Of the Deepest Dye. A novel

Front matter

NEW NOVELS AT ALL THE LIBRARIES. AFTER LONG WAITING. By JESSIE L. NICHOLSON, Author of ' 'Twixt Will and Will Not' 2 vols. A LEDDY IN HER AIN RICHT. By Mrs. TOM KELLY, Author of ' Time and Chance." With Frontispiece 1 vol. sis. SIN FOR A SEASON. By VERE CLAVEKING, Author of 'Barcaldine,' &c. 1 vol. 6s WHERE TWO TIDES MEET. By HENRY F. BTJLLER, Author of 'KingBmead,' ' A Bachelor's Family,' &c. 2 vols. THE ONE ALTERNATIVE. By REGINALD E. SALWEY, Author of 'The Finger of Scorn,' 'Ventured in Vain,' &c. 2 vols. LONDON: HURST & BLACKETT, LIMITED. A NOVEL by COLONEL CUTHBERT LARKING AUTHOR OF 'WITH EVERYTHING AGAINST HER,' ' BANDOBAST AND KHABAR,' etc., etc. IN ONE VOLUME. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, 18. GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1897. AU rights reserved.

Chapter I

The darkest day, Live but to-morrow, will have passed away. Cowper. Sir James Fraser was a yoimg man possessed of good looks and fair abilities, who began life with an estate in the north of Scotland, yield ing him an income which, though not excessive, was yet sufficient to maintain him in all the ordinary luxuries of his position. Having been left an orphan at a very early age, he lived with his father's only brother, a retired officer of the Indian army, who, on assuming the guardianship, had, as directed by Sir Alexander Eraser's will, taken up his residence at the family place, Darrochmore. James Fraser was B educated at Eton, and in due course went on to Sandhurst, and at the age of twenty was gazetted to a light cavalry regiment. His uncle lived for three years after this event, and James, who had a great affection for the old man, insisted on his euding his days at Darrochmore, and treating the place as his own.

Old Major Fraser was faithful to his trust, so that at his death his nephew found himself in possession of an unencumbered estate, contented tenants, and an income of some thousands a year. Alas ! for fair prospects and good intentions. James had both, but some seven years after his uncle's death Captain Sir James Fraser had left the army and was a ruined man. The tale is told in a few words : horses, cards, and the fair sex. He was not of a vicious disposition, far from it. Very often the most vicious are the most calculating as regards their own interests ; they may ruin and cause misery to others whilst they steer clear of the wreck ; but with men of James Fraser's disposition the consequences fall on themselves. He never thought twice either about indulg ing a whim however costly, or in helping a needy acquaintance, however unworthy of help that person might be, the gratification he de rived himself from doing a kind action afford ing him intense pleasure.

Such habits, when thoroughly indulged, lead but to one end, and that end, with James Fraser, was not long coming. This story opens on an evening in the month of May in Sir James Fraser's chambers in Pic cadilly. Sitting at his open bureau, which was littered with papers, he was leaning forward with his head resting on his left hand, whilst with the right he stroked his moustache and gazed listlessly at the mass of documents before him. In his mouth was a half-smoked cigar, and at his side a brandy-and-soda. His hair was dishevelled, and every now and then he muttered a suppressed oath as he came back to the reality of the situation, and his eyes lighted upon the numerous writs. One letter in particular seemed to affect him more than the rest, and this was from a firm of brokers with whom he had had various deal ings, warning him that unless the difference on his many carrying-over accounts was paid be fore the next fortnightly settlement on the Stock Exchange, proceedings would be taken against him for recovery.

There was a sharper sting in this than in the tradesmen's writs, for had it not been Contango & Co. who had advised him to buy the stock that had ruined him ? Well, what did one angry creditor more or less matter ? With Darrochmore mortgaged, b2 and his account at Cox's overdrawn, if he threw a meal to one of the howling pack, the others would only snarl round him the more greedily and pull him down, so let them do their worst. Here at last was a solution of the tangle. Let them do their worst, — a course they were not unlikely to take without his permission ; but the thought seemed to afford him temporary relief, so he tore up the letter and gulped down the liquor in his glass. Just then the vibrator of his electric bell, which had been ringing for some time, caught his ear. ' Another dun at this hour of night V he mut tered. ' Well, the brutes choose all sorts of impossible hours.' He drew back the latch, and found himself face to face with an old brother officer, Captain Laidlaw, who, at the sight of his friend's dejection, checked his impatience at being kept waiting so long. ' My dear Jim,' he exclaimed, f what the devil is up with you?

You look as if you were meditating suicide. During the half-hour I have stood here ringing I must have roused everyone in the house but you. The porter downstairs told me that you were in, and I knew enough of your habits to be certain that you were not in bed at eleven. Well,' he went on, in a bantering tone, as soon as he had thrown himself into an arm-chair, ' has the fair creature been obdurate for once ? Never mind. Don't take it to heart : there are plenty more where she came from.' ' My dear David, if you can't talk sense, for heaven's sake don't talk at all. I can't stand your rubbish to-day. I have got the hump very badly.' Captain Laidlaw's manner changed. He be came suddenly serious and sympathetic, and begged his friend to tell him his trouble. Fraser needed little persuasion ; he was longing for the relief of opening his heart.

As soon as their cigars were lit, he recounted his financial disasters, aud showed how narrow a line separated him from utter ruin. This confession somewhat staggered Laidlaw, for although he knew that his friend had run through a considerable sum, of which he him self had had a lion's share, yet he had no idea that his affairs were in the hopeless state he now described ; for, as is generally the case when a man like Fraser is free with his money, his real income is much exaggerated. The object of Laidlaw's present visit was to try to get some pecuniary assistance out of his friend, and this announcement seemed to put an end to his hopes at least for a time, but his mind was too buoyant and hopeful for despond ency ; indeed, it was his love of combating dis- Acuities that was his chief attraction in Fraser's eyes.

Although the two men had long been fast friends, Laidlaw had not been popular in the regiment. He was entirely lacking in that sub tle quality that draws upon most men at some time in their lives that most flattering of all descriptions, ' a real good fellow.' When Sir James Fraser joined the 115th Hussars, he was senior subaltern of the regiment, and Fraser was posted to his troop. Fraser remembered the memorable day when he reached barracks for the first time, and found Laidlaw, as orderly officer, the only occupant of the ante-room. Laidlaw at once introduced himself to the boy, and did his utmost to put him at his ease. He showed him over the barracks, offered him the use of his room, and introduced him to the others at mess, as if they had been friends of long standing. Such attention from an older man to a boy fresh from school, was very flat tering to Fraser's vanity, and he congratulated himself when the adjutant next morning an nounced that he was posted to his new friend's troop.

That evening after mess, Laidlaw and he got into a corner whilst the others were playing or watching billiards, and had a long talk. Laidlaw had turned the conversation on horses, and said that he happened at that moment to have one for sale which would make the most perfect charger. As Fraser was in want of one, it was agreed that it should be trotted out next morning for his inspection. Laidlaw soon became confidential, and spoke a good deal about himself. He said he knew that he was not popular amongst his brother officers, and felt certain that Fraser would soon hear unkind things said of him, but begged that he would judge for himself before believing what he heard. ' The fact is,' continued Laidlaw, ' I am one of those men who say what they think, which does not always pay, but I can't help it, it is my nature.' Even if Laidlaw had not been a Scotsman like himself — and when could two Scots resist the clan spirit of their race ? — Fraser would have been drawn to him for his seeming openness and plucky contempt of calumny, and he had not long to wait for calumniators.

In the regi ment, Laidlaw's unpopularity rested upon the fact that whilst nothing definite could be al leged against him, he was continually overstep ping the indefinable line drawn between what a man should, and should not do. He loved money, and was not ashamed of loving it ; he made up to rich youngsters, and made bets and matches with them that depended on some quibble, enacting payment on the letter rather than the spirit of the wager. While Fraser indignantly refused to believe his new friend's detractors, he would have been preternaturally stupid had he not found out his faults for himself. As their acquaintance ripen ed, he often remonstrated with Laidlaw on his weaknesses, and, the older man taking these remonstrances in good part, his very faults seemed to be the means of strengthening their friendship.

Laidlaw possessed one quality which his worst enemy could not gainsay : he was a splen did horseman. Repellent to most of his own kind, he had unfailing gentleness and patience with all animals, and these two qualities, united with courage, enabled him to master many an obstreperous animal with whom others had failed. When James Fraser and David Laidlaw had both left the service, it was natural that they should drift apart. They had little in common either in tastes or acquaintances, and even in racing, the sport they both delighted in, they were separated by the fact that Fraser belonged to clubs and stands to which Laidlaw could never dare submit his name for ballot ; but, if they saw very little of one another, they were still in theory as good friends as ever. From time to time Laidlaw had pulled himself out of a tight place by coming down upon Fraser's ever-open purse, and to Fraser, who did not know the selfish basis of his friend's sympathy, Laidlaw's evident distress, after hearing his troubles, gave him no little comfort. ' I cannot tell you how sorry I am, poor old Jim !' exclaimed Laidlaw, after listening patiently to his friend's woes. ' But there must be some way out of this mess ; there always is, thank heaven, out of every mess that ever man got into, except death ; and you are not going to die just at present.

You know you invariably take the gloomiest view of your troubles. It's liver — all liver.' ' Thanks, old fellow,' returned Fraser. ' Then 1 suppose I may put down your over-sanguine feeling to digestion. This, however, happens to be a mess out of which there is no way but bankruptcy.' ' Nonsense, take a cheerful view. Nothing has ever improved by brooding over it. We will find some means of putting you on your legs again ; of that I am certain.' 'What, have you an idea? If so, do tell me what it is ; for your ideas always put new heart into me, though one knows their futility.' ' That is polite of you, I must say, and after that I shall take the night to think over it, and not tell you till the morning. In the meantime, where do you keep your whisky?' ' You are an incorrigible Micawber, David, and I only wish I had your temperament,' replied Fraser, still harping on his troubles.

Laidlaw tried his best to cheer up his friend, and to talk of other things ; but the conversation flagged, so he was obliged to give up the attempt, and soon put on his coat and went away, promising to call again in the morning with some scheme which he would mature during the night.

Chapter II

Hope is but the dream of those who wake. Prior. Laidlaw set out for Kensington, determined not to go home until he had thought out a scheme for setting Fraser on his legs again, though more for his own sake than for that of his friend ; for, were Fraser hopelessly ruined, Laidlaw's only sure source of revenue would be gone. He knew that Daniel the money-lender held the greater part of Fraser's paper; failing a better plan, the screw judiciously applied might drag from the old robber a little more time, if not a little more money. With time, no doubt, a larger scheme might be devised. Meanwhile, he had to look to himself. Since he had left the service for want of means, he had been made to realise the enor mous step in social consideration that a man without means or connections gains by being in a good regiment.

Unpopular as he was among his brother-officers, he could not be en tirely ignored by them so long as he remained one of themselves ; now, when they were no longer bound to keep up his acquaintance, most of them had allowed him to see that they had no further wish for his society. Out of the regiment, he had no friends worth speaking of except Sir James Fraser. To an adventurer such a friendship is far more than a luxury. It is the one spar that keeps the drowning man afloat ; without it, he would sink into the lowest depths and be lost in the flood of hurrying humanity. If Sir James Fraser were now to sink, he would take down with him his parasite, who would lose with him the acquaintance on whom he meant to live. He had, moreover, a steady drain upon his finances of which, so far, Fraser knew nothing.

One night, two years before, he had looked in at one of the little music-halls across the river, and had been attracted by the good looks and graceful dancing of a girl described in the playbill as Miss Myrtle Plunket. Night after night he returned, until at last he managed to make her acquaintance. The girl, very young, inexperienced, and humbly born, was proud of the admiration of a good-looking man of the class she called ' swells.' For his part, Laidlaw knew how to be agreeable to her. He had the kind of humour that appealed to a girl in her position ; he knew to a word the compliments that would please her; he was lavish in his gifts, for all which, however, the unconscious Fraser was paying ; and so at last she had come to miss him on those nights he did not attend her performance. With money he borrowed from Fraser, added to some made at races, he furnished a small house in South Kensington, and she yielded, and went to live the life that many a wiser girl had done before her.

For some time they were very happy together; then, as is usual in such connections between persons of different tastes and education, he began to tire of her. With his indifference her fondness seemed to grow, and with her fondness his irritation. Had he been independent, no doubt their connection would have ceased ; but now that Fraser had nothing more to give, and the money that Myrtle earned by dancing was the only thing left, he was thrown more upon her companionship. To her he excused his poverty by a story about his family lawyers, promising that in a few months all would come right, and the money would be as plentiful as ever. As time went on, he saw that his excuses were not believed. The natural solution was that he should leave her ; but from this he shrank, feeling that in that event she would probably find out his deception, and, by spread ing the story about, would ruin all hopes he had of getting on in society.

For the last month he had been away attend ing various race-meetings, leaving her without money to pay the ordinary household expenses, and that morning he had promised to come home with enough money for the most pressing of their creditors. Counting upon Fraser, he had made no effort during the day to raise the wind, and now that last hope was gone. As he let himself into the house with his latch-key, he pondered to think with what fresh excuse he should meet Myrtle to-night. It was a relief to find that she was not yet back from the music hall, and he sat down, poured himself out a drink, lit a pipe, and tried to think out some new lie plausible enough to impose upon her. Ten minutes later she arrived. Myrtle Plunket was a neat little woman, slender and pretty, with the fair, delicate skin that goes with light hair and blue eyes.

She was still too young to have ruined her com plexion with paint and late hours, and, with her pleasant voice and pretty smile, looked worthy of a better fate than to be associated with such a man as Laidlaw. ' You are home early to-night, Day. Is it good news ? I am too tired to listen to bad, for what with this muggy weather and two encores I was obliged to take, I haven't a leg left to stand on.' Following up his resolution to gain time, he answered, cheerily, ' Of course I have good news, or I should not have dared to come home. To-morrow night, or at the latest the night after, you shall have a cheque for all you want.' She sat down opposite him, and smiled. 'Now tell me all about it. You won't be disappointed, as you were last month, will you ? I remember you were just as sanguine then, and yet nothing came of it ; but if we don't pay some of the tradesmen now, they will all be down on us.' 'Make your mind easy, my dear,' he said, boldly. ' I might have brought the money with me to-night, if I had liked.

To-morrow I shall be all day with my lawyers, who are raising a big sum on my reversionary interest in those estates I told you about. I am sick and tired of all these legal formalities.' Laidlaw might just as well have talked of his castles in Spain, for Myrtle would have been none the wiser, and they were quite as tangible as his estates in Scotland ; anyway, she made no further remark, and went up to bed. Next morning he was up and away before Myrtle awoke, dreading to have to invent further details about his reversionary interests, and at ten o'clock he rang at the door of Sir James Fraser's chambers. ' By Jove ! David, I am glad to see you this morning,' said Fraser, with a beaming counte nance. ' I very nearly sent for you two hours ago, only I did not know where to find you. I have splendid news, and feel as fit as a two year-old ; and just to think that only last night I seriously contemplated suicide.

You remember hearing me speak of that good fellow, George Paddock, whom I met last year in New York ? Well, this very morning I got a letter from him, and just listen whilst I read it to you, and then you will understand all about it.' So saying, he took up a letter bearing the United States stamp, which was lying on the breakfast table, and read as follows : Union Club, New York. t a ' " My dear Fraser, ' " My friend, Mr. Joseph P. Van Oofman, has just returned here from Europe. While in Scotland last fall, he passed a night at the inn close to your place Darrochmore, and got permission to go over the house and grounds. He is in raptures about the place, and says it is the only house he has ever seen which realises his idea of perfection. You may have heard that he is one of our biggest men over here, and that he is accustomed to gratify every passing whim.

His new passion is to live at Darroch more, and, knowing of our friendship, he came and asked me to write to you about it. I told him I had often heard you speak of letting the place for the shooting. He said he woiild willingly buy Darrochmore out and out, but I thought you would not sell, even if your law of entail allowed you to. To be quite open with you, my dear Fraser, let me say at once that I told Mr. Van Oofman that I thought ready money would be an object to you, and that you would be more likely to let Darrochmore if you could get a good rent paid in advance. He literally jumped at my idea, and asked me what was a fair rent to offer for the house, forest, grouse moors, and low ground shootin"-. I thought a bit, and, knowing yours to be one of the best forests, I named four thousand a-year.

He now authorises me to say that if you will give him seven years' lease of the whole estate at that rental, he will pay the first three years in advance on the condition of having possession at once. If this proposal falls in with your views, please cable your assent. If I have done wrong I know you will pardon me. Remember me kindly to Mr. Jones, the man you call the Bustorato, and all the kind friends I met in Dorsetshire. ' " Believe me to be, ' " Yours very sincerely, ' " George M. Paddock." ' Laidlaw's astonishment and satisfaction had been increasing with every sentence, and was almost too enthusiastic to be due to sympathy alone. ' My dear Jim,' he exclaimed at last, ' this is glorious news. I congratulate you with all my heart. You are a rich man again, without going to the Jews or anyone else.' ' Well,' answered Fraser, ' I don't know about being rich, but it does lift a weight off my shoulders.

This has been a lesson to me that I shall never forget. I am going to turn over a new leaf, pay my mortgages on Darrochmore, all my debts, and live a totally different life.' C These moral sentiments did not awaken in Laidlaw that ready sympathy with virtue that should be manifested by every well-brought-up pei-son. ' Lots of time to think about details,' he said. ' I should certainly keep old Daniel waiting, for he won't press you when he knows you have got the stuff ; and, as for paying off mortgages, I call it quixotic. That is always the duty of those who come after us. Life is infernally short, Jim, aud it is the only certainty after all. Take my advice, and enjoy it while you can, and leave the mortgages to take care of themselves.' 'No, no, no, David. I mean to enjoy life, but I cannot do so with debts hanging over my head.

If you knew what a night I've passed, and what vows I made as I lay awake, you would understand that I can have no real en joyment until every farthing has been paid off. I will never get myself into such a mess again as long as I live.' Laidlaw did not press his system of philo sophy any further, he only tempered his congratulations with a sigh, and said, 'Such news never comes to me, and yet if the oof-bird would only fly my way, I would not be greedy. A very few hundreds would satisfy me.' 'My dear fellow,' exclaimed Fraser, impul sively, ' such good luck as this deserves to be shared. You have been a good pal to me, and if you are ever in want of a hundred or two, and I have got it, you have only to let me know. Are you hard-up now ?' • So hard-up that words cannot express my state ; and now, as your troubles are over, I do not mind telling you that when I came last night I had made up mj7 mind to ask you, as my oldest and best friend, to give me a helping hand, as you have done so often before.

Of course, when 1 found you down on your luck, I could not bother you.' ' Just like you, David, uot to tell me ; but don't worry any more. If a monkey is of any use to you, in a few dayrs I shall be delighted to give it to you ; but of course I can do nothing uutil the lease is signed. I would give worlds to get hold of a thousand ready to-day, if I knew how.' ' I think 1 might manage that for y7ou, if you will do what I tell you. The first thing is to cable to your friend in New York : " Willing to let Darrochmore, but must have all seven years' rent paid down on signing lease." That, you see, would give you twenty-eight thousand pounds ready, and you could pay off Daniel, as you seem so anxious to do, and still c have a good sum in hand to go on with.' Fraser looked astonished at this proposition. ' No,' he said, ' I couldn't do that ; it would look like taking advantage of Van Oofman be cause his terms are so generous.

He would probably cut up rusty, and refuse to take the place altogether. I know I should, in his place.' Laidlaw laughed at the idea. ' Don't you worry about that,' he said, confi dently. ' I ought to know something of the world by this time, and I am certain that that letter means he will take Darrochmore at any cost. Why otherwise should he propose to pay you so much in advance ? Let me send this message, and I will take all responsibility as to the result. You will have an answer iu a few hours, when you can go straight to Daniel, show him the cable and the letter, and get a thousand or two to go on with.' ' No,' said James, firmly, ' I cannot do this; for to me it seems too mean a thing. I will simply send a cable to say I accept the pro posed terms, and I can take Paddock's letter to Daniel, and I feel sure he will advance me some ready money on the strength of it.' Laidlaw, perceiving that for once his friend was obdurate, shrugged his shoulders, and said, ' Well, you are the most extraordinary being I ever met, with your absurd scruples ; but, if you won't do it, there is nothing more to be said on the subject, so let us go out, send the telegram accepting Van Oofman's offer, and take a stroll in the Park.'

Chapter III

Yet love will dream and faith will trust That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. Whittier. If ills never come singly, there is a compen sating law in good fortune that has been ungratefully omitted from our proverbial philosophy. It was a bright warm morning, and all London, crowded as it is iu the early season, seemed to be out of doors, as Fraser and Laidlaw walked down Piccadilly towards the Park. They were passing some people, and on looking at them, Fraser recognised his nearest neighbours and oldest friends in Scotland, Colonel Macullum, and his wife and daughter, of Glengavin, only fifteen miles from Darrochmore. It would be difficult to say which was the most pleased at this unexpected meeting. ' My dear Jim,' exclaimed Colonel Macullum, ' I am glad to see you. We had no idea what had become of you.

Where on earth do you come from, and what have you been doing with yourself all this long time?' Without waiting for an answer to his questions, he continued, ' We only came south a few days ago. As you never write, and are always ou the move, we had no idea what had become of you. Why, it is over tw7o years since you honoured Darroch more with your presence, and I thought you in tended cutting Scotland for good.' Whilst the colonel was speaking, James Fraser hardly heard what he said, for he was shaking hands with Mrs. Macullum and her daughter, and was much struck with the ex treme beauty of the latter. When he had last seen her, two years back, she was only sixteen. He had always admired her as a bright, pretty child, who was a great favourite of his, but he had never thought of her as a grown-up woman.