Part 55 (2/2)
”True;” a darker shadow falling across his countenance. ”Nor is it grief. It is bitter disappointment. Have you seen Miss Wardour?”
”Yes;” averting his head.
”And your case in that quarter?”
”Hopeless.”
”What!” sharply.
”Hopeless, I tell you, sir; do I look like a prosperous wooer? she will not look at me. She will not touch me. She will not have me at any price.”
Jasper Lamotte mutters a curse. ”Then you have been playing the poltroon,” he says savagely.
The countenance of the younger man grows livid. He starts up from his chair, then sinks weakly back again.
”Drop the subject,” he says hoa.r.s.ely. ”That card is played, and lost. Is this all you have to say?”
”All! I wish it were. What took me to the city?”
”What took you, true enough. The need of a few thousands, ready cash.”
”Yes. Well! I have not got the cash.”
”But--good heavens! you had ample--securities.”
”Ample securities, yes,” with a low grating laugh. ”Look, I don't know who has interposed thus in our favor, but--if John Burrill were alive to-night you and I would be--beggars.”
”Impossible, while you hold the valuable--”
”Bah! valuable indeed! you and I have been fooled, duped, deluded. Our treasured securities are--”
”Well, are what?”
”Shams.”
”Shams!” incredulously. ”But that is impossible.”
”Is it?” cynically. ”Then the impossible has come to pa.s.s. There's nothing genuine in the whole lot.”
A long silence falls between them. Frank Lamotte sits staring straight before him; sudden conviction seems to have overtaken his panic-stricken senses. Jasper Lamotte drums upon the table impatiently, looking moody and despondent.
”A variety of queer things may seem plain to you now,” he says, finally.
”Perhaps you realize the necessity for instant action of some sort.”
Frank stirs restlessly, and pa.s.ses his hand across his brows.
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