The famous scientist, long, it was said in society, a man quite impervious to the attractions of the other sex and the passion of love, had but a few months ago become engaged.
Wealthy as he was, distinguished, handsome and attractive in his manner, there had not been wanting ladies who would have very gladly shared and appropriated all these advantages. Like any other unmarried man in his desirable position, the scientist had been somewhat pursued in many drawing-rooms. Of late, however, the pursuit had slackened. Match-making mothers and unappropriated daughters seemed to have realized that here was a citadel they could not storm. Six months ago, therefore, society had been all the more startled to hear of Sir William's engagement to Miss Marjorie Poole, the only daughter of old Lady Poole of Curzon Street.
Marjorie Poole was the daughter of a rather poor baronet who had died some years before, the title going to a cousin. Lady Poole was left with a house in Curzon Street and a sufficient income for her own life, but that was all. And among many of the women who hunt society for a husband for their daughters, as a fisherman whips a stream for trout, the dowager was one of the most conspicuous.
It was said that she had angled for Sir William with an alertness and unwearying pursuit which was at last crowned by success. More charitable people, and especially those who knew and liked Miss Poole, said that the girl would never have lent herself to any schemes of her mother's unless she had been genuinely fond of the man to whom she was engaged. There had been much talk and speculation over the engagement at first, a speculation which had in its turn died away, and which during the last few weeks had been again revived by certain incidents.
Eustace Charliewood, whose whole life and business it was to gather and retail society gossip, was very well aware of the reason which made people once more wag their heads and hint this or that about the Gouldesbrough engagement.
Mr. Guy Rathbone had appeared upon the scene, a young barrister of good family but of no particular fortune. Several times Mr. Rathbone had been seen skating with Miss Poole at Prince's. At this or that dance—Sir William Gouldesbrough did not go to dances—Rathbone had danced a good deal with Miss Poole. Many envious and linx-like eyes had watched them for some weeks, and men were beginning to say in the clubs that "young Rathbone is going to put the scientific Johnny's nose out of joint."
It was this knowledge which caused the little sneering smile to appear on Charliewood's face, and it gave him pleasure to detect the human weakness of jealousy in the inscrutable man who held him so tightly in his grip.
"Well, all right," Charliewood said at length. "I'll do what you want."
"That's a good fellow," Sir William answered, smiling genially, his whole face lighting up and becoming markedly attractive as it did so, "you've always been a good friend to me, Charliewood."
"My banking account is very low just at present," the other went on.