Part 18 (1/2)

”It's all right,” he said when the latter came downstairs. ”Absalom's people have seen Sir George, and have left him in a state of blue funk.

I think the best thing we can do is to let him think it over for a day or two, because the longer he dwells upon the prospect before him the more likely he will be to listen to any terms I choose to offer. But we can talk this over after dinner. Let's get back to Seton Manor. By the way, I suppose you have dealt with those commissions. Did you manage to lay any money against the Blenheim colt to advantage? Has the trial leaked out yet?”

”I managed to get a good lump on,” Foster explained. ”I fancy the story is getting known. According to one of the papers, the Blenheim colt has gone back to six to one. I think we have done as much as we can. At any rate, the money is as good as in our pockets.”

At Seton Manor Copley and his accomplice sat down to dinner in higher spirits and with better appet.i.te than they had displayed for some time.

There was nothing to trouble them. They had netted a huge sum of money without the slightest risk, and, what was more to the point, they would be in a position to handle it in the course of a few days. There was a good deal of flavour in Copley's cigar as he lay back in his seat sipping his coffee. A moment or two later a footman came in with a note on a tray. Copley smiled as he tore open the envelope, and intimated to the servant that he need not wait.

”From the Baronet?” Foster grinned.

”You've guessed it,” Copley replied. ”He wants me to go over at once on most important business.”

CHAPTER XXVIII

HONOUR BRIGHT

As time pa.s.sed Sir George Haredale began to think that trouble was really before him. He had not the least pretence to be a business man.

He had always been p.r.o.ne to take people at their own valuation. He would never have done anything dishonest or underhanded, and he paid his fellow-men a similar compliment. He had never counted the cost of anything, for the simple reason that he had never been taught to. If he wanted a thing he got it. If he couldn't pay for anything he simply owed for it. When, from time to time, his creditors grew pressing, he gave his lawyers instructions to raise another mortgage, and there, so far as he was concerned, was an end of the whole transaction.

It does not take long, especially with two or three generations of similar incapacity, seriously to embarra.s.s even so fine an estate as Haredale Park. The day came at length when Sir George was under the painful necessity of facing the inevitable, when his worried lawyer told him a few plain truths, and he realized that his income was barely sufficient to live upon. Unfortunately, at this crisis, an occasional run of luck on the turf had relieved the pressure, and it occurred to Sir George as a brilliant idea that here was a source of permanent income. Then luck ran steadily against him, as it always does sooner or later, and at the time Sir George made the acquaintance of Copley he was literally at his wits' end to know what to do.

It was a misfortune, though a disguised one, that Copley in his headstrong way should fall in love with May Haredale. He had gone about his wooing in characteristic fas.h.i.+on, and had recognized that, unless he were in a position to force the pace, his suit was hopeless. Hence he had helped Sir George, although he needed every penny he had for himself. At that time Copley did not see his way to get it all back and a great deal more. But now he had the consolation of knowing that he would come out all right, whether May Haredale became his wife or not.

He was playing his game with wonted caution and cunning. In response to Sir George's note, he pleaded some excuse, and on one pretext or other kept clear of Haredale Park for the best part of a week. He knew how to play his fish. He knew that delay was in his favour, and was not going to spoil his triumph by undue haste.

Sir George was thoroughly frightened. The interview with Messrs.

Absalom's manager came in the light of a revelation to him. He realized that he was in Copley's power, and that the latter could ruin him whenever he chose. Not that he expected anything of the kind. He was of far too sanguine a nature for that, and being a gentleman and a man of honour he naturally believed the story that Copley was temporarily hard put to it for the want of money. From that point of view, of course, Copley was behaving very well. He had not pressed Sir George, nor had he insisted that the money must be paid. In point of fact, he had not mentioned the matter at all.

But Messrs. Absalom's manager had been emphatic enough. There was something in his manner which Sir George did not like. He actually had no respect for the aristocracy, and spoke as if money were the only thing in the world that mattered.

”It comes to this, Sir George,” he said. ”We must ask you to make arrangements to clear this off in a week. It is business, pure and simple, and my people want the money. Things are not going well, and we must look to you to settle this claim.”

”Within a week?” Sir George cried. ”Impossible!”

The shrewd manager shrugged his shoulders.

”I am sorry to hear you say that, Sir George,” he replied. ”In that case, we must take matters into our own hands and sell you up, including your horses in training. We shall much regret this step, but necessity will compel us. The best thing you can do is to consult your solicitors and see if you can raise a loan. Otherwise--well, I think I have made myself plain.”

The man withdrew, leaving Sir George to his own disturbed thoughts. With his sanguine disposition and lack of business knowledge he still clung to the idea that Copley would be able to put this matter right. But when Copley wrote that business called him elsewhere Sir George's vague sense of alarm began to develop into a perfect nightmare. At the expiration of a week the first blow fell. A man, shabbily dressed and dingy of aspect, called to see Sir George and would take no refusal. He stood in the hall grimly quiet, waiting for the master of the house, who appeared presently and demanded in his haughtiest manner what the intruder wanted.

”I am here on behalf of Absalom & Co.,” the intruder said. ”Fact is, I represent the sheriff. It is no use blaming me, Sir George. I am only doing my duty, and it's not so pleasant, at that. But I am here in possession, and here I am bound by law to stay until this money is paid.

As soon as that is done I shall be only too pleased to go away.”

Sir George began to understand the position. He had heard of these things before, but they had always appeared to be remote enough from him. This was what was called an execution, and Sir George's dignity disappeared accordingly.