CHAPTER XXVI.
THE DUKE’S ULTIMATUM.
Viscount Rivington was placed in a terrible dilemma. The morning after his call upon Annesley he received two letters at his club—one from Lady Gaynor, and one from his uncle, the Duke of Rothwell.
The first one ran in this way:
Dear Viscount—In answer to your telegram, I must say that it would be most indiscreet of me to put my head in the lion’s mouth, as it were. I quite understand your meaning; your plans have failed, as I predicted, and now you wish to try mine. There is safety only at the Lodge, and if you will come immediately matters may be discussed with some hope of success. I greatly deprecate the waste of valuable time, as things are really growing desperate with me.
Faithfully yours,
Eleanor Gaynor.
The Duke of Rothwell’s letter was as follows:
Dear Nephew—Yes, I have no doubt that it is the correct thing to make your fiancée valuable presents from time to time, but not at my expense—just yet. I must be satisfied that all is fair and aboveboard, as I am well seasoned to your crooked dealings, and I refuse to send you one shilling, and, in addition, shall stop the allowance I am making you within twenty-four hours unless I have proof that Lady Elaine Seabright is to be your wife. I have not an atom of faith in you, and regret more than ever that I have no son to bear my honored name. This is my ultimatum: Introduce Lady Elaine to me forthwith, and I will soon learn for myself how things really are. No more excuses will do for me.
Rothwell.
“By heavens!” he gasped. “I am ruined—ruined! Oh, I could gladly choke the life out of the old dotard! I am on the brink of a volcano that is rumbling at my feet, and powerless to move for—what? A paltry two thousand pounds! And now am I driven to the last stages of desperation, and there is not a moment to lose. I must face Isaacs once more, and if the worst comes to the worst, a pill from this will be the end!”