Chapter VIII: A Pledge Redeemed

If there had been another person present in Carsdale’s office, quick-eyed enough to have taken in everything at a glance, he would have seen that Griffkin’s announcement produced a different effect on each of the three people who heard it. Carsdale himself looked frankly astonished; Mrs. Walsingham, in spite of her sedulous training of herself, could not repress a slight start of surprise nor keep down a little heightening of colour. But Richard Shrewsbury jumped to his feet with an exclamation of boyish enthusiasm and made for the door.

“It’s Burgoyne!” he almost shouted. “Burgoyne, you know, the explorer! I told you about him, Mrs. Walsingham--he’s home sooner than they said. Don’t you know him, Carsdale?--shan’t I bring him in?”

“Bring Captain Burgoyne in by all means,” said Carsdale, rising. “I haven’t the pleasure of knowing him, but--what does the boy mean?” he continued, turning to Mrs. Walsingham as Richard impatiently dashed out of the room. “Does he know him?”

“He knew him in Trinidad,” answered Mrs. Walsingham, rapidly. “Burgoyne stayed with his father. I fancy,” she said, glancing at the door, and speaking still more rapidly and in a low voice, “I fancy that Burgoyne came to see Leverton. Leverton once brought him in here about three years ago, when you were away. Try to find out what he wants.”

Carsdale was quick enough to catch some hidden meaning in Mrs. Walsingham’s tone. He nodded his head sharply.

“All right,” he said. “Don’t go. Let’s see, this chap has just come home from South America, eh? I remember.”

Outside, Richard was vigorously shaking the hand of a big, bronzed man who looked at him with good-humoured surprise. Also he was jerking out boyish exclamations of delight. The big man laughed.

“Bless me, so it’s really young Dick!” he said when he could put a word in. “Well, you’ve grown, youngster. But what are you doing here?”

“I live in London, of course,” said Richard. “I--oh, I’ll tell you all about it afterwards. By Jove!--I am glad to see you, Burgoyne--but I didn’t know you’d landed--I was going to run down to Southampton to meet you. Come in, do!”

“What, are these your offices?” said Burgoyne, looking about him. “I came to see Mr. Barclay Leverton.”

“Mr. Leverton is dead, but here is my friend Mr. Carsdale, who can tell you anything you want to know,” said Richard, dragging the explorer through the outer office, where Miss Rousby and Griffkin, quite aware of his identity, stared at him with veneration. “Come and be introduced to him--and to my friend Mrs. Walsingham, too.”

Captain Burgoyne suffered himself to be led into Carsdale’s room and to be subjected to the ceremonies of introduction, and he took a chair and looked around him with a smile.

“This is a little surprising,” he said. “I did not expect to meet an old friend here. I came to see Mr. Leverton, and I am sorry to hear that he is dead. Did it happen--recently?”

“Mr. Leverton has been dead six weeks,” replied Carsdale. “He had been ill for some weeks, but he died very suddenly at last. Can I do anything for you, Captain Burgoyne? I was in partnership with Mr. Leverton. But perhaps your business with him was of a private nature?”

“Why, it was,” answered Captain Burgoyne “Yes----oh, yes, it was a private affair. The fact was, he had certain property of mine in his hands, and I--well, I want it.”

“Oh, yes?” said Carsdale. He was wondering to what the visitor could possibly refer, and he found difficulty in surmising. “Mr. Leverton, of course, had affairs of which I knew nothing,” he remarked.

“Just so,” responded Captain Burgoyne. “Perhaps his executors----”

“You had better call on his solicitor,” said Carsdale, who saw no object in withholding information which any one could acquire without difficulty. “Mr. Septimus Winch, 250A, New Square, Lincoln’s Inn. I’ll write it down for you. Mr. Winch removed all Leverton’s private belongings from his room here some weeks ago.”

“Ah, thanks--I’ll step around there,” said Captain Burgoyne, taking the slip of paper which Carsdale handed to him. He rose and glanced at Richard with a smile. “Where shall I find you again, Dick?” he asked.

“I’m coming out with you,” said Richard. “I say, look here--I’m going to fix up a dinner now that you’ve come home, Burgoyne--for the four of us here, eh? What day will suit you?”

“I must look at my diary,” said Burgoyne, with a smile at Carsdale. “I’m pretty busy.”

“Shrewsbury forgets that you’re a public character,” said Carsdale. “He’s not the only man that has a claim on you.”

“Well, he shall monopolize me for an hour, at any rate,” said Burgoyne, laughing. He took Richard’s arm as they went out, and gave it a friendly squeeze. “And what are you doing here, youngster?” he asked. “I never expected to set eyes on you, you know!”

“My father’s dead, and so I came to England, and here I am,” answered Richard. “I’ve got rooms in Berkeley Square, and you must come and see me--come to breakfast to-morrow.”

“Yes, I think I can do that,” replied Burgoyne. “Ah, and so your good father’s dead, Dick. He was a fine man, and a kind host. And of course you’ve come in for all the money, and I hope it’s in safe hands.”

“Safe as--as the Bank of England,” answered Richard shortly. “Carsdale, there, invested it, and my bankers say there couldn’t be better investments.”

“That’s right,” said Burgoyne. “Well, I’m come into a fortune, too--got the news of it at Lima. That’s why I came to seek Leverton. You never knew Leverton?”

“No, he died the very day I came here,” said Richard. “But my father did--they were old schoolfellows.”

“Leverton was a good chap,” remarked Burgoyne. “He was a member of a club to which I belonged till I went off. And he lent me five thousand pounds towards the expenses of my expedition--privately, you know. But I gave him as security a certain diamond necklace which has been in our family for a long time, and is said to have belonged to Maria Louisa, Napoleon’s Empress. And now that I’m a moneyed man, I want to repay that loan and get it back, though a diamond necklace is something of a white elephant to me. However, I suppose one ought not to lose old family possessions. Come with me, Dick, to see this lawyer.”

The clerk who carried Captain Burgoyne’s card to Mr. Winch returned quickly to say that his principal would see Captain Burgoyne at once, and he ushered the callers with great reverence to Mr. Winch’s room. And Richard, closely following the famous explorer, saw an old gentleman standing in a quaint room, and at his side a young lady in deep mourning, and he perceived that both regarded Captain Burgoyne with deep interest.

“My dear sir!” exclaimed Mr. Winch. “My dear sir! I am delighted to see you, and I can guess the object of your visit, which is most fortunately timed. This lady, my dear Captain Burgoyne, is the daughter of our late friend, Mr. Barclay Leverton.”

Richard pricked up his ears. He suddenly remembered with a feeling of deep shame, that he had completely forgotten to send his condolences to the Leverton family, even to send flowers to lay on the coffin of his father’s old friend. He had meant to do both, but in the bustle and hurry of those first days in London, he had forgotten to do either. Even now he was quite in ignorance of what family Barclay Leverton had left, for neither Carsdale nor Mrs. Walsingham ever spoke of the dead man or his belongings. But here, at any rate, was Leverton’s daughter, and he looked at her with interest, and all the more closely because she herself was looking at Burgoyne. And presently he found himself being introduced to her, and he was conscious of becoming very shy--and after that he was relegated to the shades, for the old lawyer and the young lady and the explorer began to talk business.

“My dear sir,” said Mr. Winch, who seemed to be particularly delighted to see Captain Burgoyne, “I may save time by telling you that Miss Leverton and myself are fully aware of the transaction which took place between her father and yourself. I recently heard of your own good fortune, and I don’t suppose that I am wrong when I say that I gather you have called for your historic necklace.”

“Quite right, sir,” answered Burgoyne. “And--incidentally--to pay my debt. I wish I could have paid it to Mr. Leverton,” he added, with a quick glance at Frances, “but--he knew I was greatly obliged to him.”

Frances gave the explorer a grateful look.

“And my father was very anxious that you should have your necklace back again in safety, Captain Burgoyne,” she said. “He took particular pains, only the night before his death, to let me know what he wished done. I should like Captain Burgoyne to see the memoranda,” she continued, turning to Mr. Winch. “They will show him what my father’s intentions were.”

“Of course, of course,” said the solicitor. “Yes, my dear sir, although the time for repayment of my late client’s loan to you is almost expired, your property would have been safe for at least another year. The necklace is deposited at my bank, Captain Burgoyne, and I will send my managing clerk for it at once. In the meantime, here are the memoranda which Miss Leverton speaks of--the notes are in her handwriting in that paper, and in my late client’s in the other. You see what his intentions were?”

Captain Burgoyne saw, and made a graceful acknowledgment to the dead man’s daughter, begging her to accept the thanks which he would have given to her father had he been alive. And then he handed over a cheque to Mr. Winch, and presently the managing clerk came back from the bank with the sealed parcel which Mr. Winch and Frances had deposited there. Burgoyne was for dropping it carelessly into his pocket, but Mr. Winch loudly protested against such an unbusiness-like course--that, he said, would never do; Captain Burgoyne must see that his valuable property was safe and sound. So the parcel was undone, and the diamond necklace brought to light, and Mr. Winch entreated its owner to bestow it in an inner pocket, and to keep a jealous hold on it, lest any of the light-fingered gentry should steal it from him.

“For I have no doubt, my dear sir,” he added, in his mysteriously confidential manner, “I have no doubt that the object which you so lightly handle is worth a good deal more than the amount which you have just paid to me, quite apart from its historical associations, eh?”

“Oh, I believe so,” answered Burgoyne. “I have always been led to understand so, at any rate.”

Then he began to make his adieux, once more thanking Frances on her father’s behalf, and he and Richard prepared to depart. But it turned out that Miss Leverton and Mr. Winch were just then going out, too, and they all went down the stairs together, and, as luck would have it, Richard found himself at the girl’s side. And conquering his shyness with a violent effort, he turned and addressed her.

“I was so sorry to hear of your father’s death,” he said abruptly. “Awfully sorry!”

Frances turned and looked at him in surprise.

“You knew my father?” she said.

“No,” answered Richard. “No. But my father did--they were at school together. And when I came to England I wrote to your father as soon as I landed at Southampton, and I called at his office next morning--it was the very morning he died. And so, of course, I never saw him--and I’m awfully sorry.”

Frances looked at him in still greater surprise.

“You wrote to my father?” she said. “Then--who got the letter?”

“Oh!” said Richard. “Carsdale got the letter. It was, of course, more or less of a business letter, you know--a letter asking your father’s advice about investments and so on. And Carsdale’s been most kind--awfully kind--you know him, of course? He said at once that he’d like to do for me all that your father would have done for his old friend’s son, and so he has--I don’t know what I should have done without Carsdale. Nor without Mrs. Walsingham--I suppose you know her, too? But all the same, I was dreadfully disappointed not to see your father, and--I’m an awfully poor hand at saying anything, Miss Leverton, but mayn’t I call to--to see your mother, you know? Your father and mine were at school together--you must have heard him speak of Martin Shrewsbury?”

He had hurried breathlessly through the last part of the speech, for Mr. Winch was obviously waiting for the girl. And she was showing signs of obvious confusion, not to say perturbation, and there was a sudden flush on her face as she suddenly turned to Richard.

“I--very well--call at 7, Acacia Mansions, Maida Vale,” she said. “Call--this afternoon--at four--if you like. If not, to-morrow--any day.”

“To-day,” said Richard. “To-day!”

Then they parted, and Captain Burgoyne clapped his young friend’s shoulder, and carried him off to lunch at the _Carlton_.