[All Rights Reserved.] The Chase of the Ruby.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXX, Issue VII, 14 February 1903, Page 416

[All Rights Reserved.] The Chase of the Ruby.

By

RICHARD MARSH.

Author of “The Beetle: A Mystery,” “In Full Cry,’' “Frivolities,” Etc

SYNOPSIS OF INSTALMENTS 1. & ll.— On returning home from South Africa,where he had had a vision of his uncle beaten by a stranger on a flight of steps. Guy Holland finds a letter awaiting him from hie uncle s solicitor requesting an interview. The uncle has died and left a sirgular will behind, making Guy tils heir on condition that he regains a ruby ring which his relative had parted with to Miss May Bewicke, an actress. Failing this the estate goes to his other nephew. Horace Burton. In Regent's Park. Guy meets his sweetheart. Miss Letty Broad, who flies Into n passion of jealousy against Miss Bewicke, to whom Guy had formerly been engaged, and counsels him to go and demand the ring. lie goes to Miss Bewieke's flat for this purpose.

CHAPTER TV. MR. HOLLAND FAILS. Mr. Holland refleeted. He thought, of Letty and other things. Miss Bewicke seemed disposed to be friendly. Perhaps it was as well there was a third person present. He decided to make the running. “It’s this way. My uncle’s dead.” “Your uncle? Mr. George Burton? 1 hope you won’t think me dreadful, but I cannot say I’m sorry. He was not a person for whom I entertained feelings of profound respect.” “He—he’s left rather a peculiar will.” “I’m not surprised. I should be surprised at nothing he did which was peculiar. I never knew him do anything which wasn’t. Or worse.” Mr. Holland resolved to plunge. “He says you have a ruby ring of his.” “He says?—who says?” “My uncle —in his will.” Miss Bewicke laid down her knife and fork. “Mr. Holland, do I understand that you intend to suggest that I have in my possession another person’s property?” “It’s like this. He had a ruby ring: I know it very well. In his will he says you have it. He may have given it to you for all T know; he did queer things ” “Thank you.” “I don’t mean that.” “It doesn’t matter. Go on.” “Anyhow, it’s a condition of his will that I’m to get it back from you, and if I don’t get it back within three months of his death I’m to lose his money.” “I don’t in the least understand you. Will you please be so good as to make yourself quite clear.” He made himself as clear as he could, though he did not find it easy. Nor was his explanation well received. “Then am I to gather that you have come to me at midnight, hot-foot from Africa, in order to get from me—a ring; a ruby ring?

“It doesn’t sound very nice, but that’s the plain truth of it.” “It’s very flattering.” “Very!” The chorus came from Mr. Dumville. and was accompanied by a glare. “I can only throw myself upon your mercy. Miss Bewicke, and implore you to let me have this ring to save my inheritance.” Miss Bewicke resumed her knife and fork, which had all this time been lying idle. There was a change in her man ner, which, though subtle, was well-de fined to Mr. Holland’s consciousness. “By the way, Mr. Holland, the othe.' day I heard your name associated with a person called, I think. Broad. Was it merely idle gossip, or do you know anything of a person with a name like that.” “I do. I know Miss Broad, and very well. I hope she will be my wife. She has promised that she will.” “Ah. you and I know what is the value of such promises, don’t we, Mr Holland? Is she any relation to Broad, the teaman, in Mincing Lane?” “She is his daughter; his only child.”

"Indeed! His only child? How delightful! Old Broad has bushels of money. How nice for you, of all men, to be received in such a family.” The airy insolence of the tone was meant to sting, and did, though he endeavoured to conceal the fact, “You haven’t answered my question?” "Haven’t I? What was your question?” "Will you let me have the ring, to s-ive icy inheritance?” “It's such an odd question—isn’t it. Bryan? So mysterious. Melodrama’s not at all my line. They say I’m too small. Do you think that I’m too small ?” “I should imagine that you were better tit ted to shine in domestic comedy.” His words conveyed a meaning which this time stung her. although she laugh ed. “But. n y dear Mr. Holland, what do you want with an inheritance when you are going to marry a rich wife—the only child of her father, and lie a widower. I’m told that old Broad’s a millionaire.” “I’m not marrying her for her father’s money; nor for her own. Nor do I intend to go to her empty-handed.” How chivalrous you are! So changed ! ” “Am I to have the ring?” “Really. Mr Holland, you speak to me as if it were a ease of stand and deliver. Von can hardly know how your uncle behaved or I do not think you would broach the subject to me at all. In any case it is not one which I can discuss with you. Talk it over with Mr Dumville. Whatever he wishes I will do. I always act on his advice; he is so very wise. Good-night, Mr Holland. So glad to have seen you. Come soon again. Good-night. Mr Bryan, dear.” “But you haven’t had any supper.” “Mr Holland has taken my appetite away; he has caused my mind to travel back to events which I am always endeavouring to forget. But it doesn’t matter. Hear what he has to say and decide for me. King will let you both out when vour discussion’s finished.”

Mr Holland stood up. “Miss Bewicke. I am very sorry if I have said anything which has given you pain or offence. Nothing could have been further from my intention.” “Thank you.” "But this matter which von treat so lightly—” “Lightly!” “Is to me one of almost life and death. I believe that my uncle has left something like a quarter of a million.” “What a sum. Bryan! Doesn’t it sound nice?” “If I can hand this ring to Mr Collyer—” “To whom?” “To Mr Collyer, my uncle’s solicitor, the money is mine. I have only four days left to do it in.” “Four days! .Tust now you said three months.” “The time appointed is three months after my uncle’s death. He died on the 23rd of February. I have only just become acquainted with the terms of his will. So in four days it will be decided if I am to be a rich man or a pauper. You see. Miss Bewicke. that my fate is in your hands.” “I really cannot discuss the matter with you now. ft would make me ill. The strain would be too much for me. I refer you to Mr Dumville. Bryan, dear. I leave the matter entirely in your ha nds.” “Miss Bewicke—” Mr Dumville rose. “Mr Holland, you have heard whnt Miss Bewicke lias said. So far as she is concerned the discussion is closed. My

dear, let me open the door for you.” He opened the door for her. She passed out, with her handkerchief to her eyes, a fact on which Mr Dumville commented. ■‘You see what you ha> j done, sir—affected her to tears." “To what?” “To tears!” “Oh!” “Well. sir. what have you to say to me?” “To you?” “Yes, sir. to me. You have said more than enough to Miss Bewicke. Now, perhaps. there is something which you would like to say to me. as her affianced husband.” “There are one or two things which 1 should like to say to you. but I am inclined to think that I had better not say them to you here. Nor do I quite see my way to ask you to come outside, though I should like to.” Mr Holland was s-ivage. and unwise enough to show it. Mr Dumville. having polished his eyeglass, replaced it in his eye so that he might scan the speaker with a greater show of dignity. “What on earth do you mem by talking to me like that? If that’s the kind of remark you wish to make the sooner you get away the better. “1 am quite of your opinion, Mr Dumville. T shall always remember with pleasure that I was able to get away from you.” Mr Dumville strode forward. “You be hanged, sir!” “After you, Mr Dumville. after you.” “Yoii had better be careful; although I don’t want to have a vulgar row with you here.” “Would you mind mentioning a place at which you would? I will try to make it convenient to be there.” Mr Dumville turned and rang the bell. “What’s that for?” “For the servant to show you out.” Mr Holland, laughing, showed himself out without another word. He was conscious of two things—that he had not been particularly discreet, and that he would like to make his indiscretion greater by “taking it out” of somebody. It was not often his temper gained the lipper hand; when it did he was apt to be dangerous to himself and others. Nor was his mood chastened by a little incident which took place as he was about to descend the staircase, from a door which opened behind him Miss Bewicke addressed him in mellifluous accents. “Oh. Mr Holland, will you give my fondest love to dear Miss Broad? It’s true that I don’t know her, but if you tele her what good friends you and I used to be I’m sure that she won’t mind. I hope to make her acquaintance one of these days, and then I’ll tell her how fond you and I were of one another. Good-night.” Before he had a chance to answer the door was dosed. He went down the stairs in a rage. “The little cat!” he muttered. “The little eat! who would have' thought she had sue!’, claws?” As he was going out into the street

a woman, running against him. almost knocked him over. She was entering the house, apparently in hot, unseeing haste; putting up her hand as if to prevent his observation of her features; * n g tip the stairs as if danger was hard upon her heels. Mr Holland adjusted his hat, which she had knocked almost off without offering the least apology. “I wonder what the mischief you have been up to? Women are beauties, real 'tea n ties! ” Having indulged himself in this verv cheap piece of cynicism, he, metaphoric ally, shook the dust of the house from oft his feet, but he had not gone a dozen paces when he found himself face to face with his cousin, Horace Burton. CHAPTER V. A WOMAN SCORNED. Mr Burton might have been awaiting Mr Holland. He did not seem at all surprised to see him there, even at that hour of the night, or, rather, morning, for midnight had long since chimed. “How do, dear boy? So you haven’t been letting the grass grow under your feet. That’s where you beat me: you are so energetic?” And Mr. Burton smiled. That smile was his most prominent feature. It was always there. Not t hat it necessarily denoted mirth. Not at all It might mean anything, or nothing. When he was in a rage he smiled, and when he was in the best of tempers; when he wished to be agreeable, and when he wished to be nasty—and he could be nasty. He was not a bad-looking man. in his way, though there was something about him a little suggesting the worst side of the Semite, which rather detracted from the general effect. It was difficult to say exactly what it was. Whether it was that his nostrils were unduly thick, or that so much of his mouth as his heavy moustache suffered to be visible was animal, or that his eyes, which were fine of their kind, had an odd trick of intently observing you when you were not looking at him, and of wandering away into space when you were, it would have needed an acute physiognomist to determine, and even that physiognomist might have been in error. Certainly there was something about Mr. Horace Burton which nearly always caused an experienced man of the world, on first making his acquaintance, to glanee at him a first, a second, and again a third time, and then start thinking. Perhaps it was that, in spite of his moustache, his chronic smile displayed his teeth, which were not nice ones; or because of his soft, purring voice, which, when he became excited, had a squeak in it; or because of his feline trick of touching a person, with whom he might be conversing, with his finger-tips, and stroking him, when he got near enough to do it. Mr. Holland regarded his cousin in silence. The encounter did not appear to astonish him. nor to add to his pleasure, either. Mr. Burton continued: “Well—have you got it?” “Have I got what?” “Ah—you’ve answered. You haven’t. I see. Thanks. It was rather sharp work to raid the girl at this hour of the night, don’t you think? But you are always so keen. Was she nice to you? She used to be, didn’t she? You’ve been a lucky chap. I never could make out what women saw in you to like. A lot of them have seen something. There’s Miss Broad, for instance •” “Don’t mention that lady’s name.” “Not mention her name? My dear chap!” Mr. Burton placed the fingertips of his right hand against Mr. Holland’s chest, to have them brushed aside as if they were some noxious insect. He went on unmoved. “She’s to be my cousin ;so I’m told. Imless you’ve jerked her up. I hear her father kicked you

out of the house; perhaps you anticipate more kicking; in a case like that you can’t kick back again. So perhaps you’re wise to ehuck the girl. I tell you what, dear boy.” The finger-tips returned, again to be displaced. “Marry the Bewicke girl. Get a special license to marry the girl out of hand. Then you’ll get the ruby and the money too. It’s the only way you will. Hearken to the words of a wise man.”

"Mr. Burton, although 1 am so unfortunate as to be a relative of yours, I have on previous occasions been compelled to inform you that T decline to hold cominunication with, or afford you recognition of any sort or kind. I repeat that intimation now. With my reasons you are well acquainted; their name is legion. Have the goodness, therefore, to let me pass.” “But, my dear Guy, how al*out our uncle’s money?” “What about my uncle’s money?” “Our uncle’s; forgive the plural, Guy. Hadn’t we better come to some friendly arrangement while there still is time? You’ll never eret the rnbv out of the Bewicke woman; I know her; she’s a daughter of the horse-leech, she’ll see you damned first. Relinquish the chase at once—you’ll have to in a few hours, anyhow—and throw yourself on my magnanimity. There’s a suggestion, Guy! Give it up; withdraw at once from what you know is a lost game, and I’ll present you with a thousand pounds. Push the thing through to the bitter end, and you’ll get nothing.” “A thousand?—out of a quarter of a million?”

“It would be a gift. Guy—a free gift. It isn’t every man who’d present a cousin who’d used him as you’ve used me with a free gift of a thousand pounds.” “Mr Burton, if the money is to be jours. I’ll have none of it. I’m not disposed to be beholden to your charity, nor to you in any way. as you are aware, li it is to be mine, you’ll have none of it : I know your tastes, and will not pander to their gratification. Let me pa ss.” “See how different we are. If the money is to be mine—and it will be; it's as good as mine already—l’ll give you a few coppers every time we meet; I ’ll even send you some occasionally through the post. Good-night! My love to both the ladies!” Mr Burton hailed a passing hansom and was driven off. Mr Holland continued his promenade, but had not gone far before he was accosted from behind. “Mr Holland! Mr Holland!” exclaimed a female voice, as if the speaker were in distress for want of breath. “Who’s that?” He turned to see. A feminine figure was hastening towards him. “This promises to be a night of adventure. Has that little hussy become humanised and changed her mind?” The caller approached, holding her hand to her side. “I wish to speak to you. You know me ?” They stood close to a lamp. Mr Holland looked her up and down. “I seem to have seen you before. You are the person, who rushed into the house as I came out.” “That is it; I rushed —from him!” She threw out her hi nds with a dra

matic gesture, pointing dowr the street. “From whom?” "From your cousin—from Mr Horace Burton. Oh. he is a nice fellow! If 1 had stayed with him much longer 1 should have killed him: so to save myself from killing him 1 rushed away.” “My cousin’s concerns are not mine. I cannot assume responsibility for anytning he may do or have done. You are mistaken if you suppose I can.” “1 am not mistaken; 1 know all that. You men are all the same; you hang to gether. If your own brother drives a woman into the gutter, you say it is iv> affair of yours; you pass on, you leave her there. Before you open your mouth I know you cannot be responsible for what he has done. But you can makt me to be revenged on him. “Even that I cannot do.” “You can! I say you can!” The woman spoke, not loudly, but with such passion and intensity of meaning that Mr Holland was conscious ot a curious sensation as he heard hei. She was tall and thin, about thirty, not bad-looking, but precisely the type of woman the ordinary rake, seeking for a victim, would, if he had his senses about hi.’n, have left severely alone. She was distinctly not a person to be trifled with. Apparently a foreigner, because, although she spoke fluent English, there was now and then a slight accent and a curious idiom which betrayed her. Written large all over her was what, to a practised eye, was unmistakable evi deuce that she was of the number of those who take all things seriously, even rakes. One could easily believe that to her a promise was a promise, though it ea'.s e from the mouth of a man; and since there are men who regard promises made to women as a sort of persiflage, one would have thought that gentiemen who take that stand point would carefully avoid an individual who eyei! matters of the kind from such an inconveniently different point of view. Mr Horace Burton, however, was in some respects an unusual specimen even of his class. Possibly the consciousness that he ran the risk of burning bis own fingers by playing tricks with this particular fire was the lure which drew him on.

Anyhow, Mr. Holland told himself that this time his cousin had caught a Tartar, and became more and more convinced of it as the woman went on.

“My name is Louise Casata; I am Corsican, as qe will find, your cousin. I am the companion of Miss May Bewicke.” Mr. Holland pricked up his ears at this, which the woman, with her keen instinct, perceived. ‘Now do you not remember me? I was with her when you used to make love to her. I used to think you did it very well. But in those days you were fond of her. Now it is of another woman you are fond. Although you may have forgotten, I do not believe she has.”

This time Mr. Holland winced. “I think that now I do remember you. You used to write letters for her and that kind of thing.” “All sorts of kinds of things. I do everything she tells me to do; I am a Jack-of-all trades. I would act for her

one day; I can act, but I am too large a size. But that does not matter; nor does it matter what your cousin has done to me, though you can guess. But you cannot guess how he has lied and juggled.” “I think I can.” “Then you must know him very well. In which case you have my sympathy. What does matter is what you are going to do to him.” “I am going to do nothing to him.” “We will see; you will see; they all will see. Be still! Let me speak. He has told me about your uncle’s will—about the ruby which Miss Bewicke has. How, if you get it from her, you are to have all the money; how, if you don’t, he is to have it all. I know! Very well; you will get the ruby. That’s what you wall do to him. He will be ruined, body and soul; though, for his soul, that was lost long ago. If he wishes to keep his body out of prison he will have to be quick out of England. He will not find it easy. There are those who are watching for him too well.” “Are you sure of what you say?” “Am I sure! Do I not know? It is only because they think ho will get his uncle’s money that he has not been in prison before. I tell you there is a convict’s uniform waiting for him in more than one place. You will fit it on his back. I shall be revenged. I will go and see him when he is in gaol. Every three months he will be allowed to receive a visit. I will be his visitor. To see me will give him pleasure. I shall have such nice things to sav. Oh, yes!” <To be continued.)