Tempest-Driven: A Romance (Vol. 1 of 3). Dowling Richard

of the most hopeless scamps in Europe. He is now about thirty-eight years of age, and has deserved hanging for every year of his life. He was in the army, to start with; he was kicked out of it. He tried the Turf for a while, until he was kicked out of that too. Then he turned his hand to card-sharping. What he's doing now, I don't know, except he may have gone in for a little murder. He's quite capable of it, I assure you, Pringle-quite capable of it."

      "And you say this Miss Butler had a strong predilection for this objectionable man?"

      "It amounted to nothing short of infatuation. As the account of the matter reached me, she was assured by people who were quite disinterested that he was a thorough scamp. They might as well have saved their breath. She would listen to all they had to say, and simply shake her head."

      "And how did they in the end over come this infatuation?"

      "They never overcame it at all. They got her to marry Davenport by appealing to the baseness of Blake's nature. Some friends of mine were very intimate with the Butlers at that time, and I heard the whole history of his abominable conduct. He was then in great extremities for money, and took a sum down to leave the country and hold no communication with her. That's the sort of man Tom Blake is."

      "But surely this woman whom he treated so vilely cannot care for him still-cannot have any regard for such a scurvy knave?"

      "I don't know how matters have gone of late. I have been out of their tracks for some time. If he has any influence now it may rest on fear, not fascination. I am quite sure if there is anything wrong, he is at the bottom of it. I have been in London for months now, and never saw him or heard of him. Is it a mere coincidence that I should come across him just as I hear this story from Paulton?"

      "It is strange. I presume Mrs. Davenport is childless?"

      "Yes. And as far as I know she is now absolutely alone in the world, if you do not count this brother-in-law, with whom she never got on well."

      "I'll go out to Dulwich with you myself now. I think that will be the best thing."

      The three men rose and walked to Ludgate Hill railway station.

      CHAPTER V

      PRINGLE UNANSWERED

      When the three men arrived at Dulwich, they went straight to Carlingford House, where Mr. Paulton lived. The owner was in. Some years ago he had retired from business in the City, and now interested himself in local affairs, his garden, his horses, and reading. He was bluff, white-haired, stout, brief of speech, straightforward, kindly. He was not quite sixty yet, notwithstanding his white hair.

      Just as they got into the house he was crossing the hall. He paused, and held out his hand cordially to Jerry O'Brien.

      "What lucky wind has blown you here at such an hour?" he cried. "You are just too late for luncheon; but I dare say they'll be able to find something for you and Alfred, and-"

      He now became aware the third man was a stranger, and stopped.

      Young Paulton introduced the solicitor, and then all four went into a little library on the right hand side of the hall. Alfred felt acutely the difficulty of his position, and he found himself completely at a loss to explain the situation to his father. Then it occurred to him to appeal to O'Brien for help.

      "Jerry," said he, "tell the governor all about it."

      The old man looked apprehensively from one to the other. There was evidently something wrong.

      "Out with it whatever it is, my lad," said he to O'Brien, and, without further delay, Jerry began. When he had finished, the old man seemed thunderstruck. It was incredible that he should ever be brought into contact with such people, and such a history. He had sat down in an easy-chair, and now he felt he had not the strength to get out of it. He looked blankly around at the three figures and the bookcases and the walls, as if he were awaiting contradiction from animate or inanimate objects. But no one spoke, and nothing occurred to reassure him.