The Guarded Heights Part 75

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The Guarded Heights



The Guarded Heights Part 75


From Dalrymple's palpable fear George watched escape a reluctant and fascinated curiosity.

"No more of that strong-arm stuff with me----"

"I locked the door," George answered, "so that I could point out to you, quite undisturbed, just why you are going to leave Sylvia Planter alone."

Dalrymple relaxed. He commenced incredulously and nervously to laugh, but in his eyes, which followed George, the fear and the curiosity increased.

"What the devil are you talking about? Have you gone out of your head?"




George smiled confidently.

"It's an invariable rule, unless you have the strength to handle them, to give insane people their way. So you'll be nice and quiet; and I might remind you if you started a rumpus, the first questions the aroused house would ask would be, 'Why did Dolly fall off the wagon, and where did he get the edge?'"

He drew a chair close to Dalrymple and sat down. The other lay back, continuing to stare at him, quite unable to project the impression he undoubtedly sought of contemptuous amus.e.m.e.nt.

"We've waited a long time for this little chat," George said, quietly.

"Sometimes I've hoped it wouldn't be necessary. Of course, sooner or later, it had to be."

His manner disclosed little of his anxiety, nothing whatever of his determination, through Dalrymple's weakness, to save Sylvia and himself, but his will had never been stronger.

"You may as well understand," he said, "that you shan't leave this room until you've agreed to give up any idea of this preposterous marriage you pretend to have arranged. Perhaps you have. That makes no difference. I'm quite satisfied its disarranging will break no hearts."

Dalrymple had a little controlled himself. George's brusque campaign had steadied him, had hastened a reaction that gave to his eyes an unhealthy and furtive look. He tried to grin.

"You must think you're G.o.d Almighty----"

"Let's get to business," George interrupted. "I once told you that what you borrow you have to pay back in one way or another. This is where we settle, and I've outlined the terms."

Dalrymple whistled.

"You complete rotter! You mean to blackmail--because you know I haven't got your filthy money, and can't raise it in a minute."

"Never mind that," George snapped. "Your opinion of what I'm doing doesn't interest me. I've thought it out. I know quite thoroughly what I'm about."

He did, and he was not without distaste for his methods, nor without realization that they might hurt him most of all with the very person they were designed to serve; yet he couldn't hesitate, because no other way offered.

"You're going to pay my notes, but not with money."

Dalrymple's grin exploded into a harsh sound resembling laughter.

"Are you--jealous? Do you fancy Sylvia would be affected by anything you'd do or say? See here! Good G.o.d! Are you mad enough to look at her?

That's funny! That's a scream!"

There was, however, no conviction behind the pretended amazement and contempt; and George suspected that Dalrymple had all along sounded his chief ambition; had, in fact, made his secretive announcement just now, because, his judgment drugged, he had desired to call a rival's attention to his triumphant posture on the steps of attainment.

"I've no intention of discussing causes," George answered, evenly, "but I do imagine the entire family would be noticeably affected by my story."

"Which you couldn't tell," Dalrymple cried. "Which you couldn't possibly tell."

"Which I don't think I shall have to tell," George said with a smile.

"Look at your position, Dalrymple. If you borrow money on the strength of this approaching marriage you announce its chief purpose quite distinctly. I fancy Old Planter, ill as he is, would want to take a club to you. You've always wished, haven't you, to keep your borrowings from Lambert? You can't do it if you persist in involving the Planters in your extravagances. And remember you gave me a pretty thorough list of your debtors--not reading for women, but Lambert would understand, and make its meaning clear. Then let us go back to that afternoon in my office, when you tried to say unspeakable things----"

Impulsively Dalrymple bared his teeth.

"Got you there, Morton! I told Lambert it was you who had been impertinent----"

All at once George felt better and cleaner. He whistled.

"When I let you off then I never dreamed you'd try to back that lie up."

"Will they believe me," the other asked, "or you, who come from G.o.d knows what; G.o.d knows where?"

"Fortunately," George said, "Lambert and his sister share that supernal knowledge. They'll believe me."

He stood up.

"That's all. You know what to expect. Just one thing more."

He spoke softly, without any apparent pa.s.sion, but he displayed before the man in the chair his two hands.

"If necessary I'd stop you marrying Sylvia Planter with those."

Dalrymple got to his feet, struggled to a.s.sume a cloak of bravado.

"Won't put up with such threats. Actionable----"

"Give me your decision," George said, harshly. "Will you keep away from her? If there is really an understanding, will you so arrange things that she can destroy it immediately? Come. Yes or no?"

"Give me that key."

George shrugged his shoulders.

"I needn't trouble you."

He walked swiftly to the door, unlocked it, and drew it invitingly wide; but now that the way was clear Dalrymple hesitated. Again George shrugged his shoulders and stepped to the hall. Dalrymple, abruptly active, ran after him, grasping at his arm.

"Where you going?" he whispered.

"To Lambert's room."

"Not to-night," the other begged. "I don't admit you could make any real trouble, but I want to spare Sylvia any possible unpleasantness. Well!

Don't you, too? You lost your temper. Maybe I did mine. Give us both a chance to think it over. Now see here, Morton, I won't ask you another favour, and I'll do nothing in the meantime. I couldn't very well. I mean, status quo, and all that----"

"Lambert, to-morrow," George said, "is going away for more than a month."

"But you could always get hold of him, at a pinch," Dalrymple urged.

"Heaven knows I'm not likely to talk to Sylvia about what you've said.

Let us both think it over until Lambert comes back."






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