ABOUT the same time, as the Duke of Bosworth was dressing for dinner in his rooms at The Waldorf, he received the following note:—
“DUKY, DUKY, DADDLEDUMS!—I have great news for you. Rush your engagements, and come here between twelve and one to-night.
F. C.”
As the young Englishman entered Cuyler’s rooms a little after midnight, he received such warmth of greeting from a powerful hand concealed behind the portière that his backbone doubled.
“For God’s sake, Fletcher,” he said crossly, “remember that I am not a Hercules. What do you want of me?”
“Sit down. Sit down. I’ll put you in a good humour if I have to break a bank. I’ve pledged it to my peace of mind. Well, first—Creighton has practically gone to smash.”
“I know it. He told me so this afternoon. Poor man, I felt sorry for him; and I think he did for me, although his respect may have been something less than his pity. I know I felt uncommonly cheap, and if he had kicked me out I doubt if I should have resented it. He said that what with his daughter’s fortune and some land investments, he might scrape together a hundred thousand pounds. I told him it wouldn’t pay my debts. Then I had an interview with her. Don’t ask me to repeat it. Good God, what have we come to? Drop the subject.”
“I haven’t begun yet. My conscience wouldn’t rest, however, unless I paused to remark that I am deuced sorry for the Creightons. They are the best sort, and I hate to see them go under. Well, to proceed. You can have Miss Forbes.”
The nobleman’s dull eyes opened. “What do you mean?”
“I had an interview of a purely diplomatic nature with la belle mère after I left you. She is willing. Miss Forbes is willing. Nay, willing is not the word. I named your price—the modest sum of $5,000,000. She said you should have it.”
“But Mr. Forbes despises me. By Heaven, I have more respect for that man than for anybody I have met in America. Every time I meet those steel eyes of his I seem to read: ‘You poor, miserable, little wretch of a fortune-hunter! Go home and blow out your brains, but don’t disgrace your name by bartering it for our screaming eagles.’ He’ll never consent.”
“My boy, you need a B. and S. Do brace up.” Fletcher wagged his head pathetically. “You’ll have me crying in a minute. I’ve been on the verge of tears for the last three weeks. Now let me tell you that you are all right. There may be a tussle, but Forbes is bound to cave in the end. He is infatuated with his wife and she knows her power. She is as set on this match as you could be. She’s had the bee in her bonnet for a good many years, to cut as great a dash in London as she does in New York. Of course she’s in it in a way when she’s over there for a month or two during the season, but she wants a long sight more than that. Her ancestry does her no good because the English trunk of the family died out two hundred years ago. As your mother-in-law she’d be out of sight. A woman with her beauty and brain and style and charm could bring any society in the world to her feet, and keep it there once she had those feet planted beyond the door-mat. Now she is patronised pleasantly as one of many pretty American women who flit back and forth. You’ve got a powerful ally, and one that’s bound to win. Now pull up that long face or I’ll hold you under the cold water spout!”
“I believe you have put new life into me,” said his Grace, the Duke of Bosworth.