Mr. Marx's Secret Part 36

"I have spent but little time in England."

"I suppose not," Lord Langerdale answered slowly. "We have heard of you occasionally. Will you come and speak to my wife?"

"I think not," was the calm reply. "It could only be very painful for both of us. If Lady Langerdale desires it--not unless--I will call upon you at your rooms. But, frankly, I would rather not."

Lord Langerdale appeared by no means offended, rather a little relieved, and answered sadly:

"It is for you to choose. If you can tell her that the past has lost some of its bitterness for you, and--and----"

He hesitated and seemed at a loss how to express himself. My _vis-a-vis_ smiled--a smile of peculiar bitterness it was--and interrupted cynically:

"And that I am a reformed character, I suppose you would say, and have become a respectable member of society! No, no, Lord Langerdale, I am no hypocrite, and I shall never tell her that. A wanderer upon the face of the earth I have been during the best years of my life, and a wanderer I shall always be--adventurer, some people have said. Well, well, let it be so; what matter?"

Lord Langerdale shook his head doubtfully.

"I am sorry to hear you talk so, Eugene; but of one thing you may always be sure--Elsie and I will never be your judges. If you feel that it will reopen old wounds, stop away; but if not, why, come and see us. You have a young friend with you," he added, turning slightly towards me and speaking a little more earnestly than the occasion seemed to require.

The man whom he called Eugene shook his head.

"I am not so fortunate," he said stiffly. "I can claim no more than what on the Continent we call a 'table acquaintance' with this young gentleman."

It might have been my fancy, but it seemed to me that Lord Langerdale looked distinctly disappointed. He bowed courteously to me, however, shook hands with his friend and rejoined his wife. My new acquaintance resumed his former position, and, with it, his old nonchalant manner.

"Your pardon," he said lightly, "for this long digression. And now tell me, _mon ami_, shall we spend the evening together? You are a stranger in London, you say; I am not," he added drily. "Come, shall I be your cicerone?"

I really had nothing else to do, so I a.s.sented at once.

"Good! Let us finish the bottle to a pleasant evening. But, ah! I forgot.

We must be introduced. The English custom demands it, even though we introduce ourselves. Your name is?"

"Morton," I answered--"Philip Morton. I haven't a card."

"Good! Then, Mr. Philip Morton, permit me the honour of introducing to you--myself. I am called de Cartienne--the Count Eugene de Cartienne--but I do not use the t.i.tle in this country."

CHAPTER XLII.

NEWS OF MR. MARX.

For a moment or two I remained quite silent, for the simple reason that I was far too astonished to make any remark. My new acquaintance sat looking at me with slightly-raised eyebrows and carelessly toying with his eyegla.s.s; yet, notwithstanding his apparent nonchalance, I felt somehow aware that he was watching me keenly.

"My name appears to be a surprise to you," he remarked, keeping his eyes fixed steadily upon my face. "Have you heard it before, may I ask?"

"Yes," I a.s.sented, "one of the fellows down at Borden Tower----"

"What, you know Leonard?" he interrupted. "Egad! how strange! Then you are one of Dr. Randall's pupils, I suppose?"

"Yes; I have only been there a very short time, though. And Leonard is----"

"My son."

I looked at him intently. Now that the fact itself had been suggested to me, I could certainly trace come faint likeness. But what puzzled me most was that he seemed also to remind me, although more vaguely, of someone else, whom I could not call to mind at all. Neither did he seem particularly anxious for me to a.s.sist him, for, as though somewhat annoyed at my close scrutiny, he rose abruptly to his feet.

"Come, what do you say to cigarettes and coffee? We are outstaying everybody here."

I followed him downstairs into the smoke-room. We seated ourselves upon a luxurious divan, and the Count immediately began to talk about his son.

"And so you know Leonard? How strange! Do you see much of one another?"

"Naturally, considering that there are only three of us at Dr.

Randall's," I reminded him.

"Ah, just so! And your other fellow pupil is young Lord Silchester, is he not? Rather an awkward number, three. Do you all chum together pretty well?"

What was I to say? I could not tell him that my relations with his son were decidedly inimical; so, after a moment's hesitation, I answered a little evasively:

"I'm afraid we're not a very sociable trio. You see, Cis and I are very keen on out-of-door amus.e.m.e.nts, and your son rather prefers reading."

He nodded.

"Yes; I quite understand. You and Lord Silchester are thoroughly English, and essentially so in your tastes and love of sport. Leonard, now, is more than half a foreigner. His mother was an Austrian lady, and I myself am of French extraction. By the by, Mr. Morton, may I ask you a question--in confidence?" he added slowly.

"Certainly."

"It is about Leonard. I don't think that you need have any scruples about telling me, for I am his father, you know, and have a certain right to know everything about him."

He looked at me gravely, as though for confirmation of his words, and I silently expressed my a.s.sent. Leonard de Cartienne was nothing to me; and if his father was going to ask me the question which I hoped he was, he should have a straightforward answer.

"I sent my son to Dr. Randall's," he began, sinking his voice to a confidential whisper, "not because he was backward in his studies--for such is not, I believe, the case--but because he has unfortunately inherited a very deplorable taste. I found it out only by accident, and it was a very great shock to me. Leonard is fond--too fond--of playing cards for money. I thought that at Borden Tower he would have no opportunity for indulging this lamentable weakness; but from what I have recently heard about Dr. Randall, it has occurred to me that he is perhaps a little too much of the student and too little of the schoolmaster. You understand me? I mean that he is perhaps so closely wrapped up in his private work, that after the hours which he gives to his pupils for instruction they may secure almost as much liberty as though they were at college."

"That's just it," I answered: "and, M. de Cartienne, now that you have spoken to me of it, I will tell you something. Your son does play a good deal with Lord Silchester. I know that this is so, for I have played myself occasionally."

"And Lord Silchester wins, I presume?"

Something in the Count's tone as he asked the question, and something in his face as I glanced up, did not please me. Both seemed to tell the same tale, both somehow seemed to imply that his question to me was altogether sarcastic, and that he knew the contrary to be the case.

It was the first gleam of mistrust which I had felt towards my new acquaintance, and it did not last, for the expression of deep concern and annoyance with which he heard my answer seemed too natural to be a.s.sumed.

"On the contrary, your son always wins," I told him drily.

His finely-pencilled dark eyebrows almost met in a heavy frown, and he threw his cigarette away impatiently.

"I'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Morton, for answering my question," he said; "but I needn't tell you that I'm very sorry to hear what you say.

Something must be done with Mr. Leonard at once."

He lit another cigarette and threw himself back in a corner of the divan.

Then I made up my mind to speak to him on the subject which was uppermost in my mind.