"Yes, if you will force me to speak plainly. Many a time I have prayed that a child of my son's should be sent to me. But you are not in the least like your father. He was wild and headstrong, and he never forgave the shameful way we treated him, but he was a gentleman."
"Meaning that I'm not one, eh? Well, hard words break no bones. For the sake of peace and quietness, I've kept my claim from everybody but you; to please you I have suppressed the truth till I can get that certificate. And in return you promised me that I should not suffer. And now you refuse me a paltry £500."
"I have not refused it you. I have not the money. And you have had all my jewels, jewels valued at nearly £30,000. In my weakness and folly I parted with the property which does not belong to me. £30,000 in the space of a year! Where has the money gone?"
"Now if that isn't just like a woman," Dashwood growled. "I daresay those stones were valued at the sum you mention, but to get that for them is a different matter. To be candid, I pawned your gems for less than a third of that money. And when I tried to raise a further loan on the same security, I was met with a pointblank refusal. So you see, I have not been so very extravagant after all."
Lady Dashwood sighed bitterly. She was getting used to vulgar scenes like this. And yet there was hope that before long she would be freed from the bloodsucker. She watched him now as he sat sprawling in his chair, flicking the ashes of his cigarette into a priceless Sevres dessert dish. How could she ever have taken him for her grandson, she wondered? Why had she been so weak and feeble?
A servant entered at the same moment with an intimation to the effect that somebody desired to see Mr. Dashwood. The gentleman was waiting in the dining-room. A dull flush of annoyance came over Dashwood's face.
"Some meddling creditor," he muttered. "A London tradesman, who has managed to get my address from somewhere. Goodbye to all peace if once my retreat has got known. Tell the man to call again, Charles. I can't see him."
"Begging your pardon, sir," the footman said respectfully, "it is not a tradesman, and he said he must see you on the most important business. The gentleman is Inspector Drake, the head constable from Longtown."
Dashwood's teeth clicked together; his face turned to a dull ashen hue. He had been suddenly stricken by some mortal fear; he could not disguise the fact from Lady Dashwood. Her heart sank within her as she glanced fearfully at the white set face on the other side of the table. She wondered what new disgrace was here.
"I--I'll come in a minute," Dashwood muttered thickly. "This room is so hot that it makes one feel quite faint. Charles, give me a glass of brandy from the sideboard. A large glass without water. Ah!"