Red Money | Page 5

know his appearance. But his nature?"
"He's jealous, and can be very disagreeable when he likes. I don't know
who he is, or where he came from. He made his money out of penny
toys and South African investments. He was a member of Parliament
for a few years, and helped his party so much with money that he was
knighted. That's all I know of him, except that he is very mean."
"Mean? What you tell me doesn't sound mean."
"I'm talking of his behavior to Garvington," explained the hostess,
touching her ruffled hair, "he doesn't give us enough money."
"Why should he give you any?" asked Mrs. Belgrove bluntly.
"Well, you see, dear, Garvington would never have allowed his sister to
marry a nobody, unless--"

"Unless the nobody paid for his footing. I quite understand. Every one
knows that Agnes married the man to save her family from bankruptcy.
Poor girl!" Mrs. Belgrove sighed. "And she loved Noel. What a shame
that she couldn't become his wife!"
"Oh, that would have been absurd," said Lady Garvington pettishly.
"What's the use of Hunger marrying Thirst? Noel has no money, just
like ourselves, and if it hadn't been for Hubert this place would have
been sold long ago. I'm telling you secrets, mind."
"My dear, you tell me nothing that everybody doesn't know."
"Then what is your advice?"
"About what, my dear?"
"About what I have been telling you. The burglar, and--"
"I have told you before, that it is rubbish. If a burglar does come here I
hope Lord Garvington will shoot him, as I don't want to lose my
diamonds."
"But if the burglar is Noel?"
"He won't be Noel. Clara Greeby has simply made a nasty suggestion
which is worthy of her. But if you're afraid, why not get her to marry
Noel?"
"He won't have her," said Lady Garvington dolefully.
"I know he won't. Still a persevering woman can do wonders, and Clara
Greeby has no self-respect. And if you think Noel is too near, get
Agnes to join her husband in Pekin."
"I think it's Paris."
"Well then, Paris. She can buy new frocks."
"Agnes doesn't care for new frocks. Such simple tastes she has, wanting

to help the poor. Rubbish, I call it."
"Why, when her husband helps Lord Garvington?" asked Mrs.
Belgrove artlessly.
Lady Garvington frowned. "What horrid things you say."
"I only repeat what every one is saying."
"Well, I'm sure I don't care," cried Lady Garvington recklessly, and
rose to depart on some vague errand. "I'm only in the world to look
after dinners and breakfasts. Clara Greeby's a cat making all this fuss
about--"
"Hush! There she is."
Lady Garvington fluttered round, and drifted towards Miss Greeby,
who had just stepped out on to the terrace. The banker's daughter was
in a tailor-made gown with a man's cap and a man's gloves, and a man's
boots--at least, as Mrs. Belgrove thought, they looked like that--and
carried a very masculine stick, more like a bludgeon than a cane. With
her ruddy complexion and ruddy hair, and piercing blue eyes, and
magnificent figure--for she really had a splendid figure in spite of Mrs.
Belgrove's depreciation--she looked like a gigantic Norse goddess.
With a flashing display of white teeth, she came along swinging her
stick, or whirling her shillalah, as Mrs. Belgrove put it, and seemed the
embodiment of coarse, vigorous health.
"Taking a sun-bath?" she inquired brusquely and in a loud baritone
voice. "Very wise of you two elderly things. I am going for a walk."
Mrs. Belgrove was disagreeable in her turn. "Going to the Abbot's
Wood?"
"How clever of you to guess," Miss Greeby smiled and nodded. "Yes,
I'm going to look up Lambert"; she always spoke of her male friends in
this hearty fashion. "He ought to be here enjoying himself instead of
living like a hermit in the wilds."

"He's painting pictures," put in Lady Garvington. "Do hermits paint?"
"No. Only society women do that," said Miss Greeby cheerfully, and
Mrs. Belgrove's faded eyes flashed. She knew that the remark was
meant for her, and snapped back. "Are you going to have your fortune
told by the gypsies, dear?" she inquired amiably. "They might tell you
about your marriage."
"Oh, I daresay, and if you ask they will prophesy your funeral."
"I am in perfect health, Miss Greeby."
"So I should think, since your cheeks are so red."
Lady Garvington hastily intervened to prevent the further exchange of
compliments. "Will you be back to luncheon, or join the men at the
coverts?"
"Neither. I'll drop on Lambert for a feed. Where are you going?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said the hostess vaguely. "There's lots to do. I
shall know what's to be done, when I think of it," and she