PTER VI

THERE WAS SOMEBODY

Two worlds and half a dozen industries had conspired to shower gold on
Calder Wentworth's head. There was land in the family, brought by his
grandmother; there was finance on the paternal side (whence came a
Portuguese title, carefully eschewed by Calder); there had been a
London street, half a watering-place, a South African mine, and the
better part of an American railway. The street and the watering-place
remained; the mine and the railway had been sold at the top of the
market. About the same time the family name became Wentworth--it had
been Stripes, which was felt to be absurd--and the family itself began
to take an exalted place in society. The rise was the easier because,
when old Mr. Stripes-Wentworth died, young Mr. Calder S. Wentworth
became the only representative; and a rich young bachelor can rise
lightly to heights inaccessible to the feet of less happily situated
folk. It seemed part of Providence's benevolence that when Lady
Forteville asked how many 'Stripes women' there were, the answer could
be 'None'; whereupon the countess at once invited Mr. Calder Wentworth
to dinner. Calder went, and rolled his frog's eyes with much amusement
when the lady asked him to what Wentworths he belonged, for, as he
observed to Miss Glyn, whom he had the pleasure of escorting, his
Wentworths were an entirely new brand, and Lady Forteville knew it as
well as if she had read the letters patent and invented the
coat-of-arms.

"Mr. Wentworth--Mr. Merceron," said Victor Sutton, with a wave of his
hand.

"I believe I know an uncle of yours--an uncommon clever fellow," said
Calder, unfolding his napkin and glancing round the dining-room of the
Themis Club.

"Oh, Uncle Van? Yes, we consider him our----"

"Leading article? Quite so. I've heard a bit about you too--something
about a canoe, eh?"

Charlie looked somewhat disturbed.

"Oughtn't Sutton to have told me? Well, it's too late now because I've
told half a dozen fellows."

"But there's nothing to tell."

"Well, I told it to old Thrapston--you don't know him, do you?
Cunningest old boy in London. Upon my honor, you know, I shouldn't like
to be like old Thrapston, not when I was getting old, you know. He's
too----"

"Well, what did he say?" asked Victor.

"He said what you never had the sense to see, my boy; but I expect Mr.
Merceron won't be obliged to me for repeating it."

"I should like to hear it," said Charlie, with nec