Books: Our Friend the Charlatan

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"Did you tell her everything that _had_ happened?" asked Lady Ogram,
looking him in the eyes.

"Not in detail," Dyce replied, rather nervously, for he could not
with certainty interpret that stern look. "You will understand
that--that I was not at liberty--that I had to respect--"

He came near to losing himself between the conflicting suggestions
of prudence and hopefulness. At the sight of his confusion, Lady
Ogram smiled grimly.

"You mean," she said, in a voice which seemed to croak indulgence,
"that you had no right to tell Constance anything about Miss
Tomalin?"

Lashmar's courage revived. He suspected that the old autocrat knew
everything, that both girls had already gone through the ordeal of a
private interview with her, and had yielded up their secrets. If so,
plainly the worst was over, and nothing would now serve but
sincerity.

"That is what I mean," he answered, quietly and respectfully,
admiring his own dignity as he spoke.

"We are beginning to understand each other," said Lady Ogram, the
grim smile still on her face. "I don't mind telling you, now, that I
have spoken both with Constance and with May."

Lashmar manifested his relief. He moved into an easier posture; his
countenance brightened; he said within himself that destiny was
hearing him on to glorious things.

"I'm very glad indeed to hear that, Lady Ogram! It ruts my mind at
rest."

"I have talked with them both," continued the reassuring voice,
which struggled with hoarseness. "That they told me the truth, I
have no doubt; both of them know me too well to do anything else.
Constance, I understand, had your authority for speaking to me, so
her part was easy."

"She has a fine, generous spirit!" exclaimed Dyce, with the glow of
genuine enthusiasm.

"Well for you that she has. As for May, you had put her into a more
difficult position."

"I fear so. But I am sure, Lady Ogram, that you dealt with her very
kindly."

"Exactly." The smile was very grim indeed, and the voice very
hoarse. "But the things I couldn't ask May to tell me, I expect to
hear from you. Begin with this morning. You met her, I understand,
before you came to the house to see Constance."

Dyce fell straight into the trap. He spoke almost gaily.

"Yes; we met at eight o'clock."

"Of course by appointment."

"Yes, by appointment."

"The best will be for you to begin at the beginning, and tell the
story in your own way. I've heard all my niece cared to tell me; now
I give you the chance of telling your own tale. All I ask is the
truth. Tell me the truth, from point to point."

At the pass he had reached, Lashmar asked nothing better. He was
befooled and bedazzled. Every trouble seemed of a sudden to be
lifted from his mind. Gratitude to Constance, who had proved so much
better than her word, romantic devotion to May, who had so bravely
declared her love, filled him with fervours such as he had never
known. He saw himself in a resplendent light; his attitude was
noble, his head bent with manly modesty, and, when he began to
speak, there was something in his voice which he had never yet been
able to command, a virile music, to which he listened with delighted
appreciation.

"I obey you, Lady Ogram; I obey you frankly and gladly. I must go
back to the day of Miss Tomalin's return from London. You will
remember I told you that on that day I was in town, and in the
afternoon, early, I called at Mrs. Toplady's."

Omitting the fact of his having told May about the relations between
Miss Bride and himself, he narrated all else with perfect truth. So
pleasant was the sense of veracity, that he dwelt on unimportant
particulars, and lengthened out the story in a way which would have
made it intolerably tedious to any other hearer. Lady Ogram,
however, found it none too long. The smile had died from her face;
her lips were compressed, and from time to time her eyes turned upon
the speaker with a fierce glare; but Lashmar paid no heed to these
trifles. He ended at length with beaming visage, his last sentences
having a touch of emotion which greatly pleased him.

"Ring the bell," said Lady Ogram, pointing to the electric button.

Glad to stand up and move, Dyce did her bidding. Only a few moments
elapsed before Constance Bride and May Tomalin entered the room.

"Constance, come here," said Lady Ogram. "You"--she glared at
May--"stand where I can have a good view of you."

Lashmar had welcomed their entrance with a smile. The voice and
manner of the autocrat slightly perturbed him, but he made
allowances for her brusque way, and continued to smile at May, who
looked pale and frightened.

"Constance, did you know or did you not, that these two had a
meeting this morning in the park before Mr. Lashmar came to see
you?"

"No, I knew nothing of that," answered Miss Bride, coldly.

"And did you know that they had met before, at the same place and
time, and that they came from town together by the same train, and
that there was a regular understanding between them to deceive you
and me?"

"I knew nothing of all this."

"Look at her!" exclaimed Lady Ogram, pointing at the terrified girl.
"This is her gratitude; this is her honesty. She has lied to me in
every word she spoke! Lord Dymchurch offered her marriage, and she
tried to make me believe that he hadn't done so at all, that he was
a dishonourable shuffler--"

"Aunt!" cried May, stepping hurriedly forward. "He did _not_ offer
me marriage! I'll tell you everything. Lord Dymchurch saw me by
chance this morning--Mr. Lashmar and me--saw us together in the
park; and he understood, and spoke to me about it, and said that the
only thing he could do was to tell you I had refused him--"

"Oh, that's it, is it?" broke in the hoarse voice, all but
inarticulate with fury. "Then he too is a liar; that makes one
more."

Lashmar stood in bewilderment. He caught May's eye, and saw that he
had nothing but hostility to expect from her.

"_There_ is the greatest of all!" cried the girl, with violent
gesture. "He has told you all about _me_, but has he told you all
about himself?"

"Lady Ogram," said Dyce, in a tone of offended dignity, "you should
remember by what means you obtained my confidence. You told me that
Miss Tomalin had already confessed everything to you. I naturally
believed you incapable of falsehood--"

"Being yourself such a man of honour!" Lady Ogram interrupted, with
savage scorn. "Constance, you are the only one who has not told me
lies, and you have been shamefully treated--"

"You think she has told you no lies?" interrupted May, her voice at
the high pitch of exasperation. "Wait a moment. This man has told
you that he came down from London in the train with me; but did he
tell you what he talked about? The first thing he disclosed to me
was that the engagement between him and Miss Bride was a mere
pretence. Finding you wished them to marry, they took counsel
together, and plotted to keep you in good humour by pretending to be
engaged. This he told me himself."

Lady Ogram turned upon Lashmar, who met her eyes with defiance.

"You believe that?" he asked, in a quietly contemptuous tone.

She turned to Constance, whose face showed much the same expression.

"Is that true?"

"I shall answer no charge brought by Miss Tomalin," was the cold
reply.

"And you are right." Lady Ogram faced to May. "I give you half an
hour to pack your luggage and leave the house! Be off!"

The girl burst into a hysterical laugh, and ran from the room. For
some moments, Lady Ogram sat looking towards the door; then, sinking
together in exhaustion, she let her eyes move from one to the other
of the two faces before her. Lashmar and Constance had exchanged no
look; they stood in sullen attitudes, hands behind them, staring at
vacancy.

"I have something to say to you." The voice that broke the silence
was so faint as to be but just audible. "Come nearer."

The two approached.

"That girl has gone. She is nothing to me, and nothing to you.
Constance, are you willing to marry Mr. Lashmar?"

There came no reply.

"Do you hear?" whispered Lady Ogram, with a painful effort to speak
louder. "Answer me."

"How can you expect me to be willing to marry him?" exclaimed
Constance, in whom a violent struggle was going on. Her cheeks were
flushed, and tears of humiliation stood in her eyes.

"You!" Lady Ogram addressed Lashmar. "Will you marry her?"

"How is it possible, Lady Ogram," replied Dyce, in an agony of
nervousness, "to answer such a question under these circumstances?"

"But you _shall_ answer!" sounded in a choked sort of scream. "I
give you the choice, both of you. Either you are married in three
days from now, or you go about your business, like that lying girl.
You can get a license, and be married at once. Which is it to be? I
give you three days, not an hour more."

Lashmar had turned very pale. He looked at his partner in the
dilemma.

"Constance," fell from his lips, "will you marry me?"

There came an answer which he could just hear, but which was
inaudible to Lady Ogram.

"Speak, girl! Yes or no!" croaked their tormentor.

"She has consented," said Dyce.

"Then be off and get the license! Don't lose a minute. I suppose
you'll have to go to London for it?--Constance, give me your arm.
I must excuse myself to my guests."

Constance bent to her, and Lady Ogram, clutching at the offered arm,
endeavoured to rise It was in vain; she had not the strength to
stand.

"Mr. Lashmar!" She spoke in a thick mumble, staring with wild eyes.
"Come--other side--"

She was drooping, falling. Lashmar had only just time to catch and
support her.

"What is it?" he asked, staring at Constance as he supported the
helpless form. "Has she fainted?"

"Lay her down, and I'll get help."

A moment, and Sir William Amys came hastening into the room; he was
followed by his wife and two or three servants. Lady Ogram gave no
sign of life, but the baronet found that her pulse was still
beating. Silent, still, with half-closed eyes, the old autocrat of
Rivenoak lay stretched upon a sofa awaiting the arrival of Dr.
Baldwin.

CHAPTER XXV

Sir William drew Lashmar aside.

"What brought this about?" he asked. "What has been going on?"

Dyce, whose nerves were in a tremulous state, did not easily command
himself to the quiet dignity which the occasion required. He saw
that the baronet regarded him with something of suspicion, and the
tone in which he was addressed seemed to him too much that of a
superior. With an effort of the muscles, he straightened himself and
looked his questioner in the face.

"There has been a painful scene, Sir William, between Lady Ogram and
her niece. Very much against my will, I was made a witness of it. I
knew the danger of such agitation, and did my best to calm Lady
Ogram. Miss Tomalin had left the room, and the worst seemed to be
over. We were talking quietly, when the blow fell."

"That is all you have to say?"

"I am not sure that I understand you, Sir William," Lashmar replied
coldly. Being slightly the taller, he had an advantage in being able
to gaze at the baronet's forehead instead of meeting his look. "You
would hardly wish me to speak of circumstances which are purely
private."

"Certainly not," said the other, and abruptly moved away.

Lady Amys and Constance stood together near the couch on which Lady
Ogram was lying. With a glance in that direction, Lashmar walked
towards the door, hesitated a moment, went out into the hall. He had
no wish to encounter May; just as little did he wish for a private
interview with Constance; yet it appeared to him that he was obliged
by decorum to remain in or near the house until the doctor's
arrival. Presently he went out onto the terrace, and loitered in
view of the front windows. That Lady Ogram was dying he felt not the
least doubt. Beneath his natural perturbation there stirred a hope.

Nearly an hour passed before Dr. Baldwin's carriage rolled up the
drive. Shortly after came another medical man, who had been summoned
at the same time. Whilst waiting impatiently for the result of their
visits, Lashmar mused on the fact that May Tomalin certainly had not
taken her departure; it was not likely now that she would quit the
house; perhaps at this moment she was mistress of Rivenoak.

Fatigue compelled him at length to enter, and in the hall he saw
Constance. Involuntarily, she half turned from him, but he walked up
to her, and spoke in a low voice, asking what the doctors said.
Constance replied that she knew nothing.

"Are they still in the library?"

"No. Lady Ogram has been carried upstairs."

"Then I'll go in and wait."

He watched the clock for another half hour, then the door opened,
and a servant brought him information that Lady Ogram remained in
the same unconscious state.

"I will call this evening to make inquiry," said Lashmar, and
thereupon left the house.

Reaching his hotel at Hollingford, he ordered a meal and ate
heartily. Then he stepped over to the office of the _Express_, and
made known to Breakspeare the fact of Lady Ogram's illness; they
discussed the probabilities with much freedom, Breakspeare remarking
how add it would be if Lady Ogram so soon followed her old enemy. At
about nine o'clock in the evening, Dyce inquired at Rivenoak lodge:
he learnt that there was still no change whatever in the patient's
condition; Dr. Baldwin remained in the house. In spite of his
anxious thoughts, Dyce slept particularly well. Immediately after
breakfast, he drove again to Rivenoak, and had no sooner alighted
from the cab than he saw that the blinds were down at the lodge
windows. Lady Ogram, he learnt, had died between two and three
o'clock.

He dismissed his vehicle, and walked along the roads skirting the
wall of the park. Now, indeed, was his life's critical moment. How
long must elapse before he could know the contents of Lady Ogram's
will? In a very short time he would have need of money; he had been
disbursing freely, and could not face the responsibilities of the
election, without assurance that his finances would soon be on a
satisfactory footing. He thought nervously of Constance Bride, more
nervously still of May Tomalin. Constance's position was doubtless
secure; she would enter upon the "trust" of which so much had been
said; but what was her state of mind with regard to _him_? Had not
the consent to marry him simply been forced from her? May, who was
now possessor of a great fortune, might perchance forget yesterday's
turmoil, and be willing to renew their tender relations; he felt
such a thing to be by no means impossible. Meanwhile, ignorance
would keep him in a most perplexing and embarrassing position. The
Amyses, who knew nothing of the rupture of his ostensible
engagement, would be surprised if he did not call upon Miss Bride,
yet it behooved him, for the present, to hold aloof from both the
girls, not to compromise his future chances with either of them. The
dark possibility that neither one nor the other would come to his
relief, he resolutely kept out of mind; that would be sheer ruin,
and a certain buoyancy of heart assured him that he had no such
catastrophe to fear. Prudence only was required; perhaps in less
than a week all his anxieties would be over, for once and all.

He decided to call, this afternoon, upon Lady Amys. The interview
would direct his future behaviour.

It was the day of Robb's funeral, and he had meant to absent himself
from Hollingford. He remained in his private sitting-room at the
Saracen's Head, wrote many letters, and tried to read. At four
o'clock he went out to Rivenoak, only to learn that Lady Amys could
receive no one. He left a card. After all, perhaps this was the
simplest and best way out of his difficulty.

As he turned away from the door, another cab drove up, and from it
alighted Mr. Kerchever. Dyce had no difficulty in recognising Lady
Ogram's solicitor, but discretion kept his head averted, and Mr.
Kerchever, though observing him, did not speak.

By the post next morning, he received a formal announcement of Lady
Ogram's death, with an invitation to attend her funeral. So far, so
good. He was now decidedly light-hearted. Both Constance and May, he
felt sure, would appreciate his delicacy in holding aloof, in
seeking no sort of communication with them. Prudence! Reserve! The
decisive day approached.

Meanwhile, having need of sable garb, he had consulted Breakspeare
as to the tailor it behooved him to patronise. Unfortunately the
only good tailor at Hollingford was a Conservative, who prided
himself on having clad the late M. P. for many years. Lashmar of
necessity applied to an inferior artist, but in this man, who was
summoned to wait upon him at the hotel, he found a zealous
politician, whose enthusiasm more than compensated for sartorial
defects.

"I have already been canvassing for you, sir," declared the tailor.
"I can answer for twenty or thirty votes in my neighbourhood--"

"I am greatly obliged to you, Mr. Bingham," Dyce replied, in his
suavest tone. "We have a hard fight before us, but if I find many
adherents such as you--"

The tailor went away and declared to all his acquaintances that if
they wished their borough to be represented by a _gentleman_, they
had only to vote for the Liberal candidate.

As a matter of policy, Dyce had allowed it to be supposed that he
was a man of substantial means. With the members of his committee he
talked in a large way whenever pecuniary matters came up. Every day
someone dined with him at the hotel, and the little dinners were as
good as the Saracen's Head could furnish special wines had been
procured for his table. Of course the landlord made such facts
commonly known, and the whole establishment bowed low before this
important guest. All day long the name of Mr. Lashmar sounded in bar
and parlour, in coffee-room and commercial-room. Never had Dyce
known such delicious thrills of self-respect as under the roof of
this comfortable hostelry. If he were elected, he would retain
rooms, in permanence, at the hotel.--Unless, of course, destiny
made his home at Rivenoak.

Curiosity as to what was going on at the great house kept him in a
feverish state during these days before the funeral. Breakspeare,
whom he saw frequently, supposed him to be in constant communication
with Rivenoak, and at times hinted a desire for news, but Lashmar's
cue was a dignified silence, which seemed to conceal things of high
moment. Sir William and Lady Amys he knew to be still in the house
of mourning; he presumed that May Tomalin had not gone away, and it
taxed his imagination to picture the terms on which she lived with
Constance. At the funeral, no doubt, he would see them both;
probably would have to exchange words with them--an embarrassing
necessity.

Hollingford, of course, was full of gossip about the dead woman. The
old, old scandal occupied tongues malicious or charitable. Rivenoak
domestics had spread the news of the marble bust, to which some of
them attached a superstitious significance; Breakspeare heard, and
credited, a rumour that the bust dated from the time when its
original led a brilliant, abandoned life in the artist world of
London; but naturally he could not speak of this with Lashmar.
Highly imaginative stories, too, went about concerning Miss Tomalin,
whom everyone assumed to be the heiress of Lady Ogram's wealth. By
some undercurrent, no doubt of servant's-hall origin, the name of
Lord Dymchurch had come into circulation, and the editor of the
_Express_ ventured to inquire of Lashmar whether it was true that
Miss Tomalin had rejected an offer of marriage from this peer.
Perfectly true, answered Dyce, in his discreet way; and he smiled as
one who, if he would, could expatiate on the interesting topic.

He saw Mrs. Gallantry, and from her learnt--without betraying his
own ignorance--that callers at Rivenoak were received by Lady
Amys, from whom only the barest information concerning Lady Ogram's
illness was obtainable. Neither Miss Tomalin nor Miss Bride had been
seen by anyone.

The day of the funeral arrived; the hour appointed was half-past
two. All the morning rain fell, and about mid-day began a violent
thunder storm, which lasted for an hour. Then the sky began to
clear, and as Lashmar started for Rivenoak be saw a fine rainbow
across great sullen clouds, slowly breaking upon depths of azure.
The gates of the park stood wide open, and many carriages were
moving up the drive. Afterwards, it became known that no member of
the Ogram family had been present on this occasion. Half-a-dozen
friends of the deceased came down from London, but the majority of
the funeral guests belonged to Hollingford and the immediate
neighbourhood. In no sense was it a distinguished gathering; mere
curiosity accounted for the presence of nearly all who came.

Lashmar had paid his respects to Lady Amys, who received him
frigidly, and was looking about for faces that he knew, when a
familiar voice spoke at his shoulder; he turned, and saw Mrs.
Toplady.

"Have you come down this morning?" he asked, as they shook hands.

"Yesterday. I want to see you, and we had better arrange the meeting
now. Where are you staying in Hollingford? An hotel, isn't it?"

She spoke in a low voice. Notwithstanding her decorous gravity,
Lashmar saw a ghost of the familiar smile hovering about her lips.
He gave his address, and asked at what hour Mrs. Toplady thought of
coming.

"Let us say half-past five. There's an up train just before eight,
which I must catch."

She nodded, and moved away. Again Lashmar looked about him, and he
met the eye of Mr. Kerchever, who came forward with friendly aspect.

"Dreadfully sudden, the end, Mr. Lashmar!"

"Dreadfully so, indeed," Dyce responded, in mortuary tones.

"You were present at the seizure, I understand?"

"I was."

"A good age," remarked the athletic lawyer, with obvious difficulty
subduing his wonted breeziness. "The doctor tells me that it was
marvellous she lived so long. Wonderful woman! Wonderful!"

And he too moved away, Lashmar gazing after him, and wishing he knew
all that was in the legal mind at this moment. But that secret must
very soon become common property. Perhaps the contents of Lady
Ogram's will would be known at Hollingford this evening.

He searched vainly for Constance and for May. The former he did not
see until she crossed the hall to enter one of the carriages; the
latter appeared not at all. Had she, then, really left Rivenoak?
Sitting in his hired brougham, in dignified solitude, he puzzled
anxiously over this question. Happily, he would learn everything
from Lady Toplady.

In the little church of Shawe, his eyes wandered as much as his
thoughts. Surveying the faces, most of them unknown to him, he
noticed that scarcely a person present was paying any attention to
the ceremony, or made any attempt to conceal his or her
indifference. At one moment it vexed him that no look turned with
interest in his direction; was he not far and away the most notable
of all the people gathered here? A lady and a gentleman sat near
him, frequently exchanged audible whispers, and he found that they
were debating a trivial domestic matter, with some acerbity of
mutual contradiction. He gazed now and then at the black-palled
coffin, and found it impossible to realise that there lay the
strange, imperious old woman who for several months had been the
centre of his thoughts, and to whom he owed so vast a change in his
circumstances. He felt no sorrow, yet thought of her with a certain
respect, even with a slight sensation of gratitude, which was
chiefly due, however, to the fact that she had been so good as to
die. Live as long as he might, the countenance and the voice of Lady
Ogram would never be less distinct in his memory than they were
to-day. He, at all events, had understood and appreciated her. If he
became master of Rivenoak, the marble bust should always have an
honoured place under that roof.

Dyce saw himself master of Rivenoak. He fell into a delightful
dream, and, when the congregation suddenly stirred, he realised with
alarm that he had a broad smile on his face.

Rather before the hour she had named, Mrs. Toplady presented herself
at the Saracen's Head. Lashmar was impatiently expectant; he did his
best to appear gravely thoughtful, and behaved with the ceremonious
courtesy which, in his quality of parliamentary candidate, he had of
late been cultivating. His visitor, as soon as the door was closed,
became quite at her ease.

"Nice little place," she remarked, glancing about the room. "You
make this your head-quarters, of course?"

"Yes; I am very comfortable here," Dyce answered, in melodious
undertone.

"And all goes well? Your committee at work, and all that?"

"Everything satisfactory, so far. The date is not fixed yet."

"But it'll be all over, no doubt, in time for the partridges," said
Mrs. Toplady, scrutinising him with an amused look. "Do you shoot?"

"Why no, Mrs. Toplady. I care very little for sport."

"Like all sensible men. I wanted to hear what you think about Lady
Ogram's will."

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