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E. Phillips Oppenheim - The Betrayal

E >> E. Phillips Oppenheim >> The Betrayal




"In justice to him," I said, "one must remember that he never for a
moment believed in the possibility of a French invasion."

Lord Cheisford shook his head.

"It is too nice a point," he declared. "We may not reckon it in his
favour. I wonder how our friends on the other side felt when they knew
that they had paid fifty thousand pounds for false information? We
ought to make you a peer, Ducaine. The Trogoldy money would stand it."

"For Heaven's sake, don't!" I cried. "What have I done that you should
want to banish me into the pastures?"

"You talk too much," my companion murmured. "In the Lords it wouldn't
matter, but in the Commons you are a nuisance. I suppose you want to be
taken into the Cabinet."

"Quite true!" I admitted. "You want young men there, and I am ready any
time."

"A man with a wife like yours," Lord Chelsford remarked, thoughtfully,
"is bound to go anywhere he wants. Then he sits down and takes all the
credit to himself."

Angela passed on the arm of the Ambassador. She waved her hand gaily to
us, but her companion drew her firmly away. We both looked after her
admiringly.

"Guy," Lord Chelsford said, "we have both of us done some good work in
our time, but never anything better than the way we managed to hoodwink
everybody--even herself, about her father. Amongst the middle classes
he remains a canonized saint, the man who pauperized himself for their
sakes. Ray was too full of Blenavon's little aberrations to suspect any
one else, and our friends from across the water who might--I mean the
woman--have been inclined for a little blackmail, were obliging enough
to make a final disappearance in the unlucky Henriette. The woman was
saved, though, by-the-bye."

"The woman is still alive," I told him, "but I will answer for her
silence. I allow her a small pension--all she would accept. She is
living in the south of France somewhere."

"And Blenavon," Lord Chelsford said, with a smile, "has married an
American girl who has made a different man of him. What character those
women have! She hasn't a penny, they tell me, until her father dies,
and they work on their ranch from sunrise. She will be an ornament to
our aristocracy when they do come back."

"They are coming next spring," I remarked, "if they can do it out of the
profits of the ranch--not unless. Blenavon has carried out his father's
wishes to the letter, and cut off the entail of everything that was
necessary."

"What a silly ass that novelist was!" Lord Chelsford declared
vigorously.

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