Flashman And The Tiger

"I’ll see to him, never fear. Now, Selly, all is going to be well, d’you see? Absolutely well—and you don’t have to worry your pretty head over it, you understand me?" I took her hand and put my arm round her shoulders and rubbed my old whiskers against her brow, as I’d done since she was a baby, and she wept on my shoulder. "Now—you dry your eyes, and let’s see your best smile

– no, your best one, I said—there, that’s my princess." I wiped a tear from her cheek, and she flung her arms round my ancient neck.

"Oh, gramps—you are the dearest grandpapa! I know you will make it right!" She sniffed in my ear. "Perhaps … after all, if you offered him more money … he is such a greedy, odious person. But you will find a way, won’t you?"

That, of course, remained to be seen, and when I’d packed her off to bed, and sent word round to her fond parents' house that she’d be staying the night with us, I sought enlightenment in brandy. I find it helps. Moran, thinks I to myself; evil, lecherous skunk. I thought of that shifty eye and wicked mouth—aye, he fitted the part he’d written for himself. Trying to ruin virginity, was he—and my little Selly’s at that, damn him. Well, now, if I was in his shoes (as I had been, of course) what would make me forego my dirty designs? Threats of violence?—well, they’d have worked on me, but they wouldn’t on Moran, that was certain. He was all cold steel and courage, that one; I’d seen him. Money, then? Aye, I could have been bought off—I had been, in the past. So—Flashy’s bank account was in for another rough shaking. Well, if needs must, so be it—I couldn’t see any other way.

Not that I was resigned to tamely paying up, you understand; if I could find a way of foiling the swine I’d do it, but I plied my wits through a bottle and a half by next afternoon, without striking paydirt. However, until I saw Moran himself, there was nothing to be done, so I sought out his direction by discreet inquiry, and early evening found me round at his rooms, off Bond Street, sending in my card. I was ushered up, and there was the man himself, very much at his ease, in a most luxuriously fitted den, all leather and good panels and big game trophies on the walls. Chinese carpet, too, rot him; his price wasn’t going to be a cheap one.

"Well, well," says he, setting his back to the mantel, very lean and cool. "I half-expected you’d be round, if not quite so soon."

"All right, Moran," says I, giving him my damn-you stare, and keeping my tile on. "What’s the game?"

"Game, my dear chap? The only game I’m interested in is big game, what? Reminds me—have you seen that rubbish in The Times sporting columns—review of some book on shikar'?" He sauntered forward to his desk, and picked up a paper. "Here we are—`No beast, perhaps, is more dangerous than the buffalo.' What tosh, don’t you agree? Why, what buffalo that ever walked could compare with a wounded leopard, eh? Or a tiger, if it comes to that. But maybe you’ve another opinion?" He gave a short laugh, and the blue eyes slipped quickly over me. "What d’ye think of my collection, by the way? Only the best of it here, of course—rather fine, though. That ibex head, for example, and the snow leopard beside the window—"

"My only interest in your collection," I growled, "is that it isn’t going to contain my grand-daughter."

"No?" says he, lightly. "Thought she’d look rather well, mounted—wouldn’t you think? Don’t do anything foolish," he added sharply, as I started to plough forward, snarling at his filthy insolence. "You’re past the age when you can lift your stick to anyone—not that you could ever have lifted it to me."

My rage was almost choking me as I glared at him, standing so easy behind his desk, mocking me.

"Listen, you foul kite," says I. "You’ll drop this vile … affront you’ve put on my girl, or by God it’ll be the worse for you! I’ll make this town too hot for you, so help me, I will! You think I’m helpless, do you? You’ll find out other—"

"Drop it, you old fool," snaps he. "D’you think you can bluster at me? Think back to Isan’lwana and ask yourself if I’m the man to be brow-beaten. Yes—that makes you think twice!"

He was right there; I stood seething helplessly.

"Damn you! All right, then," for I knew it had to come to this, "what’s your price?"

He laughed aloud. "Money? Are you seriously trying to buy me off? You’ve a poorer opinion of Miss Selina’s charms than I’d have thought possible in a rake of your experience."

"Blast your lousy tongue—how much?"

He took a cigar from his pocket, lit it coolly while I boiled with anger, and blew out the match.