The Wicked MarquisOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
The Wicked Marquis
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
Luncheon at 94 Grosvenor Square, notwithstanding the cocktails, was an
exceedingly simple meal, a fact which the Marquis himself seemed
scarcely to notice. He kept his eye on his visitor's plate, however,
and passed the cutlets with an unnoticeable sigh of regret.
"Charlie wouldn't come in to lunch, father," Letitia announced. "I
think he was afraid you were going to ask him his intentions."
The Marquis glanced at the modicum of curry with which he was consoling
himself.
"Upon the whole, my dear," he said, "I am glad that he stayed away. He
is a most agreeable person, but not at his best at luncheon time.
By-the-by, do you know who our new neighbour is to be at Broomleys?"
"You haven't let it?" she asked eagerly.
"This morning, my dear," her father replied, bowing slightly towards
their guest. "Mr. Thain has been spending the week-end at Cromer, was
offered Broomleys by the agent there, and he and I fixed up the matter
only a few minutes ago."
"How perfectly delightful!" Letitia exclaimed.
David glanced up quickly. He looked his hostess in the eyes.
"That is very kind of you, Lady Letitia," he said. She laughed at him.
"Well, I meant it," she declared, "and I still mean it, but not,
perhaps, exactly in the way it sounded. Of course, it will be very
pleasant to have you for a neighbour, but to tell you the truth--you
see, although we're poor we are honest--our own sojourn at Mandeleys
rather depends on whether we let Broomleys, and Colonel Laycey,
although he has the most delightful daughter, with whom you are sure to
fall in love, was a most troublesome tenant. He was always wanting
things done, wasn't he, father?"
"It is certainly a relief," the Marquis sighed, watching with
satisfaction the arrival of half a Stilton cheese, a present from his
son-in-law, "a great relief to find a tenant like Mr. Thain."
"I asked your agent," David remarked a little diffidently, "about the
shooting."
The Marquis touched his glass.
"Serve port, Gossett," he directed,--"the light wood port, if we have
any," he added a little hastily, to the obvious relief of his domestic.
"The shooting, eh, Mr. Thain?"
He sipped his wine and considered. First Broomleys, and then the
shooting! The gods were very kind to him on this pleasant April
morning.
"You haven't preserved lately, I understand," his guest observed.
"Not for some years," the Marquis acknowledged.
"I don't mind about that at all," David went on. "I am just American
enough, you know, to find no pleasure in shooting tame birds. I shall
have no parties, and I shall not be ambitious about bags. I like to
prowl about myself with a gun."
His host nodded appreciatively.
"You shall have the refusal of the shooting," he promised. "At the
moment I am not prepared to quote terms. My people of business can do
that."
"Have you no friends in England, Mr. Thain?" Letitia asked, a little
abruptly.
"Very few," David replied. "I do not make friends easily."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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