Cord and Creese Part 74

Frank went on reading his letters, looking up from time to time. At last he put down the last one.

"Louis!" said he.

Louis looked up.

"You came so late last night that I haven't had a chance to speak about any thing yet. I want to tell you something very important."

"Well!"

"Langhetti is alive."

"I know it."

"You knew it! When? Why did you not tell me?"

"I didn't want to tell any thing that might distract you from your purpose."

"I am not a child, Louis! After my victory over Rothschild I ought to be worthy of your confidence."

"That's not the point, Frank," said Louis; "but I know your affection for the man, and I thought you would give up all to find him."

"Well!"

"Well. I thought it would be better to let nothing interpose now between us and our purpose. No," he continued, with a stern tone, "no, no one however dear, however loved, and therefore I said nothing about Langhetti. I thought that your generous heart would only be distressed.

You would feel like giving up every thing to find him out and see him, and, therefore, I did not wish you even to know it. Yet I have kept an account of his movements, and know where he is now."

"He is here in London," said Frank, with deep emotion.

"Yes, thank G.o.d!" said Louis. "You will see him, and we all will be able to meet some day."

"But," asked Frank, "do you not think Langhetti is a man to be trusted?"

"That is not the point," replied Louis. "I believe Langhetti is one of the n.o.blest men that ever lived. It must be so from what I have heard.

All my life I will cherish his name and try to a.s.sist him in every possible way. I believe also that if we requested it he might perhaps keep our secret. But that is not the point, Frank. This is the way I look at it: We are dead. Our deaths have been recorded. Louis Brandon and Frank Brandon have perished. I am Wheeler, or Smithers, or Forsyth, or any body else; you are Henderson. We keep our secret because we have a purpose before us. Our father calls us from his tomb to its accomplishment. Our mother summons us. Our sweet sister Edith, from her grave of horror unutterable, calls us. All personal feeling must stand aside, Frank--yours and mine--whatever they be, till we have done our duty."

"You are right, Louis," said Frank, sternly.

"Langhetti is in London," continued Louis. "You will not see him, but you can show your grat.i.tude, and so can I. He is going to hire an opera-house to bring out an opera; I saw that in the papers. It is a thing full of risk, but he perhaps does not think of that. Let us enable him to gain the desire of his heart. Let us fill the house for him.

You can send your agents to furnish tickets to people who may make the audience; or you can send around those who can praise him sufficiently.

I don't know what his opera may be worth. I know, however, from what I have learned, that he has musical genius; and I think if we give him a good start he will succeed. That is the way to show your grat.i.tude, Frank."

"I'll arrange all that!" said Frank. "The house shall be crowded. I'll send an agent to him--I can easily find out where he is, I suppose--and make him an offer of Covent Garden theatre on his own terms. Yes, Langhetti shall have a fair chance. I'll arrange a plan to enforce success."

"Do so, and you will keep him permanently in London till the time comes when we can arise from the dead."

They were silent for a long time. Louis had thoughts of his own, excited by the letter which he had received, and these thoughts he did not care to utter. One thing was a secret even from Frank.

And what could he do? That Beatrice had fallen among friends he well knew. He had found this out when, after receiving a letter from Philips about her flight, he had hurried there and learned the result. Then he had himself gone to Holby, and found that she was at Mrs. Thornton's. He had watched till she had recovered. He had seen her as she took a drive in Thornton's carriage. He had left an agent there to write him about her when he left.

What was he to do now? He read the letter over again. He paused at that sentence: "They have been talking it over, and have come to the conclusion to get a detective, and keep him busy watching her with the idea of getting her back."

What was the nature of this danger? Beatrice was of age. She was with Langhetti. She was her own mistress. Could there be any danger of her being taken back against her will? The villains at Brandon Hall were sufficiently unscrupulous, but would they dare to commit any violence?

and if they did, would not Langhetti's protection save her?

Such were his thoughts. Yet, on the other hand, he considered the fact that she was inexperienced, and might have peculiar ideas about a father's authority. If Potts came himself, demanding her return, perhaps, out of a mistaken sense of filial duty, she might go with him.

Or, even if she was unwilling to do so, she might yield to coercion, and not feel justified in resisting. The possibility of this filled him with horror. The idea of her being taken back to live under the power of those miscreants from whom she had escaped was intolerable. Yet he knew not what to do.

Between him and her there was a gulf unfathomable, impa.s.sable. She was one of that accursed brood which he was seeking to exterminate. He would spare her if possible; he would gladly lay down his life to save her from one moment's misery; but if she stood in the way of his vengeance, could he--dared he stay that vengeance? For that he would sacrifice life itself! Would he refuse to sacrifice even _her_ if she were more dear than life itself?

Yet here was a case in which she was no longer connected with, but striving to sever herself from them. She was flying from that accursed father of hers. Would he stand idly by, and see her in danger? That were impossible. All along, ever since his return to England, he had watched over her, unseen himself and unsuspected by her, and had followed her footsteps when she fled. To desert her now was impossible. The only question with him was--how to watch her or guard her.

One thing gave him comfort, and that was the guardians.h.i.+p of Langhetti.

This he thought was sufficient to insure her safety. For surely Langhetti would know the character of her enemies as well as Beatrice herself, and so guard her as to insure her safety from any attempt of theirs. He therefore placed his chief reliance on Langhetti, and determined merely to secure some one who would watch over her, and let him know from day to day how she fared. Had he thought it necessary he would have sent a band of men to watch and guard her by day and night; but this idea never entered his mind for the simple reason that he did not think the danger was pressing. England was after all a country of law, and even a father could not carry off his daughter against her will when she was of age. So he comforted himself.

"Well," said he, at last, rousing himself from his abstraction, "how is Potts now?"

"Deeper than ever," answered Frank, quietly.

"The Brandon Bank--"

"The Brandon Bank has been going at a rate that would have foundered any other concern long ago. There's not a man that I sent there who has not been welcomed and obtained all that he wanted. Most of the money that they advanced has been to men that I sent. They drew on us for the money and sent us various securities of their own, holding the securities of these applicants. It is simply bewildering to think how easily that scoundrel fell into the snare."

"When a man has made a fortune easily he gets rid of it easily," said Louis, laconically. "Potts thinks that all his applicants are leading men of the county. I take good care that they go there as baronets at least. Some are lords. He is overpowered in the presence of these lords, and gives them what they ask on their own terms. In his letters he has made some attempts at an expression of grat.i.tude for our great liberality. This I enjoyed somewhat. The villain is not a difficult one to manage, at least in the financial way. I leave the denouement to you, Louis."

"The denouement must not be long delayed now."

"Well, for that matter things are so arranged that we may have 'the beginning of the end' as soon as you choose."

"What are the debts of the Brandon Bank to us now?"

"Five hundred and fifteen thousand one hundred and fifty pounds," said Frank.

"Five hundred thousand--very good," returned Louis, thoughtfully. "And how is the sum secured?"

"Chiefly by acknowledgments from the bank with the indors.e.m.e.nt of John Potts, President."

"What are the other liabilities?"

"He has implored me to purchase for him or sell him some California stock. I have reluctantly consented to do so," continued Frank, with a sardonic smile, "entirely through the request of my senior, and he has taken a hundred shares at a thousand pounds each."

"One hundred thousand pounds," said Louis.

"I consented to take his notes," continued Frank, "purely out of regard to the recommendations of my senior."

"Any thing else?" asked Louis.

"He urged me to recommend him to a good broker who might purchase stock for him in reliable companies. I created a broker and recommended him.

He asked me also confidentially to tell him which stocks were best, so I kindly advised him to purchase the Mexican and the Guatemala loan. I also recommended the Venezuela bonds. I threw all these into the market, and by dextrous manipulation raised the price to 3 per cent, premium. He paid 103 for every 100. When he wants to sell out, as he may one day wish to do, he will be lucky if he gets 35 per cent"