Chapter 22 The Gates of Doom by Rafael Sabatini
ISRAEL SUAREZ
Woodlands, my Lord Pauncefort's seat in Surrey, was a handsome, red-brown Tudor mansion, situated in a park of some two hundred acres, within a couple of miles to the north of the town of Guildford. His lordship had dined late on that July evening, for he had been late in arriving from town, and even then, ere he would dine, he must perform an elaborate toilet as befitted the bridegroom he hoped to be ere the night was out. He went below at length, an elegant, resplendent figure in a suit of grey satin with silver lace and dark purple linings; his pearl-grey silk stockings were decorated with ramifications of silver thread; diamonds hung like prismatic drops of water in the fine Mechlin lace of his cravat, and his long, graceful hands were almost hidden in his ruffles; buckles of French paste flashed on his shoes, and he wore a powdered tie-wig of the very newest mode, which emphasized the swarthy, male beauty of his face.
When he stepped at last into the long panelled dining-room, where the Reverend Thomas Pugh—the seedy hedge parson he had brought from London—waited impatiently with his hunger, the clergyman had gasped his admiration of so very dazzling an apparition, and had all but forgotten his inner gnawings in the feasting of his eyes. And had my Lord Pauncefort been at pains to find a foil that should throw his own splendour into greater relief, no selection could have been more happy than that of this squat fellow, black as a crow in his rusty parson's livery, his lantern jaws blue from the razor.
His lordship ate but little, and spoke still less during the repast. He was in a state of obvious nervousness vexed by the incompleteness of his preparations and anxiety lest he should fail to ruffle through and conquer Damaris in spite of this.
The dinner came to an end; the cloth was raised and the candles were lighted; still the two men sat on, over their wine now, with but little talk passing between them. Pauncefort reclined in his chair, frowning gloomily at the globular decanter of port, from which the candles struck fire, so that it glowed like a gigantic carbuncle. The long windows stood open to the stifling air, and the twilight sky was of a velvet blackness streaked with a fading but ominous purple. Not a breath stirred. The candles in their gilt sconces on the wainscoting burned steadily, throwing long shafts of reflection upon the polished timbers of the dark brown floor.
At last, from the distance, faintly, came the sound of hoofs. It approached rapidly, and with it now came the grind of wheels advancing up the avenue. His lordship listened, and he seemed to have ceased to breathe. His eyes glowed feverishly She came at last!
"I think 'twill be the bride," ventured the parson timidly—for these long spells of silence and the moodiness of his host were fretting his ill-conditioned nerves.
My lord paid no heed to him; so the reverend gentleman sipped his wine and uneasily eyed his companion from under shaggy brows.
The carriage halted. Unable longer to remain still, his lordship rose, thrusting back his tall chair. He glanced at the timepiece on the overmantel. It wanted a few minutes to nine; and nine was the hour appointed. This trifling earliness augured well, he thought.
The door opened quietly behind him. He swung round in sudden, trembling eagerness to face the liveried servant who entered, and to receive an announcement which was as a shower of cold water upon his feverish impatience.
"Mr Suarez is here, my lord, asking to see you."
"Suarez?" His lordship's voice rasped harshly with sudden anger. Yet his dilating eyes and loosened mouth were evidences of still another emotion. "Suarez?" he repeated.
"I told him, my lord, that your lordship could see no one tonight. But he insists that his business is of the greatest urgency."
"And so it is, my lord," came a deep voice from behind the servant, and immediately the heavy figure and ovine face of the usurer made its appearance in the doorway.
He had followed the lackey, determined to force himself into his lordship's presence and fearing that did he wait for permission he might wait in vain.
The servant attempted now to detain him: but it was too late. The Jew thrust the fellow contemptuously aside, and rolled into the room.
"What do you want?" his lordship challenged him. His face was white with anger and his eyes were murderously set upon the intruder.
"Vat do I vant?" echoed Mr. Suarez, his manner excited and his speech thick with passion. "Vat do I vant? I vant a deal, my lord, I promise you. To begin vit', I vant an explanation."
"By God!" swore his lordship. "Ye're a daring rogue to thrust yourself in here in this fashion."
The other waved a fat, powerful hand. "Bah! I don't vant vords, and I don't vant ugly names. I charge for ugly names, my lord, and the rate of interesht on t'em is heavy. Shall I speak before t'ese?" And he waved his hand again, to indicate servant and parson. "Or vill you see me alone? 'Tis all one to me," he added contemptuously.
His lordship considered the man an instant, mastering his rage. Then he turned to the servant.
"Leave us," he said shortly, "and you too, Pugh. Go wait in the library."
The parson finished his wine, and departed with the servant.
Suarez looked on, a sneer on his heavy face. "Ha!" he commented. "Very 'igh and mighty! Ve-ry lordly for a damned pauper!"
Israel Suarez was none of your gabardined, bewhiskered, cringing Jews, over-conscious of belonging to a despised race. Himself proud of his Jewish blood, he had naught but contempt for those who despised it. Being enormously wealthy and knowing the power of wealth, he used that power remorselessly, and upon none so remorselessly as upon those who dared to show their scorn of him on the score of race. To these he repaid contempt with contempt, insult with insult; and since he had the power on his side, his contempt and his insult usually proved the more hurtful and crushing in the end.
In appearance he had almost the air of a man of fashion, saving perhaps that with his natural taste for Oriental splendour he rather overdressed the part. His claret-coloured coat was stiff with gold lace, as was the crimson waistcoat under it, every button of which was a ruby of price. Brilliants flashed in his lace neckwear and on two fingers of each hand. A gold-hilted sword hung at his side.
Massive and powerful of frame, with large liquid eyes, a pendulous nose and a shaven olive-tinted skin, this Spanish Jew was a somewhat extraordinary and compelling personality. The consciousness of power he derived from his vast wealth lent him a forceful air. Obviously he was not a man with whom it would be safe to trifle. Save for a trouble with the aspirate, the "w" and the "th," his English was fluent and good.
My Lord Pauncefort had made the mistake of undervaluing him. He had trifled with him; he was trifling with him now, running a scornful, critical eye over the man's person and apparel, and expressing his contempt for one and the other by the deliberate curl of his lip.
The Jew's watchful eyes observed all this. His answer to it was not long delayed. He strode to the table and poured himself a glass of port without hesitation or "by your leave." He tasted it, smacked his lips and paused appraisingly.
"'Tis a good vine," he said, with marked satisfaction. "I 'ope I 'ave a good stock of it in my cellar 'ere."
"What the devil do you mean—damn you!" said Pauncefort.
Mr Suarez coolly drained the glass, and sat down unbidden, leaving his lordship standing.
"I suppose I can drink my own vine in my own 'ouse vit'out explanations to you—damn you!" he answered in the same tone. He had his anger under control by now. Indeed, although by nature of a hot and fiery temper, he was your deadly fellow who knows how to be cold in the expression of it.
And then, before Pauncefort had recovered from that blow, Suarez crisply added enough to show his business there that night.
"Ye see, I've 'ad vard from my Lord Carteret t'at 'is varranty for you is vit'drawn. So my man Cohen is in possession of your 'ouse in town and I am 'ere. I 'ave a varrant in my pocket and t'ree men vit' me—in t'e 'all now. An agent of mine is on 'is vay to your place in Yorkshire. Ye see, I vaste no time." He smiled up at his lordship, who was too stricken to answer him. Presently he resumed. "You owe me t'irty t'ousand pounds, my lord. Voodlands 'ere vihl bring four t'ousand; your 'ouse in town perhaps t'ree, and your Yorkshire estate seven or eight t'ousand vhen I sell it. For t'e rest I must take your body until you or your friends see a vay to ransom it. Now you know vat I vant," he leered. "Now you know vat a damned impudent rogue I am, t'rusting myself into my own 'ouse, eh!"
Pauncefort leaned heavily against the overmantel to steady his trembling body. He was limp. His blood had turned to water. Of all that the money-lender had said, but one sentence remained with his lordship. This sentence he echoed now in a husky voice.
"Lord Carteret has withdrawn his warranty!"
"Just so," said Mr Suarez. "Myself I marvel t'at he ever gave it."
"But—" faltered Pauncefort, ceasing to wonder or to seek a cause for this, and coming straight to the urgent effect of it, "but even so! What does it matter?"
"It matters just t'irty t'ousand pounds," said Mr Suarez. "You know t'at not'ing but his lordship's varranty has kept me from claiming my own t'is mont' past."
"But my marriage is to take place tonight," cried his lordship. He was white and drops of perspiration stood upon his shallow brow—that one deplorable feature of his handsome face.
And now Mr Suarez returned the other's late silent sneer of his apparel.
"Ah!" said he, sneering in his turn. "Ye look very festive, codso! A very pretty fellow in your bridegroom finery!"
His lordship attempted to stiffen, but failed. The other was too much the master of this situation.
"You know—it is your business to know—the wealth of Miss Hollinstone. Is not that warranty enough for you?"
"Tat? Pish! No marriage prospects are varranty enough for me, as you vell know. Not only vould I not advance you a shilling on such prospects, but t'ey vould never have kept me from foreclosing on you if you 'adn't obtained me Lord Carteret's varranty that you vould be in a position to pay—failing which, your estates and your person—"
"But my God! you'll give me until tomorrow?"
"Not an 'our," said Suarez. "Why should I?"
"Because you'll be a fool if you don't."
Suarez laughed shortly. "I was never a fool yet in business, my lord. Never!"
His lordship advanced to the table and flung himself into a chair. He faced Mr Suarez with the board between them. He leaned across, and his white, clammy face glistened in the golden candlelight.
"Suarez," he said, "consider, pray, that all I have had from you in actual cash does not amount to over fifteen thousand pounds. You hold Woodlands, my town house and my place in Yorkshire, and you know—in spite of what you have said—that they will yield more than that sum."
"Ye don't suppose I should 'ave advanced the money unless I vas satisfied of t'at? Or do you imagine money lending to be a philant'ropy, my friend? It is a risky business, and in risky businesses the profits must be heavy to compensate. And ye leave out of all account the interesht my money vould 'ave yielded me elsewhere."
"'Tis you leave that out of account when you come here with a warrant to seize my person. If you seize me you'll never see your filthy interest."
Mr Suarez closed one eye.
"T'ere's t'e interesht from the entailed property," he reminded his lordship. "It is close upon fifteen 'undred pounds a year. Now, nicely lodged in the Fleet, my lord—and ve'll make you as comfortable as you can expect—you can live luxuriously on fifty pounds a year."
"D'ye mean I'm to spend ten years in a spunging-house?" roared his lordship, turning savage.
"Rather more," said Mr Suarez, with pursed lips. "Interesht will be running on the unpaid balances, ye see. But your lordship is very 'ealthy, and should easily last the time."
"Suarez," raged his lordship, "ye're a dirty Jew."
"Pauncefort," answered Mr Suarez imperturbably, "ye're a dirtier Christian to incur debts ye cannot meet."
His lordship leapt to his feet as if he had been struck. To be insulted thus by this scum of Israel! It was past endurance, past belief!
He was unarmed at the moment, or assuredly he would have drawn upon the fellow. As it was, his hand flew to his side where his sword should have hung. The Jew watched the movement with a cold smile. With a steady hand he poured himself another glass of wine.
"I vonder," he said, smiling reflectively, "vhen your lordship vill learn t'at unprofitable insult is t'e sport of fools? I am endeavouring to teach you." He drained his glass, and rose. "Shall ye be going now?" he asked, and his question had all the ring of a command.
Pauncefort steadied himself, his hands upon the table, leaning so heavily that his knuckles showed white as marble.
"Going?" he echoed.
"Did I not say t'at I 'ave a varrant for you in my pocket and t'ree men to execute it for me? Ye'ld never be so mad as to try resistance!"
"D'ye mean—" His lordship moistened his lips. "D'ye mean ye'll take me now—now? That ye'll not wait until tomorrow; until I am married and can repay you?"
"Married?" sneered the Jew. "D'ye still seek to bubble me vit' t'at?"
"Bubble you? It's the truth, man."
Mr Suarez considered him with brooding eye. "If it vere the trut', vy did Lord Carteret vit'draw his varranty for you? Pshaw!"
"It is the truth, nevertheless," the viscount insisted vehemently. "I await the lady now."
But Suarez was still incredulous. "To be sure you do," said he. "But I t'ink a bird in t'e 'and is vort'—"
"Listen, Suarez," cried the other desperately. "Leave me free to make this marriage, and you shall be paid in full by Monday next if not before. More, from now until the debt is liquidated I'll pay you further interest at the rate of a thousand pounds a day."
Now this was business, and to business Mr Suarez could listen. Also the earnestness of the proposal seemed to argue that, indeed, his lordship counted upon being married. But, on the other hand, he might be counting upon something very different. It might be a ruse to elude the moneylender and flee the country. He did not trust this gentleman who had manifested slipperiness already in the past. So he sighed over the offer, and shook his head.
"I'll make it two thousand—two thousand a day!" his lordship clamoured.
But now the moneylender's every doubt was dispelled. He laughed.
"Ye're over-reckless to be 'onest," he said. "Ye're lying about t'is marriage."
A sound in the stillness of the night caught his lordship's ears. His face flushed suddenly.
"Am I lying?" he cried. "Am I?" He was almost exultant. "Listen!" And he flung an arm towards the open window and the night beyond.
Mr Suarez heard the sounds of a carriage coming up the avenue.
"That will be Miss Hollinstone," his lordship announced with confidence.
The usurer stared at him for a long moment in silence.
"D'ye still doubt me?" cried Pauncefort. "D'ye still think that no marriage will take place. Why, man, did ye not see the parson here? Why else should I have sat at table with that crow?"
It was, indeed, something whose significance the Jew had overlooked. Quietly he resumed his seat at the table.
"I'll stay to see," he announced. His lordship heaved a sigh of relief, and fell to mopping his brow. A pause followed, ended at last by Mr Suarez. "Two thousand pounds a day further interesht you proposed, I think," he said.
"Yes, yes," was the eager assent.
"I'll consider the proposal," said Mr Suarez coolly.
"Will you, by God!" cried Pauncefort, who was rapidly recovering from his terror. "Ye'll accept it now, or ye'll refuse it."
"T'en I'll refuse it," said Mr Suarez.
"No, no! I meant not that. Consider it, sir, by all means. But decide quickly—for heaven's sake!"
Mr Suarez laughed. "Ye're all 'ot and cold in a moment," he sneered. "If I consider it at all, 'tis purely to oblige you. Vell, vell—"
The servant entered, and his lordship turned to him a white, excited face.
"Miss Hollinstone has arrived, my lord."
Pauncefort flashed a glance of triumph upon the usurer. "Well?" he demanded. "You accept?"
"Ye-es—when I am sure of t'e business vich brings t'e lady."
Lord Pauncefort stared at him. Then, in disgust: "Ye're a reckless fellow, Suarez!" he said.
"I 'ave to deal vit' so many rogues," said Suarez in explanation. Then he looked towards the servant. "Ah?" said he significantly.
"Wait without," barked his lordship, and the man vanished, closing the door.
"You tell me t'at the lady comes to marry you now?" Suarez questioned.
"Yes," answered his lordship. "You saw the parson."
"Ah! Vell t'en, my lord, you shall 'ave t'is chance. I vill accept your proposal if t'e marriage takes place tonight, and I, myself, am one of t'e vitnesses."
Pauncefort glared at him between impatience and anger. But he mastered his feelings. "Be it so," he consented. "Meanwhile, will you join the parson in the library, and wait there until the ceremony is to be performed?" And catching a fresh look of doubt in the moneylender's eye: "You can place one of your men outside that door, another under the window, and another," he added, sneering, "on the roof, if you please, to see that I don't go up the chimney. Arm them, and thus you should be sure that I shall not escape you."
Mr Suarez bowed. "Very good," was all that he answered.