Part 34 (1/2)

There is such a thing as compensation, and the very coa.r.s.eness of which you have now and again complained made most for the rescue of Mr. Harley at this crisis. By dint of that valuable coa.r.s.eness, Mr. Harley, discovering that he could trust his eyes,--he at one time doubted those visual organs,--recovered such strength, not to say composure, that he ordered up a quart of burgundy and drank it by the goblet. Under this wise treatment, and with the rea.s.suring shares in his clutch, Mr. Harley became a new man.

The first evidence of this newness given to the world was when at eight o'clock Mr. Harley, faultlessly caparisoned and in full evening dress, descended upon Mrs. Hanway-Harley and Dorothy. The ladies were together in the back drawing-room as the restored Mr. Harley, with brow of Jove and warlike eye, strode into their startled midst. Establis.h.i.+ng himself in mighty state before the fireplace, rear to the blaze, he gazed with fondness, but as though from towering alt.i.tudes, on Dorothy.

”Come and kiss me, child!” said Mr. Harley.

Dorothy obeyed without daring to guess the cause of this abrupt affection.

”You act strangely, Mr. Harley!” commented Mrs. Hanway-Harley, with a tinge of severity. ”I hope you will compose yourself. It is quite possible that Count Storri will drop in!”

”Madam,” shouted Mr. Harley explosively, ”I shall shoot that scoundrel Storri if he puts hand to my front gate!”

”John!” screamed Mrs. Hanway-Harley.

”Madam, I shall shoot him like a rat!”

Mr. Harley got this off with such fury that it struck Mrs. Hanway-Harley speechless. She was the more amazed, since she knew nothing of either Mr. Harley's wrongs or his burgundy. After surveying her with the utmost majesty for a moment, Mr. Harley came back to Dorothy.

”There's a gentleman named Mr. Storms?”

”Yes, papa!” (timidly).

”You love him?”

”Yes, papa!” (feebly).

”You shall marry him!”

”Yes, papa!” (blus.h.i.+ngly).

”John!” (with horror).

”Invite him to dinner to-morrow.”

”Yes, papa!” (rapturously).

”And every other evening you choose!”

”Yes, papa!” (more rapturously).

”John!” (with a gasp).

”And now, madam,” observed Mr. Harley, wheeling on Mrs. Hanway-Harley with politeness sudden and vast, ”I am ready to attend to you. Let me commence by mentioning that I am master of this house, and shall give dinners when I will to whomsoever I please.”

”But you said marriage, John, and Mr. Storms is a pauper! Think what you do!”

”It may entertain you, madam,” returned Mr. Harley, in a manner of grim triumph, ”to hear that you also are a pauper. Yes, madam, you, I, Pat Hanway--we are all paupers. Now I shall go to your scoundrel Storri and tell him what I have told you. Oh! I shall not murder the villain, madam; though I give you my word, if there were no one to think of but Jack Harley, I'd return to you blood to my elbows; yes, madam, to my elbows!” and Mr. Harley pulled up his coatsleeves very high to give force to his words.

Lighting a cigar, which he set between his teeth so that it projected outward and upward at an angle of defiance, Mr. Harley got into his hat and greatcoat, and made for the door. As he threw it open preparatory to issuing forth, there floated back with a puff of cigar smoke these words, delivered presumably for the good of Mrs. Hanway-Harley:

”Yes, madam; blood to my elbows!”