Cynthia's Chauffeur
His attitude seemed to betoken an immediate departure, but Marigny
looked at him so fixedly that he waited to hear what the other had
to say. He was quite determined now to keep Cynthia out of the
discussion. Even Vanrenen's letter need not be mentioned until he had
seen the millionaire in person and disabused his mind of the inept
inventions with which the Frenchman had perplexed him.
"I don't take your refusal as final," said Count Edouard, speaking
very slowly, and choosing each sentence with evident care. "I was at
pains to explain my position, and there now devolves upon me the
disagreeable duty of telling you what will happen if you do not fight.
You English may not care to defend your honor in the manner that
appeals to a more sensitive nation like the French, but you are
vulnerable in your womenfolk. I now tell you quite frankly, that if
you do not abandon your pretensions to Miss Cynthia Vanrenen, I shall
make it my special business in life to ruin her socially."
Medenham listened more in amazement than indignation.
At first, the true significance of the threat left him unmoved. In his
ears it was a mere repetition of the bogey raised by Vanrenen, and
that was the wildest nonsense.
"I really do not think you are responsible for your words," he began.
Marigny swept aside the protest with an emphatic gesture.
"Oh, yes, I am," he said, his voice low, sibilant, menacing. "I have
laid my plans, and shall pursue them with a complete detachment.
Others may suffer--so shall I. I have practically reached the limit
of my resources. In a month or less I shall be penniless. What
money I could scrape together I devoted to the furtherance of this
marriage-project, and I am well aware that when you meet Mr. Vanrenen,
my poor little cobweb of intrigue will be blown into thin air. You are
quite a desirable _parti_, Viscount Medenham--every condition points
to your speedy and happy union to the lady of your choice. It is,
however, a most unfortunate and lamentable fact that she also happens
to be the lady of _my_ choice, and I shall revenge myself on you,
through her, in the way best calculated to pierce your thick British
hide. The future Countess of Fairholme should be superior to Caesar's
wife in being not only above suspicion, but altogether removed from
its taint. I am afraid that it will be my task to tarnish her
escutcheon."
"You miserable rascal," cried Medenham, stung beyond endurance by this
extraordinary declaration of a vile purpose, "why should you imagine
that I shall allow you to sit there and pour forth your venom
unscathed? Stand up, you beast, or must I kick you up!"
"Ha! You are ready to fight me now, my worthy Viscount! But not in
your costermonger fashion. You cannot, because I have your promise.
You see I have taken your measure with some accuracy, and hard words
will not move me. I mean you to understand the issue clearly. Either
you meet me under conditions that will insure a clear field for the
survivor, or I devote myself to spreading in every quarter most likely
to prove damaging to Miss Vanrenen the full, though, perhaps, untrue,
but none the less fascinating story of her boating excursion on the
Wye at midnight."
He did then spring to his feet, for Medenham was advancing on him
with obvious intent to stifle the monstrous accusation by force.
"No! No! you will achieve nothing by violence," he shouted. "You are
not so much my physical superior that I cannot defend myself until
assistance arrives, and I will ask you to consider what manner of
gloss will be placed upon your actions if I drag you before a
magistrate for an assault. Why, man, you are absolutely at my mercy.
You yourself would be my best witness. Ah, _touche_! You felt the
point that time. _Que diable!_ I gave you credit for a quicker wit,
but it is gratifying to learn that you are beginning at last to
see that I am in deadly earnest. When I strike there is nothing
half-hearted behind my blow; I swear to you that I shall neither
relent nor draw back. If ruin overwhelm me, Cynthia Vanrenen shall be
involved in my downfall. Picture to yourself the smiles, the whispers,
the half-spoken scandal that will cling to her through life. Who will
believe her when she says that she was ignorant of your rank when she
started out from London? The incomparable Cynthia and the naughty
Viscount, touring their thousand miles through England with Mrs. Devar
as a shield of innocence!... Mrs. Devar!... Can't you hear the long
and loud guffaw that would convulse society as soon as _her_ name
cropped up? Ah, you are writhing under the lash now, I fancy! It is
dawning on you that a peril greater than the sword or bullet may be
near. Dozens of people in Paris and London know, or guess, at any
rate, that I was Cynthia Vanrenen's suitor, but as many hundreds as
there were dozens shall be told that I cast her off because of
the taint placed on her by your silly masquerading. You have no
escape--you have no answer--your marriage will only serve to confirm
my words. Do you hear? I shall say.... But you know what I shall
say.... Now, will you fight me?"
"Yes," said Medenham.
A spasm of hate and furious joy struggled for mastery in Marigny's
face, but he showed an iron resolution that almost equaled the
coolness of the man whose scornful gaze might well have abashed him.
"I thought so," he said--"under terms, of course?"
"Terms, you beast! The only terms I ask are that you shall stand
before me with a sword in your hand."
"A sword!--is that quite fair? You Englishmen are not proficient with
the sword. Why not pistols?"
"I think you are right," said Medenham, turning away as if the sight
of him was loathsome. "You deserve the death of a dog; it would
dishonor bright steel to touch you."
"We shall see," said Marigny, who having achieved his purpose, was
now apparently unconcerned as to its outcome. "But it would be folly
to fight without arriving at an understanding. I shall try to kill
you, and I am sure you will admit that I have striven to force you
into an active reciprocity in that respect. But one might only be
wounded--that is the lottery of it--so I stipulate that if fortune
should favor me, and you still live, you shall agree to leave me in
undisturbed possession of the field for at least six months after our
encounter."
Medenham still refused to look at him.
"I agree to no terms or conditions whatsoever," he answered. "I am
meeting you solely because of the foul lie you have dared to utter
against the reputation of the woman I love. If you breathe a word of
it in any other ear I shall tear your tongue out by the roots, duel
or no duel."
"Ah, but that is a pity," jeered the Frenchman. "Don't you see that
unless you accept my offer I shall be compelled to fall back on the
sword, since it is absolutely an essential element of my probable
success that you should be cleared out of my way? I have no chance
against you in the matrimonial market, but I think the odds are in my
favor when cold steel is the arbitrator. Now, could anyone be more
frank than I in this matter? I mean either to win or lose. There must
be no middle course. Unless you are willing to stand aside, if beaten,
I can win only by stepping over your corpse. Why not avoid extremes?
They may be unnecessary."
"You have already convinced me that your ethics are drawn from the
police court, but I see now, that you depend for your wit on the
cheaper variety of melodrama," said Medenham, with a quiet derision
that at last brought a flush of passion to the Frenchman's face. "I
fail to see the need of more words. You have asked for deeds, and you
shall have them. When and where do you propose that this encounter
shall take place?"
"To-morrow morning--about four o'clock--on the sands between Calais
and Wissant."
In spite of all that had gone before, Medenham was unprepared for this
categorical answer. Were he in full possession of his faculties he
must have seen the trap into which he was being decoyed. Unhappily,
Vanrenen's letter had helped to complete the lure, and he was no
longer amenable to the dictates of cold reason.
"That is hardly possible," he said. "I do not propose to bring myself
under the law as a murderer, Monsieur Marigny. I am ready to take the
consequences of a fair fight, but to secure that, certain
preliminaries are indispensable."
"I was sure you would meet me," said Marigny, smiling nonchalantly as
he lighted the cigarette again. "I have arranged everything, even the
attendance of witnesses and a doctor. We cross over to Calais by the
night boat from Dover, pick up the others at the Hotel de la Plage, at
which they will arrive to-night, and drive straight to the _terrain_.
There is no prospect of outside interference. This is not the sort of
duel which either of the combatants is anxious to advertise broadcast.
My friends will be discretion itself, and I need hardly express my
conviction that you will not make known in England the purpose of
our journey. Of course, it is open to you to bring one of your own
friends, if you think fit. But my notion is, that these affairs should
be settled discreetly in the presence of the smallest possible number
of onlookers. I shall, of course, satisfy you as to the standing of
the gentlemen I have summoned from Paris. On the table there are their
telegrams accepting my invitation to meet us at Calais. When you came
in I was busy putting my wretched affairs in order. At least I have
given you proof of my belief in your courage. I even go so far as to
say that I regret most profoundly the necessity which has driven me to
use threats against a charming lady in order to wring a challenge out
of you. Of course, between ourselves, I know perfectly well that there
is not a word of truth in the statements I have pledged myself to
make, but that defect in nowise detracts from their efficiency.
Indeed, it commends them the more to the real purveyor of scandal----"
The door slammed behind Medenham. A dreadful doubt assailed him that
if he did not hurry away from that taunting voice he might be tempted
to forget himself--and what torture that would mean to Cynthia! He was
indeed a prey to complex emotions that rendered him utterly incapable
of forming a well-balanced judgment. Nothing more illogical, more
ill-advised, more thoroughly unsuited to achieve its object than the
proposed duel could well be mooted, yet the sheer malignity of
Marigny's ruffianly device to attain his ends had impelled him to that
final madness. Notions of right and wrong were topsy-turvy in his
brain. He was carried along on a current of passion that overturned
every barrier imposed by sense and prudence. It seemed quite
reasonable to one who had often risked life and limb for his country,
who, from mere love of sport, had faced many an infuriated tiger and
skulking lion, that he should be justified by the eternal law in
striving to rid the world of this ultra-beast. He had not scrupled to
kill a poisonous snake--why should he flinch from killing a man whose
chief equipment was the poison-laden fang of slander? Happily, he
could use a sword in a fashion that might surprise Marigny most
wofully. If he did not succeed in killing the wretch, he would surely
disable him, and the thought sent such a thrill of fierce pleasure
through his veins that he resolutely closed his eyes to the lamentable
results that must follow his own death.
Cynthia, at least, would not suffer; that was all he cared for. No
matter what happened, he did not imagine for one moment that she would
marry Marigny. But that eventuality hardly troubled him at all. The
Frenchman had chosen the sword, and he must abide by its stern
arbitrament.
"Home!" he said to Dale, finding his retainer's eye bent inquiringly