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Penny Dreadfuls, 1850 · page 200 of 400

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THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. mingled contempt and disgust for the reckless dissipated flippancy of the Viscount, “if I enter upon certain recapitulati id “Do whatever you like, my dear Sir Frederick,” exclaimed Rushbrook, who was now perfectly at his ease in respect to the loan he had asked for, inasmuch as he knew full well that his brother-in- law would faithfully fulfil any promise he had made. “’Pon my soul, thie wine's capital !—— But I beg your pardon-—I was interrupting you! Now then, I’m all attention——By the bye, hadn’t we better have another bottle before we go deeper into serious discourse P” “Listen to me, my lord,” said the merchant, somewhat severely, and without heeding the hint relative to the fresh bottle. “It was not I who first sought the acquaintance of the Earl of Ford- wich,—nor that of his son the Viscount Rush- brook: but i¢ was a circumstance of a peculiar oharacter—or what other term shall I use P— wich made me acquainted with your lordship’s ily.” “But my dear Sir Frederick,” exclaimed the Viseount, now wincing visibly at the merchant's words, which seemed fraught with an allusion that was only too intelligible, “you surely are not going to recapitulate——” “Yes, my lord,” said the merchant coldly, “I am going to recapitulate. You ask me a favour— and I will confer it in my own fashion, or else not at all:”—then drawing forth a pocket-book, Sir Frederick displayed several blank cheques; and he added, “One of these will I presently fill up for the amount you desire, provided you listen to all that I have to say. But remember | I do not force you; and if you decline to hear me, I replace my cheques in my pocket-book, and there is an end of the matter.” ‘But my dear Sir Frederick,” stammered and faltered the Viscount, “there is something very strange about you this evening. What does it all mean? I scarcely think it is quite gene- Fous-——=" “Oh! if you take it in that light, my lord,” in- terrupted the merchant, “I can only answer that perhaps it will not be quite prudent for me to comply with your request.” Thus ing, Sir Frederick Latham made a movement as if to shut up his pocket-book,—when the Viscount, who had the most desperate need of smoney, and would rather hear anything, however unpalatable, than abandon the chance of obtain- ing it,—hastened to exclaim, “Well, well, Sir Frederick, be it as you will. Proceed! I listen.” “It was between two and three years ago,” said the merchant, still with that calm, business-like air which the young nobleman felt to be so pro- woking, “that a bill for two thousand pounds, purporting to be the acceptance of the Marquis of Swaleclife—a nobleman well known upon the Turf—and drawn by Viscount Rushbrook, came in the course of business into the hands of the Firm to which I belong. This bill wae a forgery: the Marquis’s acceptance was a forged name—and Viseount Rushbrook was the forger !” “Sir Frederick!’ moaned Anastatia’s brother piteously. “What if any one were listening P” “No one listens improperly, my lord, in my house,” replied the merchant. “Am I to go on P” 189 “ Yes—if you will—I am at your mercy-— | bué this is indeed cruel !” “It is a fashion which I have of bestowing the favour which is asked of me,” rejoined Sir Frede- rick: and there was something coldly implacable — in histone. “Well, the bill came due: it was a forgery, as I have said: the Marquis of Swalecliffe disavowed it; and you, Lord Rushbrook, were stated to be upon the Continent. At all events, you were not to be found. Your father came to me in an agony of grief: I took pity on him: he himself could not pay the bill for you—a terrible exposure seemed to be staring you in the face. As for the Marquis,—he was inexorable: he vowed that justice should take ite course—and that even though I, the holder of the bill, might arrange the matter with father, he would expose you at all the Clubs—he would brand you as a villain. Then all of a sudden a change came over the Mar- quis. What influence was brought to bear upon him I know not: but doubtless the intercessions of your father and mother, privately made, pre- vailed. His lordship agreed that the matter should be hushed up; and I on my part agreed to ex- change the forged bill against a note of hand which your father the Karl of Fordwich gave me. I need not add that it was the same as presenting you or your family with two thousand pounde; for until this day that note of hand remains un- LP | * Not one syllable of all this have I ever de- nied,” said the wretched Viscount; “nor do I deny it now. But wherefore, Sir Frederick——” “Stop! you have promised to hear me,” inter- rupted the implacable merchant: and he added with a cold sneer, “When our discourse is at an end, and I have filled up the cheque which you require, wo will drink another bottle of wine of this very sort which you seem to like so well.” The Viscount’s features brightened up in the faintest degree as he saw that the conversation on this topic must soon draw to an end, and that he would obtain the subsidy of which he stood so much in need. “The circumstance to which I have referred,” continued Sir Frederick Latham, “placed me on a footing of intimacy with your family. I became the husband of your sister; and at the same time I had the supreme honour”—here again he spoke with a cold sneer—* of advancing a few thousands for the benefit of your father. Nor was this all. Shortly after my marriage, you, my lord, became involved in fresh difficulties: you were outlawed for your debts: and every sheriff's officer in Lon- don was in search of you. Nay, more—there was one of your creditors,—a solicitor, who was also a money-lender,—that threatened you with an indictment for having obtained from him a loan under the faleest pretences; and again were you obliged to flee to the Continent—or at all events to hide yourself in some secure retreat. And who came forward to succour you? who settled your liabilities P who procured the reversal of the ont- lawries ? who arranged that ugly matter with the usurious solicitor? In a word, who again saved you ruin———nay, from worse than ruin— from utter d tion and dishonour? It was I, Frederick Latham, the City merchant.” ‘And did I not express my most grateful thanks P” asked the Viscount: “did I not, alike (COLL G OOO SS} (CO