Dynamiter — The Squire of Dames - Concluded (Part 1 of 8)

WHAT with the lady's animated manner and dramatic conduct of her voice, Challoner had thrilled to every incident with genuine emotion. His fancy, which was not perhaps of a very lively character, applauded both the matter and the style; but the more judicial functions of his mind refused assent. It was an excellent story; and it might be true, but he believed it was not. Miss Fonblanque was a lady, and it was doubtless possible for a lady to wander from the truth; but how was a gentleman to tell her so? His spirits for some time had been sinking, but they now fell to zero; and long after her voice had died away he still sat with a troubled and averted countenance, and could find no form of words to thank her for her narrative. His mind, indeed, was empty of everything beyond a dull longing for escape. From this pause, which grew the more embarrassing with every second, he was roused by the sudden laughter of the lady. His vanity was alarmed; he turned and faced her; their eyes met; and he caught from hers a spark of such frank merriment as put him instantly at ease.

`You certainly,' he said, `appear to bear your calamities with excellent spirit.'

`Do I not?' she cried, and fell once more into delicious laughter. But from this access she more speedily recovered. `This is all very well,' said she, nodding at him gravely, `but I am still in a most distressing situation, from which, if you deny me your help, I shall find it difficult indeed to free myself.'

At this mention of help Challoner fell back to his original gloom.

`My sympathies are much engaged with you,' he said, `and I should be delighted, I am sure. But our position is most unusual; and circumstances over which I have, I can assure you, no control, deprive me of the power - the pleasure - Unless, indeed,' he added, somewhat brightening at the thought, `I were to recommend you to the care of the police?'

She laid her hand upon his arm and looked hard into his eyes; and he saw with wonder that, for the first time since the moment of their meeting, every trace of colour had faded from her cheek.

`Do so,' she said, `and - weigh my words well - you kill me as certainly as with a knife.'

`God bless me!' exclaimed Challoner.

`Oh,' she cried, `I can see you disbelieve my story and make light of the perils that surround me; but who are you to judge? My family share my apprehensions; they help me in secret; and you saw yourself by what an emissary, and in what a place, they have chosen to supply me with the funds for my escape. I admit that you are brave and clever and have impressed me most favourably; but how are you to prefer your opinion before that of my uncle, an ex-minister of state, a man with the ear of the Queen, and of a long political experience? If I am mad, is he? And you must allow me, besides, a special claim upon your help. Strange as you may think my story, you know that much of it is true; and if you who heard the explosion and saw the Mormon at Victoria, refuse to credit and assist me, to whom am I to turn?'

`He gave you money then?' asked Challoner, who had been dwelling singly on that fact.

`I begin to interest you,' she cried. `But, frankly, you are condemned to help me. If the service I had to ask of you were serious, were suspicious, were even unusual, I should say no more. But what is it? To take a pleasure trip (for which, if you will suffer me, I propose to pay) and to carry from one lady to another a sum of money! What can be more simple?'

`Is the sum,' asked Challoner, `considerable?'

She produced a packet from her bosom; and observing that she had not yet found time to make the count, tore open the cover and spread upon her knees a considerable number of Bank of England notes. It took some time to make the reckoning, for the notes were of every degree of value; but at last, and counting a few loose sovereigns, she made out the sum to be a little under 710 pounds sterling. The sight of so much money worked an immediate revolution in the mind of Challoner.