GLADWYNE SURRENDERS
Evening was drawing on when Bella strolled aimlessly down the ascending road that led to Marple’s residence. On one hand of the road there was a deep rift, filled with shadow, in which a beck murmured among the stones, and the oaks that climbed to the ridge above flung their great branches against the saffron glow in the western sky. Fallen leaves, glowing brown and red, had gathered thick beneath one hedgerow and more came slowly sailing down; but Bella brushed through them unheeding, oblivious to her surroundings. She had suffered during the few days that had followed her interview with Gladwyne and even the sharp encounter with Miss Marple in which she had recently indulged had not cheered her, though it had left her friend smarting.
Presently she looked around with interest as a figure appeared farther up the road, and recognizing the fine poise and vigorous stride, she stopped and waited. Lisle was a bracing person to talk to, and she wanted to see him. He soon came up with her and she greeted him cordially. Unlike Gladwyne, he was a real man, resolute and resourceful, with a generous vein in him, and she did not resent the fact that he looked rather hard at her.
“You don’t seem as cheerful as usual,” he observed.
“I’m not,” she confessed. “In fact, I think I was very nearly crying.”
“What’s the trouble?” He showed both interest and sympathy.
“Oh, you needn’t ask. It’s Jim again. I’ve tried every means and I can’t do anything with him.”
“He is pretty uncontrollable. Seems to have gone back to Batley again. I wonder if it would be any good if I looked for an opportunity for making a row with the fellow?”
“No,” she answered, with appreciation, for this was very different from Gladwyne’s attitude. “It would only separate Jim from you, and I don’t want that to happen. Please keep hold of him, though I know that can’t be pleasant for you.”
“He is trying now and then, but I’ll do what I can. Gladwyne, however, has more influence than I have. Did you think of asking him?”
She colored, and in her brief confusion he read his answer with strong indignation—she had pleaded with Gladwyne and he had refused to help.
“Do you know,” she said, looking up at him, “you’re the only real friend I have. There’s nobody else I can trust.”
“I think you’re wrong in that,” he declared; and acting on impulse he laid a hand protectingly on her shoulder, for she looked very dejected and forlorn. “Anyway, you mustn’t worry. I’ll do something—in fact, something will have to be done.”
“What will you do?”
He knitted his brows. There was a course, which promised to be effective, open to him, but he was most averse to adopting it. He could give Gladwyne a plain hint that he had better restrain his confederate, but he could enforce compliance only by stating what he knew about the former’s desertion of his cousin. He was not ready to do that yet; it would precipitate the climax, and once his knowledge of the matter was revealed his power to use it in case of a stronger need might be diminished. The temptation to leave Jim Crestwick to his fate was strong, but his pity for the anxious girl was stronger.
“I’ll have a talk with Gladwyne,” he promised.
“That wouldn’t be of the least use!”
“I think he’ll do what I suggest,” Lisle answered with a trace of grimness. “Make your mind easy; I’ll have Batley stopped.”
She looked at him in surprise, filled with relief and gratitude. He was one who would not promise more than he could perform; but how he could force his will on Gladwyne she did not know.
“You’re wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Whatever one asks you’re able to do.”
“And you’re very staunch.”
“Oh!” she said, standing very close to him, with his hand still on her shoulder, “we won’t exchange compliments—they’re too empty, and you deserve something better.” She glanced round swiftly. “Shut your eyes, tight!”
He obeyed her, and for a moment light fingers rested on his breast; then there was a faint warm touch upon his cheek. When he looked up she was standing a yard away, smiling mockingly.
“Don’t trust your imagination too much—it might have deceived you,” she warned. “But you have sense; you wouldn’t attach an undue value to anything.”
“Confidence and gratitude are precious,” he answered. “I’d better point out that I haven’t earned either of them yet.”
Bella was satisfied with this, but she grew graver, wondering how far she might have delivered Gladwyne into his hands. She was angry with the man, but she would not have him suffer.
“I don’t know what power you have—but you won’t make too much use of it—I don’t wish that,” she begged. “After all, though, Jim must be got out of that fellow’s clutches.”
“Yes,” assented Lisle, “there’s no doubt of it.”
She left him presently and he went on down the dale, not exactly repenting of his promise, but regretting the necessity which had led to his making it. The task with which he had saddled himself was an exceedingly unpleasant one and might afterward make it more difficult for him to accomplish the purpose that had brought him to England, but he meant to carry it out.
As it happened, he met Mrs. Gladwyne at Millicent’s, where he called, and he spent an uncomfortable half-hour in her company. She had shown in various ways that she liked him, and calling him to her side soon after he came in, she talked to him in an unusually genial manner. He felt like a traitor in this gracious lady’s presence and it was a relief when she took her departure.
“You look troubled,” Millicent observed.
“That’s how I feel,” he confessed. “After all, it isn’t a very uncommon sensation. It’s sometimes difficult to see ahead.”
“Often,” she answered, smiling. “What do you do then—stop a little and consider?”
“Not as a rule. The longer you consider the difficulties, the worse they look. It’s generally better to go right on.”
Millicent agreed with this; and soon afterward Lisle took his departure and walked back to Nasmyth’s in an unusually serious mood. They were sitting smoking when his host broached the subject that was occupying him.
“It’s some time since you said anything about the project that brought you over,” he remarked.
“That’s so,” assented Lisle. “I’m fixed much as I was when we last spoke of it. When I was in Canada, I thought I’d only to find Gladwyne and scare a confession out of him. Now I find that what I’ve undertaken isn’t by any means so simple.”
“I warned you that it wouldn’t be.”
“You were right. There’s his mother to consider—it’s a privilege to know her—she’s devoted to the fellow. Then there’s Millicent; in a way, she’s almost as devoted, anyhow she’s a staunch friend of his. I don’t know how either of them would stand the revelation.”
“It would kill Mrs. Gladwyne,” Nasmyth declared.
There was silence for a while, and then Lisle spoke again.
“I’m badly worried; any move of mine would lead to endless trouble—and yet there’s the black blot on the memory of the man to whom I owe so much; I can’t bring myself to let it remain. Besides all this, there’s another complication.”
“Young Crestwick’s somehow connected with it,” Nasmyth guessed.
Lisle did not deny it.
“That crack-brained lad seems to be the pivot on which the whole thing turns. Curious, isn’t it? I wish the responsibility hadn’t been laid on my shoulders. Just now I can’t tell what I ought to do—it’s harassing.”
“Don’t force things; wait for developments,” Nasmyth advised him. “I’m not trying to extract information; the only reason I mentioned the subject is that a man in the home counties has asked me to come up for a few weeks and bring you along. He’s a good sort, there’s fair sport, and it’s a nice place; but I don’t mind in the least whether I go or not.”
“Then I’d rather stay. I’ve a feeling that I may be wanted here.”
“I’m quite satisfied, for a reason I’ll explain. You have ridden that young bay horse of mine. He comes of good stock and he’s showing signs of an excellent pace over the hurdles. Now I couldn’t expect to enter him for any first-rate event—he’s hardly fast enough and it’s too expensive in various ways—but there’s a little semi-private meeting to be held before long at a place about thirty miles off. I might have a chance there if we put him into training immediately. You know something about horses?”
“Not much,” responded Lisle. “I’ve made one long journey in the saddle in Alberta; but you’ve seen our British Columbian trails. Our cayuses have generally to climb, and as a rule I’ve used horses only for packing. Still, I’m fond of them; I’d be interested in the thing.”
Nasmyth nodded.
“One difficulty is that there’s nothing in the neighborhood that I could try him for pace against except that horse of Gladwyne’s.”
“He’d no doubt let you have the beast.”
“It’s possible,” Nasmyth agreed dryly. “But I’ve objections to being indebted to him; and I don’t want Batley, Marple and Crestwick to take a hand in and put their money on me. However, we’ll think it over.”
They retired to sleep soon afterward; and the next day Lisle walked across to call on Gladwyne, in a quietly determined mood. Clarence was in his library, and he looked up with some curiosity when Lisle was shown in. Lisle came to the point at once.
“You’ve no doubt noticed that Jim Crestwick has been going pretty hard of late,” he said. “Bets, speculation, and that sort of thing. He can’t keep it up on a minor’s allowance. It will end in a bad smash if he isn’t checked.”
Gladwyne’s manner became supercilious.
“I fail to see how it concerns you, or, for that matter, either of us.”
“We won’t go into the question—it’s beside the point. What I want you to do is to pull him up.”
He spoke as if he meant to be obeyed, and Gladwyne looked at him in incredulous astonishment.
“Do you suppose I’m able to restrain the lad?”
“You ought to be,” Lisle answered coolly. “It’s your friend Batley who’s leading him on to ruin; I’m making no comments on your conduct in standing by and watching, as if you approved of it.”
The man grew hot with anger.
“Thank you for your consideration.” His tone changed to a sneer. “I suppose you couldn’t be expected to realize that the attitude you’re adopting is inexcusable?”
“If you don’t like it, I’ll try another,” Lisle returned curtly. “You’ll give Batley his orders to leave the lad alone right now.”
Gladwyne rose with his utmost dignity, a fine gentleman whose feelings had been outraged by the coarse attack of a barbarian; but Lisle waved his hand in a contemptuous manner.
“Stop where you are; that kind of thing is thrown away on me. You’re going to listen for a few minutes and afterward you’re going to do what I tell you. To begin with—why, after you’d opened it, didn’t you wipe out all trace of the cache on the reach below the last portage your cousin made?”
The shot obviously reached its mark, for Gladwyne clutched the table hard, and then sank back limply into his seat. He further betrayed himself by a swift, instinctive glance toward the rows of books behind him, and Lisle had no doubt that the missing pages from George Gladwyne’s diary were hidden among them. He waited calmly, sure of his position, while Gladwyne with difficulty pulled himself together.
“Have you any proof that I found the cache?” he asked.
“I think so,” Lisle informed him. “But we’ll let that slide. You’d better take the thing for granted. I’m not here to answer questions. I’ve told you plainly what I want.”
There was silence for nearly a minute during which Gladwyne sat very still in nerveless dismay. All resistance had melted out of him, his weakness was manifest—he could not face a crisis, there was no courage in him.
“The miserable young idiot!” he broke out at length in impotent rage. “This is not the first trouble in which he has involved me!”
“Just so,” said Lisle. “Not long ago his sister came here, begging you to save him, and you wouldn’t. It’s not my part to point what she must think of you. But I’m in a different position; you won’t refuse me.”
Gladwyne leaned forward, gripping the arms of his chair as if he needed support, and his face grew haggard.
“The difficulty is that I’m helpless,” he declared.
Lisle regarded him with contempt.
“Brace up,” he advised him. “The fellow you’re afraid of is only flesh and blood; he has his weak point somewhere. Face him and find it, if you can’t talk him round. There’s no other way open to you.”
A brief silence followed; and then Gladwyne broke it.
“I’ll try. But suppose I can induce him to leave Crestwick alone?”
“So much the better for you,” Lisle answered with a dry smile. “I’m not here to make a bargain. I don’t want anything for myself.”
He went out, consoling himself with the last reflection, for the part he had played had been singularly disagreeable. Passing down the wide staircase and through the great hall, he turned along the terrace with a sense of wonder and disgust. It was a stately house; the wide sweep of lawn where two gardeners were carefully sweeping up the leaves, the borders beyond it, blazing with dahlias and ranks of choice chrysanthemums, conveyed the same suggestion of order, wealth and refinement. One might, he thought, have expected to find some qualities that matched with these—dignity, power, a fine regard for honor—in the owner of such a place, but he had not even common courage. An imposing figure, to outward seeming, the Canadian regarded him as one who owed everything to a little surface polish and his London clothes.
Lisle paused to look back when he reached the end of the terrace, from which a path that would save him a short walk led through a shrubbery. One wing of the building was covered with Virginia creeper that glowed with the gorgeous hues of a fading maple leaf, the sunlight lay on the grass, and the feeling of tranquillity that hung about the place grew stronger. He thought that he could understand how the desire to possess it would stir an Englishman reared in such surroundings, and yet he was now convinced that this was not the impulse which had driven Gladwyne into deserting his starving cousin. The man had merely yielded to craven fear.
He heard footsteps, and looking around was a little surprised to see Batley moving toward him.
“You have just called on Gladwyne,” Batley began.
Lisle stopped. There was, so far as he knew, nothing to be said in favor of the man, but his cool boldness was tempered by a certain geniality and an occasional candor that the Canadian could not help appreciating. He preferred Batley to Gladwyne.
“That’s so,” he agreed.
“I’m inclined to think your visit concerned me. I’ve noticed your interest in young Crestwick—it’s obvious—I don’t know whether one could say the same of the cause of it?”
“We won’t discuss that. If you have anything to say to me, you had better adopt a less offensive style.”
Batley smiled good-humoredly.
“You’re quick at resenting things. I don’t see why you should expect a longer patience from me.”
“I don’t expect anything from you,” Lisle informed him. “In proof of it, I’ll mention that I called to tell Gladwyne he must keep you off of Jim Crestwick.”
He made a slip in the last few words, which the other quickly noticed.
“Ordered him, in fact,” he said.
Lisle made no answer and Batley resumed:
“You have some kind of a hold on Gladwyne; so have I. Of course, it’s no news to you. I’m a little curious to learn what yours consists of.”
“Why?”
“It struck me that we might work together.”
“I’m not going in for card-sharping or anything of that kind!”
The man seemed roused by this, but he mastered his anger.
“Civility isn’t expensive and sometimes it’s wise,” he observed. “I won’t return the compliment; in fact, I’ll credit you with the most disinterested motives. All I mean is that I might help you and you might help me. I’m not quite what you seem to think I am, and if I can get my money back out of Gladwyne I won’t harm him.”
“I don’t care in the least whether you harm him or not. But I’ll try to arrange that you drop Crestwick.”
Batley considered this for a moment or two.
“Well,” he said, “I’m sorry we can’t agree; but as regards Crestwick you can only head me off by forcing Gladwyne to interfere. Between ourselves, do you think he’s a man who’s likely to take a bold course?”
“I think so—in the present case.”
“You mean if the pressure’s sufficient. Now you have given me a glimpse at your hand and I’ll be candid. Gladwyne rather let me in, and there’s a risk in dealing with a lad who’s to all intents and purposes a minor; I’ve gone about as far with him as I consider judicious. Don’t do anything that may damage Gladwyne financially without giving me warning, and in return I’ll let Crestwick go. To some extent, I only got hold of him as an offset to the trouble I’ve had with Gladwyne. Is it a bargain? You can trust me.”
“We’ll let it go at that,” replied Lisle. “But I’ll keep my eye on you.”
Batley’s gesture implied that he would not object to this, and he turned away, leaving the Canadian to walk back to Nasmyth’s thoughtfully. Lisle did not think he had done Gladwyne much harm by his tacit admissions, and he had some degree of confidence in Batley’s assurance.