Realizing he was at bay, Rutley recovered his self-possession as quickly as he had lost it.
Again he laughed in that high-pitched, screechy key of ineffable disdain. “He, he, he, he,” and turning to Mr. Harris said, sarcastically: “The idea! You, a retired merchant, a successful business man; experienced in the qualities of keen perception, of fine discrimination, of the most perfect discernment and adroitness, to support this outrage,” and he waved his hand toward Jack. And again drawing himself up erect, haughtily fixed his cold gray eyes steadily on Mr. Harris, and continued in a drawl: “It’s deuced ugly, don’t-che know; deuced ugly, by Jove.”
While Rutley had been speaking, Virginia appeared on the scene. “Ha, Virginia,” sharply called out Mrs. Harris, and she beckoned to her to hasten. “Now we shall prove his villainy.”
“Ha, ha,” sneered Rutley. “Now you shall realize how foully you have slandered me. The lady will prove that I am Lord Beauchamp.”
As Virginia approached near, Mrs. Harris being unable to contain her impatience, again addressed her: “Virginia, dear! Can you enlighten us as to that man’s identity?”
Rutley tried to catch her eye, and at last, having succeeded, lifted his eyebrows meaningly, then nearly closed his eyes as he fixed on her a stare of glittering concentration.
“Madam,” he ejaculated significantly, “beware! These gentlemen and ladies have dared to question my right to the title of Lord Beauchamp, and I have assured them that you know me, of course you do, and will tell them so.” His manner was confident and insinuating, but he had over-rated his power of hypnotic influence over the girl.
She looked at him steadily, in which freezing haughtiness, contempt and pity were commingled. Her fear of him had passed. She did not falter now.
“Yes, I know you; and you are known to all present, but, unhappily, not as thoroughly as you are known to me.”
“Who is he?” demanded Mrs. Harris.