PAGE 5
The Right Man
by
“What about it?” said Kenyon.
He was on his feet, searching the mantelpiece for an ash-tray. His face was turned from Jerry, but could he have seen it fully, it would have told him nothing.
Jerry went on, with a strong effort to maintain his ease of manner:
“We’ve been thinking it over, and we have come to the conclusion that perhaps, after all, it was a mistake. In short, my sister has thought better of it; and, as she is naturally sensitive on the subject, I undertook to tell you so, I don’t suppose it will make any particular difference to you. There are plenty of girls who would jump at the chance of marrying your millions. But, of course, if you wish it, some compensation could be made.”
Jerry paused again. He had placed the matter on the most businesslike footing that had occurred to him. Of course, the man must realise that he was a rank outsider, and would understand that it was the best method.
Kenyon heard him out in dead silence. He had found the ash-tray, but he did not turn his head. After several dumb seconds, he walked across the room to the window, and stood there. Finally he spoke.
“I don’t suppose,” he said, in his calm, expressionless drawl, “that you have ever had a cowhiding in your life, have you?”
“What?” said Jerry.
He stared at Kenyon in frank amazement. Was the man mad?
“Never had a cowhiding in your life, eh?” repeated Kenyon, without moving.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Jerry.
Kenyon remained motionless.
“I mean,” he said calmly, “that I’ve thrashed a man to a pulp before now for a good deal less than you have just offered me. It’s my special treatment for curs. Suits ’em wonderfully. And suits me, too.”
Jerry sprang to his feet in a whirl of wrath, but before he could utter a word Kenyon suddenly turned.
“Go back to your sister,” he said, in curt, stern tones, “and tell her from me that I will discuss this matter with her alone. If she intends to throw me over, she must come to me herself and tell me so. Go now!”
But Jerry stood halting between an open blaze of passion and equally open discomfiture. He longed to hurl defiance in Kenyon’s face, but some hidden force restrained him. There was that about the man at that moment which compelled submission. And so, at length, he turned without another word, and walked straight from the room with as fine a dignity as he could muster. By some remarkable means, Dick Kenyon had managed to get the best of the encounter.
V
Not the next day, nor the next, did Violet Trelevan summon up courage to face her outraged lover, and ask for her freedom. Jerry did not tell her precisely what had passed, but she gathered from the information he vouchsafed that Kenyon had not treated the matter peaceably. She wondered a little how Jerry had approached it, and told herself with a beating heart that she would have to take her own line of action.
Nevertheless, for a full week she did nothing, and at the end of that week the flutter in the Winhalla Railway shares had subsided completely, and all Jerry’s high hopes were dead. From day to day he had tried to console himself and her with the reflection that a speculation of that sort was bound to fluctuate, but, in the end, when the shares went down to zero, he was forced to own that he had been too sanguine. It had been but the last flicker before extinction. The capitalist had evidently thought better of risking his money on such a venture.
“And I was a gaping, weak-kneed idiot not to sell for what I could get!” he told his sister. “But it’s just our luck. I might have known nothing decent could ever happen to us!”
It was on that evening, when the outlook was at its blackest, that Violet wrote at last, without consulting Jerry, to the man in whose hands lay her freedom.