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The Fall Of Lord Barrymore
by
Sir Charles raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Is this blackmail?” he inquired.
Vereker Tregellis flushed.
“Sir,” said he, with a pleasing sternness, “you surprise me. You should know the blood of which I come too well to suppose that I would attempt such a thing.”
“I am relieved to hear that there are limits to what you consider to be justifiable. I must confess that I had seen none in your conduct up to now. But you say that you can do me a service which will be worth a thousand pounds to me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And pray, sir, what may this service be?”
“To make Lord Barrymore the laughing-stock of the town.”
Sir Charles, in spite of himself, lost for an instant the absolute serenity of his self-control. He started, and his face expressed his surprise. By what devilish instinct did this raw undergraduate find the one chink in his armour? Deep in his heart, unacknowledged to any one, there was the will to pay many a thousand pounds to the man who would bring ridicule upon this his most dangerous rival, who was challenging his supremacy in fashionable London.
“Did you come from Oxford with this precious project?” he asked, after a pause.
“No, sir. I chanced to see the man himself last night, and I conceived an ill-will to him, and would do him a mischief.”
“Where did you see him?”
“I spent the evening, sir, at the Vauxhall Gardens.”
“No doubt you would,” interpolated his uncle.
“My Lord Barrymore was there. He was attended by one who was dressed as a clergyman, but who was, as I am told, none other than Hooper the Tinman, who acts as his bully and thrashes all who may offend him. Together they passed down the central path, insulting the women and browbeating the men. They actually hustled me. I was offended, sir–so much so that I nearly took the matter in hand then and there.”
“It is as well that you did not. The prizefighter would have beaten you.”
“Perhaps so, sir–and also, perhaps not.”
“Ah, you add pugilism to your elegant accomplishments?”
The young man laughed pleasantly.
“William Ball is the only professor of my Alma Mater who has ever had occasion to compliment me, sir. He is better known as the Oxford Pet. I think, with all modesty, that I could hold him for a dozen rounds. But last night I suffered the annoyance without protest, for since it is said that the same scene is enacted every evening, there is always time to act.”
“And how would you act, may I ask?”
“That, sir, I should prefer to keep to myself; but my aim, as I say, would be to make Lord Barrymore a laughing-stock to all London.”
Sir Charles cogitated for a moment.
“Pray, sir,” said he, “why did you imagine that any humiliation to Lord Barrymore would be pleasing to me?”
“Even in the provinces we know something of what passes in polite circles. Your antagonism to this man is to be found in every column of fashionable gossip. The town is divided between you. It is impossible that any public slight upon him should be unpleasing to you.”
Sir Charles smiled.
“You are a shrewd reasoner,” said he. “We will suppose for the instant that you are right. Can you give me no hint what means you would adopt to attain this very desirable end?”
“I would merely make the remark, sir, that many women have been wronged by this fellow. That is a matter of common knowledge. If one of these damsels were to upbraid him in public in such a fashion that the sympathy of the bystanders should be with her, then I can imagine, if she were sufficiently persistent, that his lordship’s position might become an unenviable one.”
“And you know such a woman?”
“I think, sir, that I do.”
“Well, my good Vereker, if any such attempt is in your mind, I see no reason why I should stand between Lord Barrymore and the angry fair. As to whether the result is worth a thousand pounds, I can make no promise.”