On his presenting it, Nugent had apprised him of the progress already made in the plot, and it was by no means inconsiderable. The Manor House at Ottermouth being to let furnished for the summer, it had not been difficult for the Maharajah's astute agent, who had a cottage in the little resort, to persuade Mr. Montague Maynard to take it. Indeed, the prospect of having the brilliant Travers Nugent as a neighbour during his holiday was in itself sufficient inducement to the wealthy screw manufacturer to fall into the trap. All that remained for the present was for Chermside to go down and commence operations by laying siege to Violet Maynard's heart, Nugent promising to follow later, when he had perfected the arrangements for manning and victualling the swift turbine steamer he had chartered.
In sullen mood, and with rage in his heart against the cruel fate that had made a blackguard of him, Chermside had set out on his despicable mission. And from the very moment he had looked into Violet Maynard's pure eyes his purpose had begun to weaken, giving place to a greater horror of himself and the vile thing he had consented to do. If, in the depths of his misery out yonder, he had considered the matter at all, he had considered it in the shadowy abstract, as a means of escape from the hell-upon-earth exile he was enduring. But here in England, and in touch with the charming personality of his intended victim, the scales were lifted from his moral vision, and he was left face to face with the enormity of his contemplated offence.
Yet his honour, if the word could be used in such a connexion, "rooted in dishonour stood," for he had pledged himself for what he believed to be valuable consideration to go through with the iniquity. For the first few days of his stay in Ottermouth he adhered rigidly to his contract. He presented the letters of introduction with which Travers Nugent had furnished him, and freely accepted Montague Maynard's lavish hospitality. He posed as a gallant gentleman, and paid attentions to Violet which the gossips of the links and the tennis field described as "marked." And then as suddenly as he had apparently caught fire he apparently cooled. The spurious, perverted sense of duty which for a week or two kept him loyal to his tempter was shattered by a stronger force that would not be denied.
Violet's friendship, frankly given as to an equal properly accredited, her winsome ways, the careless abandon of a girl who trusted and evidently liked him, had conquered his heart.
Leslie Chermside was honestly in love with the woman whom he was pledged to entrap for delivery like a bale of goods to that sinister Oriental satyr, waiting in the palace at Sindkhote seven thousand miles away for the fulfilment of his mission. By the irony of fate, his love for the girl whom he had been hired to destroy was the first true passion of his life, and by the same strange kink in fortune's chain the first effect was to cause him to repress all semblance of love.
How could he do otherwise, when by no possibility could the suit of such a penniless wastrel as himself be crowned with success? And as to continuing his attentions on behalf of Bhagwan Singh—well, he felt that he would cheerfully give many years of his life to wipe that vile episode from the page of his memory. So for the past week he had just drifted, avoiding any approach to more intimate relations, but loth to leave altogether the shrine at which it had been balm to his bruised heart to worship.
And now in some shape the end must come to the bitter-sweet interlude. The appearance of the Jew Levison on the scene left no room for doubt that if he refused to proceed with the Maharajah's dirty work, he would not be allowed to strut in false feathers much longer.
"I can have but one answer for that swine to-morrow night, and then he will take measures to wreak upon me Bhagwan Singh's revenge," he told himself, as he quitted the marshland and struck into the road that presently brought him to the lodge gates of the Manor House.