Part 47 (1/2)

”Oh, Squire, Squire, don't be such a fule, begging your pardon for the word,” said George, in exasperation. ”Don't you go a-knocking of your head agin a brick wall.”

”Will you be off, sir?” roared his master in a voice that made the walls shake.

By this time Ida had recovered herself. She seemed to feel that her lover had something to say which concerned her deeply--probably she read it in his eyes.

”Father,” she said, raising her voice, ”I won't have Colonel Quaritch turned away from the door like this. If you will not admit him I will go outside and hear what it is that he has to say.”

In his heart the Squire held Ida in some awe. He looked at her, and saw that her eyes were flas.h.i.+ng and her breast heaving. Then he gave way.

”Oh, very well, since my daughter insists on it, pray come in,” and he bowed. ”If such an intrusion falls in with your ideas of decency it is not for me to complain.”

”I accept your invitation,” answered Harold, looking very angry, ”because I have something to say which you must hear, and hear at once. No, thank you, I will stand. Now, Mr. de la Molle, it is this, wonderful as it may seem. It has been my fortune to discover the treasure hidden by Sir James de la Molle in the year 1643!”

There was a general gasp of astonishment.

”/What!/” exclaimed the Squire. ”Why, I thought that the whole thing was a myth.”

”No, that it ain't, sir,” said George with a melancholy smile, ”cos I've seen it.”

Ida had sunk into a chair.

”What is the amount?” she asked in a low eager voice.

”I have been unable to calculate exactly, but, speaking roughly, it cannot be under fifty thousand pounds, estimated on the value of the gold alone. Here is a specimen of it,” and Harold pulled out a handful of rials and other coins, and poured them on to the table.

Ida hid her face in her hand, and Edward Cossey realising what this most unexpected development of events might mean for him, began to tremble.

”I should not allow myself to be too much elated, Mr. de la Molle,” he said with a sneer, ”for even if this tale be true, it is treasure trove, and belongs to the Crown.”

”Ah,” said the Squire, ”I never thought of that.”

”But I have,” answered the Colonel quietly. ”If I remember right, the last of the original de la Molles left a will in which he especially devised this treasure, hidden by his father, to your ancestor. That it is the identical treasure I am fortunately in a position to prove by this parchment,” and he laid upon the table the writing he had found with the gold.

”Quite right--quite right,” said the Squire, ”that will take it out of the custom.”

”Perhaps the Solicitor to the Treasury may hold a different opinion,”

said Cossey, with another sneer.

Just then Ida took her hand from her face. There was a dewy look about her eyes, and the last ripples of a happy smile lingered round the corners of her mouth.

”Now that we have heard what Colonel Quaritch had to say,” she said in her softest voice, and addressing her father, ”there is no reason why we should not finish our business with Mr. Cossey.”

Here Harold and George turned to go. She waved them back imperiously, and began speaking before any one could interfere, taking up her speech where she had broken it off when she caught sight of the Colonel and George coming up the steps.

”I can no longer hesitate,” she said, ”but once and for all I decline to marry you, Mr. Cossey, and I hope that I shall never see your face again.”

At this announcement the bewildered Squire put his hand to his head.

Edward Cossey staggered visibly and rested himself against the table, while George murmured audibly, ”That's a good job.”

”Listen,” said Ida, rising from her chair, her dark eyes flas.h.i.+ng as the shadow of all the shame and agony that she had undergone rose up within her mind. ”Listen, Mr. Cossey,” and she pointed her finger at him; ”this is the history of our connection. Some months ago I was so foolish as to ask your help in the matter of the mortgages which your bank was calling in. You then practically made terms that if it should at any time be your wish I should become engaged to you; and I, seeing no option, accepted. Then, in the interval, while it was inconvenient to you to enforce those terms, I gave my affection elsewhere. But when you, having deserted the lady who stood in your way--no, do not interrupt me, I know it, I know it all, I know it from her own lips-- came forward and claimed my promise, I was forced to consent. But a loophole of escape presented itself and I availed myself of it. What followed? You again became possessed of power over my father and this place, you insulted the man I loved, you resorted to every expedient that the law would allow to torture my father and myself. You set your lawyers upon us like dogs upon a hare, you held ruin over us and again and again you offered me money, as much money as I wished, if only I would sell myself to you. And then you bided your time, leaving despair to do its work.

”I saw the toils closing round us. I knew that if I did not yield my father would be driven from his home in his old age, and that the place he loved would pa.s.s to strangers--would pa.s.s to you. No, father, do not stop me, I /will/ speak my mind!