A Lost Leader Part 42

Mannering kept them waiting an hour, and then received them coolly.

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Polden," he said, glancing at the editor's card. "I have already had some conversation with our young friend there,"

he added, glancing towards the reporter. "What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?"

Mr. Polden produced a sheet of proofs from his pocket. He pa.s.sed them over to Mannering.

"I should like you to examine these, sir," he said.

"In type already!" Mannering remarked, calmly.

"In proof for our evening's issue," Polden answered.

Mannering read them through.

"It will cost you several thousand pounds!" he said.

"Then the money will be well spent," Polden answered. "No one has a higher regard for you politically than I have, Mr. Mannering, but we don't want you as member for West Leeds. That's all!"

"It happens," Mannering said, "that I am particularly anxious to sit for West Leeds."

"You will go on--in the face of this?" the editor asked Mannering.

"Yes, and with the suit for libel which will follow," Mannering answered.

The editor shrugged his shoulders.

"Do me the favour to believe, Mr. Mannering," he said, "that we have not gone into this matter blindfold. We had a preliminary intimation as to this affair from a person whose word carries considerable weight, and our investigations have been searching. I will admit that the disappearance of the man Parkins is a little awkward for us, but we have ample justification in publis.h.i.+ng his story."

"I trust for your sakes that the law courts will support your views,"

Mannering said, coldly. "I scarcely think it likely."

"Mr. Mannering," Polden said, "I quite appreciate your att.i.tude, but do you really think it is a wise one? I very much regret that it should have been our duty to unearth this unsavoury story, and having unearthed it, to use it. But you must remember that the issue on hand is a great one. I belong to the Liberal party and the absolute Free Traders, and I consider that for this city to be represented by any one who shows the least indication of being unsafe upon this question would be a national disaster and a local disgrace. I want you to understand, therefore, that I am not playing a game of bluff. The proofs you hold in your hand have been set and corrected. Within a few hours the story will stand out in black and white. Are you prepared for this?"

Mannering shrugged his shoulders.

"I am not prepared to resign my candidature, if that is what you mean,"

he said. "I presume that nothing short of that will satisfy you?"

"Nothing," the editor answered, firmly.

"Then there remains nothing more," Mannering remarked, coldly, "than for me to wish you a very good-morning."

"I am sorry," Mr. Polden said. "I trust you will believe, Mr. Mannering, that I find this a very unpleasant duty."

Mannering made no answer save a slight bow. He held open the door, and Mr. Polden and his satellite pa.s.sed out. Afterwards he strolled to the window and looked down idly upon the crowd.

"If I act in accordance with the conventions," he murmured to himself, "I suppose I ought to take, a gla.s.s of poison, or blow my brains out.

Instead of which--"

He shrugged his shoulders, and rang for his hat and coat. He was due at one of the great foundries in half an hour to speak to the men during their luncheon interval.

"Instead of which," he muttered, as he lit a cigarette, "I shall go on to the end."

CHAPTER VI

TREACHERY AND A TELEGRAM

The sunlight streamed down into the little grey courtyard of the _Leon D'or_ at Bonestre. Sir Leslie Borrowdean, in an immaculate grey suit, and with a carefully chosen pink carnation in his b.u.t.ton-hole, sat alone at a small table having his morning coffee. His attention was divided between a copy of the _Figaro_ and a little pile of letters and telegrams on the other side of his plate. More than once he glanced at the topmost of the latter and smiled.

Mrs. Mannering and Hester came down the grey stone steps and crossed towards their own table. The former lingered for a moment as she pa.s.sed Sir Leslie, who rose to greet the two women.

"Another glorious day!" he remarked. "What news from Leeds?"

"None," she said. "My husband seldom writes."

Sir Leslie smiled reflectively, and glanced towards the pile of papers at his side.

"Perhaps," she remarked, "you know better than I do how things are going there."

He shook his head.

"I have no correspondents in Leeds," he answered.

At that moment a puff of wind disturbed the papers by his side. A telegram would have fluttered away, but Blanche Mannering caught it at the edge of the table. She was handing it back, when a curious expression on Borrowdean's face inspired her with a sudden idea. She deliberately looked at the telegram, and her fingers stiffened upon it. His forward movement was checked. She stood just out of his reach.

"No correspondents in Leeds," she repeated. "Then what about this telegram?"

"You will permit me to remind you," he said, stretching out his hand for it, "that it is addressed to me."

Her hands were behind her. She leaned over towards him.

"It can be addressed to you a thousand times over," she answered, "but before I part with it I want to know what it means."

Borrowdean was thinking quickly. He wanted to gain time.

"I do not even know which doc.u.ment you have--purloined," he said.

"It is from Leeds," she answered, "and it is signed Polden. 'Parkins found, has made statement, appears to-night.' Can you explain what this means, Sir Leslie Borrowdean?"

Her voice was scarcely raised above a whisper, but there was a dangerous glitter in her eyes. There were few traces left of the woman whom once before he had found so easy a tool.

"I cannot tell you," he answered. "It is not an affair for you to concern yourself with at all."

"Not an affair for me to concern myself about!" she repeated, leaning a little over towards him. "Isn't it my husband against whom you are scheming? Don't I know what low tricks you are capable of? Isn't this another proof of it? Not an affair for me to concern myself about, indeed! Didn't you worm the whole miserable story out of me?"