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Updated: June 7, 2025
It had only been selected by guesswork among a number on Roden's bunch. It slipped into the lock and turned smoothly, but the door would not move. She tugged and wrenched at the handle, then turned it accidentally, and the heavy door swung open. There were two drawers at the bottom of the safe which were not locked, and contained neatly folded papers. Her fingers were among these in a moment.
After this there was no longer any hesitation on Roden's part, though his friends, including Lord Persiflage, the Baron, Sir Boreas, and Crocker, were as active in their endeavours as ever. For some days he had doubted, but now he doubted no longer.
"If you like," answered Roden, not too graciously. According to his lights, he was honestly in love with Mrs. Vansittart, but Percy Roden's lights were not brilliant, and his love was not a very high form of that little-known passion. It lacked, for instance, unselfishness, and love that lacks unselfishness is, at its best, a sorry business. He was afraid of ridicule.
Vincent, and his mother and Sir Boreas, who were much interested by George Roden's condition. Mrs. Roden returned home on the 2nd of March, and, as may be remembered, the tidings respecting her son had reached England before she came.
Dorothy Roden's face was not, perhaps, easy to read, especially when she turned, as she turned now, to meet an inquiring glance with an easy smile. "I have known so many of Percy's schemes," she explained, "that you must not expect me to be enthusiastic about this." "But this must succeed, whatever may have happened to the others," cried Joan. "It is such a good cause.
"If you want me, send for me, or come to the hotel," were Cornish's last words, as he shut the successful financier into his brougham. At the hotel, Cornish found Mr. Wade and Marguerite lingering over a late breakfast. "You look," said Marguerite, "as if you had been up to something." She glanced at him shrewdly. "Have you smashed Roden's Corner?" she asked.
Not a word further was said in reference to "George Roden" or to the "Duca di Crinola." Six weeks passed by, and nothing special had yet been done to arrange George Roden's affairs for him in the manner suggested by Lady Persiflage. "It's a kind of thing that must be settled for a man by, by, by those who know how to settle it." That had been her counsel when she was advocating delay.
"She takes far more trouble in attempting to ruin her reputation than most women do to preserve it; but all her attempts are vain." Lady Dorothy's charm in conversation was due to an adventurous whimsicality, perfectly natural, which was absent from Lady Roden's. She saw everything through a medium of unexpected analogies.
They rode on, talking of other things; and Roden, having sped his shaft, seemed relieved in mind, and had plenty to say about himself. A man's interests are himself, and malgamite naturally formed a large part of Roden's conversation. Mrs. Vansittart encouraged him with a singular persistency to talk of this interesting product. "It is wonderful," she said "quite wonderful."
The fact that it was evidently intended for Roden's private eye did not seem to affect one or the other of these two men, who had travelled, with difficulty, along the road to fortune, only reaching their bourn at last with a light stock of scruples and a shattered code of honour. Then he folded it, and handed it back. He was not likely to forget a word of it. "I suppose you will go," he said.
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