Part 20 (1/2)
”And she is a nice girl---- No, I'm dashed----”
”A monkey at three!” cried Adrian.
”Done!” said Peter.
It was a sad tale of depravity on one side, and of self-sacrificing friends.h.i.+p on the other, that Mr. Pottles and Dora Chatterton listened to that evening.
”He had made,” said Adrian sadly, ”a deliberate attempt to rob me of my fame before, and he repeated it. And yet, uncle, an old friend--boyhood's companion--how could I betray him? It was weak, but I could not. I stood by, and let him deceive you.”
”You're a n.o.ble fellow,” said Mr. Pottles, in tones of emotion.
”Indeed, yes,” said Dora, with an adoring glance.
”There, let us say no more about it,” pursued Adrian magnanimously. ”I have my reward,” and he returned Dora's glance behind Mr. Pottles' broad back.
The next time he met Peter, he said, ”I am really immensely indebted to you, old fellow. My uncle has come down handsome, and if the monkey now would be conv----”
”By Gad, yes!” said Peter. He took it in crisp notes, and carefully pocketed them.
”And is Miss Dora kind?” he asked.
”She's an angel.”
”And you are generally prosperous?”
”Thanks to you, my dear old friend.”
”Then,” said Peter, producing a piece of paper from his pocket, ”you might persuade your publishers to withdraw this beastly thing.” It was a writ, and it claimed an injunction to restrain Peter from claiming the authors.h.i.+p of ”To Lalage.”
”Then you've been publicly claiming it?”
”I had to keep up the illusion, Adrian. Do me justice.”
”But,” said Adrian, ”how, Peter--how does it happen that the writ is dated the day _before_ we went to Clapham?”
He paused. Peter grinned uneasily. A light broke in on Adrian.
”Why,” he exclaimed, ”you're the villain who----”
”Exactly. Wonderfully provident of me, wasn't it? What, you're not going?”
”Never let me see your face again,” said Adrian. ”I have done with you.”
He rushed out. Peter whistled gently, and said to himself, ”Not a bad deal! He must stop the action, or the old man will twig.”
Then he whistled again, and added, ”Glad I got it in notes. He'd have stopped a check.”
A third time he whistled, and chuckled and said, ”Now, I wonder if old Adrian'll make five hundred and fifty out of it! Not a bad deal, Peter, my boy!”
MIDDLETON'S MODEL.