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Author of "A Maker of History," "Mysterious Mr. Sabin," "The Master Mummer," "Anna the Adventuress," Etc. Illustrated by Fred Pegram
Author of "A Maker of History," "Mysterious Mr. Sabin," "The Master Mummer," "Anna the Adventuress," Etc. Illustrated by Fred Pegram
CHAPTER I-- Reconstruction CHAPTER II-- The Woman with an Alias CHAPTER III-- Wanted—A Politician CHAPTER IV-- The Duchess Asks a Question CHAPTER V-- The Hesitation of Mr. Mannering CHAPTER VI-- Sacrifice CHAPTER VII-- The Duchess's "At Home" CHAPTER VIII-- The Mannering Mystery CHAPTER IX-- The Pumping of Mrs. Phillimore CHAPTER X-- The Man with a Motive CHAPTER XI-- Mannering's Alternative CHAPTER I-- Borrowdean makes a Bargain CHAPTER II-- "Cherchez la Femme" CHAPTER III-- One of the "Suffer
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BOOK I CHAPTER I
BOOK I CHAPTER I
The two men stood upon the top of a bank bordering the rough road which led to the sea. They were listening to the lark, which had risen fluttering from their feet a moment or so ago, and was circling now above their heads. Mannering, with a quiet smile, pointed upwards. "There, my friend!" he exclaimed. "You can listen now to arguments more eloquent than any which I could ever frame. That little creature is singing the true, uncorrupted song of life. He sings of the sunshine, the buoyant air; t
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CHAPTER II
CHAPTER II
Borrowdean seemed after all to take but little interest in the game. He walked generally, some distance away from the players, on the top of the low bank of sandhills which fringed the sea. He was one of those men whom solitude never wearies, a weaver of carefully thought-out schemes, no single detail of which was ever left to chance or impulse. Such moments as these were valuable to him. He bared his head to the breeze, stopped to listen to the larks, watched the sea-gulls float low over the la
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CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
Sir Leslie carefully closed the iron gate behind him, and looked around. "But where," he asked, "are the roses?" Clara laughed outright. "You may be a great politician, Sir Leslie," she declared, "but you are no gardener. Roses don't bloom out of doors in May—not in these parts at any rate." "I understand," he assented, humbly. "This is where the roses will be." She nodded. "That wall, you see," she explained, "keeps off the north winds, and the chestnut grove the east. There is sun here all the
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CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
Clara stepped through the high French window, and with skirts a little raised crossed the lawn. Lindsay, who was following her, stopped to light a cigarette. "We're getting frightfully modern," she remarked, turning and waiting for him. "Mrs. Handsell and I ought to have come out here, and you and uncle ought to have stayed and yawned at one another over the dinner-table." "You have an excellent preceptress—in modernity," he remarked. "May I?" "If you mean smoke, of course you may," she answered
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CHAPTER V
CHAPTER V
The peculiar atmosphere of the room, heavy with the newest perfume from the Burlington Arcade, and the scent of exotic flowers, at no time pleasing to him, seemed more than usually oppressive to Mannering as he fidgetted about waiting for the woman whom he had come to see. He was conscious of a restless longing to open wide the windows, take the flowers from their vases, throw them into the street, and poke out the fire. The little room, with all its associations, its almost pathetic attempts at
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CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VI
She leaned over him, one hand on the back of his chair, the other seeking in vain for his. "Lawrence," she said, "you grow colder and more unkind every day. What have I done to change you so? I am a foolish woman, I know, but there are things which I cannot forget." He rose at once to his feet, and stood apart from her. "I thought," he said, "I believed that we understood one another." She laughed softly. "I am very sure that I do not understand you," she said. "And as for you—I do not believe t
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CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VII
"The perfect man," the Duchess murmured, as she stirred her tea, "does not exist. I know a dozen perfect women, dear, dull creatures, and plenty of men who know how to cover up the flaw. But there is something in the composition of the male sex which keeps them always a little below the highest pinnacle." "It is purely a matter of concealment," her friend declared. "Women are cleverer humbugs than men." Borrowdean shrugged his shoulders. "I know your perfect woman!" he remarked, softly. "You sea
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CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER VIII
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, s
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CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER IX
Hester sprang to her feet eagerly as she heard the front door close, and standing behind the curtain she watched the man, who was already upon the pavement looking up and down the street for a hansom. His erect, distinguished figure was perfectly familiar to her. It was Sir Leslie Borrowdean again. She resumed her seat in front of the typewriter, and touched the keys idly. In a few moments what she had been expecting happened. Her mother entered the room. Of her advent there were the usual notif
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CHAPTER X
CHAPTER X
Mannering sat alone in the shade of his cedar tree. He had walked in his rose-garden amongst a wilderness of drooping blossoms, for the season of roses was gone. He had crossed the marshland seawards, only to find a little crowd of holiday-makers in possession of the golf links and the green tufted stretch of sandy shore. The day had been long, almost irksome. A fit of restlessness had driven him from his study. He seemed to have lost all power of concentration. For once his brain had failed him
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CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XI
Once again Mannering found himself in the over-scented, overheated room, which was perhaps of all places in the world the one he hated the most. Fresh from the wind-swept places of his country home, he found the atmosphere intolerable. After a few minutes' waiting he threw open the windows and leaned out. Hester was walking in the Square somewhere. He had a shrewd idea that she had been sent out of the way. With a restless impatience of her absence he awaited the interview which he dreaded. Her
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CHAPTER I
CHAPTER I
Borrowdean sank into the chair which Berenice had indicated, with a little sigh of relief. "These all-night sittings," he remarked, "get less of a joke as one advances in years. You read the reports this morning?" She nodded. "And Mannering's speech?" "Every word of it." "Our little conspiracy," he continued, "is bearing fruit. Honestly, Mannering is a surprise, even to me. After these years of rust I scarcely expected him to step back at once into all his former brilliancy. His speech last nigh
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CHAPTER II
CHAPTER II
Mannering hated dinner parties, but this one had been a necessity. Nevertheless, if he had known who his companion for the evening was fated to be he would most certainly have stayed away. Her first question showed him that she had no intention of ignoring memories which to him were charged with the most subtle pain. He looked down the table, and back again into her face. "You are quite right," he said. "This is different. We cannot compare. We can judge only by effect—the effect upon ourselves.
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CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
Mannering kept no carriage, and he left Downing Street on foot. The little house which he had taken furnished for the season was in the somewhat less pretentious neighborhood of Portland Crescent, and as there were no hansoms within hail he started to walk home. An attempt at a short cut landed him presently in a neighborhood which he failed to recognize. He paused, looking about him for some one from whom to inquire the way. Then he at once realized what he had already more than once suspected.
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CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
Berenice found the following morning a note from Borrowdean, which caused her some perplexity. "If you really care," he said, "to do Mannering a good turn, look his niece up now and then. I am afraid that young woman has rather lost her head since she came to London, and she is making friends who will do her no particular good." Berenice ordered her carriage early, and drove round to Portland Crescent. "My dear child," she exclaimed, as Clara came into the room, "what have you been doing with yo
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CHAPTER V
CHAPTER V
Berenice was a little annoyed. It was the hour before dressing for dinner which she always devoted to repose—the hour saved from the stress of the day which had helped towards keeping her the young woman she certainly was. Yet Borrowdean's message was too urgent to ignore. She suffered her maid to wrap some sort of loose gown about her, and received him in her own study. "My dear Sir Leslie," she said, a little reproachfully, "was this really necessary? You know that after half-past six I am pra
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CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VI
He was shown into her own little boudoir by a smiling maid-servant, who seemed already to treat him with an especial consideration. The wonder of this thing was still lying like a thrall upon him, and yet he knew that the joy of life was burning once more in his veins. He caught sight of himself in a mirror, and he was amazed. The careworn look had gone from his eyes, the sallowness from his complexion. His step was elastic, he felt the firm, quick beat of his heart, even his pulses seem to thro
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CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VII
There was a somewhat unusual alertness in Borrowdean's manner as he passed out from the little house in Sloane Gardens and summoned a passing hansom. He drove to the corner of Hyde Park, and dismissing the cab strolled along the broad walk. The many acquaintances whom he passed and repassed he greeted with a certain amount of abstraction. All the time he kept his eyes upon the road. He was waiting to catch sight of some familiar liveries. When at last they came he contrived to stop the carriage
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CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER VIII
She swept into the room, humming a light opera tune, bringing with her the usual flood of perfumes, suggestion of cosmetics, a vivid apparition of the artificial. Her skirts rustled aggressively, her voice was just one degree too loud. Mannering rose to his feet a little wearily. She looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Heavens!" she exclaimed. "What have you been doing with yourself, Lawrence? You look like a ghost!" "I am quite well," he answered, calmly. "Then you don't look it," she answered
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CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER IX
Mannering left by the afternoon train for Hampshire, where he was to be the guest for a few days of the leader of his party. He arrived without sending word of his coming, to find the whole of the house party absent at a cricket match. The short respite was altogether welcome to him. He changed his clothes and wandered off into the gardens. Here an hour or so later Berenice's maid found him. "Her Grace would like to see you, sir, if you would come to her sitting-room," the girl said, with a demu
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CHAPTER X
CHAPTER X
"You can guess why I brought you here, perhaps," Berenice said, gently, as she motioned him to sit down by her side. "This place, more than any other I know, certainly more than any other at Bayleigh, seems to me to be completely restful. There are the trees, you see, and the water, and the swans, that are certainly the laziest creatures I know. You look to me as though you needed rest, Lawrence." "I suppose I do," he answered, slowly. "I am not sure, though, whether I deserve it." "You are rath
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CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XI
"To be plain with you," Borrowdean remarked, "Mannering's defection would be irremediable. He alone unites Redford, myself, and—well, to put it crudely, let us say the Imperialistic Liberal Party with Manningham and the old-fashioned Whigs who prefer the ruts. There is no other leader possible. Redford and I talked till daylight this morning. Now, can nothing be done with Mannering?" "To be plain with you, too, then, Sir Leslie," Berenice answered, "I do not think that anything can be done with
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CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XII
"I suppose," Lord Redford remarked, thoughtfully, "politics represents a different thing to all of us, according to our temperament. To me, I must confess, it is a plain, practical business, the business of law-making. To you, Mannering, I fancy that it appeals a little differently. Now, let us understand one another. Are you prepared to undertake this campaign which we planned out a few months ago?" "If I did undertake it," Mannering said, "it would be to leave unsaid the things which you would
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CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIII
"You see, Mannering," Lord Redford said, tapping the outspread evening paper with his forefinger, "the situation now presents a different aspect. I have no wish to force your hand—a few hours ago I think I proved this. But if you are to remain even nominally with us some sort of pronouncement must come from you in reply to these statements." "Yes," Mannering said, "that is quite reasonable." "The postponement of your campaign has been hinted at before," Lord Redford continued, "but we have never
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CHAPTER I
CHAPTER I
"How delightfully Continental!" Blanche exclaimed, as the head-waiter showed them to their table. "Hester, did you ever see anything more quaint?" "It is perfect," the girl answered, leaning back in her chair, and looking around with quiet content. Mannering took up the menu and ordered dinner. Then he lit a cigarette and looked around. "It certainly is quaint," he said. "One dines out of doors often enough, especially over here, but I have never seen a courtyard made such excellent use of befor
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CHAPTER II
CHAPTER II
Berenice sat at one of the small round tables in the courtyard, finishing her morning coffee. Sir Leslie sat upon the steps by her side. It was one of those brilliant mornings in early September, when the sunlight seems to find its way everywhere. Even here, surrounded by the pile of worn grey stone buildings, which threw shadows everywhere, it had penetrated. A long shaft of soft, warm light stretched across the cobbles to their feet. Berenice, slim and elegant, fresh as the morning itself, gla
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CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
The first cloud appeared towards the end of the third day at Bonestre. Blanche and Sir Leslie were left alone, and he hastened to improve the opportunity. "The Duchess and your husband," he remarked, "appear very easily to have picked up again the threads of their old friendship." "The Duchess," she answered, "is a very charming woman. I am sure that you find her so, don't you?" "We are very old friends," he answered, "but I was never admitted to exactly the same privileges as your husband enjoy
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CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
Mannering, in his sitting-room at last, locked the door and drew a long breath of relief. Upon his ear-drums there throbbed still the yells of his enthusiastic but noisy adherents—the truculent cries of those who had heard his great speech with satisfaction, of those who saw pass from amongst themselves to a newer school of thought one whom they had regarded as their natural leader. It was over at last. He had made his pronouncement. To some it might seem a compromise. To himself it was the only
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CHAPTER V
CHAPTER V
The old man had sunk into a seat. His face and hands were twitching with fear. His eyes, as though fascinated, remained fixed upon Mannering's. All the while he mumbled to himself. Fardell drew Mannering a little on one side. "What can we do with him?" he asked. "We might tear up those sheets, give him money, keep him soddened with drink. And even then he'd give the whole show away the moment any one got at him. It isn't so bad as he makes out, I suppose?" "It is not so bad as that," Mannering a
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CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VI
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 button-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 st
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CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VII
Mannering threw up his window with a sigh of immense relief. The air was cold and fresh. The land, as yet unwarmed by the slowly rising sun, was hung with a faint autumn mist. Traces of an early frost lay in the brown hedgerows inland; the sea was like a sheet of polished glass. Gone the smoke-stained rows of shapeless houses, the atmosphere polluted by a thousand chimneys belching smuts and black vapour, the clanging of electric cars, the rattle of all manner of vehicles over the cobbled street
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CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER VIII
Mannering for a moment hesitated. One of the two young men who were talking to his wife he recognized as a former acquaintance of hers—one of a genus whom he had little sympathy with and less desire to know. While he stood there Blanche laughed at some remark made by one of her companions, and the laugh, too, seemed somehow to remind him of the old days. He moved slowly forward. The young men strolled off almost at once. Mannering took a vacant chair by his wife's side. "I have only just heard,"
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CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER IX
Blanche, in a plain black net gown, sat on Lord Redford's right hand at the hastily improvised dinner party that evening. Berenice, more subtly and more magnificently dressed, was opposite, by Mannering's side. The conversation seemed mostly to circle about them. "A very charming place," Lord Redford declared. "I have enjoyed my stay here thoroughly. Let us hope that we may all meet here again next year," he added, raising his glass. "Mannering, you will drink to that, I hope?" "With all my hear
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CHAPTER X
CHAPTER X
Mannering was conscious of an overpowering desire to be alone. He made his way out of the courtyard and back to the promenade. Some of the lights were already extinguished, and a slight drizzling rain was falling. He walked at once to the further wall, and stood leaning over, looking into the chaos of darkness. The key, round which his fingers were still tightly clenched, seemed almost to burn his flesh. What to do? How much more of himself was he bound to surrender? Through a confusion of thoug
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CHAPTER I
CHAPTER I
"And what does Mannering think of it all, I wonder!" Lord Redford remarked, lighting a fresh cigarette. "This may be his opportunity, who can tell!" "Will he have the nerve to grasp it?" Borrowdean asked. "Mannering has never been proved in a crisis." "He may have the nerve. I should be more inclined to question the desire," Lord Redford said. "For a man in his position he has always seemed to me singularly unambitious. I don't think that the prospect of being Prime Minister would dazzle him in
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CHAPTER II
CHAPTER II
"You will understand," Mannering said, as the brougham drove off, "that you and I are speaking together merely as friends. I have nothing official to say to you. It would be presumption on my part to assume that the time is ripe for anything definite while you are still at the head of an unbeaten Government. But one learns to read the signs of the times. I think that you and I both know that you cannot last the session." "It is a positive luxury at times," Redford answered, "to be able to indulg
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CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
Berenice, who had just returned from making a call, was standing in the hall, glancing through the cards displayed upon a small round table. The major-domo of her household came hurrying out from his office. "There is a young lady, your Grace," he announced, "who has been waiting to see you for half an hour. Her name is Miss Phillimore." "Where is she?" Berenice asked. "In the library, your Grace." "Show her into my own room," Berenice said, "I will see her at once." Hester was a little nervous,
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CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
Mannering's town house, none too large at any time, was transformed into a little hive of industry. Two hurriedly appointed secretaries were at work in the dining-room, and Hester was busy typing in her own little sanctum. Mannering sat in his study before a table covered with papers, and for the first time during the day was alone for a few moments. His servant brought in a card. Mannering glanced at it and frowned. "The gentleman said that he would not keep you for more than a moment, sir," th
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CHAPTER V
CHAPTER V
Mannering opened his eyes lazily. His companion had stopped suddenly in his reading. He appeared to be examining a certain paragraph in the paper with much interest. Mannering stretched out his hand for a match, and relit his cigarette. "Read it out, Richard," he said. "Don't mind me." The young man started slightly. "I am very sorry, sir," he said. "I thought that you were asleep!" Mannering smiled. "What about the paragraph?" he asked. "It is just this," Richard answered, reading. "'The Duches
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E. Phillips Oppenheim's Novels
E. Phillips Oppenheim's Novels
A PRINCE OF SINNERS Thoroughly matured, brilliantly constructed, and convincingly told.— London Times . It is rare that so much knowledge of the world, taken as a whole, is set between two covers of a novel.— Chicago Daily News . ANNA THE ADVENTURESS A story of London life that is at once unusual, original, consistent, and delightful.— Buffalo Express . An entrancing story which has seldom been surpassed as a study of feminine character and sentiment.— Outlook , London. ENOCH STRONE In no other
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