A Lost Leader Part 11

Mannering had no idea whose house he was in. The address Borrowdean's servant had given him had been simply 81, Grosvenor Square. Nevertheless, he was conscious of a little annoyance as he followed the servant up the broad stairs. He would much have preferred waiting until Borrowdean had concluded his call. He remembered his grey travelling clothes, and all his natural distaste for social amenities returned with unabated force as he neared the reception-rooms and heard the softly modulated rise and fall of feminine voices, the swis.h.i.+ng of silks and muslin, the faint perfume of flowers and scents which seemed to fill the air. At the last moment he would have withdrawn, but his guide seemed deaf. His words pa.s.sed unheeded. His name, very softly but very distinctly, had been announced. He had no option but to pa.s.s into the room and play the cards which fate and his friend had dealt him.

Borrowdean rose to greet his friend. Mannering, not knowing who his hostess might be, and feeling absolutely no curiosity concerning her, confined his attention wholly to the man whom he had come to seek.

"I did not wish to disturb you here, Borrowdean," he said, quickly, "but if your call is over, could you come away for a few minutes? I have a matter to discuss with you."

Borrowdean smiled slightly, and laid his hand upon the other's shoulder.

"By all means, Mannering," he answered. "But since you have discovered our little secret, don't you think that you had better speak to our hostess?"

Mannering was puzzled, but his eyes followed Borrowdean's slight gesture.

Berenice, who at the sound of his voice had suddenly abandoned her conversation and risen to her feet, was within a few feet of him. A sudden light swept into Mannering's face.

"You!" he exclaimed softly.

Her hands went out towards him. Borrowdean, with an almost imperceptible movement, checked his advance.

"So you see we are found out, after all, d.u.c.h.ess," he said, turning to her. "You have known Mrs. Handsell, Mannering, let me present you now to her other self. d.u.c.h.ess, you see that our recluse has come to his senses at last. I must really introduce you formally: Mr. Mannering--the d.u.c.h.ess of Lenchester."

Berenice, arrested in her forward movement, watched Mannering's face eagerly. So carefully modulated had been Borrowdean's voice that no word of his had reached beyond their own immediate circle. It was as though a silent tableau were being played out between the three, and Mannering, to whom repression had become a habit, gave little indication of anything he might have felt. Borrowdean's fixed smile betokened nothing but an ordinary interest in the introduction of two friends, and the d.u.c.h.ess's back was turned towards her friends. They both waited for Mannering to speak.

"This," he said, slowly, "is a surprise! I had no idea when I called to see Borrowdean here, of the pleasure which was in store for me."

Borrowdean dropped his eyegla.s.s.

"Are you serious, my dear Mannering?" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to say that you came here--"

"Only to see you," Mannering interrupted. "That you should know perfectly well. I am sorry to hurry you out, but the few minutes' conversation which I desired with you is of some importance, and my train leaves in an hour. I hope that you will pardon me," he added, looking steadily at Berenice, "if I hurry away one of your guests."

She laughed quite in her natural manner.

"I will forgive anything," she said, "except that you should hurry away yourself so unceremoniously. Come and sit down near me. I want to talk to you about Blakeley."

She swept her gown on one side, disclosing a vacant place on the settee where she had been sitting. For a second her eyes said more to him than her courteous but half-careless words of invitation. Mannering made no movement forward.

"I am sorry," he said, "but it is impossible for me to stay!"

She seemed to dismiss him and the whole subject with a careless little shrug of the shoulders, which was all the farewell she vouchsafed to either of them. A woman who had just entered seemed to absorb her whole attention. The two men pa.s.sed out.

Mannering spoke no word until they stood upon the pavement. Then he turned almost savagely upon his companion.

"This is a trick of yours, I suppose!" he exclaimed. "d.a.m.n you and your meddling, Borrowdean. Why can't you leave me and my affairs alone? No, I am not going your way. Let us separate here!"

Borrowdean shook his head.

"You are unreasonable, Mannering," he said. "I have done only what I believe you were on your way to ask me to do. I have brought you and Berenice together again. It was for both your sakes. If there has been any misunderstanding between you, it would be better cleared up."

Mannering gripped his arm.

"Let us go to your rooms, Borrowdean," he said. "It is time we understood one another."

"Willingly!" Borrowdean said. "But your train?"

"Let my train go," Mannering answered. "There are some things I have to say to you."

Borrowdean called a hansom. The two men drove off together.

CHAPTER VIII

THE MANNERING MYSTERY

Borrowdean was curter than usual, even abrupt. The calm geniality of his manner had departed. He spoke in short, terse sentences, and he had the air of a man struggling to subdue a fit of perfectly reasonable and justifiable anger. It was a carefully cultivated pose. He even refrained from his customary cigarette.

"Look here, Mannering," he said, "there are times when a few plain words are worth an hour's conversation. Will you have them from me?"

"Yes!"

"This thing was started six months ago, soon after those two bye-elections in Yorks.h.i.+re. Even the most despondent of us then saw that the Government could scarcely last its time. We had a meeting and we attempted to form on paper a trial cabinet. You know our weakness. We have to try to form a National party out of a number of men who, although they call themselves broadly Liberals, are as far apart as the very poles of thought. It was as much as they could do to sit in the same room together. From the opening of the meeting until its close, there was but one subject upon which every one was unanimous. That was the absolute necessity of getting you to come back to our aid."

"You flatter me," Mannering said, with fine irony.

"You yourself," Borrowdean continued, without heeding the interruption, "encouraged us. From the first p.r.o.nouncement of this wonderful new policy you sprang into the arena. We were none of us ready. You were! It is true that your weapon was the pen, but you reached a great public. The country to-day considers you the champion of Free Trade."

"Pa.s.s on," Mannering interrupted, brusquely. "All this is wasted time!"

"A smaller meeting," Borrowdean continued, "was held with a view of discussing the means whereby you could be persuaded to rejoin us. At that meeting the d.u.c.h.ess of Lenchester was present."

Mannering, who had been pacing the room, stopped short. He grasped the back of a chair, and turning round faced Borrowdean.

"Well?"

"You know what place the d.u.c.h.ess has held in the councils of our party since the Duke's death," Borrowdean continued. "She has the political instinct. If she were a man she would be a leader. All the great ladies are on the other side, but the d.u.c.h.ess is more than equal to them all.

She entertains magnificently, and with tact. She never makes a mistake.

She is part and parcel of the Liberal Party. It was she who volunteered to make the first effort to bring you back."

Mannering turned his head. Apparently he was looking out of the window.

"Her methods," Borrowdean continued, "did not commend themselves to us, but beggars must not be choosers. Besides, the d.u.c.h.ess was in love with her own scheme. Such objections as we made were at once overruled."

He paused, but Mannering said nothing. He was still looking out of the window, though his eyes saw nothing of the street below, or the great club buildings opposite. A scent of roses, lost now and then in the salter fragrance of the night breeze sweeping over the marshes, the magic of a wonderful, white-clad presence, the low words, the sense of a world apart, a world of speechless beauty.... What empty dreams! A palace built in a poet's fancy upon a quicksand.

"The d.u.c.h.ess," Borrowdean continued, "undertook to discover from you what prospects there were, if any, of your return to political life. She took none of us into her confidence. We none of us knew what means she meant to employ. She disappeared. She communicated with none of us. We none of us had the least idea what had become of her. Time went on, and we began to get a little uneasy. We had a meeting and it was arranged that I should come down and see you. I came, I saw you, I saw the d.u.c.h.ess! The situation very soon became clear to me. Instead of the d.u.c.h.ess converting you, you had very nearly converted the d.u.c.h.ess."

"I can a.s.sure you--" Mannering began.

"Let me finish," Borrowdean pleaded. "I realized the situation at a glance. Your att.i.tude I was not so much surprised at, but the att.i.tude of the d.u.c.h.ess, I must confess, amazed me. I came to the conclusion that I had found my way into a forgotten corner of the world, where the lotos flowers still blossomed, and the sooner I was out of it the better. Now I think that brings us, Mannering, up to the present time."