Part 55 (1/2)

”Yes, let him go! Now I am free--I am my own master! master of wealth undreamed of! And I'll use it! By Heaven, I'll be happy! Let him go! I meant to get rid of him--he has saved me an unpleasant scene. And now to work, to work!”

He ran rather than walked across the room, and rang the bell.

Slummers opened the door almost instantly and stood motionless and silent.

”Has--has that old idiot gone?” asked Stephen.

”Yes, sir,” said Slummers.

Stephen laughed hoa.r.s.ely.

”Let the past go with him!” he said. ”Slummers, go to my room and bring a roll of papers from my bureau-drawer. You know what they are! Plans and estimates. Do you know what I am going to do?”

Slummers raised his eyes.

”Of course you do!” said Stephen with the same laugh. ”I'm going to make a clean sweep here, Slummers. I'm going to pull half this beastly place to the ground. Alterations, Slummers--alterations that will make Hurst a place for a man to live in, not a tomb, as it is at present.”

”You are right, sir, it is a tomb,” said Slummers, in his low, hollow voice.

Stephen shuddered.

”Yes, yes; but I mean to alter that. I'll make it fit to live in, fit to bring a young bride to. Fetch the plans, Slummers; I'll go over them at once, this minute. Yes, I will change the place till the very trees shall not know it. Fetch the plans! I'll pull the whole of it down, every stick and stone! I hate it--hate it! I'll change the name! I can do it. I can do anything now, or what is the use of this money? Fetch the plans! Fetch----” He broke off suddenly and staggered.

Slummers sprang nervously forward and caught him, and putting him into a chair, poured out some neat brandy and gave it to him.

Stephen tugged at his collar and struggled for a moment, then sank back helplessly.

”Stop!” he said, ”stay here. Don't go. I--I can hear voices--an old man's voice--what is it?”

”Nothing--nothing,” said Slummers. ”Be calm, sir.”

”Calm--I am calm!” retorted Stephen. ”It's this beastly house, it's full of noises! Give me some brandy--and--get the time table. I'll go to London to-morrow, Slummers. Yes, I'll go to London!”

And the master of Hurst, the owner of a million and more, sank back in his chair and fingered the time table with trembling fingers.

CHAPTER XXVI.

”Jack Newcombe!” exclaimed Mrs. Davenant, looking at the card which Mary had brought in. ”Jack Newcombe!” she repeated a second time. ”My dear, come here!”

Una was sitting beside the open window, a book in her lap, her eyes fixed on the sun setting just behind the chimneys.

”Yes,” she said, her face flushed, her eyes glowing as if the sun were reflected in them; but she did not move.

Mrs. Davenant hurried across the room with the card in her hand.

”Una, dear, see here,” she said, nervously. ”Here is Jack Newcombe!

You've heard me speak of him.”