A Master of Deception
Copyright© 2025 by Richard Marsh
Chapter 15: Mabel Joyce
When Rodney Elmore got back to his rooms it was somewhat late. Some letters were on the table in his sitting-room, and a telegram from Stella Austin. One of those voluminous telegrams which women send when they are in no mood to consider that each unnecessary word means another halfpenny. It was, indeed, a little letter, in which she expressed both sympathy and disappointment. She was so sorry to hear the bad news about his uncle, and assured him--with apparent disregard of the fact that the message might possibly pass through several persons’ hands--that he had much better come to her if he was able, since she would console him as nobody else could.
“I shall be terribly disappointed if you do not come,” it went on, “so please do come. There are heaps of things I wish to say to you--simply heaps. So mind, Rodney, dear, you are to come some time this evening, and you are to let nothing keep you away from your own Stella.”
It was a love-letter which this young lady had flashed across the wires at a halfpenny a word, evidently caring nothing if strangers learned what was in her heart so long as he did. He was still considering it when Miss Joyce came into the room with a decanter and a glass upon a tray.
“Miss Austin’s been to see you,” she observed. “I suppose that telegram’s from her.”
“Did she tell you it was from her?”
“She came in and looked about her at pretty nearly everything, and saw it lying on the table, and said she’d sent you a telegram, and supposed that was it. I thought she was going to walk off with it, but she didn’t. I expected she’d want to stop till you came in, as Miss Patterson did last night, but I told her I knew you’d an important engagement in the City, and knew you wouldn’t be in till very late; so she went.”
“Thank you; I’m glad she didn’t stay.”
“I thought you would be. She asked me if I was the servant. I don’t think she liked the look of me.”
There was something in his attitude which suggested that he was expecting her to leave the room, and would have liked her to. When she showed no sign of going he commented on her last remark.
“That was rather bad taste on her part.”
“Wasn’t it?”
Having done with the telegram, he began to examine the letters. She watched him with an expression in her pale blue eyes which, if he had been conscious of it, might have startled him. It was plain from his manner that he intended to offer her no encouragement either to continue the conversation or to remain in the room. After a perceptible interval, she said, with an abruptness which was a little significant:
“I was at the inquest.”
He glanced up.
“You were where? At the inquest? Oh! What was the attraction? And how did you get in?”
“I believe the public are admitted to inquests. They’re supposed to be public inquiries, aren’t they? Also, I had a friend at court; and, anyhow, I wasn’t the only person there. I suppose Miss Patterson is a rich woman now.”
“She’ll have money.”
“Are you going to marry her?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Or are you going to marry Miss Austin?”
“Pray why do you ask that?”
“When Miss Patterson was here last night I thought there was an air about her as if she considered you her property; when Miss Austin was here this evening I thought the same thing of her. Odd, wasn’t it?”
“The only thing odd about it, my dear Mabel, is that you should have such a vivid imagination. Both these ladies are old friends of mine.”
“Old friends, are they? In what sense? In the sense that I’m an old friend?”
“No one could be nicer than you have been.”
“I see. Have they been nice to you like that?”
“My dear Mabel, in what quarter sits the wind? Where’s Mrs. Joyce?”
“Mother’s out; she’s going to stay at aunt’s till to-morrow. You and I are alone together.”
“Good business! Come and give me a kiss.”
“No, don’t touch me; I won’t have it.”
“There is something queer about the wind! What’s wrong? Is there anything wrong?”
“I’m trying to tell you. It’s not easy, but I’m going to tell you if you’ll give me a chance.”
“You’ve some bee in your bonnet. Let me get it out.”
“You give me a chance, I say! I tried to tell you last night, but I couldn’t. But I’m going to tell you now; I’ve got to!”
“Have you? Couldn’t you tell me a little closer, instead of standing all that distance off?”
“I wouldn’t come nearer for--for anything.”
“Mabel! After all these years!”
“Yes, after all these years! How long have you been here?”
“I never had a memory for dates.”
“More than four years you have been here.”
“So long as that? And it hasn’t seemed a day too long.”
“I was a kid in short skirts when you first came.”
“And a very pretty kid you were. Almost as pretty even then as you are now.”
“Rodney, have you ever cared for me a little bit?”
“Have I ever cared? Haven’t I shown it?”
“Shown it? You call that showing it? My word!”
“What is the matter with the girl? I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Suppose--something was going to happen?”
“Well, isn’t something always going to happen? What especially awful thing are you afraid is going to happen?”
“Suppose--something was going to happen--to me--because of you? Suppose--I was going----”
Her voice died away, her eyes fell.
“You don’t mean that----”
“I do.”
“Good God! It’s--it’s impossible!”
“Why is it impossible? It’s true.”
“But, my--my dear girl, it can’t be.”
“Why can’t it be? It is.”
“But--you’re not sure. How can you be sure? You know, my dear Mabel, how you do fancy things. I’ll bet ten to one that you’re mistaken.”
“Do you suppose that I haven’t tried to make myself think that I’m mistaken? I wouldn’t believe it. But it’s no use pretending any longer; it’s sure. What are you going to do?”
“What am I going to do? That’s--that’s a nice brick to aim at a fellow without the slightest warning.”
“I’m sorry; I can’t help it; I must know. What are you going to do?”
“My dear girl, you know that you’ve no more actual knowledge on such a subject than I have. I hope--and I think it’s very possible--that you are wrong. Let’s, first of all, make sure.”
“Very well--we’ll make sure. And when we’ve made sure what are you going to do--if it is sure?”
“We’ll discuss that when we’ve made sure. Give me a chance to think; you’ve had one. It seems that you’ve guessed, goodness knows how long. Give me a chance to get my thoughts into order.”
“I can’t wait; I must know now. What are you going to do--if it is sure?”
“I’ll do everything that a man can do--you know that perfectly well. You’ve knocked the sense all out of me! Do give me a chance to think! Don’t look at me with that stand-and-deliver air! Come here, old lady, and let me kiss those pretty eyes of yours; I can’t bear to have them look like that.”
“Don’t touch me--don’t dare! You say you’ll do everything a man can do. Does that mean you’ll marry me?”
“Marry you! Mabel!”
“Don’t you mean that you will marry me?”
“My dear girl, it’s--it’s impossible!”
“Why is it impossible? Are you married already?”
“Good Lord, no!”
“Then why can’t you marry me?”
“As if you didn’t know!”
“What do I know?”
“As if there weren’t a thousand reasons! As if you weren’t almost as well posted in my financial position as I am myself! As if you didn’t know how hard I’ve found it to pay my way--that, in fact, I haven’t paid it! If I were to marry you, financially there’d be an end of me; and in every other way! Not only should I be worse than penniless, but there’d be absolutely no prospect of my ever being anything else.”
“I shouldn’t be worse off as your wife than I am now.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you? You would; don’t you make any error! I’ve never said a word to you about marriage.”
“That’s true, nor should I have said it to you if it hadn’t been for this.”
“There you are--that’s frank. There’s been no deception on either side. After all that there’s been between us don’t let’s have any unpleasantness, for both our sakes. I’m as sorry for the position to which we’ve managed to bring things as you can be; you must know I am. At present I’m stony, but shortly I hope to have the command of plenty of money.”
“Are you going to get it from Miss Patterson or Miss Austin?”
“What does it matter where it comes from?”
“So far as I’m concerned it matters a good deal.”
“It’ll be my own money.”
class=”normal””If you’ll have so much money of your own why can’t you marry me?”
“If I do marry you I’ll have no money?”
“Are you going to get it with your wife? Which wife?”
“I can understand how you’re feeling, so I’ll try not to mind your being bitter, though it isn’t like you one scrap. I can only implore you to trust me, to leave it all to me; I’ll arrange everything. If you’re right in what you fear you’ll find a place ready for you when the time comes, in which you’ll be comfortable, in which you’ll have everything you want, and when it’s over, if you like you can come home again, and no one will be one whit the wiser, and you won’t be an atom the worse. It’s done every day.”
“Is it? And the child--what about the child?”
“The child? If it is my child----”
“If? if? if? What do you mean by ‘if’? You’d better be careful, Rodney, what you are saying. What do you mean by ‘if’?”
“My dear girl, it was only a way of speaking.”
“Then don’t you speak that way. ‘If’ it is your child! When you knew me I was innocent, and I’m innocent now except for you. Don’t you dare to say if! You know it is your child!”
“My dear girl, of course I know it’s my child. You won’t let a fellow finish what he is going to say. I was only going to say that the child shall want for nothing; it shall have everything a child can have. So shall you; you’ll be much better off than if you were my wife.”
“If the child is born, and I am not your wife, I’ll kill myself--and it. Or, rather, if I’m not going to be your wife, I’ll kill myself before it’s born, as sure as you are alive.”
“Mabel, don’t talk like that--don’t! I can’t bear it. If you only knew how it hurts!”
“Hurts! As if anything hurts you! Nothing could hurt you, nothing; you’re not built that way. Do you suppose that I don’t know what kind of man you are--that you’re an all-round bad lot?”
“To say a thing like that, after pretending to care for me!”
“Pretending! There wasn’t much pretence about my caring; I proved it. You wouldn’t let me rest until I did. Not only did I care for you, but I do care for you; and I shall continue to care for you as long as I live. No other man can ever be to me what you have been.”
“That’s more like the Mabel I know.”
“But don’t imagine that I’m under any delusion about you; you’ll know better by the time I’ve done. You’re the kind of man who’s not to be trusted with a girl. You make love to every woman you meet--what you call love! You’re entangled with no end of women. I know! I don’t know how many think you’re going to marry them, but I shouldn’t be surprised if Miss Patterson and Miss Austin both think you are. If I were to go and tell them, do you think they’d marry you? Not they; they’re not that sort.”
“But you won’t tell them. You’re not that sort either. I, perhaps, know you better than you know yourself.”
“It’s this way. Even you mayn’t know who you’re going to marry, but I do. You’re going to marry me.”
“I wish I were. I’ll admit so much. But--we can’t always do what we wish, my dear.”
“You can, and do; that’s what makes you dangerous--at first to others, in the end to yourself. Rodney, I don’t want to say something which will change the whole face of the world for both of us, but I’ll have to if you make me. Don’t you make me! Say you’ll marry me.”
“My dear child----”
“Don’t talk like that to me; don’t you do it! You’re duller than I thought, or long before this you’d have seen what I was driving at. Now, you listen to me; I’ll tell you. To-day I was at the inquest.”
“That fact, I assure you, in spite of my dullness, I have appreciated already. What I still fail to understand is what the attraction was.”
“Attraction! You call it an attraction! You wait. I’ve always thought that an inquest was to find out the truth, not to hide it up. The idea of that one seemed to be to conceal, not to reveal. The coroner was an old idiot, as blind as a bat. He’d got a notion into his head, and as there wasn’t room for more than one at a time--why, there it was! I went there knowing nothing, guessing nothing, suspecting nothing. The inquest hadn’t hardly begun before I saw everything, knew everything, understood everything. But the coroner, the jury, and the witnesses--they knew less at the end than the beginning.”
“Your words suggest that nature erred in making you a pretty girl, and therefore incompetent to be a coroner.”
“According to the guard of the train, your uncle was found sitting up in a corner of the carriage, with a box in his hand, in which were some of the things with which he is supposed to have poisoned himself. The box was handed round for the coroner and jury to look at. Directly I saw it I knew it.”
If Elmore changed countenance it was only very slightly, and the change went as quickly as it came; yet one felt that for an instant it had been there.
“Is that so? What sort of box was it? It must have been something rather out of the common run of boxes for you to have recognised it at what, I take it, was some little distance.”
“I was close enough, close enough to take it in my hand if I had wanted; and it was all that I could do to keep my hand from off it. And it was very much what you call out of the common run of boxes. It was a silver box, Chinese, with Chinese engraving on it, about an inch and a half long, round, and a little thicker than a fountain pen.”
“You seem to have observed it pretty closely.”
“It was not the first time I’d seen it. The first time I saw it it was on your dressing-table.”
Again, if Elmore’s expression altered, it was only as if a flickering something had come and gone in his eyes.
“You may have seen a box like it on my dressing-table. You certainly never saw the one you saw this morning.”
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