The Little Nugget | Page 9

failed too, it is obvious that the only way to kidnap Ogden is from
within. We must have some man working for us in the enemy's camp.'
'Which is impossible,' said Mrs Ford dejectedly.
'Not at all.'
'You know a man?'
'I know the man.'
'Cynthia! What do you mean? Who is he?'
'His name is Peter Burns.'
Mrs Ford shook her head.
'I don't know him.'
'I'll introduce you. You'll like him.'

'But, Cynthia, how do you know he would be willing to help us?'
'He would do it for me,' Cynthia paused. 'You see,' she went on, 'we are
engaged to be married.'
'My dear Cynthia! Why did you not tell me? When did it happen?'
'Last night at the Fletchers' dance.'
Mrs Ford's eyes opened.
'Last night! Were you at a dance last night? And two railway journeys
today! You must be tired to death.'
'Oh, I'm all right, thanks. I suppose I shall be a wreck and not fit to be
seen tomorrow, but just at present I feel as if nothing could tire me. It's
the effect of being engaged, perhaps.'
'Tell me about him.'
'Well, he's rich, and good-looking, and amiable'--Cynthia ticked off
these qualities on her fingers--'and I think he's brave, and he's certainly
not so stupid as Mr Broster.'
'And you're very much in love with him?'
'I like him. There's no harm in Peter.'
'You certainly aren't wildly enthusiastic!'
'Oh, we shall hit it off quite well together. I needn't pose to _you_,
Nesta, thank goodness! That's one reason why I'm fond of you. You
know how I am situated. I've got to marry some one rich, and Peter's
quite the nicest rich man I've ever met. He's really wonderfully
unselfish. I can't understand it. With his money, you would expect him
to be a perfect horror.'
A thought seemed to strike Mrs Ford.
'But, if he's so rich--' she began. 'I forget what I was going to say,' she
broke off.
'Dear Nesta, I know what you were going to say. If he's so rich, why
should he be marrying me, when he could take his pick of half London?
Well, I'll tell you. He's marrying me for one reason, because he's sorry
for me: for another, because I had the sense to make him. He didn't
think he was going to marry anyone. A few years ago he had a
disappointment. A girl jilted him. She must have been a fool. He
thought he was going to live the rest of his life alone with his broken
heart. I didn't mean to allow that. It's taken a long time--over two years,
from start to finish--but I've done it. He's a sentimentalist. I worked on
his sympathy, and last night I made him propose to me at the Fletchers'

dance.'
Mrs Ford had not listened to these confidences unmoved. Several times
she had tried to interrupt, but had been brushed aside. Now she spoke
sharply.
'You know I was not going to say anything of the kind. And I don't
think you should speak in this horrible, cynical way of--of--'
She stopped, flushing. There were moments when she hated Cynthia.
These occurred for the most part when the latter, as now, stirred her to
an exhibition of honest feeling which she looked on as rather
unbecoming. Mrs Ford had spent twenty years trying to forget that her
husband had married her from behind the counter of a general store in
an Illinois village, and these lapses into the uncultivated genuineness of
her girlhood made her uncomfortable.
'I wasn't going to say anything of the kind,' she repeated.
Cynthia was all smiling good-humour.
'I know. I was only teasing you. "Stringing", they call it in your country,
don't they?'
Mrs Ford was mollified.
'I'm sorry, Cynthia. I didn't mean to snap at you. All the same ...' She
hesitated. What she wanted to ask smacked so dreadfully of
Mechanicsville, Illinois. Yet she put the question bravely, for she was
somehow feeling quite troubled about this unknown Mr Burns. 'Aren't
you really fond of him at all, Cynthia?'
Cynthia beamed.
'Of course I am! He's a dear. Nothing would make me give him up. I'm
devoted to old Peter. I only told you all that about him because it shows
you how kind-hearted he is. He'll do anything for me. Well, shall I
sound him about Ogden?'
The magic word took Mrs Ford's mind off the matrimonial future of Mr
Burns, and brought him into prominence in his capacity of
knight-errant. She laughed happily. The contemplation of Mr Burns as
knight-errant healed the sting of defeat. The affair of Mr Mennick
began to appear in the light of a mere skirmish.
'You take my breath away!' she said. 'How do you propose that Mr