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Lost Leader, a novel by E. Phillips Oppenheim |
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Book 1 - Chapter 2. The Woman With An Alias |
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_ BOOK I CHAPTER II. THE WOMAN WITH AN ALIAS Borrowdean seemed after all to take but little interest in the game. He walked generally, some distance away from the players, on the top of the low bank of sandhills which fringed the sea. He was one of those men whom solitude never wearies, a weaver of carefully thought-out schemes, no single detail of which was ever left to chance or impulse. Such moments as these were valuable to him. He bared his head to the breeze, stopped to listen to the larks, watched the sea-gulls float low over the lapping waters, without paying the slightest attention to any one of them. The instinctive cunning which never deserted him led him without any conscious effort to assume a pleasure in these things which, as a matter of fact, he found entirely meaningless. It led him, too, to choose a retired spot for those periods of intensely close observation to which he every now and then subjected his host and the woman who was now his partner in the game. What he saw entirely satisfied him. Yet the way was scarcely clear. They caught him up near one of the greens, and he stood with his hands behind him, and his eyeglass securely fixed, gravely watching them approach and put for the hole. To him the whole performance seemed absolutely idiotic, but he showed no sign of anything save a mild and genial interest. Clara, Mannering's niece, who was immensely impressed with him, lingered behind. "Don't you really care for any games at all, Sir Leslie?" she asked. He shook his head. "I know that you think me a barbarian," he remarked, smiling. "On the contrary," she declared, "that is probably what you think us. I suppose they are really a waste of time when one has other things to do! Only down here, you see, there is nothing else to do." He looked at her thoughtfully. He had never yet in his life spoken half a dozen words with man, woman or child without wondering whether they might not somehow or other contribute towards his scheme of life. Clara Mannering was pretty, and no doubt foolish. She lived alone with her uncle, and possibly had some influence over him. It was certainly worth while. "I do not know you nearly well enough, Miss Mannering," he said, smiling, "to tell you what I really think. But I can assure you that you don't seem a barbarian to me at all." She was suddenly grave. It was her turn to play a stroke. She examined the ball, carefully selected a club from her bag, and with a long, easy swing sent it flying towards the hole. "Wonderful!" he murmured. She looked up at him and laughed. "Tell me what you are thinking," she insisted. "That if I played golf," he answered, "I should like to be able to play like that." "But you must have played games sometimes," she insisted. "When I was at Eton--" he murmured. Mannering looked back, smiling. "He was in the Eton Eleven, Clara, and stroked his boat at college. Don't you believe all he tells you." "I shall not believe another word," she declared. "I hope you don't mean it," he protested, "or I must remain dumb." "You want to go off and tramp along the ridges by yourself," she declared. "Confess!" "On the contrary," he answered, "I should like to carry that bag for you and hand out the--er--implements." She unslung it at once from her shoulder. "You have rushed upon your fate," she said. "Now let me fasten it for you." "Is there any remuneration?" he inquired, anxiously. "You mercenary person! Stand still now, I am going to play. Well, what do you expect?" "I am not acquainted with the usual charges," he answered, "but to judge from the weight of the clubs--" "Give me them back, then," she cried. "Nothing," he declared, firmly, "would induce me to relinquish them. I will leave the matter of remuneration entirely in your hands. I am convinced that you have a generous disposition." "The usual charge," she remarked, "is tenpence, and twopence for lunch." "I will take it in kind!" he said. She laughed gaily. "Give me a mashie, please." He peered into the bag. "Which of these clubs now," he asked, "rejoices in that weird name?" She helped herself, and played her shot. "I couldn't think," she said, firmly, "of paying the full price to a caddie who doesn't know what a mashie is." "I will be thankful," he murmured, "for whatever you may give me--even if it should be that carnation you are wearing." She shook her head. "It is worth more than tenpence," she said. "Perhaps by extra diligence," he suggested, "I might deserve a little extra. By the bye, why does your partner, Mr. Lindsay, isn't it, walk by himself all the time?" "He probably thinks," she answered, demurely, "that I am too familiar with my caddie." "You will understand," he said, earnestly, "that if my behaviour is not strictly correct it is entirely owing to ignorance. I have no idea as to the exact position a caddie should take up." "What a pity you are going away so soon," she said. "I might have given you lessons." "Don't tempt me," he begged. "I can assure you that without me the constitution of this country would collapse within a week." She looked at him--properly awed. "What a wonderful person you are!" "I am glad," he said, meekly, "that you are beginning to appreciate me." "As a caddie," she remarked, "you are not, I must confess, wholly perfect. For instance, your attention should be entirely devoted to the person whose clubs you are carrying, instead of which you talk to me and watch Mrs. Handsell." He was almost taken aback. For a pretty girl she was really not so much of a fool as he had thought her. "I deny it _in toto_!" he declared. "Ah, but I know you," she answered. "You are a politician, and you would deny anything. Don't you think her very handsome?" Borrowdean gravely considered the matter, which was in itself a somewhat humorous thing. Slim and erect, with a long, graceful neck, and a carriage of the head which somehow suggested the environment of a court, Mrs. Handsell was distinctly, even from a distance, a pleasant person to look upon. He nodded approvingly. "Yes, she is good-looking," he admitted. "Is she a neighbour of yours?" "She has taken a house within a hundred yards of ours," Clara Mannering answered. "We all think that she is delightful." "Is she a widow?" Borrowdean asked. "I imagine so," she answered. "I have never heard her speak of her husband. She has beautiful dresses and things. I should think she must be very rich. Stand quite still, please. I must take great pains over this stroke." A wild shot from Clara's partner a few minutes later resulted in a scattering of the little party, searching for the ball. For the first time Borrowdean found himself near Mrs. Handsell. "I must have a few words with you before I go back," he said, nonchalantly. "Say that you would like to try my motor car," she answered. "What do you want here?" "I came to see Mannering." "Poor Mannering!" "It would be," he remarked, smoothly, "a mistake to quarrel." They separated, and immediately afterwards the ball was found. A little later on the round was finished. Clara attributed her success to the excellence of her caddie. Mrs. Handsell deplored a headache, which had put her off her putting. Lindsay, who was in a bad temper, declined an invitation to lunch, and rode off on his bicycle. The rest of the little party gathered round the motor car, and Borrowdean asked preposterous questions about the gears and the speeds. "If you are really interested," Mrs. Handsell said, languidly, "I will take you home. I have only room for one, unfortunately, with all these clubs and things." "I should be delighted," Borrowdean answered, "but perhaps Miss Mannering--" "Clara will look after me," Mannering interrupted, smiling. "Try to make an enthusiast of him, Mrs. Handsell. He needs a hobby badly." They started off. She leaned back in her seat and pulled her veil down. "Do not talk to me here," she said. "We shall have a quarter of an hour before they can arrive." Borrowdean assented silently. He was glad of the respite, for he wanted to think. A few minutes' swift rush through the air, and the car pulled up before a queer, old-fashioned dwelling house in the middle of the village. A smart maid-servant came hurrying out to assist her mistress. Borrowdean was ushered into a long, low drawing-room, with open windows leading out on to a trim lawn. Beyond was a walled garden bordering the churchyard. Mrs. Handsell came back almost immediately. Borrowdean, turning his head as she entered, found himself studying her with a new curiosity. Yes, she was a beautiful woman. She had lost nothing. Her complexion--a little tanned, perhaps--was as fresh and soft as a girl's, her smile as delightfully full of humour as ever. Not a speck of grey in her black hair, not a shadow of embarrassment. A wonderful woman! "The one thing which we have no time to do is to stand and look at one another," she declared. "However, since you have tried to stare me out of countenance, what do you find?" "I find you unchanged," he answered, gravely. "Naturally! I have found a panacea for all the woes of life. Now what do you want down here?" "Mannering!" "Of course. But you won't get him. He declares that he has finished with politics, and I never knew a man so thoroughly in earnest." Borrowdean smiled. "No man has ever finished with politics!" "A platitude," she declared. "As for Mannering, well, for the first few weeks I felt about him as I suppose you do now. I know him better now, and I have changed my mind. He is unique, absolutely unique! Do you think that I could have existed here for nearly two months without him?" "May I inquire," Borrowdean asked, blandly, "how much longer you intend to exist here with him?" She shrugged her shoulders. "All my days--perhaps! He and this place together are an anchorage. Look at me! Am I not a different woman? I know you too well, my dear Leslie, to attempt your conversion, but I can assure you that I am--very nearly in earnest!" "You interest me amazingly," he remarked, smiling. "May I ask, does Mannering know you as Mrs. Handsell only?" "Of course!" "This," he continued, "is not the Garden of Eden. I may be the first, but others will come who will surely recognize you." "I must risk it," she answered. Borrowdean swung his eyeglass backwards and forwards. All the time he was thinking intensely. "How long have you been here?" he asked. "Very nearly two months," she answered. "Imagine it!" "Quite long enough for your little idyll," he said. "Come, you know what the end of it must be. We need Mannering! Help us!" "Not I," she answered, coolly. "You must do without him for the present." "You are our natural ally," he protested. "We need your help now. You know very well that with a slip of the tongue I could change the whole situation." "Somehow," she said, "I do not think that you are likely to make that slip." "Why not?" he protested. "I begin to understand Mannering's firmness now. You are one of the ropes which hold him to this petty life--to this philandering amongst the flower-pots. You are one of the ropes I want to cut. Why not, indeed? I think that I could do it." "Do you want a bribe?" "I want Mannering." "So do I!" "He can belong to you none the less for belonging to us politically." "Possibly! But I prefer him here. As a recluse he is adorable. I do not want him to go through the mill." "You don't understand his importance to us," Borrowdean declared. "This is really no light affair. Rochester and Mellors both believe in him. There is no limit to what he might not ask." "He has told me a dozen times," she said, "that he never means to sit in Parliament again." "There is no reason why he should not change his mind," Borrowdean answered. "Between us, I think that we could induce him." "Perhaps," she answered. "Only I do not mean to try." "I wish I could make you understand," he said impatiently, "that I am in deadly earnest." "You threaten?" "Don't call it that." "Very well, then," she declared, "I will tell him the truth myself." "That," he answered, "is all that I should dare to ask. He would come to us to-morrow." "You used not to underrate me," she murmured, with a glance towards the mirror. "There is no other man like Mannering," he said. "He abhors any form of deceit. He would forgive a murderer, but never a liar." "My dear Leslie," she said, "as a friend--and a relative--" "Neither counts," he interrupted. "I am a politician." She sat quite still, looking away from him. The peaceful noises from the village street found their way into the room. A few cows were making their leisurely mid-day journey towards the pasturage, a baker's cart came rattling round the corner. The west wind was rustling in the elms, bending the shrubs upon the lawn almost to the ground. She watched them idly, already a little shrivelled and tarnished with their endless struggle for life. "I do not wish to be melodramatic," she said, slowly, "but you are forcing me into a corner. You know that I am rich. You know the people with whom I have influence. I want to purchase Lawrence Mannering's immunity from your schemes. Can you name no price which I could pay? You and I know one another fairly well. You are an egoist, pure and simple. Politics are nothing to you save a personal affair. You play the game of life in the first person singular. Let me pay his quittance." Borrowdean regarded her thoughtfully. "You are a strange woman," he said. "In a few months' time, when you are back in the thick of it all, you will be as anxious to have him there as we are. You will not be able to understand how you could ever have wished differently. This is rank sentiment, you know, which you have been talking. Mannering here is a wasted power. His life is an unnatural one." "He is happy," she objected. "How do you know? Will he be as happy, I wonder, when you have gone, when there is no longer a Mrs. Handsell? I think not! You are one of the first to whom I should have looked for help in this matter. You owe it to us. We have a right to demand it. For myself personally I have no life now outside the life political. I am tired of being in opposition. I want to hold office. One mounts the ladder very slowly. I see my way in a few months to going up two rungs at a time. We want Mannering. We must have him. Don't force me to make that slip of the tongue." The sound of a gong came through the open window. She rose to her feet. "We are keeping them waiting for luncheon," she remarked. "I will think over what you have said." _ |
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