"But of course," the Kafir said, a disturbing gleam of humor in his lazy green eyes. "Incidentally, I'm curious about the lawsuits just filed against the railroad."
Weldon's growing sense of well-being suffered a check. Trying to sound confident, he said, "All the charges are spurious and will be resolved very soon."
''Oh?'' Peregrine's brows raised skeptically. ''The City doesn't think so. The fall of the stock price is nothing short of disastrous. Compensation suits against a company are common, but criminal charges are rare. If they are proved, you might be sent to prison yourself."
Weldon's voice dropped. "Confidentially, I believe that a rival railroad group is behind this. Because they know how profitable the L & S will be, they want to cause trouble so later they can step in and claim our route. Crawley, the farmer who is accusing us of criminal harassment, has disappeared, along with his whole family. I fear foul play.''
"Indeed?" Peregrine's brows lifted.
"You must have heard about some of the vicious things that have been done when several companies are competing for the same routes—some railroads have been forced to buy off rivals in order to stay in business," Weldon said, elaborating on his story. "I would rather avoid that because it's a poor use of stockholders' funds, but in this case, buying the plaintiffs off may be the best solution."
"One must be practical," the Kafir agreed.
Weldon finally reached his key point. "Because of these legal problems and the drop in the value of the stock, the company is facing a temporary cash shortage. Might you be interested in increasing your investment? That will protect your existing stake in the L & S and repay you well later."
Peregrine drew his dark brows together thoughtfully.
Weldon held his breath, trying not to show his anxiety. He feared that he might have moved too quickly, but the Kafir's expression was encouraging.
Then Peregrine looked right into Weldon's eyes and said pleasantly, "I'll see you in hell first."
Not believing his own ears, Weldon stammered, "Wh-what?"
Obligingly the other man repeated, "I will see you burn in hell before I will save you from the disaster you so richly deserve."
It was a moment when every impression was razor vivid. Weldon was acutely aware of the waltz music pulsing around them, the scents of sweaty bodies and heavy perfumes. A woman's wide skirt brushed his leg as she whirled by.
Most of all, he was mesmerized by the Kafir's green, green eyes, which watched him with mocking malice. Weldon hid never seen eyes so green.
No, he had seen eyes like that once before. There had been a nagging sense of recognition the first time he'd met Peregrine. When and where had he seen such eyes?
A long moment of intense thought produced a shattering answer.
"Tripoli," Weldon gasped. He scanned the face of the man in front of him, looking for traces of an almost forgotten boy. "No, it's impossible. You can't be..."
Still mockingly polite, the Kafir said, "What is impossible—that justice has finally caught up with you? You said it was impossible then, too. One would think that the evidence of your eyes would convince you otherwise."
The words were an echo from a distant time and place, and they instantly resolved Weldon's doubts. Suddenly everything made horrible sense, for all of Weldon's problems had begun when Peregrine had come into his life.
Suffused with fury, Weldon hissed, "It hasn't been bad luck, has it? You miserable bastard, you've been stalking me for months, persecuting me in every way possible. Lady Sara, the railroad, maybe even the barony."
"Precisely." Peregrine kept his voice level, but inside he vibrated with exultation. This was the moment he had been anticipating for twenty-five years, the moment when Weldon realized that his doom had found him. "I decided to give you a hint because I was growing weary of waiting for you to identify me on your own." And also, as he had told Slade, it was time to draw the game to a close.
Weldon's face was a study in emotions: shock, rage, and best of all, fear. Then his features hardened, the mask of a gentleman crumbling to reveal the viciousness within. "You certainly have changed." His insulting gaze scanned Peregrine from head to foot. "I would never have believed that a filthy brat like you would ever be able to ape the manners of a gentleman. For that is all you are doing: aping."
"I learned to ape gentility from an expert," Peregrine said with barbed civility.
The swelling of violins announced a new waltz, the lush music curling sensuously around the two men. Weldon's face twisted into a sneer. "How did you make your fortune? I suppose you began by selling that nice, tight little..."