The Third Volume Page 3

  CHAPTER II.

  A MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION.

  THE ATHENIAN CLUB was the most up-to-date thing of its kind in London.Although it had been established over eight years it was as new as onthe day of its creation, and not only kept abreast of the times, but inmany instances went ahead of them. The Athenians of old time were alwayscrying out for something new; and their prototypes of London, followingin their footsteps, formed a body of men who were ever on the look-outfor novelty. Hence the name of this club, which adopted for its mottothe classic cry, "Give us something new," and acted well up to thesaying. The Athenian Club was the pioneer of everything.

  It would take a long time to recount the vagaries for which this coteriehad been responsible. If one more daring spirit than the rest invented anew thing or reinstated on old one, his fellows followed like a flock ofintelligent sheep and wore the subject threadbare, till some morestartling theory initiated a new movement. The opinion of the club tookits color from the prevailing "fad" of the hour, and indeed many of theaforesaid "fads" were invented in its smoke room. It should have beencalled "The Ephemeral Club," from the rapidity with which its fanciersrose to popularity and vanished into obscurity.

  After all, such incessant novelty is rather fatiguing. London is themost exhausting city in the world in which to live. From all quarters ofthe globe news is pouring in, every street is crowded with life andmovement; the latest ideas of civilization here ripen to completion. Itis impossible to escape from the contagion of novelty; it is in the air.Information salutes one at every turn; it pours from the mouths of men;it thrusts itself before the eye in countless daily and weeklynewspapers; it clicks from every telegraph wire, until the brain iswearied with the flood of ephemeral knowledge. All this plethora ofintellectual life was concentrated in the narrow confines of theAthenian Club House. No wonder its members complained of news.

  "What is the prevailing passion with the Athenian at present?" askedLarcher as he stepped briskly along Piccadilly beside Tait.

  "The New Literature!"

  "What is that?"

  "Upon my word, I can hardly tell you," replied Tait, after somecogitation. "It is a kind of impressionist school, I fancy. Those whoprofess to lead it insist upon works having no plot, and no action, orno dramatic situations. Their idea of a work is for a man andwoman--both vaguely denominated 'he' and 'she'--to talk to one anotherthrough a few hundred pages. Good Lord, how they do talk, and all abouttheir own feelings, their own woes, their own troubles, their owninfernal egotisms! The motto of 'The New Literature' should be 'Talk!talk! talk!' for it consists of nothing else."

  "Why not adopt Hamlet's recitation," suggested Larcher laughingly,"'Words! words! words!'"

  "Oh, 'The New Literature' wants nothing from the past! Not even aquotation," said Tait tartly. "Woman--the new woman--is greatly to thefore in this latest fancy. She writes about neurotic members of her ownsex, and calls men bad names every other page. The subjects mostlydiscussed in the modern novel by the modern woman, are the regenerationof the world by woman, the failure of the male to bridle his appetites,and the beginning of the millennium which will come when women get theirown way."

  "Haven't they got their own way now?"

  "I should think so. I don't know what further freedom they want. We livein a world of petticoats nowadays. Women pervade everything likemicrobes. And they are such worrying creatures," pursued Taitplaintively, "they don't take things calmly like men do, but talk andrage and go into hysterics every other minute. If this sort of thinggoes on I shall retire with Dormer to an uninhabited island."

  "It is easily seen that you are not a friend to the new movement," saidLarcher, with a smile, "but here we are. Wait in the smoke room, like agood fellow, while I see after my correspondence."

  "You will find me in the writing room," replied Tait. "I have lost mymorning pipe, and do not intend to smoke any more till after luncheon."

  "I don't believe you're a man, Tait, but a clockwork figure wound up toact in the same manner at the same moment. And you are such a horriblyvulgar piece of mechanism."

  Tait laughed, gratified by this tribute to his methodical habits, so,leaving Larcher to see after his letters, he vanished into the writingroom. Here he wrote an apologetic telegram to his friend Freak, and sentit off so that it might reach that gentleman before he started forRichmond. Then he scribbled a few notes on various trifling matters ofbusiness which called for immediate attention, and having thus disposedof his cares, ensconced himself in a comfortable armchair to wait forClaude.

  In a few minutes Larcher made his appearance with a puzzled expressionon his face, and two open letters in his hand. Taking a seat close tothat of Tait, he at once began to explain that the news contained in theletters was the cause of the expression aforesaid.

  "My other letters are nothing to speak of," said he, when seated, "butthese two fairly puzzle me. Number one is from Mr. Hilliston, asking meto call; the other is from a Margaret Bezel, with a similar request. NowI know Mr. Hilliston as guardian, lawyer, and banker, but who isMargaret Bezel?"

  Tait shook his wise little head. Well-informed as he was in severalmatters, he had never heard of Margaret Bezel.

  "She lives at Hampstead, I see," continued Claude, referring to theletter. "Clarence Cottage, Hunt Lane. That is somewhere in the vicinityof Jack Straw's Castle. I wonder who she is, and why she wants to seeme."

  "You have never heard of her?" asked Tait dubiously. He was never quitesatisfied with Larcher's connections with the weaker sex.

  "Certainly not," replied the other, with some heat. "If I had I wouldassuredly remember so odd a name. Bezel! Bezel! Something to do with aring, isn't it?"

  "It might have something to do with a wedding ring," said Tait, with agrim smile. "The lady may have matrimonial designs on you."

  "Bah! She may be a washerwoman for all you know, or a wife, or a widow,or Heaven only knows what. But that is not the queerest part of theaffair, for Mr. Hilliston----But here, read the lady's letter first, thegentleman's next, and tell me what you think of them. Upon my word, Ican make neither top nor tail of the business!"

  (_The First Letter._)

  "April 18, 1892. "DEAR SIR: Will you be so kind as to call and see me at Clarence Cottage, Hunt Lane, Hampstead, as I have an important communication to make to you regarding your parents. "Yours truly, "MARGARET BEZEL."

  (_The Second Letter._)

  "LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, June 10, 1892. "DEAR CLAUDE: Call and see me here as soon as you arrive in town, and should you receive a communication from one Margaret Bezel, bring it with you. On no account see the lady before you have an interview with me. This matter is more important than you know of, and will be duly explained by me when you call.

  "Yours sincerely, "FRANCIS HILLISTON."

  Tait read these two letters carefully, pinched his chin reflectively,and looked at Claude in a rather anxious manner.

  "Well, sir," said the latter impatiently, "what is your opinion?"

  Tait's opinion was given in one word, and that not of the nicestmeaning.

  "Blackmail."

  "Blackmail!" repeated Larcher, taken aback, as well he might be. "Whatdo you mean?"

  "I may be wrong," said Tait apologetically, "but this is the onlyconclusion to which I can come. I read the matter this way: MargaretBezel knows something about your parents, and wishes to reveal it toyou, possibly on condition that you pay her a sum of money. Hillistonevidently knows that such is her intention, and wishes to put you onyour guard. Hence he asks you to see him before you accept theinvitation of the lady."

  "H'm! This is feasible enough. But what possible communication can thiswoman be likely to make to me
which would involve blackmail. My parentsboth died when I was four years of age. She can't have any evil to sayof them after twenty-five years."

  "You must question Hilliston as to that," replied Tait, shrugging hisshoulders. "I think you ought to see him this afternoon. He knows youare in town. I suppose?"

  "I wrote from Wellington to tell him that I was returning in the_Kailargatin_," said Claude, glancing at the letter. "He must have beeninformed by the paper of her arrival yesterday, for this note is datedthe same day. To-day is the eleventh."

  "But surely Hilliston knew you would call as soon as you arrived?"

  "He might be certain that I would do so within the week, at all events,"answered Larcher reflectively. "That is what makes his letter the morepuzzling. The matter must be very urgent when he demands an immediateinterview."

  "I am certain he wishes to forestall this lady," said Tait, picking upthe letter of Margaret Bezel. "She, at all events, knows nothing of yourmovements, for the note is dated the 10th of April, when you were in NewZealand."

  "Humph! It is very odd, Tait."

  "It is extremely odd, and too important to be neglected. Call on Mr.Hilliston this afternoon, and send him a wire now to make anappointment."

  "I hope I am not going to have a bad quarter of an hour," observedClaude, as he wrote out the telegram. The mystery of the matter ruffledhis usual serenity.

  "I sincerely trust you are not," replied the other, touching the bellfor the waiter; "but I must say I do not like the look of those twoepistles."

  The telegram was duly dispatched, and after a few more conjectures as tothe motive of the communications, Larcher went upstairs to luncheon withhis friend. Halfway through the meal he was struck with an idea.

  "Margaret Bezel must be old, Tait."

  "How do you know?"

  "If she knows anything of my parents she must have been their friend orservant, and as they died twenty-five years ago she can be no chicken."

  "True enough! But don't go out and meet your troubles halfway, Claude.It will be time enough to worry should Hilliston give you bad news. Bythe way, I suppose you'll stay with him to-night?"

  "No doubt. He has bought a new house in Kensington Gore, and wishes meto have a look at it. I shall be glad to see his wife again. Dear oldlady, she has been a second mother to me, and he like a father."

  "And I like a brother," interposed Tait, laughing. "As a lonely orphanyou have to depend upon public charity for your relatives. But talkingabout new houses, you must see mine."

  "What! Are you a householder?"

  "A householder, not a landed proprietor," said Tait, with pride. "I havepurchased an old Manor House and a few acres at Thorston, about eightmiles from Eastbourne. You must come down and see it. I have just had itfurnished and put in order. A week or so there will do you good, andgive me much pleasure."

  "I shall be delighted to come," said Larcher hastily, "that is, if thereis no troublesome business to detain me in London."

  "Well, you will know shortly. After all, Hilliston may give you goodnews, instead of bad."

  "Bah! You don't believe that, Tait."

  "I don't indeed! But I am trying to comfort you."

  "After the fashion of Job's friends," retorted Claude promptly. "Well,you may be right, for I do not like the look of things myself. However,I must take bad fortune along with good. Hitherto all has gone well withme, and I sincerely trust this letter from Margaret Bezel is not aforerunner of trouble."

  "Should it be so, you will always have at least one friend to stand byyou."

  "Thank you, Tait," replied Larcher, grasping the outstretched hand."Should the time come for testing your friendship, I shall have nohesitation in putting it to the proof. And the time is coming," addedhe, tapping the pocket which held the letter, "of that I am certain."

  "What about our theater to-night?" demanded Tait dubiously.

  "It all depends on my interview with Hilliston."

  Tait said nothing at the moment, and shortly afterward they parted,Larcher to seek his guardian in Lincoln's Inn Fields, Tait to return tohis chambers.

  "Humph!" said the latter thoughtfully, "there will be no theater for usto-night. I don't like the look of things at all. The deuce takeMargaret Bezel!"