“That’s capital,” he said—“that’s very capital and engaging. Well, now, consider, Richard; love-children are not generally regarded in the light of very eligible partis, are they? especially when franked by no financial recommendations. Lord Skene would hardly look upon such a one as a suitable match for a ward-at-law—and a particularly charming and well-endowed ward-at-law, I will say. I only put it to you that the revelation of such a suitor’s legal status would hardly appeal favourably to a guardian. Now would it? Better, at least, for him, I think, to make no boast of his moral disability. It is nothing but a question of terms, after all; but upon such, alas! are our ridiculous conventions founded.”
How could I listen to him, and not spring at his murderous, lying throat? His very nameless reference to the subject of my most sacred hopes was a blasphemy scarce tolerable. But I kept my sense of the enormous issues that hung upon my self-command, and I dealt him back his double-dealing to the hilt.
“I am to understand, then, I conclude,” I said, and with a manner, I do believe, of helpless conviction, “that, if I give you away, I may expect to be given away myself?”
He laughed.
“You put it with a boyish crudeness; but the method has its fascinations. Why not, rather, call it a little family understanding, Richard? We are all in the same boat; we all have our crying needs of the moment. Yes, call it that; and our family motto—Vive et vivas.”
“Well, you must give me a little time,” I said. “This comes as rather a shock on one, you see?”
“Time!” he cried—“time, if you wish it, to indite fifty immortal sonnets to your mistress’s eyebrow. I am never in a hurry, my dear fellow. Let the thought germinate and take root at its leisure. What a charming retreat, to be sure. And you live here all alone?”
“Yes, all alone.”
“Not even an Abigail to minister the needs?—but of course not, in our present transcendent altitudes. I wonder if I might pry a bit?”
Should I let him? I thought how during all this interview the door giving into the kitchen had stood ajar; I recalled how, even before the fact of his presence in the room had been borne in upon me, all sound of Geoletti’s movements hard by had suddenly ceased. I pictured a deadly figure crouching behind the door, saw a mincing step pass on and in, heard a sudden wild-beast snarl and rush, and then a scream, my God, freezing one’s blood—and for one instant I was half minded to bid him on his way, and end thus swiftly at a blow the story of his villainies.