CHAPTER XVII
AMAZEMENT
WHEN he left Green Street that night Herriard had become possessed of a conviction, vague yet positive, that the events of his life were moving swiftly towards a crisis. How near that crisis was and what shape it was about to take he little imagined. The problems before him were so acute and so perplexing that it was many hours before his brain, wearied with the struggle, let him sleep. The joy of his love, of his betrothal, was so mingled and interwoven with dark and troublesome thoughts, that only intermittently could he indulge it. One thing was certain. He must break with Gastineau. That disingenuous partnership could not continue. Apart from all idea of the fraud, for to live on the credit and success derived from another man’s brains now insistently presented itself to him as nothing less, it was now imperative that he should be his own master. The fortune to which he was giving a hostage must be an honest one, of that he was determined.
How Gastineau would take the question of their severance he could not be sure. The man was a contradiction, and his character forbade the idea of accurate forecast as to his actions. Anyhow the resolve had to be mooted and its reception faced, unpleasant task though it were, and the more so that on the surface it smacked of ingratitude.
That it should have been Gastineau of all men who had forced his unwelcome attentions upon Countess Alexia was a most deplorable coincidence, and with the hateful complications it suggested there mingled the harassing thought of the further deceit his knowledge of Gastineau’s existence forced upon him. There, however, he had the satisfactory excuse that his withholding of the fact would be for Alexia’s peace of mind; he might honourably conceal his knowledge till the disclosure of the secret was likely to have no ill effect; and indeed he was bound to secrecy by his solemn promise to Gastineau.
He fell to thinking of the man’s character, analyzing it by the light of what he had just heard, and told himself he could well imagine how unchivalrously ruthless Gastineau could be, how pitilessly he would work his resolve in a matter where his feelings were strongly touched. He could be, as Herriard had reason to know, tenaciously vindictive, malignant to a degree abnormal in human nature. Petty slights and discomfitures of the past were remembered and brought up again with a view to reprisal, for which, as has been seen, Herriard was the, often unwilling, instrument. He had, however, felt himself bound to fight Gastineau’s posthumous battles, to be the secret champion of the man who had so splendidly fulfilled his half of the contract, and indeed Gastineau, when arming his pupil for the conflicts, had always made very plausible excuses for the stinging aggressiveness of the attacks he was planning, and had a pleasant way of ornamenting with his wit what, divested of flourishes, amounted to little more than gratuitous bullying. That wit of his was the Matador’s cloak with which he covered the deadly sword of his invective. Happily for his own reputation Herriard, being a man of a character very different from his mentor’s, had been wont by a certain innate distinction and refinement of touch to soften the ugliness of the spite which underlay Gastineau’s methods and expressions. Still the animus was no less real to him, and in the present crisis was tinged by the disturbing consideration of what that resolute mind might be capable of working against his happiness and Alexia’s.
True, Gastineau in his present condition was to all intents powerless; but could a man with a brain so acute, so scheming, so restless, ever with safety be considered powerless for evil? Was not that extraordinary partnership, which had been established between them immediately Gastineau found he was to live, proof of what strange scheming he was capable? The whole situation was terribly disquieting, and Herriard found himself feverishly anxious for its solution.
Once or twice the strange report of Gastineau’s having been seen about and recognized came to his mind. It was the more curious to him in its coincidence with the real fact of the man’s being alive; but on the whole he attached little importance to it, being convinced it was merely a case of mistaken identity. There were plenty of stupid people walking the streets of London, all ready for a mystification; and, as Count Prosper had said, singular cases of resemblance were the experience of nearly every one. So Herriard let that pass without adding more than a momentary addition to his uneasiness.
The next day was a busy one for him in the Courts, and when they rose he had to hurry down to the House on an urgent whip to wait for an important division which promised to be very close. It was an annoying delay, seeing that he had made other plans for that afternoon. He naturally was eager to be with Alexia again, to make amends for the snatched wooing of the previous night; then there was Gastineau to see and the question of their severance to be determined.
But it was not until evening that Herriard found himself free to leave the House. It was then, being about the dinner hour, too late or too early to call on Alexia, so he drove to the outskirts of Mayfair, and then, as was his wont, dismissing the cab, walked to Gastineau’s.
His friend greeted him without a sign of the previous night’s animosity. It was with a smile only just tinged with cynicism that Gastineau inquired as to the result of his wooing.