The Red Derelict Part 14

Paying no further attention to him, both girls made straight for their room.

"I've got a ghastly headache," said Delia, throwing herself upon the bed. "I believe I got a touch of the sun."

"Yes; it's been infernally hot--is still. Well, did you have a good time of it otherwise?"

"Perfect; yes, perfect," she answered, with a bitterness begotten of a strong instinct that it was the last she would have of any good times of that sort. "Do you know, Clytie, the contrast is too awful. It's brought home to one so, and it hurts. I think I shall try and get some work again that'll take me away, and keep me at it from morning till night--that'll be the only thing."

Clytie knew better than to question her further at that time.

"You turn in and get to sleep," she said, "and I'll bring you something that'll send you off like a humming-top. Don't go down again; and if that rascal Bob does anything to disturb you I'll--I'll--well, he'd seriously better not."

She had her good points, you see, this handsome, slang-affecting, cold-blooded schemer.

Throughout the whole of the next day Delia was very miserable and depressed; only now did she realise what an obsession this secret cultus had become. What had she done to offend its object? Had any of her belongings done so, her father, perhaps, or Bob? She questioned Clytie as to this, but on that head could get no satisfaction.

"Let me think it out," said the latter. "I'll keep my ears open too.

It's a thousand pities my scheme should fall through. But, Delia, you must buck up. It's of no use going about looking, as Bob said, like a boiled owl. Buck up."

While she was dressing the following morning there came a whole-hearted bang at Delia's door, coupled with the somewhat raucous voice of Bob.

"Here, I say, Delia; here's a registered letter for you. Oof, of course. Well, I claim my commission for bringing it."

"'Costs' shouldn't it be?" she answered. "Well, push it under the door."

"There's the receipt too. You must sign it, and shove it back again.

Postman's waiting."

This was done, and Delia looked at the registered envelope, wondering.

n.o.body owed her money, nor was there anyone in the wide world who would be in the least likely to give her any. There was a certain amount of excitement about the conjecture--something like the solving of an interesting conundrum. Then she cut open the envelope.

It contained a letter written on stiff, blue-grey, lawyer-like paper.

Over this was the turned down end of a cheque. She looked at the cheque before the letter, and then--Great heavens! what did it mean? For the characters on the oblong slip danced before her amazed eyes.

"_Pay Miss Delia Calmour one thousand pounds_.

"Grantley Wagram."

One thousand pounds? Grantley Wagram? What did it mean? In Heaven's name, what did it mean? With trembling hands she spread out the letter.

But it was not to herself. It was, in fact, the letter of demand which we have already seen the old Squire receive.

What did it mean? Delia was simply dumfoundered. She had never instructed anybody to claim damages in her life, either from the Wagrams or anyone else. Pownall and Skreet! Ah-h! They were Bob's employers.

Now she saw light. Her father and Bob had put up this between them.

She remembered her suspicions with regard to them, or at any rate her father, two mornings ago. All now stood explained.

With eager hands she looked once more into the envelope, but it contained no further communication, no line or word addressed to herself, no explanation. There was the letter of demand, and the tangible evidence of compliance therewith in full. The sender had clearly deemed further explanation unnecessary.

How she completed her dressing Delia hardly knew, so consumed was she with a burning longing to get at those who had placed her in this shameful position. No wonder Wagram's demeanour had been what it had when the girl to whom he had shown kindness had revealed herself as a mere blackmailing adventuress--a gainer of money under false pretences.

Heavens! it would not bear thinking upon. Well, first to give the schemers a piece of her mind, then to rectify in so far as it lay within her power the shameful wrong they had done her.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

CONCERNING TWO CLAIMANTS.

"Well, Delia, how much was it?" was Bob's first greeting.

"A thousand pounds."

The effect of this announcement was electrical and diverse. Old Calmour dropped his knife and fork--they were at table--and stared. Even Clytie could not repress a gasp; while as for Bob, he hoorayed aloud.

"Then Wagram has stumped up! Did he send it straight to you?"

"Look! There's the cheque," holding it up.

"Phew!" whistled Bob. "It ought to have come to you through our people, though."

"Good thing it didn't," said Clytie significantly.

"Rather!" a.s.sented Bob briskly. "All the more for us. Now we need only pay for the letter of demand. Well done, Delia. I say, dad, we ought to have a jolly good dinner to-night on the strength of it, and some fizz to drink Delia's health."

"So we will, so we will," snuffled the old man. "It's like a blessed gift of Providence coming as it does just now, for the devil only knows how we should have managed to get on much longer."

"Buck up, old girl," cried Bob, boisterously affectionate on the strength of this sudden accession to wealth. "Buck up. You're looking sort of white about the gills, and pulling a face as long as a fiddle, instead of hooraying like mad. Why, you've got your thousand--a cool thou--and no costs charged, and no delay, and you don't seem a bit happy."

Then Delia spoke.

"Happy! I feel as if I could never look anybody in the face again. A mean, extortionate, blackmailing swindle has been perpetrated in my name, and I shall not lose a moment in putting it right, and explaining that I had no part in it. I am going to return this cheque."

"Wh-at?" bellowed Bob.

"Going to re--" gasped old Calmour, who had fallen back in his chair, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

"Is she mad?" snorted Bob, who had gone as white as the girl herself.

"Gets a cool thou, sent her--a cool thou, by the Lord Harry!--and then says 'No, thanks; I'd rather not. Take it back again.' It oughtn't to be allowed."

"And would rather see her old father starve," yelped old Calmour.

"Here, take it from her, Bob. We'll keep it for her till she comes to a better frame of mind."

"You dare to lay a hand on me," said Delia; and there was that in her livid face and blazing eyes that caused the move Bob had made to rise in his chair to subside again. "Besides, you couldn't take it from me without tearing it to pieces, nor could you cash it without my endors.e.m.e.nt--which you would never get. How's that, Lawyer Bob?"

"d.a.m.nable tommy-rot. Oh, hang it, Clytie, can't you knock some sense into her silly noddle? You haven't said anything."

"How can one when you're all bellowing at once? Well, I may as well tell you both that you've made a thundering silly mess of the whole thing. My beautiful scheme, which was becoming simpler and simpler every day, is now irrevocably knocked on the head--"

"Beautiful scheme! Tommy-rot!" interrupted Bob. "A cool thou, in the hand's worth twenty 'beautiful schemes' in your head."

"--But as you have knocked it out," went on Clytie, ignoring the interruption, "I say stick to the thousand."