Chapter 6

At first I thought that my speech had given the aged Earl a stroke. He writhed on his bed, and something appeared at his lips which was like froth. His lovely daughter sprang to him with a cry of fear and woe. But he was not dying; he was only mad with rage.

“How dare you? How dare you?” he gasped. “You whelp of Satan!”

“‘Tis me that would not be fearing to dare anything,” I rejoined calmly. “I would not so. I came here with a mind for fair words, but you have met me with insult and something worse. We cannot talk the thing. We must act it. The papers are yours, but you took them from me unfairly. You may destroy them. Otherwise I will have them back and discover what turned you into a great rogue near the end of your days.”

“Hearken!” screamed the Earl. “Hearken! He threatens.” The door into the parlour flew open, and Lord Strepp and Colonel Royale appeared on the threshold, their faces blank with wonder.

“Father,” cried the young lord, stepping hastily forward, “whatever is wrong?”

“That!” screamed the Earl, pointing a palsied finger at me. “That! He comes here and threatens me, —a peer of England.”

The Lady Mary spoke swiftly to her brother and the Colonel.

“‘Tis a sick man’s fancy,” she said. “There have been no threats. Father has had a bad day. He is not himself. He talks wildly. He—”

“Mary!” yelled the Earl as well as he was able. “Do you betray me? Do you betray your own father? Oh, a woman Judas and my daughter!”

Lord Strepp and Colonel Royale looked as if their minds were coming apart. They stared at Lady Mary, at the Earl, at me. For my part I remained silent and stiff in a corner, keeping my eye upon the swords of the other gentlemen. I had no doubt but that presently I would be engaged in a desperate attempt to preserve my life. Lady Mary was weeping. She had never once glanced in my direction. But I was thrilling with happiness. She had flung me her feeble intercession even as a lady may fling a bun to a bear in a pit, but I had the remembrance to prize, to treasure, and if both gentlemen had set upon me and the sick Earl had advanced with the warming-pan I believe my new strength would have been able to beat them off.

In the meantime the Earl was screeching meaningless rubbish in which my name, with epithets, occurred constantly. Lady Mary, still weeping, was trying to calm him.

Young Lord Strepp at last seemed to make up his mind. He approached me and remarked:

“An inexplicable situation, Mr. O’Ruddy.”

“More to me than to you,” I repeated suavely.

“How?” he asked, with less consideration in his manner. “I know nought of this mummery.”

“At least I know no more,” I replied, still suave.

“How, Mr. O’Ruddy?” he asked, frowning. “I enter and find you wrangling with my father in his sick chamber. Is there to be no word for this?”

“I dare say you will get forty from your father; a hundred, it may be,” said I, always pleasant. “But from me you will get none.”

He reflected for a moment. “I dare say you understand I will brook no high-handed silence in a matter of this kind. I am accustomed to ask for the reasons for certain kinds of conduct, and of course I am somewhat prepared to see that the reasons are forthcoming.”

“Well, in this case, my lord,” said I with a smile, “you can accustom yourself to not getting a reason for a certain kind of conduct, because I do not intend to explain myself.”

But at this moment our agreeable conversation was interrupted by the old Earl who began to bay at his son. “Arthur, Arthur, fling the rascal out; fling the rascal out! He is an impostor, a thief!” He began to fume and sputter, and threw his arms wildly; he was in some kind of convulsion; his pillows tossed, and suddenly a packet fell from under them to the floor. As all eyes wheeled toward it, I stooped swiftly and picked it up.