Sipping a last glass of brandy before going to bed, remembering the years of his military service, confidence grew in him. There had been plenty of retreats, but no lost battles under Douro’s command: not one!
He thought, regretfully, that it was a pity he hadn’t sold his stock at the beginning of March, when Wimmering had advised it. Had he done so, he would now have had a large sum at his disposal, and might have bought again, making a handsome profit.
He set hisempty glass down suddenly. The idly reflective expression in his eyes altered; he sat staring intently straight before him, his eyes now bright and hard between slightly narrowed lids. A queer little smile began to play around his mouth; he drew a breath like a sigh, and got up, pouring more brandy into his glass. He stood for quite some time, swirling the brandy round, watching it but not thinking about it. The ghost of a laugh shook him; he tossed off the brandy, set the glass down again, and went off to bed.
Chapter XXV
He had just finished breakfast when Mr Wimmering was brought up to the parlour on the following morning. Wimmering was looking grave, but he said that he was very glad to see my lord.
“I’m extremely glad to see you,” replied Adam. “I need your advice and your services.”
“Your lordship knows that both are at your disposal.”
“I’m obliged to you. Sit down! Now, tell me, Wimmering, what, by your reckoning, am I worth? How much credit will Drummond allow me?”
Mr Wimmering’s jaw dropped; he gazed blankly at Adam, and said feebly: “Credit? Drummond?”
“I don’t want to go to the Jews unless I must.”
“Go to the — But, my lord — ! You cannot have run into debt? I beg your pardon! But I had not the smallest suspicion — ”
“No, no, I haven’t run into debt!” Adam said. “But I’m in urgent need of ready money — as large a sum as I can contrive to raise! Immediately!”
Wimmering felt a little faint. At any other hour of the day he would have concluded that his client had been imbibing too freely, and was half-sprung. He wondered if Mr Chawleigh’s news had temporarily turned his brain. He bore no appearance of being either drunk or unhinged, but it had struck Wimmering as soon as he had entered the room that he was looking unlike himself. There was a tautness about him Wimmering had never before noticed; his eyes, usually so cool, were strangely bright; and the smile hovering at the corners of his mouth held a disquieting hint of recklessness. Wimmering was at a loss to interpret these signs, never having been privileged to see his noble client in command of a Forlorn Hope.
“Well?” Adam said impatiently.
Wimmering pulled himself together, saying firmly: “My lord, before I enter upon that question, may I respectfully remind you that there is a far more urgent matter awaiting your attention? If you have seen Mr Chawleigh it must be unnecessary for me to tell you that there is no time to be lost in empowering me to dispose of your stock.”
“Oh, I’m not selling!” Adam said cheerfully. “I beg pardon! Of course you supposed that that was why I needed you! No, I’m buying.”
“Buying?” gasped Wimmering, turning quite pale. “You’re not serious, my lord?”
“I’m perfectly serious — and perfectly sane as well, I promise you. No, don’t repeat Mr Chawleigh’s Banbury story to me! I’ve heard it once, and I don’t wish to hear it again! My father-in-law is an excellent man, but he has not the smallest understanding of military matters. As far as I can discover, word of a retreat has reached the City, brought by some agent, who had heard that the Prussians had been cut up a trifle, that we had retired, and who no doubt saw the refugees pouring into Antwerp, or Ghent, or wherever he chanced to be, and out of this built up a lurid tale of disaster! My dear Wimmering, do you really imagine that if the Army was in headlong flight not one hint of it would appear in today’s journals?”
Mr Wimmering looked rather struck. He said: “I must own that one would have supposed — ” He stopped, as a thought occurred to him, and asked hopefully: “Have you, perhaps, received news from Belgium, my lord?”
“I’ve received a good deal of news during the past weeks,” Adam replied coolly. “I won’t deceive you, however: I haven’t any secret source of information, and I’ve heard nothing that confirms or refutes my father-in-law’s story.” He paused; the disturbing smile grew more marked. “Have there been moments in your life, Wimmering, when you have felt, within yourself, a strong — oh, an overwhelming compulsion to do something that perhaps your reason tells you is imprudent — even dangerous. When you don’t hesitate to stake your last groat, because you know the dice are going to fall your way?” He saw the look of horror in Wimmering’s face, and laughed. “No, you don’t understand, do you? Well, never mind!”
But Mr Wimmering was unable to follow this advice. In a flash of enlightenment he had recognized his late patron in the present Viscount, and his heart sank like a plummet. He shuddered to recall the number of times the Fifth Viscount had yielded to the compulsion of an inner and too often lying voice, how many times he had been confident that his luck had changed. He sank into despair, knowing from bitter experience how useless it would be to attempt to bring his lordship to reason. There was nothing he could do to restrain him, but he did utter an anguished protest when Adam, enumerating his tangible assets, said: “Then there’s Fontley. You know as well as I do how much land I have left unmortgaged — unsettled too! My father blamed himself for that, didn’t he? I wish he could know how thankful I am today that the estate never was resettled!”
Mr Wimmering was obliged to draw what comfort he could from the hope that my lord’s intangible asset would rescue him from penury. It would certainly weigh more heavily in his favour in the mind of Mr Drummond than any security he could offer — provided the banker did not discover that he was acting in defiance of Mr Chawleigh’s advice.
“He won’t,” said Adam. “My father-in-law banks with Hoare’s.”
“My lord!” said Wimmering desperately, “have you thought — have you considered — what would be your position if this — this gamble of yours should fail?”
“It won’t fail,” replied Adam, with so much calm confidence that Wimmering was impressed in spite of himself.
But he begged Adam not to command him to carry to Drummond’s proposals of which he wholly disapproved. A very faint hope that these words might give his lordship pause was of brief duration.
“Not I!” said Adam, impish laughter in his eyes. “If Drummond were to catch sight of that Friday-face you’re wearing, my tale would be told! He wouldn’t lend me as much as a coach-wheel!” Laughter faded; he looked at Wimmering for a minute without speaking, and then said perfectly seriously: “I don’t think Providence holds out chance upon chance to one. I think — if I were to refuse this — I should never be offered another. It means a great deal to me. Can’t you understand?”
Mr Wimmering nodded, and answered mournfully: “Yes, my lord. I have for long been aware, alas — ” He left the sentence unfinished, only sighing heavily.
“Don’t mistake me!” Adam said quickly. “It’s some quirk in me — an odd kick in my gallop, my father would have said! — no fault of Mr Chawleigh’s! I’ve received nothing but kindness from him. Indeed, I hold him in considerable affection!”
Mr Wimmering knew that there was no more to be said. He was well enough acquainted with Mr Chawleigh to feel a profound sympathy for anyone who lay within his power; but he still could not repress a hope that Mr Drummond would prove less accommodating than my lord anticipated. But no sooner did he entertain this hope than it was shattered by a macabre vision of my lord caught in the toils of some blood-sucking moneylender, which so much appalled him that when he presently climbed into a hack the jarvey had to ask him twice where he wanted to go before he could collect himself sufficiently to utter the address of his office in the City.