Part 17 (1/2)
The lady thus referred to interposed, ”This gentleman may ask fifty or five hundred questions, but unless you tell me what all this is about I very much doubt if I shall answer one.”
”Let me manage it, Mr. Golden. Mrs. Mansfield, may I enquire what you did with that cheque for a thousand which I gave you? You jade! To tell me that Ruby and Golden were dunning you out of your life, when you never owed them a stiver! Tell me what you did with that cheque!”
The Duke seemed at last to have said something which had reached the lady's understanding. She changed colour. She pressed her lips together. She looked at him with defiance in her eyes. A considerable pause ensued before she spoke.
”I don't know why I should tell you. What does it matter to you what I did with it--you gave it me.”
”It does matter to me. As it happens, it matters also to you. If you will take my friendly advice, you will tell me what you did with that cheque.”
The look of defiance about the lady's lips and in her eyes increased.
”I don't mind telling you. Why should I? It was my own. I gave it to Alfred.”
The Duke emitted an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n--which smacked of profanity.
”To Alfred? And, pray, who may Alfred be?”
The lady's crest rose higher. ”Alfred is--is the man to whom I am engaged to be married.”
The Duke of Datchet whistled. ”And you got a cheque out of me for a thousand pounds to make a present of it to your intended? That beats everything; and pray to whom did Alfred give it?”
”He gave it to no one. He paid it into the bank. He told me so himself.”
”Then I'm afraid that Alfred lied. Where is Alfred?”
”He's--he's here.”
”Here? In this room? Where? Under the couch, or behind the screen?”
”I mean that he's in this house. He's downstairs.”
”I won't ask how long he's been downstairs, but would it be too much to ask you to request Alfred to walk upstairs.”
The lady burst into a sudden tempest of tears.
”I know you'll only laugh at me--I know you well enough to expect you to do that--but--I--I know I've not been a good woman, and--and I do love him--although--he's only--a--servant!”
”A servant! Gertrude! Was that the man who opened the door?”
Mr. Golden gave vent to an exclamation which positively amounted to a shout. ”By Jove!--I've got it!--I knew I'd seen the face before--I couldn't make out where--it was the man who opened the door. Your Grace, might I ask you to have that man who opened the door to us at once brought here?”
”Ring the bell, Mr. Golden.”
The lady interposed. ”You shan't--I won't have it! What do you want with him?”
”We wish to ask him one or two questions. If Alfred is an honest man it will be better for him that he should have an opportunity of answering them. If he is not an honest man, it will be better for you that you should know it.”
Apparently this reasoning prevailed. Mr. Golden rang the bell; but his ring was not by any means immediately attended to. He rang a second and a third time, but still no answer came.