“His Grace, I further apprehend,” said Mr. Liversedge blandly, “is missing from his residence?”
“As you say,” agreed Gideon.
Mr. Liversedge regarded him soulfully. “What a shocking thing it would be if his Grace were never to return to it!” he said. “His absence must, I am persuaded, be causing his relatives grave disquiet.”
Gideon’s lazy glance dwelled for a thoughtful moment on the strip of sticking-plaster adorning his guest’s brow. Was this the dragon you left for dead, Adolphus? was the silent question in his brain. And just what mischief are you in, my little one? Aloud, he said: “I am sure you are perfectly well-informed on that head, Mr. Liversedge.”
Mr. Liversedge, who had employed his time since his arrival in London in picking up the gleanings of town-scandal, admitted it, but modestly. He then heaved a sigh and said: “One must hope that no accident may have befallen him! Yet how inscrutable are the decrees of Providence, sir! You will have doubtless observed it. There is no knowing what the twists of Fortune may be! Why, I daresay you, Captain Ware,—a worthy scion, I am sure, of a distinguished house!—may never have contemplated the possibility that you might awake one morning to find yourself the heir to your noble relative’s possessions!”
The Captain’s drawl became even more marked. “That, Mr. Liversedge, is a reflection that is bound to intrude upon the mind of a man of ordinary common-sense. Life is, after all, uncertain.”
Mr. Liversedge perceived that his visions were about to be fulfilled. It was pleasant to find that his reading of human character had not been at fault. But he had not seriously supposed that it could be. He smiled approvingly at Gideon, and said: “Yet when one considers that his Grace is a young man, and in the possession of his health and faculties, I daresay anyone would be willing to hazard a large wager against the chances of your becoming second in the line of the succession within—shall we say?—the month!”
“How large a wager?” asked Gideon.
Mr. Liversedge waved one hand in an airy gesture. “Oh, against such odds, sir, I daresay you would venture as much as fifty thousand pounds!”
Gideon shook his head. “I never bet so far above my fortune, Mr. Liversedge. Now, had you offered me a wager that I should not be Duke of Sale within a month—!”
Mr. Liversedge considered his resources rapidly. “Well, I daresay it could be contrived,” he said dubiously.
Gideon very nearly laughed in his face. He overcame the impulse, and said: “You know, I am not such a gamester as you believe, sir. Such wild bets hold little attraction for me. You will own that you would find it hard to raise such a sum, as you would be obliged to do if his Grace should not depart this life within the month.”
“Sir,” said Mr. Liversedge earnestly, “if I entered upon a bet of that magnitude it would only be in the certainty that his Grace would depart this life within the month!”
“How could you have that certainty?” smiled Gideon.
Mr. Liversedge drew a breath. “Captain Ware,” he said. “I am not an unreasonable man. I do not waste your time with frivolous suggestions. More, sir! I do not ignore the peculiar delicacy of your position. Indeed, being myself a man of great sensibility, I have given much thought to your position. Naturally you could not contemplate, in any little arrangement between us, the smallest suggestion of—er—”
“Blood-money,” supplied Gideon.
Mr. Liversedge looked pained. “That, sir, is an ugly phrase, and one which is as repugnant to me as it must be to you. All I offer you is a handsome wager. I am sure there are many seemingly more improbable betsentered in the book at White’s. Not, of course, that this one would be entered there. A simple exchange of notes between us, sir, is all that would be necessary. And here let me assure you that I regard that as a mere formality, customary in affairs of such a nature. My faith in you as a man of honour, Captain Ware, makes it impossible for me to contemplate the necessity of producing your note at some future date.”
“I’m obliged to you,” said Gideon. “But I find my faith in you less securely rooted, Mr. Liversedge. I don’t believe, for instance, that you have it in your power to make me lose such a bet.”
Mr. Liversedge looked reproachful. “It pains me, sir, to encounter mistrust in one with whom I have been so frank. I might add, in one whom I am anxious to benefit. Or should I have told you at the outset that his Grace is at the moment sojourning at a little place quite in the heart of our delightful countryside? When I had the honour of seeing him last, he was wearing an olive riding-coat of excellent tailoring, and a drab Benjamin over it, with four capes. He had a handsome timepiece in his pocket, too; with his crest engraved upon the back, and his initials upon the front. He sighed. “Perhaps I should have brought it to you, sir, but anything savouring of common thievery is very distasteful to me. However, I daresay you may recognize this exquisitely embroidered handkerchief.” He dived a hand into his pocket as he spoke, and produced Gilly’s bloodstained handkerchief.
Gideon took it from him, and for a moment stood staring down at it, his face very pale, and the lines about his mouth and jaw suddenly accentuated. The stains had grown brown, but Gideon knew bloodstains when he saw them, and his gorge rose. He laid the handkerchief down, his long fingers quivering, and raised his head, and looked at Mr. Liversedge. Mr. Liversedge had known from the moment that he had mentioned the olive coat that he had struck home. He had not failed to remark that betraying quiver of the fingers. He smiled indulgently; he would have been excited himself, he reflected, if he realized all at once, as Captain Ware had, how close he stood to a Dukedom. Then he met the Captain’s eyes, and in the very short space of time granted him for rumination he thought that they blazed with the strangest light he had ever seen in a fellow-creature’s eyes. He had even a sensation of being scorched, which was perhaps not surprising, since Gideon was seeing him through a hot, red mist.
The next instant, Mr. Liversedge, no puny figure, had been plucked from his seat, and two iron hands were throttling him remorselessly, shaking him savagely as they did so. While he tore desperately at them, his starting eyes stared up in filming horror into a face dark with rage, with lips curling back from close-shut teeth, and nostrils terrifyingly distended. Before his vision failed, Mr. Liversedge read murder in this face, and knew that for once in his life his judgment had been at fault. Then, as his eyes threatened to burst from their sockets, and his tongue was forced out between his lips, he saw and knew nothing more. As he lost consciousness Gideon cast him from him, and he fell in an inert heap on to the floor.
Chapter XVI
The noise of Mr. Liversedge’s fall brought Wragby swiftly upon the scene. He found his master brushing his hands together, as though to rid them of some lingering dirt and his master’s guest lying on the floor. He betrayed no particular surprise at this unusual scene, but casting an experienced eye over Mr. Liversedge remarked: “Well, it looks like you dished him up, sir. It’s bellows to mend with him sure enough. But what I ask you, sir, is, how am I to get rid of him, if you’ve killed him? Too hasty, that’s what you are!”
“I haven’t,” Gideon said shortly. “At least—Here, get some water, and throw it over him! I don’t want him dead!”
“Pity you didn’t think of that afore, sir,” said Wragby severely. “Nice sort of bobbery to be going on in a gentleman’s chambers!”
He left the room, returning in a minute or two with a jug of water, which he emptied generously over Mr. Liversedge’s countenance. “It seems a waste,” he said, “but I don’t know but what we hadn’t better put a ball-of-fire down his gullet.”