The Master of the Ceremonies Part 53

IN SOCIETY.

It was a proud time for the MC, and he knew how it would be canva.s.sed in Saltinville. All the princ.i.p.al people would have honoured his little home, and in the future he saw his fees and offerings doubled, and Claire well married--to Lord Carboro'. No, he could not say that, though the bait was glittering still before his eyes.

He was in the drawing-room waiting, with pretty May smiling out of her curls, hanging in her tawdry frame upon the wall; but Claire was not yet down.

If she would only forget that night and not avoid him as she did, how much less difficult this burden would be to bear.

He rang, and Isaac, in a new suit of livery, appeared.

"Send word to your mistress that it is time she was down, Isaac."

"Yes, sir."

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"The cards on the tables?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the refreshments?"

"Yes, sir."

"You will ask Lady Drelincourt's servant to stop and help wait."

"Yes, sir."

"And the Earl of Carboro's."

"Yes, sir."

"Perhaps it would be as well to keep Mr Burnett's man also."

"Yes, sir."

"I need say no more, Isaac, only that you will see that the tea and coffee are hot, and that the refreshments in the dining-room are ready in relays."

"Yes, sir; everything shall be done, sir; and would you mind casting your eye over that, sir?"

"Certainly, I will do so, Isaac. Hem! An account, Isaac?"

"Yes, sir--wages, sir; and if you would make it convenient--"

"My good Isaac," said the MC blandly, "as you must be aware, gentlemen are in the habit sometimes of taking rather long credit, and of often being in debt. I might cite to you His Royal Highness. But no one troubles thereon, because it is well known that sooner or later His Royal Highness will pay his debts."

"Yes, sir; of course, sir; but wages, sir--"

"Are wanted, Isaac, of course. Now, my good Isaac, you must have seen how much occupied I have been of late. No: say no more now. I will look over your statement, and you shall be paid."

A tremendous knock and ring cut short this little scene, and Denville wiped the dew from his face as he uttered a low sigh of relief.

"She will come down now.--Ah, my dear Mrs Barclay; my dear Barclay.

Delighted to see you both."

"I say, Denville, old fellow, you're going it, eh?"

"My dear Barclay, a sheer necessity. You see how I have placed my son."

"Umph! yes," said the money-lender, with a chuckle; "but I'm no better off. You are. One less to keep, but at my expense."

"But, my dear Barclay--"

"All, it's all very well, but you came to me to find the money for his outfit."

"Now, look here, Jo-si-ah," cried Mrs Barclay, who was a wonder of satin, feathers, and jewellery, "Mr Denville has been kind enough to ask us to his party, and I will not have another word said about bills and money. I've come to enjoy myself, and I mean to. There!"

"Bless the woman!" sighed Denville.

"And where's Miss Claire? Oh, here she is. Oh, my dear, how lovable you look in your plain pearl satin. Oh, I never did! Only oughtn't you to have a necklace on? I say, take me to your room, and let me lend you mine."

She placed her plump hand upon a magnificent ruby necklet that she wore, but Claire checked her.

"No, no, no, Mrs Barclay," she whispered.

"Well, p'raps you're right, my dear. Nothing wouldn't make you look better."

"Let me compliment you too, Miss Denville," said Barclay in his brusque way; and, after a smile and a few words, he turned back to talk to his host.

"I say, Denville--why, it was in that back room that--why, you've made it into a back drawing-room."

"For G.o.d's sake, Barclay!"

Denville caught at his visitor's arm, and looked at him in a ghastly way.

"Eh? Why, you look scared. Ah, well, it was stupid to mention it at a time like this. Mustn't allude to it when they are all here, eh?"

"For heaven's sake, no."

"All right, I won't. I say, Denville, what do you think of that?"

He drew a case from his pocket, opened it, and displayed a necklace of large single diamonds, the sight of which made the MC start and s.h.i.+ver.

"Magnificent!" he faltered.

"I should think they are. All choice picked stones, sir. Belonged to a Countess."

"To a Countess?" said Denville, in a faltering voice.