The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 112: what you’re looking at

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ee 98 THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. Pringle who ran away from the neighbourhood of Southdale in Dorsetshire about five-and-twenty years ago ?” ““Who told you this? who told you this?” asked Casey, full of a nervous agitation. ‘‘ That is my secret,” replied Warren. “ Suf- fice it for you to know that I am acquainted with everything that concerns you,—how you forged the name of Squire Ponsford—how you basely deserted his mistress, whom you seduced and brought up to London with you—how you at the same time fell in with a girl who had a little money, and whom you married—how you went out to New South Wales——” “Well, what of all. this?’ demanded Casey ; for by this name we shall continue te call him. “What have my private affairs got to do with you ?” 7 “Oh, nothing,” answered Warren, as if With a careless air,—‘‘ only it might probably make some little difference with regard to you# re- spectability, atid injure that delightful son of your’s, as well as perhaps interfere with your daughter’s prospects, if it were generally known that Mr. Michael Casey of Hatton Garden is identical with a certain Rupert Pringle who ran away from England on accotint of a felony tive- and-twenty years ago.” “T see how it is—and I know what you mean,” said Casey, the expression of whose coutitenance was now fearfully sinister with the pent up rage which was in his breast. ‘ Yot intend to threaten me ifI insist upon having back my money. confess that my character is somewhat in your power; but your credit is likewise in my keeping. Let us nittually remain silent. Give me security for my mioney, and you may then keep it as long as you like.” “‘ | have no security to give,” replied Warren curtly. “Then pay me a patt down, and give me bills for the remainder.” . ‘‘ T have not a shilling to pay down.” Casey tapped his stick upoti the floo# with rage; and then almost gasping for utterante, he said, “‘ Give me bills at short dates for the whole, and get some friend to back them.” _ ‘“‘T have no-friend whom I could ask,” re- joined Warren ; “and I never give bills.” | ‘“‘ Then what the deuce do you propose?” de- manded Casey, now perfectly aghast. ‘“‘ 1 propose that you should give me a receipt in full for the money which I owe you; and in return I will forget that Mr. Casey bears likewise the name of Pringle.” There was some more hesitation on the usurer’s part; but he was ultimately compelled to give in, —Warren the whole time maintaining a tone and air of calm determination. It was almost like parting with life itself when Casey sat down to pen the receipt; and as he hobbled on his infirm limbs out of the office, he muttered bitter maledic- tions between his teeth. ‘‘ Three !” mentally exclaimed Warren, as he ‘added the receipt to his file. ; It was close upon five o’clock; and the stock- broker was on the point of leaving his office, his elegant phaeton and pair having arrived to con- vey him home to Highbury,—when a short, thin, bustling individual, about forty years of age, came rushing in. His clothes were good, but his toilet generally indicated an indifference amount- ing almost to neglect. His pockets were stuffed with papers—letters, prospectuses, &c.: he carried Bradshaw’s “ Railway Guide” about his person, so as ever to have it ready at hand for instan- taneous reference ; and a memorandum-book stuck out of one of his waistcoat pockets. He carried his gloves in his hand; and he had a habit of referring to his watch every two or three | minutes. He was ever on the alert, and thought nothing of suddenly taking his seat in a train to - go a journey of some hundreds of miles at only a few moments’ notice. He was a great railway contractor: he lived well, kept his horses and his yacht—his town-house and his country-seat,— though he himself benefited but very little by all these costly sources of enjoyment, for he was generally immersed in business from morning till hight. “Ah, Seymour—is it you?” said the stock- broker, with an easy air of familiarity. “ Just eome in time to run home with me in the phaeton and dine at Highbury.” __ ‘Dine indeed, my dear fellow! Devil a bit of dinner shall I get to-day—unless it be a hurried chop somewhere at about nine o’clock——” “So full of business—eh? I got your note last night———” “T have beén to Edinburgh since I wrote it yesterday at three o’clock. Only came back an hour ago:” aiid Mr. Seymour kept on looking at his watch as he thus spoke: “Well, biit how long did you have to stay in Edinburgh ?” “Three houiS exactly. That was enough for my purpose. I ami off to Bristol to-morrow morning by the nin¢ o’clock train. I am utterly over head and eats in bisiness! And now I am wasting my time by chatting here——” ‘‘Do come home with me and snatch a bit of dinner.” “' Couldn’t for the world!” cried Seymour, again looking at his watch. ! “THe phaeton shall stand at the door to bring . you back when you like 7 “ It can’t be done! I ought now to be at six different places at the same time:”—and again was the watch referred to. “ But you will kill yourself at this rate !” “Not I, my dear fellow! By the bye, I shall snatch a couple of hours next Monday just to drop in at the yacht-dinner. Of course you will go? And now I’ll tell you what I came about. Write me a check for three thousand; and bear in mind that 1 shall want twelve the day after to-morrow on my return from Bristol. I think fifteen thousand will just balance our account for that last batch of shares I placed in your hands.” ‘The sum is exactly fifteen thousand,” said Warren, referring to a book that lay upon his esk. “I thought so. Come, write me the cheque— and cross it through Glyn’s.” ‘It can’t be done, my dear fellow.” “That's good!” ejaculated Seymour, with a laugh. “Because I can’t dine with you, you won't write me the cheque. But joking apart, Warren—do make haste, my dear fellow—I’m really in a deuce of a hurry:” and he again looked at his watch. ‘Don’t .be startled, Seymour—I have got oO Connicloooks Colin