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Lost Leader, a novel by E. Phillips Oppenheim |
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Book 4 - Chapter 4. Checkmate To Borrowdean |
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_ BOOK IV CHAPTER IV. CHECKMATE TO BORROWDEAN Mannering's town house, none too large at any time, was transformed into a little hive of industry. Two hurriedly appointed secretaries were at work in the dining-room, and Hester was busy typing in her own little sanctum. Mannering sat in his study before a table covered with papers, and for the first time during the day was alone for a few moments. His servant brought in a card. Mannering glanced at it and frowned. "The gentleman said that he would not keep you for more than a moment, sir," the servant announced quietly, mindful of the half-sovereign which had been slipped into his hand. Mannering still looked at the card doubtfully. "You can show him up," he said at last. "Very good, sir!" The man withdrew, and reappeared to usher in Sir Leslie Borrowdean. Mannering greeted him without offering his hand. "You wished to see me, Sir Leslie?" he asked. Borrowdean came slowly into the room. He closed the door behind him. "I hope," he said, "that you will not consider my presence an intrusion!" "You have business with me, I presume," Mannering answered, coldly. "Pray sit down." Borrowdean ignored the chair, towards which Mannering had motioned. He came and stood by the side of the table. "Unless your memory, Mannering," he said, with a hard little laugh, "is as short as the proverbial politician's, you can scarcely be surprised at my visit." Mannering raised his eyebrows, and said nothing. "I must confess," Borrowdean continued, "that I scarcely expected to find it necessary for me to come here and remind you that it was I who am responsible for your reappearance in politics." "I am not likely," Mannering said, slowly, "to forget your good offices in that respect." "I felt sure that you would not," Borrowdean answered. "Yet you must not altogether blame me for my coming! I understand that the list of your proposed Cabinet is to be completed to-morrow afternoon, and as yet I have heard nothing from you." "Your information," Mannering said, "is quite correct. In fact, my list is complete already. If your visit here is one of curiosity, I have no objection to gratify it. Here is a list of the names I have selected." He handed a sheet of paper to Borrowdean, who glanced it eagerly down. Afterwards he looked up and met Mannering's calm gaze. There was an absolute silence for several seconds. "My name," Borrowdean said, hoarsely, "is not amongst these!" "It really never occurred to me for a single second to place it there," Mannering answered. Borrowdean drew a little breath. He was deathly pale. "You include Redford," he said. "He is a more violent partizan than I have ever been. I have heard you say a dozen times that you disapprove of turning a man out of office directly he has got into the swing of it. Has any one any fault to find with me? I have done my duty, and done it thoroughly. I don't know what your programme may be, but if Redford can accept it I am sure that I can." "Possibly," Mannering answered. "I have this peculiarity, though. Call it a whim, if you like. I desire to see my Cabinet composed of honourable men." Borrowdean started back as though he had received a blow. "Am I to accept that as a statement of your opinion of me?" he demanded. "It seems fairly obvious," Mannering answered, "that such was my intention." "You owe your place in public life to me," Borrowdean exclaimed. "If I do," Mannering answered, "do you imagine that I consider myself your debtor? I tell you that to-day, at this moment, I have no political ambitions. Before you appeared at Blakely and commenced your underhand scheming, I was a contented, almost a happy man. You imagined that my reappearance in political life would be beneficial to you, and with that in view, and that only, you set yourself to get me back. You succeeded! We won't say how! If you are disappointed with the result what concern is that of mine? You have called yourself my friend. I have not for some time considered you as such. I owe you nothing. I have no feeling for you save one of contempt. To me you figure as the modern political adventurer, living on his wits and the credulity of other people. Better see how it will pay you in opposition." Borrowdean, a cold-blooded and calculating man, knew for the first time in his life what it was to let his passions govern him. Every word which this man had spoken was truth, and therefore all the more bitter to hear. He saw himself beaten and humiliated, outwitted by the man whom he had sought to make his tool. A slow paroxysm of anger held him rigid. He was white to the lips. His nerves and senses were all tingling. There was red fire before his eyes. "If your business with me is ended," Mannering said, waving his hand towards the door, "you will forgive me if I remind you that I am much occupied." Borrowdean snatched up the square glass paper cutter from the table, and without a second's warning he struck Mannering with it full upon the temple. "Damn you!" he said. Mannering tried to struggle to his feet, but collapsed, and fell upon the floor. Borrowdean kicked his prostrate body. "Now go and form your Cabinet," he muttered. "May you wake in hell!" * * * * * Borrowdean, who left the study a madman, was a sane person the moment he began to descend the stairs and found himself face to face with a tall, heavily cloaked woman. The flash of familiar jewels in her hair, something, perhaps, in the quiet stateliness of her movements, betrayed her identity to him. His heart gave a quick jump. A sickening fear stole over him. He barred the way. "Duchess!" he exclaimed. She waved him aside with an impatient gesture. He could see the frown gathering upon her face. "Sir Leslie!" she replied. "Please let me pass! I want to see Mr. Mannering before any one else goes up!" Sir Leslie drew immediately to one side. "Pray do not let me detain you," he said, coolly. "Between ourselves, I do not think that Mannering is in a fit state to see anybody. I have not been able to get a coherent word out of him. He walks all the time backwards and forwards like a man demented." Berenice smiled slightly. "You are annoyed," she declared, "because you will be in opposition once more!" "If I go into opposition again," Borrowdean answered, "it will be my own choice. Mannering has asked me to join his Cabinet." Berenice raised her eyebrows. Her surprise was genuine. "You amaze me!" she declared. "I was amazed myself," he answered. She passed on her way, and Borrowdean descending, took a cab quietly home. Berenice, with her hand upon the door, hesitated. Hester had purposely sent her up alone. They had waited until they had heard Borrowdean leave the room. And now at the last moment she hesitated. She was a proud woman. She was departing now, for his sake, from the conventions of a lifetime. He had declined to come to her; no matter, she had come to him instead. Suppose--he should not be glad? Suppose she should fail to see in his face her justification? It was very quiet in the room. She could not even hear the scratching of his pen. Twice her fingers closed upon the knob of the door, and twice she hesitated. If it had not been for facing Hester below she would probably have gone silently away. And then--she heard a sound. It was not at all the sort of sound for which she had been listening, but it brought her hesitation to a sudden end. She threw open the door, and a little cry of amazement broke from her trembling lips. It was indeed a groan which she had heard. Mannering was stretched upon the floor, his eyes half closed, his face ghastly white. For a moment she stood motionless, a whole torrent of arrested speech upon her quivering lips. Then she dropped on her knees by his side and lifted his cold hand. "Oh, my love!" she murmured. "My love!" But he made no sign. Then she stood up, and her cry of horror rang through the house. _ |
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