DIPLOMACY—AND MRS DENE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2752, 5 March 1910, Page 2 (Supplement)

DIPLOMACY—AND MRS DENE.

(By C. Malcolm Hincks.)

Mr Colville Dene sat in tlie firstclass diner of the Midland express, sipping his coffee and smoking a cigar. A.n evening paper was in front of liim, but lie was not reading it, his gaze was fixed absently on the dark, bleak country through which the train was rushing, and his long thin fingers drummed restlessly upon the small table. “If i only knew!” he muttered—which was vague, then ‘‘Hang Ranjornians,” wlhieli twas expressive, but somewhat foolish considering that to all intents and purposes, Mr Colville Dene was Ramfornia. No one took Dene to be a financier, because he had neither a Hebrew name nor a Hebrew face; be was a tall, sparely-built man, with a lined, hard face, yet possessing the dreamy eyes of the scholar and thinker. He was looked upon as a mystery in the City; lie made money but no one knew 'how. He was reputed to have been the principal actor in sever a l great coups l , 'but he never talked- of his business -transactions. and always left tike City as often as he could to spend a few days at the large place he kept up in -a pretty little Midland village. He was hound for home now, and as he stared out of the window .lie wondered if this would be his last journey there. It all depended upon the British Government and Richard Marsham Phentoil, British Consul attached tothe capital of Ranfornia. Some months ago a certain gentleman had met Mr Colville Dene oy appointment and he had l left the financier with a cheque for one thousand riouiid> in his pocket, and the financier Pad bought land in Ranlornia, bought all that was to be had, and would have bought more. The political change foreshadowed by the gentleman who had earned a thousand pounds, ro quickly had come to pass, and concessions by the British Government were expectthose concessions would double Mr Colville Deue’s capital. But unfortunately a week after the political change in Ranfornia, a minister who was frankly Imperial and who fifceadfastly believed in everything for the Englishman, had died suddenly, and a gentleman with directly opposite views had succeeded him, and the concessions wore doubtful. Meetings were now being held at the Foreign Office, and a member of these meetings was Mr Phentoil, the British Consul •of the country affected. In the City it was an open question, some thought, that the permanent officials would be .strong enough to carry the projected scheme, others that the minister, tearing the wrath of a section of his party who regarded him as a leader, would sacrifice his country’s interest on behalf of the benighted natives of Ranfornia. And Colville stood to make or lose everything according to what the decision was. The train began to slow down, and he irritably collected his belongings and paid his bill. It- was as he was walking to the door as the train drew alongside the platform that he had the great inspiration. He alighted at the junction and crossed the platform to where, the local train stood. Having seen his luggage deposited on the seats, he thrust his hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat and paced quickly up and down, until the guard approached and announced that the train was due to start.

He slipped' balf-a-crown into the official's hand, entered the carriage, pulled his rag round him, and lay ba.ck on the cushions thinking. Phentoil was not to be bribed—if ho had been so accommodating, Mr Colville Dene would have saved many •anxious 'hours. But Phentoil was fond of a pretty face; it had been said chat n woman could 'worm anything cut of him if she were pretty enough and tactful enough. It was the remembrance of this remark made at- his club some time ago that gave the financier hope. His face was flushed and his manner almost genial as he entered- the broug- , ham which, was waiting for him outside the little station. The iong drive in the winter usually made him irritable, but to-night he entered the hail with quick steps and actually kissed his wife, despite the fact that a io-oc-rnan, a butler, and a lady novelist weio within a few feet cf him. Mrs Dene was somewhat staggered, and welcomed him in the cold, dignified manner that she had adopted since their marriage, and turned to go into the drawing-room. “Mary,” said Dene quietly, ‘‘make ray excuses, I’m tired; will you grant me the favor of. an interview' jji the. library when our guests have retired?” “\'e—yes, if you wish it particularly,” said his wife, with a-, slight elevation of her eyebrows. “I do wish it,” said Derie .shortly, “it is in regard to‘a most impdrtaht ' •matter.” • 1- • > •••••.• .- • • • : Mrs Colville Dene slightly inclined her head and passed along the hall, while her husband sought the solitude -of the library, which by his strict- orders was never open to guests during their stay in their house. It was nearly midnight when his wife entered the room and found him staring into the dying embers of the (ire, an un lighted cigar between his teeth. He turned round with a start, rose to his feet, and murmured an apology. “I want you to ask a man down here for the week end,” he said, standing with his bach to the fireplace and staring down at her as she sat in the large leather chair by his desk. “We met Phentoil, Dick Phentoil you know, at some place a- few -months ago, he’s in England now, and I want him to come here.” “Very wolj, I’ll ask him down,” said his wile rising, “where is he?” “Claridige’s,” said Dene, and then, after a short pause, “you may remember lie is the British Consul in Ranfornia.” Mrs Dene stopped at the door. “I remember, he was on leave when we met him.” “I am .greatly interested in the proposed Ranfomian concession,” added Dene, “the knowledge of what is going to be done twelve hours even .before it is .made public means everything to me.”

“I thought there must be so.me» motive for such unwonted hospitality.” Dene winced. “To put it plainly,” ihe went on somewhat harshly, “it comes to this, if you cannot find out what is going to be done dn this affair, I’m ruined.” .“Sort am to do the dirty "work,” she said latterly, “to worm the secret from this trusted official; really, Colville, I have always given you credit for at least being a gentleman.; in a measure I was proud of your position, it was so incon.grnous>—a gentleman, making money in the City.” “You’re talking nonsense, Mary, all’s fair in love, war—and finance. It is purely a question of diplomacy, dlever .men have failed to draw r Pheaitoil hilt a clever woman may.”

“I don’t know,” said Mrs Dene, wearily; “I —Oh, ask this man dowm, I’ll play the—diplomat!” Without another word she swept from the room, and Dene flung himself into a- chair, and, with a sigh, produced Ms phne. His (marriage had not been a success, it was doomed to failure almost from the start; he had not married, until he had made money from his speculations, and he was more bedded to the City than to his wife. . “I was a fool,” h e mutered' impatiently, striking a match, and his pnilosophy 'was tliivt foo'l must ipay for liis folly. ,i-i Only two years ago he had married the pretty twenty-two-year-old daughter of a Society woman who, rejoicing in the (good things of this world, saw much advantage to kereslf as well as to her daughter iu the match. Dene liad hoped to secure a bright and cheerful partner, but Mrs Colville Done, loft very much to herself, either m the Kensington flat or the great lonely house in the Midlands, had* moped. Done, too .much wrapped up in his business, had failed to act at the proper time and — They drifted, and to drift is dangerous. 1 ■ . . The house party hailed the arrival of Richard Marsham Phentoil with delight, for 'the young diplomat infused life and laughter into the place, and saved many from boredom. Phentoil had jumped at the invitation, he had been away from England so long that lie had dropped out of the monotonous life of rooms and offices, music-halls, and late suppers, and a few days’ hunting in a rural district had appealed Besides, he remembered that Mrs Colville Dene was very .pretty, and a pretty woman was always pleasant to have near one. Alter lunch on the fourth day, Plientoil, dressed with more than his usual care and a slight flush on dark, clean-shaven face, drove Mrs Colville Dene into the little market town where she had some business to attend to. And a certain well-meaning Captain of Hussars meeting Dene in the grounds,-buttonholed him, coughed, adjusted his eyegiass, and blurted out: “Don't want to make mischief, any dear chap, and all that, you -know, but Phentoil is a bit of a devil with women, you Know. When 1 was at Malta there was a little —”

"l'mmK you,” said Deno icily; “by the way, it’s' the ten o’clock train yon are catching to-morrow, isn't it?” He passed on, leaving the captain staring after him, using language which is usually credited to rugged officers of the Senior service.

The Consul and his hostess arrived back in time for tea. Phentoil never put in an appearance at this meal, and as he was selecting a stick from the stand preparatory to going for his usual stroll before dinner, Mrs Dene came downstairs cn her way to the drawing-room. The hall was deserted —he stepped quickly up to her. “Will y’ou slip into the conservatory after dinner?” he asked in a pleading voice, “there is something I want to say to you.” “Can’t you say it here?” cried the girl, with a little nervous laugh. “No,” said Phentoil promptly. “A .good hostess .strives to please her guests,” said Mrs Colville Dene, endeavoring to speak carelessly: “if your communication is so very important, and you are so fond of the conservatory, Mr Phentoil, 1 will -see you there after dinner.” “Thanks awfully,” said Phentoil. The woman, with a somewhat heightened color, passed along the hall, the man, with a peculiar smile on his lips, lit a cigarette, and whistling- to a sleepy collie who was sprawling in the porch, went out for his walk. As Mrs Colville Dene passed through the hall to dinner that night she spoke to the people round her and then laughed idiotically, not having the faintest idea of what she said. To twomen she neither spoke nor glanced at, yet her whole mind was thinking of those -men, her husband and the man called Phentoil.

Phentoil was quiet too, his dark eyes moved restlessly round the table, and every now and then he nervously stroked his carefully brushed black hair. Dene, on the other hand, was unusually talkative and cheerful, from his end of the table laughter and conversation floated up to the almost silent end where sat the white-faced .girl with the unnaturally bright eyes. The period of waiting in the draw-ing-room was worse than torture; then the men entered. Phentoil, after a moment's conversation with a sere relooking dowager, strolled carelessly into the conservatory. Five minutes later he was joined by his hostess. He had selected the part behind the palms, well away front the doors communicating with the palm trees. “Well ” asked Mrs Colville Dene. It sounded absurd, but Mrs- Dene was unused to such situations, her brain was feeling, and her breath coming in Tittle (panting’ gasps. Now Richard Marsham Phentoil was a clever .man as the ordinary run of men go, lie was also a conceited man, for he thought lie understood women. If Mrs Dene had flung herself sobbing into liis arms, he would have played the tender lover, but Mrs Dene asking with apparent- coolness, for the conservatory was dimly lighted, and lie could not see her agitation, what he intended to- do, it struck him that she ivaj a very different type from what he had first thought her to he, so he adopted a very different manner. Pie spoke the naked truth. “Look here,” he said quickly, “we’ve been at cross purposes; X suppose Dene has been working things his own way and worked’them badly. He wants to know what we are going to do about Ranfornia-. Give you something out of it, and then it doesn’t matter what happens, eh, Mary?” He took a- step forward, his dark faco flushed; the girl stepped back, her face ashen. “You cad!” she cried hysterically; “you contemptible cad!” Richard Marsham Phentoil found himself standing alone, a fierce anger at his heart, and a sense of having been robbed. Mary had said that Phentoil was a jolly sort of chap, but not quite a gentleman; if he had been a gentleman, he could mot have spoken the truth. The Consul was thinking something in this strain when someone tapped him on the shoulder. “I want a wc-rd with you, please, in my study.” Phentoil, turning quickly, found himself confronting his host, whose face was paler than usual, and the dreamy eyes were almost red with. rage. "Mrs Colville Dene was in her room bathing her eyes with eau de Cologne and declaring"that all men were vile. She forgot that, approached differently, she wmnld have forsaken one vile man for another, forgot everything save that the world was very cruel. There was a tap at the door, she sat up and laid the saturated handkerchief on her lap. “Come in,” she said, family, and her husband entered. / '

' “You,” she said duly wondering what the strange look on his face meant; suddenly the reason occurred to her, she had not obtained the information he required, -and he might be ruined. “I’m sorry I could not got what you wanted,” she said nervously, “I am afraid I am no good at —at diplomacy.” Dene eyed her awkwardly. “It doesn’t matter in the slightest,” he said. “I cleared out a few thousand Ranfornians on the strength of a rumor, and whatever they do in regard to the concessions won’t break me. I’ve just seen Phentoil.” Her face first flushed, then paled, she played nervously with the handkerchief.

“He is leaving to-night,” went on. Dene. “I came into the conservatory from the garden, lie didn’t hear one. I happened to hear the —the crisis of the diplomatic relations; when you went I told him he was a cad, he did not deny it, but —-well, the thing is at an end. I’m sorry 1 asked you to do what I did. 1 had no idea that it would—but then it’s only another mistake added to my already’ long list,” lie concluded bitterly. His face was drawn and his eyes full of misery, as he crossed to the mantelpiece and, resting his head on his hand, stared down into the fire. A sudden flood of pitv rushed to the girl’s heart; she saw that tragedy hovered over them, that they had drifted so far apart, that her life was miserable, so was his. and that she had been on the verge of moral and social ruin. Suppose they—- “ Are mistakes always irreparable?” she asked softly. 'Phe man stood up with a jerk, and his eyes sought hers. “It depends upon the person against whom the mistakes are made.”

“But supposing there were mistakes on both sides,” cried Airs Dene. B:ie was on her feet now, fighting for the love that would be life; for the first time she realised that this gravefaced, middle-aged man had always at least treated her kindly and genuinely, was more to her than she had thought.

“Can’t we start again. Colville? Take me away from here for a little while, anywhere you like, but let us —” There was a tap at the door. “What is it?” shouted Dene. “The butler would be obliged, sir, if—”

“Tell the butler to go to the devil!” cried Dene.

The under footman stood gauping outside the door; before he had recovered from his astonishment, he could have sworn -lie heard a kiss. Phentoil drove down to catch the late night train, coolly explaining he had to be in town at nine in the morning relative to the Ranfornian affair. Certain guests smiled, and waited axiously for Airs Dene’s appearance in the morning, quite crediting that she was suffering from a. headache; but in the morning they had a shock. Airs Dene was looking better than she had ever locked in her married life, and Dene was a changed man. But if Phentoil had not been an even worse diplomat in affairs of the heart than Airs Dene was in business— Richard Alarsham Phentoil sometimes swear when the Ranfornian Concession i- mentioned.