Chapter Nine.
Played Out.—The Last Throw.
Lady Tryon had descended to her drawing-room, to which Harry had been summoned to receive her commands. He felt greatly disposed to emancipate himself from his thraldom. “Better a crust of bread and a cup of cold water than this sort of work,” he thought; “yet my grandmother has brought me up, she is the only relative to whom I owe obedience; perhaps something will turn up to free me.”
He thought this as he came up from his room. The post arrived at the same moment. A letter was delivered to him. It was from Mabel, announcing her cousin’s death. She called him her dear Harry, and concluded with “ever the same.” Had he been alone he would have pressed the letter to his lips; as it was, he merely repeated the more important part of its contents to his grandmother. Utterly worldly, and devoid of any higher feeling, the old lady received the news in a heartless way. She scarcely uttered an expression of regret; indeed, Harry could not help seeing that she was highly pleased.
“You must marry the heiress,” she said; “you must praise her to Mr Kyffin, and I will back you up, and we will see what he can do for you.”
She suddenly seemed to think Harry appeared doubtful as to what he should do.
“I tell you, boy, I’ll cut you off to a shilling,” she said, getting up and laying her hand on his arm. “You will be a beggar, and a wretched beggar, if you don’t follow my advice. I will not say more; I have said enough; but remember.”
“Yes, your ladyship has said enough,” answered Harry. “I love Mabel too well to have her for the sake of her fortune, and I have no wish to see her father die that I may become its possessor.”
“Nonsense, boy!” exclaimed the old lady, in a harsh, shrill voice. “You’re a fool, Harry.”
The unpleasant conversation was interrupted by a servant entering, and announcing a visitor.
“Mr Flockton, who is he?” asked Harry, as he looked at the card.
“I know him; I am glad he has come,” said Lady Tryon; “it will save me a long drive into the city.”
As she spoke, a middle-aged gentleman in fashionable costume entered the room. He was a somewhat short man, broadly built, with regular features, and a shining bald forehead, from which his lightly-powdered hair was completely drawn off, and fastened behind in a pigtail. The expression of his countenance was bland, with an apparently candid manner, a smile showing his fine white teeth; and an air of nonchalance, though rather evidently the result of artificial politeness than of natural courtesy or good breeding. He bowed with a flourish of his hat to Lady Tryon, and gave a familiar nod to the young gentleman as he sank back in the seat placed for him by the servant. Lady Tryon had had some previous transactions with Mr Flockton, who was the great lottery contractor. It was part of his business to know everybody, as well as their private concerns, in all parts of the United Kingdom. Many was the lady of rank, a merchant’s or a shopkeeper’s wife in London, with whom Mr Flockton had managed to scrape acquaintance, but his chief constituents were among the great masses of society that underlie the noble and the wealthy. His baits and nets lay ready for fish of the smallest size, also, many who could with difficulty raise the sum of 1 pound 11 shillings 6 pence, whereby a sixteenth share of the 20,000 pound prize might by two lucky turns of the wheel of fortune be gained. He caught others by half and even whole tickets at various prices. In country inns Mr Flockton’s advertisements were found fastened up among the political ballads on the walls of the public rooms. They were often circulated by the same book-hawkers who supplied the vast numbers of tracts and verses then published on “The rights of man,” and “Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity,” advocated by the French Revolutionists and the English Jacobins. In every manufacturing town and district they came round with parcels of goods and patterns, and were eagerly read by workpeople and masters alike. They circulated in the servants’ halls, even before they were read in the oak parlours and cedar galleries of the granges and lordly castles of the land, and many a poor clergyman dreamed of education for his boys and portions for his girls from the result of a lottery ticket.
“I have called, your ladyship, to bring the ten lottery tickets you desired to possess. A cheque on your bankers will pay me for them, and it is my belief that you will find that one of them brings you the great prize. Perhaps this young gentleman would like to take two or three, a mere trifle will give him every prospect of a large sum, and should your ladyship miss it, he would have a greater chance of gaining the prize. What does your ladyship say? Surely you have balance at your bankers’ sufficient to buy fifty tickets, and, in my opinion, the wisest people will buy the most; the more bought, the greater the chance of success.”
Lady Tryon was for a moment silent. She recollected too well that on the previous night she had not only lost every shilling which she had at her bankers’, but a considerable sum above it; not only that, but she had raised large sums at different times of late, which if she paid the principal would absorb the whole of her property. Should she pay her debts of honour, or buy the lottery tickets? Mr Flockton’s confident and glowing descriptions decided her on the latter course. When she got the lottery prize she would satisfy the debts she had incurred at cards. She took the tickets Mr Flockton offered, giving him a cheque, which left her scarcely more that 50 pounds at her bankers’. Her greatest annoyance arose from her thus being unable to indulge in gambling till the day for drawing the lottery. Mr Flockton handing the tickets to her ladyship, and buttoning up the cheque, took his departure.
Scarcely had he gone, when a servant entered with an announcement that a person of a very suspicious appearance desired to see her ladyship. “I told him, my lady, that you were engaged, but he would take no denial.”
Lady Tryon, who was constitutionally brave, having Harry by her side, desired that the man might be shown up. He entered the room with a confident air, though perfectly respectful, and presented an official-looking document.
“Why, it’s to summon me to Bow Street police-office for gambling!” exclaimed Lady Tryon. “What is this? Are ladies and gentlemen not to be allowed to amuse themselves if they think fit?”
“I have nothing to do with that, my lady,” answered the man, “I have delivered the summons; this young gentleman and your servant are witness to that; the hour is mentioned on the paper. I’ve done my duty, I wish your ladyship good-morning.”
“Fearful impertinence!” exclaimed Lady Tryon. “What is the country coming to? Ladies of rank to be treated like criminals, and ordered about at the pleasure of police magistrates!”
Harry was naturally considerably annoyed, at the same time he could not forget the scene of the previous evening, and he had heard that some very just enactments had lately been passed to put a stop to gambling, both public and private.
“I will go instead of you,” he said, “if that will answer.”
“No, I must go myself,” she said, looking at the paper through her spectacles. “Fearful impertinence of these people! Horrible indignity to be subjected to!”
At the time appointed Lady Tryon drove up to the police-office. Several carriages were already there, their occupants fashionably-dressed ladies. Lady Tryon recognised them as her acquaintances, with whom she had played at Lady Buckinghamshire’s. The gentleman who had acted as croupier, and kept the faro-table, was among them. They entered together, looking very hot and very indignant; they were accommodated with seats while the evidence was read. The witnesses against them were two servants, who had been dismissed from her ladyship’s service, and had taken these means to revenge themselves. As these ladies of rank had no excuse to offer, and could not deny the charge, they were each fined 50 pounds, while the keeper of the table, a gentleman of fashion, had to pay 200 pounds as a punishment for his transgression of the law.
Lady Tryon drove back in even a worse temper than usual. The 50 pounds she was to pay was the remainder of the balance at her banker’s. She was now literally penniless unless her lottery tickets should turn up prizes. The eventful day of the drawing was looked forward to, not only by her, but by thousands more, with intense anxiety. At length it arrived. Harry set forth with his grandmother in her carriage. The evening before she had sent for the doctor, and procured a quieting potion. In truth she required it, for she looked very ill and excited. Harry saw her maid, by her directions, put into the pocket of the carriage two or three small bottles.
“They are little draughts which I may require, Harry, to keep me up. I am an old woman, you know, and my nerves are not as strong as they used to be.”
They drove on. The crowd increased as they proceeded westward, towards Guildhall. The great drawing was to take place there.
“We are certain, Harry, to obtain a prize; if not the 20,000 pound prize, a smaller one, at all events, and that will enable me to purchase a few more tickets for another lottery, or to set me up at the card-table again. If I get the 20,000 pound prize you shall have 1,000 pounds, I will promise you, to cut a figure with in town, and then to go down and marry pretty Mabel Everard. Ah, Harry! you are a fortunate fellow to have such a kind old grandmother as I am, and to be loved by such a sweet girl as Mabel. I know your secret; she loves you, you rogue, and you have only to ask her, and she will marry you at once. I can manage her father; he is a good-natured, easy man, and has a great respect for me.”
Thus Lady Tryon ran on; but she could not long keep her thoughts from the hope of the prize. As they passed by Saint Paul’s they found a dense crowd: every moment it increased. Besides a long string of carriages there were numberless people on foot: not only those who possessed tickets, and those who had ensured them, but the friends of the holders, and also many idlers who came to see the drawing, and not a few who were there to prey on the unwary, and pick their pockets literally and metaphorically. As much time would have been lost had the carriage attempted to reach Guildhall, Lady Tryon alighted in Cheapside, and leaning on the arm of her grandson, walked with eager steps towards the renowned hall. Harry felt her arm tremble as she hung heavily on his; but not a word did she utter. All her thoughts and feelings were absorbed in the prospect of the prize she hoped to obtain. Had he known more than he did, he would have understood how much hung upon it.