me, am I not right?"
+
+Dick did not reply. What he had seen stung him into a kind of madness.
+He was filled with reckless despair. What matter what he did, what
+happened to him? Of course he knew of the engagement, but the sight of
+them together unhinged his mind, kept him from thinking coherently.
+
+"You seem much interested in them, my friend; do you know them well? Ah,
+they have finished dinner, I think. There, they are looking at us; the
+girl is asking who we are, or, perhaps, she has recognised you."
+
+For a moment Dick felt his heart stop beating; yes, she was coming his
+way. She must pass his table in order to get out.
+
+With a kind of despairing recklessness he seized the wineglass by his
+side and drained it. He was hardly master of himself; he talked rapidly,
+loudly.
+
+The waiter appeared with liqueurs.
+
+"Yes," cried the Countess, with a laugh; "I chose the wine--I must
+choose the liqueurs also. It is my privilege."
+
+The waiter poured out the spirits with a deft hand, while the woman
+laughed. Her eyes sparkled more brightly then ever; her face had a look
+of set purpose.
+
+"This is the only place in London where one can get this liqueur," she
+cried. "What is it? I don't know. But I am told it is exquisite. There!
+I drink to you!"
+
+She lifted the tiny glass to her lips, while her eyes, large, black,
+bold, seductive, dangerous, flashed into his.
+
+"Drink, my friend," she said, and her voice reached some distance around
+her; "it is the drink of love, of _love_, the only thing worth living
+for. Drain it to the bottom, and let us be happy."
+
+He lifted the glass, but ere it reached his lips he saw that Beatrice
+Stanmore and her companions were close to him, and that she must have
+heard what Olga Petrovic had said. In spite of the fact that he had
+drunk of rich, strong wine, and that it tingled through his veins like
+some fabled elixir, he felt his heart grow cold. He saw a look on the
+girl's face which startled him--frightened him. But she was not looking
+at him; her eyes were fixed on his companion.
+
+And he saw the expression of terror, of loathing, of horror. It made him
+think of an angel gazing into the pit of hell. But Olga Petrovic seemed
+unconscious of her presence. Her eyes were fixed on Dick's face. She
+seemed to be pleading with him, fascinating him, compelling him to think
+only of her.
+
+Meanwhile Hugh Stanmore and Sir George Weston hesitated, as if doubtful
+whether they should speak.
+
+Dick half rose. He wanted to speak to Beatrice. To tell her--what, he
+did not know. But he was not master of himself. He was dizzy and
+bewildered. Perhaps it was because he was unaccustomed to drink wine,
+and the rich vintage had flown to his head--perhaps because of
+influences which he could not understand.
+
+"Beatrice--Miss Stanmore," he stammered in a hoarse, unnatural voice, so
+hoarse and unnatural that the words were scarcely articulated,
+"this--this _is_ a surprise."
+
+He felt how inane he was. He might have been intoxicated. What must
+Beatrice think of him?
+
+But still she did not look at him. Her eyes were still fixed on Olga's
+face. She seemed to be trying to read her, to pierce her very soul. Then
+suddenly she turned towards Dick, who had dropped into his chair again,
+and was still holding the tiny glass in his hand.
+
+"You do not drink, Dick," said Olga Petrovic, and her voice, though low
+and caressing, was plainly to be heard. "You must drink, because I chose
+it, and it is the drink of love--the only thing worth living for," and
+all the time her eyes were fixed on his face.
+
+Almost unconsciously he turned towards her, and his blood seemed turned
+to fire. Madness possessed him; he felt a slave to the charms of this
+bewitching woman, even while the maiden for whom his heart longed with
+an unutterable longing was only two or three yards from him. He lifted
+the glass again, and the fiery liquid passed his lips.
+
+Again he looked at Beatrice, and it seemed to him that he saw horror and
+disgust in her face. Something terrible had happened; it seemed to him
+that he was enveloped in some form of black magic from which he could
+not escape.
+
+Then rage filled his heart. The party passed on without further notice
+of him, and he saw Beatrice speak to Sir George Weston. What she said to
+him he did not know, but he caught a part of his reply.
+
+"I heard of her in Vienna. She had a curious reputation. Her _salon_ was
+the centre of attraction to a peculiar class of men. Magnificent,
+but----"
+
+That was all he heard. He was not sure he heard even that. There was a
+hum of voices, and the sound of laughter everywhere, and so it was
+difficult for him to be sure of what any particular person said. Neither
+might the words apply to the woman at his side.
+
+Bewildered, he turned towards Olga again, caught the flash of her eyes'
+wild fire, and was again fascinated by the bewildering seductiveness of
+her charms. What was the matter with him? He did not seem master of
+himself. Everything was strange--bewildering.
+
+Perhaps it was because of the wine he had drunk, perhaps because that
+fiery liquid had inflamed his imagination; but it seemed to him that
+nothing mattered. Right! Wrong! What were they? Mere abstractions, the
+fancies of a diseased mind. Wild recklessness filled his heart. He had
+seen Beatrice Stanmore smile on Sir George Weston, and he had heard the
+woman at his side say that she, Beatrice, wore this Devonshire squire's
+ring.
+
+Well, what then? Why should he care?
+
+And all the time Olga Petrovic was by his side. She had seemed
+unconscious of Beatrice's presence; she had not noticed the look of
+horror and loathing in the girl's eyes. She was only casting a spell on
+him--a spell he could not understand.
+
+Then he had a peculiar sensation. This mysterious woman was bewitching
+him. She was sapping his will even as Romanoff had sapped it years
+before. Why did he connect them?
+
+"Countess," he said, "do you know Count Romanoff?"
+
+The woman hesitated a second before replying.
+
+"Dick," she said, "you must not call me Countess. You know my name,
+don't you? Count Romanoff? No, I never heard of him."
+
+"Let us get away from here," he cried. "I feel as though I can't
+breathe."
+
+"I'm so sorry. Let us go back home and spend the evening quietly. Oh, I
+forgot. Sir Felix and Lady Fordham are calling at ten o'clock. You don't
+mind, do you?"
+
+"No, no. I shall be glad to meet them."
+
+A few minutes later they were moving rapidly towards Olga Petrovic's
+flat, Dick still excited, and almost irresponsible, the woman with a
+look of exultant triumph on her face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+THE SHADOW OF A GREAT TERROR
+
+
+"Sit down, my friend. Sir Felix and Lady Fordham have not come; but what
+matter? There, take this chair. Ah, you look like yourself again. Has it
+ever struck you that you are a handsome man? No; I do not flatter. I
+looked around The Moscow to-night, and there was not a man in the room
+to compare with you--not one who looked so distinguished, so much--a
+man. I felt so glad--so proud."
+
+He felt himself sink in the luxuriously upholstered chair, while she sat
+at his feet and looked up into his face.
+
+"Now, then, you are king; you are seated on your throne, while I, your
+slave, am at your feet, ready to obey your will. Is not that the story
+of man and woman?"
+
+He did not answer He was struggling, struggling and fighting, and yet he
+did not know against what he was fighting. Besides, he had no heart in
+the battle. His will-power was gone; his vitality was lowered; he felt
+as though some powerful narcotic were in his blood, deadening his
+manhood, dulling all moral purpose. He was intoxicated by the influences
+of the hour, careless as to what might happen to him, and yet by some
+strange contradiction he was afraid. The shadow of a great terror rested
+on him.
+
+And Olga Petrovic seemed to know--to understand.
+
+She started to her feet. "You have never heard me sing, have you? Ah no,
+of course you have not. And has it not ever been in song and story that
+the slave of her lord's will discoursed sweet music to him? Is there not
+some old story about a shepherd boy who charmed away the evil spirits of
+the king by music?"
+
+She sat at a piano, and began to play soft, dreamy music. Her fingers
+scarcely touched the keys, and yet the room was filled with peculiar
+harmonies.
+
+"You understand French, do you not, my friend? Yes; I know you do."
+
+She began to sing. What the words were he never remembered afterwards,
+but he knew they possessed a strange power over him. They dulled his
+fears; they charmed his senses; they seemed to open up long vistas of
+beauty and delight. He seemed to be in a kind of Mohammedan Paradise,
+where all was sunshine and song.
+
+How long she sung he could not tell; what she said to him he hardly
+knew. He only knew that he sat in a luxuriously appointed room, while
+this wonder of womanhood charmed him.
+
+Presently he knew that she was making love to him, and that he was
+listening with eager ears. Not only did he seem to have no power to
+resist her--he had no desire to do so. He did not ask whether she was
+good or evil; he ceased to care what the future might bring forth. And
+yet he had a kind of feeling that something was wrong, hellish--only it
+did not matter to him. This woman loved him, while all other love was
+impossible to him.
+
+Beatrice! Ah, but Beatrice had looked at him with horror; all her smiles
+were given to another man--the man to whom she had promised to give
+herself as his wife. What mattered, then?
+
+But there was a new influence in the room! It seemed to him as if a
+breath of sweet mountain air had been wafted to him--air full of the
+strength of life, sweet, pure life. The scales fell from his eyes and he
+saw.
+
+The woman again sat at his feet, looking up at him with love-compelling
+eyes, and he saw her plainly. But he saw more: the wrappings were torn
+from her soul, and he beheld her naked spirit.
+
+He shuddered. What he saw was evil--evil. Instead of the glorious face
+of Olga Petrovic, he saw a grinning skull; instead of the dulcet tones
+of her siren-like voice, he heard the hiss of snakes, the croaking of a
+raven.
+
+He was standing on the brink of a horrible precipice, while beneath him
+was black, unfathomable darkness, filled with strange, noisome sounds.
+
+What did it mean? He still beheld the beauty--the somewhat Oriental
+beauty of the room; he was still aware of the delicate odours that
+pervaded it, while this woman, glorious in her queenly splendour, was at
+his feet, charming him with words of love, with promises of delight; but
+it seemed to him that other eyes, other powers of vision, were given to
+him, and he saw beyond.
+
+Was that Romanoff's cynical, evil face? Were not his eyes watching them
+with devilish expectancy? Was he not even then gloating over the loss of
+his manhood, the pollution of his soul?
+
+"Hark, what is that?"
+
+"What, my friend? Nothing, nothing."
+
+"But I heard something--something far away."
+
+She laughed with apparent gaiety, yet there was uneasiness in her voice.
+
+"You heard nothing but my foolish confession, Dick. I love you, love
+you! Do you hear? I love you. I tried to kill it--in vain. But what
+matter? Love is everything--there is nothing else to live for. And you
+and I are all the world. Your love is mine. Tell me, is it not so? And I
+am yours, my beloved, yours for ever."
+
+But he only half heard her; forces were at work in his life which he
+could not comprehend. A new longing came to him--the longing for a
+strong, clean manhood.
+
+"Do you believe in angels?" he asked suddenly.
+
+Why the question passed his lips he did not know, but it sprung to his
+lips without thought or effort on his part. Then he remembered. Beatrice
+Stanmore had asked him that question weeks before down at Wendover Park.
+
+Angels! His mind became preternaturally awake; his memory flashed back
+across the chasm of years.
+
+"Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them
+who shall be heirs of salvation?"
+
+Yes; he remembered the words. The old clergyman had repeated them years
+before, when he had seen the face of the woman which no other man could
+see.
+
+Like lightning his mind swept down the years, and he remembered the
+wonderful experiences which had had such a marked influence on his life.
+
+"Angels!" laughed the woman. "There are no angels save those on earth,
+my friend. There is no life other than this, so let us be happy."
+
+"Look, look!" he cried, pointing to a part of the room which was only
+dimly lit. "She is there, there! Don't you see? Her hand is pointing
+upward!"
+
+Slowly the vision faded, and he saw nothing.
+
+Then came the great temptation of Dick Faversham's life. His will-power,
+his manhood, had come back to him again, but he felt that he had to
+fight his battle alone. His eyes were open, but because at his heart was
+a gnawing despair, he believed there was nothing to live for save what
+his temptress promised.
+
+She pleaded as only a woman jealous for her love, determined to triumph,
+can plead. And she was beautiful, passionate, dangerous. Again he felt
+his strength leaving him, his will-power being sapped, his horror of
+wrong dulled.
+
+Still something struggled within him--something holy urged him to fight
+on. His manhood was precious; the spark of the Divine fire which still
+burnt refused to be extinguished.
+
+"Lord, have mercy upon me! Christ, have mercy upon me!"
+
+It was a part of the service he had so often repeated in the old school
+chapel, and it came back to him like the memory of a dream.
+
+"Countess," he said, "I must go."
+
+"No, no, Dick," cried the woman, with a laugh. "Why, it is scarcely ten
+o'clock."
+
+"I must go," he repeated weakly.
+
+"Not for another half an hour. I am so lonely."
+
+He was hesitating whether he should stay, when they both heard the sound
+of voices outside--voices that might have been angry. A moment later the
+door opened, and Beatrice Stanmore came in, accompanied by her
+grandfather.
+
+"Forgive me," panted the girl, "but I could not help coming. Something
+told me you were in great danger--ill--dying, and I have come."
+
+She had come to him just as she had come to him that night at Wendover
+Park, and at her coming the power of Romanoff was gone. It was the same
+now. As if by magic, he felt free from the charm of Olga Petrovic. The
+woman was evil, and he hated evil.
+
+Again the eyes of Beatrice Stanmore were fixed on the face of Olga
+Petrovic. She did not speak, but her look was expressive of a great
+loathing.
+
+"Surely this is a strange manner to disturb one's privacy," said the
+Countess. "I am at a loss to know to what I am indebted for this
+peculiar attention. I must speak to my servants."
+
+But Beatrice spoke no word in reply to her. Turning towards Dick again,
+she looked at him for a few seconds.
+
+"I am sorry I have disturbed you," she said. "Something, I do not know
+what, told me you were in some terrible danger, and I went back to the
+restaurant. A man there told us you had come here. I am glad I was
+mistaken. Forgive me, I will go now."
+
+"I am thankful you came," said Dick. "I--I am going."
+
+"Good-night, Countess," he added, turning to Olga, and without another
+word turned to leave the room. But Olga Petrovic was not in the humour
+to be baffled. She rushed towards him and caught his arm.
+
+"You cannot go yet," she cried. "You must not go like this, Dick; I
+cannot allow you. Besides, I want an explanation. These people, who are
+they? Dick, why are they here?"
+
+"I must go," replied Dick sullenly. "I have work to do."
+
+"Work!" she cried. "This is not the time for work, but love--our love,
+Dick. Ah, I remember now. This girl was at The Moscow with that soldier
+man. They love each other. Why may we not love each other too? Stay,
+Dick."
+
+But she pleaded in vain. The power of her spell had gone. Something
+strong, virile, vital, stirred within him, and he was master of
+himself.
+
+"Good-night, Countess," he replied. "Thank you for your kind invitation,
+but I must go."
+
+He scarcely knew where he was going, and he had only a dim remembrance
+of refusing to take the lift and of stumbling down the stairs. He
+thought he heard old Hugh Stanmore talking with Beatrice, but he was not
+sure; he fancied, too, that they were close behind him, but he was too
+bewildered to be certain of anything.
+
+A few minutes later he was tramping towards his own humble flat, and as
+he walked he was trying to understand the meaning of what had taken
+place.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Olga Petrovic had been alone only a few seconds, when Count Romanoff
+entered the room. Evidently he had been in close proximity all the time.
+In his eyes was the look of an angry beast at bay; his face was
+distorted, his voice hoarse.
+
+"And you have allowed yourself to be beaten--beaten!" he taunted.
+
+But the woman did not speak. Her hands were clenched, her lips
+tremulous, while in her eyes was a look of unutterable sorrow.
+
+"But we have not come to the end of our little comedy yet, Olga," went
+on Romanoff. "You have still your chance of victory."
+
+"Comedy!" she repeated; "it is the blackest tragedy."
+
+"Tragedy, eh? Yes; it will be tragedy if you fail."
+
+"And I must fail," she cried. "I am powerless to reach him, and yet I
+would give my heart's blood to win his love. But go, go! Let me never
+see your face again."
+
+"You will not get rid of me so easily," mocked the Count. "We made our
+pact. I will keep my side of it, and you must keep yours."
+
+"I cannot, I tell you. Something, something I cannot understand, mocks
+me."
+
+"You love the fellow still," said Romanoff. "Fancy, Olga Petrovic is
+weak enough for that."
+
+"Yes, I love him," cried the woman--"I admit it--love him with every
+fibre of my being. But not as you would have me love him. I have tried
+to obey you; but I am baffled. The man's clean, healthy soul makes me
+ashamed. God alone knows how ashamed I am! And it is his healthiness of
+soul that baffles me."
+
+"No, it is not," snarled Romanoff. "It is because I have been opposed by
+one of whom I was ignorant. That chit of a girl, that wayside flower,
+whom I would love to see polluted by the filth of the world, has been
+used to beat me. Don't you see? The fellow is in love with her. He has
+been made to love her. That is why you have failed."
+
+Mad jealousy flashed into the woman's eyes. "He loves her?" she asked,
+and her voice was hoarse.
+
+"Of course he does. Will you let him have her?"
+
+"He cannot. Is she not betrothed to that soldier fellow?"
+
+"What if she is? Was there not love in her eyes as she came here
+to-night? Would she have come merely for Platonic friendship? Olga, if
+you do not act quickly, you will have lost him--lost him for ever."
+
+"But I have lost him!" she almost wailed.
+
+"You have not, I tell you. Go to her to-night. Tell her that Faversham
+is not the man she thinks he is. Tell her--but I need not instruct you
+as to that. You know what to say. Then when he goes to her to explain,
+as he will go, she will drive him from her, Puritan fool as she is, with
+loathing and scorn! After that your turn will come again."
+
+For some time they talked, she protesting, he explaining, threatening,
+cajoling, promising, and at length he overcame. With a look of
+determination in her eyes, she left her flat, and drove to the hotel
+where Romanoff told her that Hugh Stanmore and Beatrice were staying.
+
+Was Miss Beatrice Stanmore in the hotel? she asked when she entered the
+vestibule.
+
+Yes, she was informed, Miss Stanmore had returned with her grandfather
+only half an hour before.
+
+She took one of her visiting cards and wrote on it hastily.
+
+"Will you take it to her at once," she commanded the servant, and she
+handed him the card. "Tell her that it is extremely urgent."
+
+"But it is late, your ladyship," protested the man; "and I expect she
+has retired."
+
+Nevertheless he went. A look from the woman compelled obedience. A few
+minutes later he returned.
+
+"Will you be pleased to follow me, your ladyship?" he said. "Miss
+Stanmore will see you."
+
+Olga Petrovic followed him with a steady step, but in her eyes was a
+look of fear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+THE TRIUMPH OF GOOD
+
+
+Beatrice Stanmore was sitting in a tiny room as the Countess Olga
+Petrovic entered. It was little more than a dressing-room, and adjoined
+her bedroom. She rose at Olga's entrance, and looked at the woman
+intently. She was perfectly calm, and was far more at ease than her
+visitor.
+
+"I hope you will pardon the liberty I have taken," and Olga spoke in
+sweet, low tones; "but I came to plead for your forgiveness. I was
+unutterably rude to you to-night, and I felt I could not sleep until I
+was assured of your pardon."
+
+"Won't you sit down?" and Beatrice pointed to a chair as she spoke. "I
+will ask my grandfather to come here."
+
+"But, pardon me," cried Olga eagerly, "could we not remain alone? I have
+much to say to you--things which I can say to you only."
+
+"Then it was not simply to ask my pardon that you came?" retorted
+Beatrice. "Very well, I will hear you."
+
+She was utterly different from the sensitive, almost timid girl whom
+Dick Faversham had spoken to at Wendover. It was evident that she had no
+fear of her visitor. She spoke in plain matter-of-fact terms.
+
+For a few seconds the older woman seemed to be at a loss what to say.
+The young inexperienced girl disturbed her confidence, her
+self-assurance.
+
+"I came to speak to you about Mr. Faversham," she began, after an
+awkward silence.
+
+Beatrice Stanmore made no remark, but sat quietly as if waiting for her
+to continue.
+
+"You know Mr. Faversham?" continued the woman.
+
+"Yes, I know him."
+
+"Forgive me for speaking so plainly; but you have an interest in him
+which is more than--ordinary?" The words were half a question, half an
+assertion.
+
+"I am greatly interested in Mr. Faversham--yes," she replied quietly.
+
+"Even though, acting on the advice of your grandfather, you have become
+engaged to Sir George Weston? Forgive my speaking plainly, but I felt I
+must come to you to-night, felt I must tell you the truth."
+
+Olga Petrovic paused as if waiting for Beatrice to say something, but
+the girl was silent. She fixed her eyes steadily on the other's face,
+and waited.
+
+"Mr. Faversham is not the kind of man you think he is." Olga Petrovic
+spoke hurriedly and awkwardly, as though she found the words difficult
+to say.
+
+Still Beatrice remained silent; but she kept her eyes steadily on the
+other's face.
+
+"I thought I ought to tell you. You are young and innocent; you do not
+know the ways of men. Mr. Faversham is not fit for you to associate
+with."
+
+"And yet you dined with him to-night. You took him to your flat
+afterwards."
+
+"But I am different from you. I am a woman of the world, and your
+Puritan standard of morals has no weight or authority with me. Of
+course," and again she spoke awkwardly, "I have no right to speak to
+you, your world is different from mine, and you are a stranger to me;
+but I have heard of you."
+
+"How? Through whom?"
+
+"Need you ask?"
+
+"I suppose you mean Mr. Faversham. Why should he speak to you about me?"
+
+"Some men are like that. They boast of their conquests, they glory
+in--in----; but I need not say more. Will you take advice from a woman
+who--who has suffered, and who, through suffering, has learnt to know
+the world? It is this. Think no more of Richard Faversham. He--he is not
+a good man; he is not fit to associate with a pure child like you."
+
+Beatrice Stanmore looked at the other with wonder in her eyes. There was
+more than wonder, there was terror. It might be that the older woman had
+frightened her.
+
+"Forgive me speaking like this," went on Olga, "but I cannot help
+myself. Drive him from your mind. Perhaps there is not much romance in
+the thought of marrying Sir George Weston, but I beseech you to do so.
+He, at least, will shield you from the temptations, the evil of the
+world. As for Faversham, if he ever tries to see you again, remember
+that his very presence is pollution for such as you. Yes, yes, I know
+what you are thinking of--but I don't matter. I live in a world of which
+I hope you may always remain ignorant; but in which Faversham finds his
+joy. You--you saw us together----"
+
+In spite of her self-control Beatrice was much moved. The crimson
+flushes on her cheeks were followed by deathly pallor. Her lips
+quivered, her bosom heaved as if she found it difficult to breathe. But
+she did not speak. Perhaps she was too horrified by the other's words.
+
+"I know I have taken a fearful liberty with you," went on Olga; "but I
+could not help myself. My life, whatever else it has done has made me
+quick to understand, and when I watched you, I saw that that man had
+cast an evil spell upon you. At first I felt careless, but as I watched
+your face, I felt a great pity for you. I shuddered at the thought of
+your life being blackened by your knowledge of such a man."
+
+"Does he profess love to you?" asked Beatrice quietly.
+
+Olga Petrovic gave a hard laugh. "Surely you saw," she said.
+
+"And you would warn me against him?"
+
+"Yes; I would save you from misery."
+
+For some seconds the girl looked at the woman's face steadily, then she
+said, simply and quietly:
+
+"And are you, who seek to save me, content to be the woman you say you
+are? You are very, very beautiful--are you content to be evil?"
+
+She spoke just as a child might speak; but there was something in the
+tones of her voice which caused the other to be afraid.
+
+"You seem to have a kind heart," went on Beatrice; "you would save me
+from pain, and--and evil. Have you no thought for yourself?"
+
+"I do not matter," replied the woman sullenly.
+
+"You think only of me?"
+
+"I think only of you."
+
+"Then look at me," and the eyes of the two met. "Is what you have told
+me true?"
+
+"True!"
+
+"Yes, true. You were innocent once, you had a mother who loved you, and
+I suppose you once had a religion. Will you tell me, thinking of the
+mother who loved you, of Christ who died for you, whether what you say
+about Mr. Faversham is true?"
+
+A change came over Olga Petrovic's face; her eyes were wide open with
+terror and shame. For some seconds she seemed fighting with a great
+temptation, then she rose to her feet.
+
+"No," she almost gasped; "it is not true!" She simply could not persist
+in a lie while the pure, lustrous eyes of the girl were upon her.
+
+"Then why did you tell me?"
+
+"Because, oh, because I am mad! Because I am a slave, and because I am
+jealous, jealous for his love, because, oh----!" She flung herself into
+the chair again, and burst into an agony of tears.
+
+"Oh, forgive me, forgive me for deceiving you!" she sobbed presently.
+
+"You did not deceive me at all. I knew you were lying."
+
+"But--but you seemed--horrified at what I told you!"
+
+"I was horrified to think that one so young and beautiful like you
+could--could sink so low."
+
+"Then you do not know what love is!" she cried. "Do you understand? I
+love him--love him! I would do anything, anything to win him."
+
+"And if you did, could you make him happy?"
+
+"I make him happy! Oh, but you do not know."
+
+"Tell me," said Beatrice, "are you not the tool, the slave of someone
+else? Has not Mr. Faversham an enemy, and are you not working for that
+enemy?"
+
+Her clear, childlike eyes were fixed on the other's face; she seemed
+trying to understand her real motives. Olga Petrovic, on the other hand,
+regarded the look with horror.
+
+"No, no," she cried, "do not think that of me! I would have saved Dick
+from him. I--I would have shielded him with my life."
+
+"You would have shielded him from Count Romanoff?"
+
+"Do not tell me you know him?"
+
+"I only know of him. He is evil, evil. Ah yes, I understand now. He sent
+you here. He is waiting for you now."
+
+"But how do you know?"
+
+"Listen," said Beatrice, without heeding her question, "you can be a
+happy woman, a good woman. Go back and tell that man that you have
+failed, and that he has failed; then go back to your own country, and be
+the woman God meant you to be, the woman your mother prayed you might
+be."
+
+"I--I a happy woman--a good woman!"
+
+"Yes--I tell you, yes."
+
+"Oh, tell me so again, tell me--O great God, help me!"
+
+"Sit down," said Beatrice quietly; "let us talk. I want to help you."
+
+For a long time they sat and talked, while old Hugh Stanmore, who was
+close by, wondered who his grandchild's visitor could be, and why they
+talked so long.
+
+It was after midnight when Olga Petrovic returned to her flat, and no
+sooner did she enter than Count Romanoff met her.
+
+"Well, Olga," he asked eagerly, "what news?"
+
+"I go back to Poland to-morrow, to my old home, to my own people."
+
+She spoke slowly, deliberately; her voice was hard and cold.
+
+He did not seem to understand. He looked at her questioningly for some
+seconds without speaking.
+
+"You are mad, Olga," he said presently.
+
+"I am not mad."
+
+"This means then that you have failed. You understand the consequences
+of failure?"
+
+"It means--oh, I don't know what it means. But I do know that that child
+had made me long to be a good woman."
+
+"A good woman? Olga Petrovic a good woman!" he sneered.
+
+"Yes, a good woman. I am not come to argue with you. I only tell you
+that you are powerless to hinder me."
+
+"And Faversham? Does Olga Petrovic mean that she confesses herself
+beaten? That she will have her love thrown in her face, and not be
+avenged?"
+
+"It means that if you like, and it means something more. Isaac Romanoff,
+or whatever your real name may be, why you have sought to ruin that man
+I don't know; but I know this: I have been powerless to harm him, and so
+have you."
+
+"It means that you have failed--_you_!" he snarled.
+
+"Yes, and why? There has been a power mightier than yours against which
+you have fought. Good, GOOD, has been working on his side, that is why
+you have failed, why I have failed. O God of Goodness, help me!"
+
+"Stop that, stop that, I say!" His voice was hoarse, and his face was
+livid with rage.
+
+"I will not stop," she cried. "I want to be a good woman--I will be a
+good woman. That child whom I laughed at has seen a thousand times
+farther into the heart of truth than I, and she is happy, happy in her
+innocence, in her spotless purity, and in her faith in God. And I
+promised her I would be a new woman, live a new life."
+
+"You cannot, you dare not," cried the Count.
+
+"But I will. I will leave the old bad past behind me."
+
+"And I will dog your every footstep. I will make such madness
+impossible."
+
+"But you cannot. Good is stronger than evil. God is Almighty."
+
+"I hold you, body and soul, remember that."
+
+The woman seemed possessed of a new power, and she turned to the Count
+with a look of triumph in her eyes.
+
+"Go," she cried, "in the name of that Christ who was the joy of my
+mother's life, and who died that I might live--I bid you go. From
+to-night I cease to be your slave."
+
+The Count lifted his hand as if to strike her, but she stood before him
+fearless.
+
+"You cannot harm me," she cried. "See, see, God's angels are all around
+me now! They stretch out their arms to help me."
+
+He seemed to be suffering agonies; his face was contorted, his eyes were
+lurid, and he appeared to be struggling with unseen powers.
+
+"I will not yield," he cried; "not one iota will I yield. You are mine,
+you swore to serve me--I claim my own."
+
+"The oath I took was evil, evil, and I break it. O eternal God, help me,
+help me. Save me, save me, for Christ's sake."
+
+Romanoff seemed to hesitate what to do, then he made a movement as if to
+move towards her, but was powerless to do so. The hand which he had
+uplifted dropped to his side as if paralysed; he was in the presence of
+a Power greater than his own. He passed out of the room without another
+word.
+
+The next day the flat of Countess Olga Petrovic was empty, but no one
+knew whither she had gone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For more than a month after the scenes I have described, Dick Faversham
+was confined to his room. He suffered no pain, but he was languid, weak,
+and terribly depressed. An acquaintance who called to see him, shocked
+by his appearance, insisted on sending for a doctor, and this gentleman,
+after a careful examination, declared that while he was organically
+sound, he was in a low condition, and utterly unfit for work.
+
+"You remind me of a man suffering from shell-shock," he said. "Have you
+had any sudden sorrow, or anything of that sort?"
+
+Dick shook his head.
+
+"Anyhow, you are utterly unfit for work, that is certain," went on the
+doctor. "What you need is absolute rest, cheerful companionship, and a
+warm, sunny climate."
+
+"There's not much suggestion of a warm, sunny climate here," Dick said,
+looking out of the window.
+
+"But I daresay it would be possible to arrange for a passport, so that
+you might get to the South of France, or to Egypt," persisted the
+doctor.
+
+"Yes; I might get a passport, but I've no money to get there."
+
+So Dick stayed on at his flat, and passed the time as best he could. By
+and by the weather improved, and presently Dick was well enough to get
+out. But he had no interest in anything, and he quickly grew tired. Then
+a sudden, an almost overmastering desire came to him to go to Wendover.
+There seemed no reason why he should go there, but his heart ached for a
+sight of the old house. He pictured it as it was during the time he
+spent there. He saw the giant trees in the park, the gay flowers in the
+gardens, the stateliness and restfulness of the old mansion. The thought
+of it warmed his heart, and gave him new hope.
+
+"Oh, if it were only mine again!" he reflected.
+
+He had heard that the rumours of Tony Riggleton's death were false, and
+he was also told that although he had been kept out of England for some
+time he would shortly return; but concerning that he could gather
+nothing definite.
+
+Of Beatrice Stanmore he had heard nothing, and he had no heart to make
+inquiries concerning her. He had many times reflected on her sudden
+appearance at Olga Petrovic's flat, and had he been well enough he would
+have tried to see her. More than once he had taken a pen in hand to
+write to her, but he had never done so. What was the use? In spite of
+her coming, he felt that she must regard him with scorn. He remembered
+what Olga Petrovic had said in her presence. Besides, he was too weak,
+too ill to make any effort whatever.
+
+But with the sudden desire to go to Wendover came also the longing to
+see her--to explain. Of course she was the affianced wife of Sir George
+Weston, but he wanted to stand well in her eyes; he wanted her to know
+the truth.
+
+It was a bright, balmy morning when he started for Surrey, and
+presently, when the train had left Croydon behind, a strange joy filled
+his heart. After all, life was not without hope. He was a young man, and
+in spite of everything he had kept his manhood. He was poor, and as yet
+unknown, but he had obtained a certain position. Love was not for him,
+nor riches, but he could work for the benefit of others.
+
+When the train stopped at Wendover station, he again found himself to be
+the only passenger who alighted. As he breathed the pure, balmy air, and
+saw the countryside beginning to clothe itself in its mantle of living
+green, it seemed to him that new life, new energy, entered his being.
+After all, it was good to be alive.
+
+Half an hour later he was nearing the park gates--not those which he had
+entered on his first visit, but those near which Hugh Stanmore's cottage
+was situated. He had taken this road without thinking. Well, it did not
+matter.
+
+As he saw the cottage nestling among the trees, he felt his heart
+beating wildly. He wondered if Beatrice was at home, wondered--a
+thousand things. He longed to call and make inquiries, but of course he
+would not. He would enter the park gates unseen, and make his way to the
+great house.
+
+But he did not pass the cottage gate. Before he could do so the door
+opened, and Beatrice appeared. Evidently she had seen him coming, for
+she ran down the steps with outstretched hand.
+
+"I felt sure it was you," she said, "and--but you look pale--ill; are
+you?"
+
+"I'm ever so much better, thank you," he replied. "So much so that I
+could not refrain from coming to see Wendover again."
+
+"But you must come in and rest," she cried anxiously. "I insist on it.
+Why did you not tell us you were ill?"
+
+Before he could reply he found himself within the cottage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+THE MINISTERING ANGEL
+
+
+"Are you alone?" he managed to ask.
+
+"Yes; Granddad went out early. He'll be back in an hour or so. He has
+been expecting to hear from you."
+
+How sweet and fair she looked! There was no suggestion of the exotic
+beauty of Olga Petrovic; she adopted no artificial aids to enhance her
+appearance. Sweet, pure air and exercise had tinted her cheeks; the
+beauty of her soul shone from her eyes. She was just a child of nature,
+and to Dick she was the most beautiful thing on God's earth.
+
+For a moment their eyes met, and then the love which Dick Faversham had
+been fighting against for weeks surged like a mighty flood through his
+whole being.
+
+"I must go--I must not stay here," he stammered.
+
+"But why? Granddad will be back soon."
+
+"Because----" Again he caught the flash of her eyes, and felt that the
+whole world without her was haggard hopelessness. Before he knew what he
+was saying he had made his confession.
+
+"Because I have no right to be here," he said almost angrily--"because
+it is dishonourable; it is madness for me to stay."
+
+"But why?" she persisted.
+
+He could not check the words that passed his lips; he had lost control
+over himself.
+
+"Don't you understand?" he replied passionately. "I have no right to be
+here because I love you--love you more than my own life. Because you are
+everything to me--_everything_--and you have promised to marry Sir
+George Weston."
+
+"But I've not." She laughed gaily as she uttered the words.
+
+"You've not promised to----But--but----"
+
+"No, of course not. How could I? I do not love him. He is awfully nice,
+and I'm very fond of him; but I don't love him. I could never think of
+such a thing."
+
+She spoke quite naturally, and in an almost matter-of-fact way. She did
+not seem to realise that her words caused Dick Faversham's brain to
+reel, and his blood to rush madly through his veins. Rather she seemed
+like one anxious to correct a mistake, but to have no idea of what the
+correction meant to him.
+
+For a few seconds Dick did not speak. "She is only a child," he
+reflected. "She does not understand what I have said to her. She does
+not realise what my love for her means."
+
+But he was not sure of this. Something, he knew not what, told him she
+_did_ know. Perhaps it was the flush on her cheeks, the quiver on her
+lips, the strange light in her eyes.
+
+"You have not promised to marry Sir George Weston?" he asked hoarsely.
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"But--he asked you?"
+
+"That is scarcely a fair question, is it?"
+
+"No, no, forgive me; it is not. But do you understand--what your words
+mean to me?"
+
+She was silent at this.
+
+"I love you--love you," he went on. "I want you to be my wife."
+
+"I'm so glad," she said simply.
+
+"But do you understand?" cried Dick. He could not believe in his own
+happiness, could not help thinking there must be some mistake. "This
+means everything to me."
+
+"Of course I understand. I've known it for a long time, that is, I've
+felt it must be so. And I've wondered why you did not come and tell me."
+
+"And you love me?" His voice was hoarse and tremulous.
+
+"Love you? Why--why do you think I--could be here like this--if I
+didn't?"
+
+Still she spoke almost as a child might speak. There was no suggestion
+of coquetry, no trying to appear surprised at his avowal. But there was
+something more, something in the tone of her voice, in the light of her
+eyes, in her very presence, that told Dick that deep was calling unto
+deep, that this maiden, whose heart was the heart of a child, had
+entered into womanhood, and knew its glory.
+
+"Aren't you glad, too?" she asked.
+
+"Glad! It seems so wonderful that I can't believe it! Half an hour ago
+the world was black, hopeless, while now----; but there are things I
+must tell you, things I've wanted to tell you ever since I saw you
+last."
+
+"Is it about that woman?"
+
+"Yes, I wanted to tell you why I was with her; I wanted you to know that
+she was nothing to me."
+
+"I knew all the time. But you were in danger--that was why I could not
+help coming to you. You understand, don't you? I had the same kind of
+feeling when that evil man was staying with you at the big house. He was
+trying to harm you, and I came. And he was still trying to ruin you, why
+I don't know, but he was using that woman to work his will. I felt it,
+and I came to you."
+
+"How did you know?" asked Dick. He was awed by her words, solemnised by
+the wondrous intuition which made her realise his danger.
+
+"I didn't know--I only felt. You see, I loved you, and I couldn't help
+coming."
+
+Another time he would have asked her many questions about this, but now
+they did not seem to matter. He loved, and was loved, and the fact
+filled the world.
+
+"Thank God you came," he said reverently. "And, Beatrice, you will let
+me call you Beatrice, won't you?"
+
+"Why, of course, you must, Dick."
+
+"May I kiss you?" he asked, and held out his arms.
+
+She came to him in all the sweet freshness of her young life and offered
+him her pure young lips. Never had he known what joy meant as he knew it
+then, never had he felt so thankful that in spite of dire temptation he
+had kept his manhood clean.
+
+Closer and closer he strained her to his heart, while words of love and
+of thankfulness struggled for expression. For as she laid her head on
+his shoulder, and he felt the beating of her heart, his mind swept like
+lightning over the past years, and he knew that angels of God had
+ministered to him, that they had shielded him from danger, and helped
+him in temptation. And this he knew also: while he had been on the brink
+of ruin through a woman, it was also by a woman that he had been saved.
+The thought of Beatrice Stanmore had been a power which had defied the
+powers of evil, and enabled him to keep his manhood clean.
+
+Even yet the wonder of it all was beyond words, for he had come there
+that morning believing that Beatrice was the promised wife of Sir George
+Weston, and now, as if by the wave of some magician's wand, his beliefs
+had been dispelled, and he had found her free.
+
+An hour before, he dared not imagine that this unspoilt child of nature
+could ever think of him with love, and yet her face was pressed against
+his, and she was telling him the simple story of her love--a love
+unsullied by the world, a love unselfish as that of a mother, and as
+strong as death.
+
+"But I am so poor," he stammered at length; "just a voting machine at
+four hundred a year."
+
+"As though you could ever be that," she laughed. "You are going to do
+great things, my love. You are going to live and work for the betterment
+of the world. And I--I shall be with you all the time."
+
+He had much to tell her--a story so wonderful that it was difficult to
+believe. But Beatrice believed it. The thought of an angel who had come
+to him, warned him, guided him, and strengthened him, was not strange to
+her. For her pure young eyes had pierced the barriers of materialism,
+just as the light of the stars pierces the darkness of night. Because
+her soul was pure, she knew that the angels of God were never far away,
+and that the Eternal Goodness used them to minister to those who would
+listen to their voices.
+
+Dick did not go to the great house that day. There seemed no reason why
+he should. By lunch time old Hugh Stanmore returned and was met by the
+two lovers.
+
+Of all they said to each other, and of the explanations that were made,
+there is no need that I should write. Suffice to say that Hugh Stanmore
+was satisfied. It is true he liked Sir George Weston, while the thought
+that Beatrice might be mistress of his house was pleasant to him; true,
+too, that Dick Faversham was poor. But he had no fears. He knew that
+this young man's love was pure and strong, that he would never rest
+until he had provided a home worthy of her, and that his grandchild's
+future would be safe in his hands.
+
+When Dick left the cottage that night, it was on the understanding that
+he would come back as soon as possible. Beatrice pleaded hard with him
+not to go to London, but to stay at the cottage and be nursed back to
+health and strength. But Dick had to make arrangements for a lengthened
+stay away from his work, and to see some of his confreres, so, while his
+heart yearned to remain near her, he looked joyfully forward to his
+return.
+
+"And you go away happy, my love?"
+
+"The happiest man on earth. And you, my little maid?"
+
+"Oh, Dick, everything is as I hoped and prayed for."
+
+"And you loved me all the time?"
+
+"All the time; but I did not know it until----"
+
+"Until when?"
+
+"Until another man told me he wanted me."
+
+Dick was in dreamland as he returned to London. No sooner had he boarded
+the train at Wendover than, as it seemed to him, he had arrived at
+Victoria. As for the journey between that station and his flat he has no
+remembrance to this day.
+
+"Oh, the wonder of it, the glad wonder of it!" he repeated again and
+again. "Thank God--thank God!"
+
+Then, as if in fulfilment of an old adage, no sooner had he entered his
+flat than another surprise awaited him. On his writing-table lay a long
+blue envelope, which had been brought by hand that afternoon. Dick
+broke the seal almost indifferently. What did he care about letters?
+Then he saw the name of Bidlake, and his attention was riveted.
+
+This is what he read:
+
+     "MY DEAR FAVERSHAM,--Forgive this unceremonious manner of writing,
+     but I fancy I am a little excited. Riggleton is dead, and thus it
+     comes about that the Faversham estates--or what is left of
+     them--revert to you. How it was possible for a man to squander so
+     much money and leave things in such a terrible mess in such a short
+     time it is difficult to say. But there it is. Still, a good deal is
+     left. Wendover Park, and all the lands attached remain untouched,
+     and a good deal of money can be scraped up. Will you call as soon
+     as possible on receipt of this, and I'll explain everything to you,
+     as far as I can.--With heartiest congratulations, yours faithfully,
+
+     "JOHN BIDLAKE."
+
+Again and again Dick read this letter. He felt something like the lad of
+the Eastern Story must have felt as he read. He would not have been
+surprised if the Slave of the Lamp appeared, asking what his desires
+were, so that they might be performed without delay. December had
+changed into June in a single day.
+
+His joy can be better imagined than described. To know that this old
+homestead was his again, to realise that he was no longer homeless and
+poor was a gladness beyond words. But he no longer felt as he had felt
+when he first saw Wendover. Then his thought had been of his own
+aggrandisement, and the satisfaction of his ambitions. Now he rejoiced
+because he could offer a home to the maiden he loved, and because he
+could do for the world what for years he had dreamt of doing.
+
+But he was early at Mr. Bidlake's office the following morning.
+
+"No, no, there's no mistake this time," Mr. Bidlake assured him. "You
+can enter into possession with a confident mind. Money! Yes, the fellow
+wasted it like water, but you need not fear. You'll have more than you
+need, in spite of increased income-tax and super-tax. Talk about romance
+though, if ever there was a romance this is one."
+
+After spending two hours with the lawyer Dick went to the House of
+Commons, where he made the necessary arrangements for a couple of weeks'
+further absence.
+
+"Yes, we can manage all right," assented the Labour Member with whom he
+spoke. "Not but what we shall be glad to have you back. There are big
+things brewing. The working people must no longer be hewers of wood and
+drawers of water. We must see to that."
+
+"Yes, we _will_ see to that," cried Dick. "But we must be careful."
+
+"Careful of what?"
+
+"Careful that we don't drift to Bolshevism, careful that we don't abuse
+our power. We must show that we who represent the Democracy understand
+our work. We must not think of one class only, but all the classes. We
+must think of the Empire, the good of humanity."
+
+The other shook his head, "No mercy on capitalists," he cried.
+
+"On the other hand we must make capitalists do their duty," Dick
+replied. "We must see to it that Capital and Labour work together for
+the good of the whole community. There lies the secret of stable
+government and a prosperous nation."
+
+It was late in the evening when Dick arrived at Hugh Stanmore's cottage,
+so late indeed that the old man had given up hope of his coming; but
+Beatrice rushed to him with a glad laugh.
+
+"I knew you would come," she said. "And now I am going to begin my work
+as nurse right away. You must have a light supper and go to bed at once,
+and to-morrow you must stay in bed all day."
+
+Dick shook his head. "And I am going to rebel," was his reply. "I am
+going to sit up for at least two hours, while first thing to-morrow
+morning I am going to take you to a house I have in my mind."
+
+"What house?"
+
+"A house I've settled on for our future home."
+
+"Dick, don't be foolish. You know we must not think of that for
+months--years."
+
+"Mustn't we?" laughed Dick. "There, read that," and he handed her Mr.
+Bidlake's letter.
+
+"But, Dick!" she cried as she read, "this, this is----"
+
+"Beautiful, isn't it?" Dick replied joyously. "Will you read it, sir?"
+and he placed it in old Hugh Stanmore's hands.
+
+After that Beatrice no longer insisted that her lover must be treated as
+an invalid. Hour after hour they sat talking, while the wonder of it all
+never left them.
+
+The next morning broke bright and clear. Spring had indeed come,
+gladsome joyous spring, heralded by the song of birds, by the
+resurrection of a new life everywhere.
+
+"Will you go with us, Granddad?" asked Beatrice, as they prepared for
+their visit.
+
+"No," said Hugh Stanmore; "I'll come across alone in a couple of hours."
+He was a wise man.
+
+Neither of them spoke a word as they walked up the avenue towards the
+great house. Perhaps their minds were both filled by the same
+thoughts--thoughts too great for utterance. Above them the sun shone in
+a great dome of cloudless blue, while around them all nature was putting
+on her beautiful garments.
+
+Presently the old house burst upon their view. There it stood on a
+slight eminence, while behind it great trees rose. Away from the front
+of the building stretched grassy lawns and flower gardens, while beyond
+was parkland, studded by giant trees.
+
+And still neither spoke. Hand in hand they walked towards the entrance
+door, Dick gazing at it earnestly, as if looking for something. When
+they had come within a dozen yards of it both, as if by mutual consent,
+stood still.
+
+Was it fancy or was it real? Was it because expectancy was in both their
+hearts, and their imagination on fire, or did they really see?
+
+This is what both of them told me they saw.
+
+Standing in the doorway, with hands outstretched as if in the attitude
+of welcoming them, was the luminous figure of a woman. Her face was lit
+up with holy joy, while in her eyes was no sorrow, no doubt, but a look
+of ineffable happiness.
+
+For a few seconds she stood gazing on them, and Dick saw the look of
+love in her eyes, saw the rapture that seemed to pervade her being. It
+was the same face he had seen there before, the same love-lit eyes.
+
+She lifted her hands as if in benediction, and then slowly the figure
+faded away.
+
+"It is my mother," whispered Dick. He had no remembrance of his mother,
+but he knew it was she. He felt no fear, there was nothing to be fearful
+about, rather a great joy filled his life. God had sent his angel to
+tell him that all was well.
+
+The door stood open, and they entered the great silent hall together. No
+one was in sight. He opened his arms, and she came to him.
+
+"Welcome home, my wife," he said.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED, EDINBURGH
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_JOSEPH HOCKING'S GREAT WAR STORIES_
+
+    ALL FOR A SCRAP OF PAPER
+    THE CURTAIN OF FIRE
+    DEARER THAN LIFE
+    THE PATH OF GLORY
+    "THE POMP OF YESTERDAY"
+    TOMMY
+    TOMMY AND THE MAID OF ATHENS
+    THE PRICE OF A THRONE
+
+
+_OTHER STORIES BY JOSEPH HOCKING_
+
+    FACING FEARFUL ODDS
+    O'ER MOOR AND FEN
+    THE WILDERNESS
+    ROSALEEN O'HARA
+    THE SOUL OF DOMINIC WILDTHORNE
+    FOLLOW THE GLEAM
+    DAVID BARING
+    THE TRAMPLED CROSS
+    THE MAN WHO ROSE AGAIN
+
+
+    HODDER AND STOUGHTON
+    WARWICK SQUARE, LONDON, E.C.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING ARMS***
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