The Wicked Marquis Part 1

The Wicked Marquis.

by E. Phillips Oppenheim.

CHAPTER I

Reginald Philip Graham Thursford, Baron Travers, Marquis of Mandeleys, issued, one May morning, from the gloomy precincts of the Law Courts without haste, yet with certain evidences of a definite desire to leave the place behind him. He crossed first the pavement and then the street, piloted here and there by his somewhat obsequious companion, and turned along the Strand, westwards. Then, in that democratic thoroughfare, for the first time since the calamity had happened, his lips were unlocked in somewhat singular fas.h.i.+on.

"Well, I'm d.a.m.ned!" he exclaimed, with slow and significant emphasis.

His companion glanced up furtively in his direction. The Marquis, as Marquises should be, was very tall and slim, with high well-shaped nose, very little flesh upon his face, a mouth of uncertain shape and eyes of uncertain colour. His companion, as solicitors to the aristocracy should be, was of a smaller, more rotund and insignificant shape. He had the healthy complexion, however, of the week-end golfer, and he affected a certain unlegal rakishness of attire, much in vogue amongst members of his profession having connections in high circles.

In his heart he very much admired the ease and naturalness with which his patron, in the heart of professional London, strode along by his side in a well-worn tweed suit, a collar of somewhat ancient design, and a tie which had seen better days.

"The judge's decision was, without doubt, calamitous," he confessed gloomily.

The Marquis turned in at the Savoy courtyard with the air of an habitu.

"I am in need of a brief rest and some refreshment," he said. "You will accompany me, if you please, Mr. Wadham."

The lawyer acquiesced and felt somehow that he had become the tail end of a procession, the Marquis's entrance and progress through the grillroom towards the smoking-room bar was marked by much deference on the part of porters, cloak-room attendants and waiters, a deference acknowledged in the barest possible fas.h.i.+on, yet in a manner which his satellite decided to make a study of. They reached a retired corner of the smoking room, where the Marquis subsided into the only vacant easy chair, ordered for himself a gla.s.s of dry sherry, and left his companion to select his own refreshment and pay for both.

"What," the former enquired, "is the next step?"

"There is, alas!" Mr. Wadham replied, "no next step."

"Exactly what do you mean by that?" the Marquis demanded, knitting his brows slightly as he sipped his sherry.

"We have reached the end," the lawyer p.r.o.nounced. "The decision given by the Court to-day is final."

The Marquis set down his gla.s.s. The thing was absurd!

"Surely," he suggested, "the House of Lords remains?"

"Without a doubt, your lords.h.i.+p," Mr. Wadham a.s.sented, "but it is of no use to us in the present instance. The judge of the Supreme Court--this is, by-the-by, our third appeal--has delivered a final decision."

The Marquis seemed vaguely puzzled.

"The House of Lords," he persisted, "remains surely a Court of Appeal for members of my order whose claims to consideration are not always fully recognised in the democracy of the common law court."

"I fear," Mr. Wadham replied, with a little cough, "that the House of Lords is supposed to have other functions."

"Other functions?"

"In an indirect sort of fas.h.i.+on," Mr. Wadham continued, "it is supposed to a.s.sist in the government of the country."

"G.o.d bless my soul!" the Marquis exclaimed.

There was a queer, intangible silence. The lawyer was quite aware that a storm was brewing, but as his distinguished client never lost his temper or showed annoyance in any of the ordinary plebeian ways, he was conscious of some curiosity as to what might happen next.

"You mean to say, then," the Marquis continued, "that for the rest of my days, and in the days of those who may succeed me, that edifice, that cottage which for generations has sheltered one of the family retainers, is to remain the property of--of an alien?"

"I fear that that is the decision of the court," the lawyer admitted.

"The deed of gift was exceptionally binding."

The Marquis shook his head. The thing was incomprehensible.

"I can stand upon the roof of Mandeleys," he said, "and I can look north, south, east and west, and in no direction can I look off my own land. Yet you mean to tell me that almost in my garden there is to remain a demesne which can be occupied by any Tom, d.i.c.k or Harry which its nominal owner chooses to place in possession?"

The lawyer signed to the waiter for their gla.s.ses to be replenished.

"It is certainly not justice, your lords.h.i.+p," he admitted,--"it is not even reasonable--but it is the law."

The Marquis produced a gold cigarette case, absently lit a cigarette, and returned the case to his pocket without offering it to his companion. He smoked meditatively and sipped his second gla.s.s of sherry.

"A state of things," he declared, "has been revealed to me which I cannot at present grasp. I must discuss the matter with Robert--with my son-in-law, Sir Robert Lees. He is an intensely modern person, and he may be able to suggest something."

"Sir Robert is a very clever man," the lawyer acknowledged, "but failing an arrangement with the tenant himself, I cannot see that there is anything further to be done. We have, in short, exhausted the law."

"A process," the Marquis observed sympathetically, "which I fear that you must have found expensive, Mr. Wadham."

"The various suits into which we have entered on behalf of your lords.h.i.+p, and the costs which we have had to pay," the latter hastened to announce, "amount, I regret to say, to something over eighteen thousand pounds."

"Dear me!" his companion sighed. "It seems quite a great deal of money."

"Since we are upon the subject," the lawyer proceeded, "my firm has suggested that I should approach your lords.h.i.+p with regard to some means of--pardon me--reducing the liability in question."

So far as the face of Mr. Wadham's client was capable of expressing anything, it expressed now a certain amount of surprise.

"It appears to me, Mr. Wadham," he remarked, "that you are asking me to attend to your business for you."

The lawyer knitted his brows in puzzled fas.h.i.+on.

"I am not sure that I quite follow your lords.h.i.+p," he murmured.

"Do I employ you," his patron continued, "to manage my estates, to control my finances, to act as agent to all my properties, and yet need to keep a perspective myself of my various a.s.sets? If eighteen thousand pounds is required, it is for your firm to decide from what quarter the money should come. Personally, as you know, I never interfere."

Mr. Wadham coughed in somewhat embarra.s.sed fas.h.i.+on.

"As a matter of fact, your lords.h.i.+p," he confessed, with a most illogical sense that it was his duty to apologise for his client's impecuniosity, "as a matter of fact, neither my partners nor I can at the present moment see where a sum of eighteen thousand pounds can be raised."

The Marquis rose to his feet and shook the cigarette ash carefully from his coat.

"Our conversation, Mr. Wadham," he said, "is reaching a stage which bores me. I have just remembered, too," he added, with a glance at the clock, "that my daughter is entertaining a few friends to lunch. You must write to Merridrew. He is really a most excellent agent. He will tell you what balances are likely to be available during the next few months."

Mr. Wadham received the suggestion without enthusiasm.

"We made an application to Mr. Merridrew some few weeks ago," he remarked, "as we needed some ready money for the purpose of briefing the barristers. Mr. Merridrew's reply was not encouraging."