Prince of Swindlers — Chapter 6, Part 1: A Visit in the Night

*A VISIT IN THE NIGHT.

* One bright summer morning Simon Carne sat in his study, and reflected on the slackness of things in general.

Since he had rendered such a signal service to the State, as narrated in the previous chapter, he had done comparatively nothing to raise himself in his own estimation.

He was thinking in this strain when his butler entered, and announced "Kelmare Sahib."

The interruption was a welcome one, and Carne rose to greet his guest with every sign of pleasure on his face.

"Good-morning, Kelmare," he said, as he took the other's outstretched hand; "I'm delighted to see you.

How are you this morning?"

"As well as a man can hope to be under the circumstances," replied the new arrival, a somewhat _blase_ youth, dressed in the height of fashion.

"You are going to the Greenthorpe wedding, of course.

I hear you have been invited."

"You are quite right; I have," said Carne, and presently produced a card from the basket, and tossed it across the table.

The other took it up with a groan.

"Yes," he said, "that's it, by Jove!

And a nice-looking document it is.

Carne, did you ever hate anybody so badly that it seemed as if it would be scarcely possible to discover anything you would not do to hurt them?"

"No," answered Carne, "I cannot say that I have.

Fate has always found me some way or another in which I might get even with my enemies.

But you seem very vindictive in this matter.

What's the reason of it?"

"Vindictive!"

said Kelmare, "of course I am; think how they have treated me.

A year ago, this week, Sophie Greenthorpe and I were engaged.

Old Greenthorpe had not then turned his business into a limited liability company, and my people were jolly angry with me for making such a foolish match; but I did not care.

I was in love, and Sophie Greenthorpe is as pretty a girl as can be found in the length and breadth of London.

But there, you've seen her, so you know for yourself.

Well, three months later, old Greenthorpe sold his business for upwards of three million sterling.

On the strength of it he went into the House, gave thirty thousand to the funds of his party, and would have received a baronetcy for his generosity, had his party not been shunted out of power.

"Inside another month all the swells had taken them up; dukes and earls were as common at the old lady's receptions as they had been scarce before and I began to understand that, instead of being everybody to them as I had once been, the old fellow was beginning to think his daughter might have done much better than become engaged to the third son of an impecunious earl.

"Then Kilbenham came upon the scene.

He's a fine-looking fellow and a marquis, but, as you know as well as I do, a real bad hat.

He hasn't a red cent in the world to bless himself with, and he wanted money--well--just about as badly as a man _could_ want it.

What's the result?

Within six weeks I am thrown over, and she has accepted Kilbenham's offer of marriage.

Society says--'What a good match!'

and, as if to endorse it, you receive an invitation to the ceremony."

"Forgive me, but you are growing cynical now," said Carne, as he lit a fresh cigar.

"Haven't I good cause to be?"

asked Kelmare.

"Wait till you've been treated as I have, and then we'll see how you'll feel.

When I think how every man you meet speaks of Kilbenham, and of the stories that are afloat concerning him, and hear the way old Greenthorpe and his pretensions are laughed at in the clubs, and sneered at in the papers, and am told that they are receiving presents of enormous value from all sorts and conditions of people, from Royalty to the poor devils of workmen he still under-pays just because Kilbenham is a marquis and she is the daughter of a millionaire, why, I can tell you it is enough to make any one cynical."

"In the main, I agree with you," said Carne.

"But, as life is made up of just such contradictions, it seems to me absurd to butt your head against a stone wall, and then grumble because it hurts and you don't make any impression on it.

Do you think the presents are as wonderful as they say?

I want to know, because I've not given mine yet.

In these days one gives as others give.

If they have not received anything very good, then a pair of electro-plated entree dishes will meet the case.

If the reverse--well--diamonds, perhaps, or an old Master that the Americans are wild to buy, and can't." "Who is cynical now, I should like to know?"

said Kelmare.

"I was told this morning that up to the present, with the superb diamonds given by the bride's father, they have totalled a value of something like twenty thousand pounds."

"You surprise me," answered Carne.

"I am surprised myself," said Kelmare, as he rose to go.

"Now, I must be off.

I came in to see if you felt inclined for a week's cruise in the Channel.

Burgrave has lent me his yacht, and somehow I think a change of air will do me good."

"I am very sorry," said Carne, "but it would be quite impossible for me to get away just now.

I have several important functions on hand that will keep me in town."

"I suppose this wedding is one of them?"

"To tell the honest truth, I had scarcely thought of it," replied Carne.

"Must you be off?

Well, then, good-bye."

When Kelmare had disappeared, Carne went back to his study, and seated himself at his writing-table.

"Kelmare is a little over-sensitive," he said, "and his pique is spoiling his judgment.

He does not seem to realize that he has come very well out of a jolly bad business.

I am not certain which I pity most--Miss Greenthorpe, who is a heartless little hussy, or the Marquis of Kilbenham who is a thorough-paced scoundrel.

The wedding, however, promises to be a fashionable one, and--" He stopped midway, rose, and stood against the mantel-piece, staring into the empty fireplace.

Presently he flipped the ash of his cigar, and turned round.

"It never struck me in that light before," he said, as he pressed the button of the electric bell in the wall beside him.

When it was answered, he ordered his carriage, and a quarter of an hour later was rolling down Regent Street.

Reaching a well-known jeweler's shop, he pulled the check string, and, the door having been opened, descended, and went inside.

It was not the first time he had had dealings with the firm, and as soon as he was recognized the proprietor hastened forward himself to wait upon him.

"I want a nice wedding present for a young lady," he said, when the other had asked what he could have the pleasure of showing him.

"Diamonds, I think, for preference."

A tray containing hairpins, brooches, rings, and aigrettes set with stones was put before him, but Carne was not satisfied.

He wanted something better, he said--something a little more imposing.

When he left the shop a quarter of an hour later he had chosen a diamond bracelet, for which he had paid the sum of one thousand pounds.

As Carne rolled down the street, he took the bracelet from its case and glanced at it.

He had long since made up his mind as to his line of action, and having done so, was now prepared to start business without delay.

On leaving the shop, he had ordered his coachman to drive home;

but on second thoughts he changed his mind, and, once more pulling the check string, substituted Berkeley Square for Park Lane.

"I must be thoroughly convinced in my own mind," he said "before I do anything, and the only way to do that will be to see old Greenthorpe himself without delay.

I think I have a good and sufficient excuse in my pocket.

At any rate, I'll try it."

On reaching the residence in question, he instructed his footman to inquire whether Mr. Greenthorpe was at home, and if so, if he would see him.

An answer in the affirmative was soon forthcoming, and a moment later Carne and Greenthorpe were greeting each other in the library.

"Delighted to see you, my dear sir," the latter said as he shook his guest warmly by the hand, at the same time hoping that old Sir Mowbray Mowbray next door, who was a gentleman of the old school, and looked down on the plutocracy, could see and recognize the magnificent equipage standing before his house.

"This is most kind of you, and indeed I take it as most friendly too."

Carne's face was as smiling and fascinating as it was wont to be, but an acute observer might have read in the curves of his lips a little of the contempt he felt for the man before him.

Matthew Greenthorpe's face and figure betrayed his origin as plainly as any words could have done.

If this had not been sufficient, his dress and the profusion of jewelry--principally diamonds--that decked his person would have told the tale.

In appearance he was short, stout, very red about the face, and made up what he lacked in breeding by an effusive familiarity that sometimes bordered on the offensive.

"I am afraid," said Carne, when his host had finished speaking, "that I ought to be ashamed of myself for intruding on you at such an early hour.

I wanted, however, to thank you personally for the kind invitation you have sent me to be present at your daughter's wedding."

"I trust you will be able to come," replied Mr. Greenthorpe a little anxiously, for he was eager that the world should know that he and the now famous Simon Carne were on familiar terms.

"That is exactly what has brought me to see you," said Carne.

"I regret to say I hardly know yet whether I shall be able to give myself that pleasure or not.

An important complication has arisen in connection with some property in which I am interested, and it is just possible that I shall be called to the Continent within the next few days.

My object in calling upon you this morning was to ask you to permit me to withhold my answer until I am at liberty to speak more definitely as to my arrangements."

"By all means, by all means," answered his host, placing himself with legs wide apart upon the hearthrug, and rattling the money in his trouser pockets.

"Take just as long as you like so long as you don't say you can't come.

Me and the missus--hem!

--I mean Mrs. Greenthorpe and I--are looking forward to the pleasure of your society, and I can tell you we sha'n't think our company complete if we don't have you with us."

"I am extremely flattered," said Carne sweetly, "and you may be sure it will not be my fault if I am not among your guests."

"Hear, hear, to that, sir," replied the old gentleman.

"We shall be a merry party, and, I trust, a distinguished one.

We _did_ hope to have had Royalty present among us, but, unfortunately, there were special reasons, that I am hardly privileged to mention, which prevented it.

However, the Duke of Rugby and his Duchess, the father and mother of my future son-in-law, you know, are coming; the Earl of Boxmoor and his countess have accepted; Lord Southam and his lady, half-a-dozen baronets or so, and as many Members of Parliament and their wives as you can count on one hand.

There'll be a ball the night before, given by the Mayor at the Assembly Rooms, a dinner to the tenants at the conclusion of the ceremony, and a ball in my own house after the young couple have gone away.

You may take it from me, my dear sir, that nothing on a similar scale has even been seen at Market Stopford before."

"I can quite believe it," said Carne.

"It will mark an epoch in the history of the country."

"It will do more than that, sir.

The festivities alone will cost me a cool five thousand pounds.

At first _I_ was all for having it in town, but I was persuaded out of it.

After all, a country house is better suited to such jinks.

And we mean to do it well."

He took Carne familiarly by the button of his coat, and, sinking his voice to an impressive whisper, asked him to hazard a guess how much the whole affair, presents and all, would cost.

Carne shook his head.

"I have not the very remotest notion," he said.

"But if you wish me to guess, I will put it at fifty thousand pounds."

"Not enough by half, sir--not enough by half.

Why, I'll let you into a secret that even my wife knows nothing about."

As he spoke, he crossed the room to a large safe in the wall.

This he unlocked and having done so took from it an oblong box, wrapped in tissue paper.

This he placed on the table in the center of the room, and then, having looked out into the hall to make sure that no one was about, shut and locked the door.

Then, turning to Carne, he said: "I don't know what you may think, sir, but there are some people I know as try to insinuate that if you have money you can't have taste.

Now, I've got the money"--here he threw back his shoulders, and tapped himself proudly on the chest--"and I'm going to convince you, sir, that I've got as pretty an idea of taste as any man could wish to have.

This box will prove it."

So saying he unwrapped the tissue paper, and displayed to Carne's astonished gaze a large gilded casket, richly chased, standing upon four massive feet.

"There, sir, you see," he said, "an artistic bit of workmanship, and I'll ask you to guess what it's for."

Carne, however, shook his head.

"I'm afraid I'm but a poor hand at guessing, but, if I must venture an opinion, I should say a jewel case."

Thereupon Mr. Greenthorpe lifted the lid.

"And you would be wrong, sir.

I will tell you what it is for.

That box has been constructed to contain exactly fifty thousand sovereigns and on her wedding day it will be filled, and presented to the bride, as a token of her father's affection.

Now, if that isn't in good taste, I shall have to ask you to tell me what is."

"I am astonished at your munificence," said Carne.

"To be perfectly candid with you, I don't know that I have ever heard of such a present before."

"I thought you'd say so.

I said to myself when I ordered that box, 'Mr. Carne is the best judge of what is artistic in England, and I'll take his opinion about it.'

" "I suppose your daughter has received some valuable presents?"

"Valuable, sir?

Why, that's no name for it.

I should put down what has come in up to the present at, not a penny under twenty thousand pounds.

Why, you may not believe it, sir, but Mrs. Greenthorpe has presented the young couple with a complete toilet-set of solid gold.

I doubt if such another has been seen in this country before."

"I should say it would be worth a burglar's while to pay a visit to your house on the wedding day," said Carne with a smile.

"He wouldn't get much for his pains," said the old gentleman warmly.

"I have already provided for that contingency.

The billiard-room will be used as a treasure-chamber for the time being, as there is a big safe like that over yonder in the wall.

This week bars are being placed on all the windows, and on the night preceding, and also on the wedding day, one of my gardeners will keep watch in the room itself, while one of the village policemen will mount guard at the door in the passage.

Between them they ought to be sufficient to keep out any burglars who may wish to try their hands upon the presents.

What do you think?"

At that moment the handle of the door turned, and an instant later the bride-elect entered the room.

On seeing Simon Carne she paused upon the threshold with a gesture of embarrassment, and made as if she would retreat.

Carne, however, was too quick for her.

He advanced and held out his hand.

"How do you do, Miss Greenthorpe," he said, looking her steadily in the face.

"You father has just been telling me of the many beautiful presents you have received.

I am sure I congratulate you most heartily.

With your permission I will add my mite to the list.

Such as it is, I would beg your acceptance of it."

So saying, he took from his pocket the case containing the bracelet he had that morning purchased.

Unfastening it, he withdrew the circlet and clasped it upon her wrist.

So great was her surprise and delight that for some moments she was at a loss how to express her thanks.

When she recovered her presence of mind and her speech, she attempted to do so, but Carne stopped her.

"You must not thank me too much," he said, "or I shall begin to think I have done a meritorious action.

I trust Lord Kilbenham is well?"

"He was very well when I last saw him," answered the girl after a momentary pause, which Carne noticed, "but he is so busy just now that we see very little of each other.

Good-bye."

All the way home Simon Carne sat wrapped in a brown study.

On reaching his residence he went straight to his study, and to his writing-desk, where he engaged himself for some minutes jotting down certain memoranda on a sheet of note-paper.

When he had finished he rang the bell and ordered that Belton, his valet, should be sent to him.

"Belton," he said, when the person he wanted had arrived in answer to the summons, "on Thursday next I shall go down to Market Stopford to attend the wedding of the Marquis of Kilbenham with Miss Greenthorpe.

You will, of course, accompany me.

In the meantime" (here he handed him the sheet of paper upon which he had been writing) "I want you to attend to these few details.

Some of these articles, I'm afraid, you will find rather difficult to obtain, but at any cost I must have them to take down to the country with me."

Belton took the paper and left the room with it, and for the time being Carne dismissed the matter from his mind.

The sun was in the act of setting on the day immediately preceding the wedding when Simon Carne and his faithful valet reached the wayside station of Market Stopford.

As the train came to a standstill, a footman wearing the Greenthorpe livery opened the door of the reserved carriage and informed his master's guest that a brougham was waiting outside the station to convey him to his destination.

Belton was to follow with the luggage in the servants' omnibus.