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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:22 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:22 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1585-0.txt b/1585-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba980f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/1585-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6618 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1585 *** + +THE WRONG BOX + +By Robert Louis Stevenson And Lloyd Osbourne + + + + +PREFACE + +‘Nothing like a little judicious levity,’ says Michael Finsbury in the +text: nor can any better excuse be found for the volume in the reader’s +hand. The authors can but add that one of them is old enough to be +ashamed of himself, and the other young enough to learn better. + +R. L. S. L. O. + + + + +CHAPTER I. In Which Morris Suspects + +How very little does the amateur, dwelling at home at ease, comprehend +the labours and perils of the author, and, when he smilingly skims the +surface of a work of fiction, how little does he consider the hours +of toil, consultation of authorities, researches in the Bodleian, +correspondence with learned and illegible Germans--in one word, the vast +scaffolding that was first built up and then knocked down, to while away +an hour for him in a railway train! Thus I might begin this tale with +a biography of Tonti--birthplace, parentage, genius probably inherited +from his mother, remarkable instance of precocity, etc--and a complete +treatise on the system to which he bequeathed his name. The material +is all beside me in a pigeon-hole, but I scorn to appear vainglorious. +Tonti is dead, and I never saw anyone who even pretended to regret him; +and, as for the tontine system, a word will suffice for all the purposes +of this unvarnished narrative. + +A number of sprightly youths (the more the merrier) put up a certain sum +of money, which is then funded in a pool under trustees; coming on for +a century later, the proceeds are fluttered for a moment in the face of +the last survivor, who is probably deaf, so that he cannot even hear of +his success--and who is certainly dying, so that he might just as well +have lost. The peculiar poetry and even humour of the scheme is now +apparent, since it is one by which nobody concerned can possibly profit; +but its fine, sportsmanlike character endeared it to our grandparents. + +When Joseph Finsbury and his brother Masterman were little lads +in white-frilled trousers, their father--a well-to-do merchant +in Cheapside--caused them to join a small but rich tontine of +seven-and-thirty lives. A thousand pounds was the entrance fee; and +Joseph Finsbury can remember to this day the visit to the lawyer’s, +where the members of the tontine--all children like himself--were +assembled together, and sat in turn in the big office chair, and signed +their names with the assistance of a kind old gentleman in spectacles +and Wellington boots. He remembers playing with the children afterwards +on the lawn at the back of the lawyer’s house, and a battle-royal that +he had with a brother tontiner who had kicked his shins. The sound of +war called forth the lawyer from where he was dispensing cake and +wine to the assembled parents in the office, and the combatants were +separated, and Joseph’s spirit (for he was the smaller of the two) +commended by the gentleman in the Wellington boots, who vowed he had +been just such another at the same age. Joseph wondered to himself if +he had worn at that time little Wellingtons and a little bald head, +and when, in bed at night, he grew tired of telling himself stories +of sea-fights, he used to dress himself up as the old gentleman, and +entertain other little boys and girls with cake and wine. + +In the year 1840 the thirty-seven were all alive; in 1850 their number +had decreased by six; in 1856 and 1857 business was more lively, for the +Crimea and the Mutiny carried off no less than nine. There remained +in 1870 but five of the original members, and at the date of my story, +including the two Finsburys, but three. + +By this time Masterman was in his seventy-third year; he had long +complained of the effects of age, had long since retired from business, +and now lived in absolute seclusion under the roof of his son Michael, +the well-known solicitor. Joseph, on the other hand, was still up and +about, and still presented but a semi-venerable figure on the streets +in which he loved to wander. This was the more to be deplored because +Masterman had led (even to the least particular) a model British life. +Industry, regularity, respectability, and a preference for the four per +cents are understood to be the very foundations of a green old age. All +these Masterman had eminently displayed, and here he was, ab agendo, at +seventy-three; while Joseph, barely two years younger, and in the most +excellent preservation, had disgraced himself through life by idleness +and eccentricity. Embarked in the leather trade, he had early wearied +of business, for which he was supposed to have small parts. A taste for +general information, not promptly checked, had soon begun to sap his +manhood. There is no passion more debilitating to the mind, unless, +perhaps, it be that itch of public speaking which it not infrequently +accompanies or begets. The two were conjoined in the case of Joseph; the +acute stage of this double malady, that in which the patient delivers +gratuitous lectures, soon declared itself with severity, and not many +years had passed over his head before he would have travelled thirty +miles to address an infant school. He was no student; his reading was +confined to elementary textbooks and the daily papers; he did not even +fly as high as cyclopedias; life, he would say, was his volume. His +lectures were not meant, he would declare, for college professors; they +were addressed direct to ‘the great heart of the people’, and the +heart of the people must certainly be sounder than its head, for his +lucubrations were received with favour. That entitled ‘How to Live +Cheerfully on Forty Pounds a Year’, created a sensation among the +unemployed. ‘Education: Its Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability’, +gained him the respect of the shallow-minded. As for his celebrated +essay on ‘Life Insurance Regarded in its Relation to the Masses’, read +before the Working Men’s Mutual Improvement Society, Isle of Dogs, it +was received with a ‘literal ovation’ by an unintelligent audience of +both sexes, and so marked was the effect that he was next year elected +honorary president of the institution, an office of less than +no emolument--since the holder was expected to come down with a +donation--but one which highly satisfied his self-esteem. + +While Joseph was thus building himself up a reputation among the more +cultivated portion of the ignorant, his domestic life was suddenly +overwhelmed by orphans. The death of his younger brother Jacob saddled +him with the charge of two boys, Morris and John; and in the course of +the same year his family was still further swelled by the addition of a +little girl, the daughter of John Henry Hazeltine, Esq., a gentleman +of small property and fewer friends. He had met Joseph only once, at a +lecture-hall in Holloway; but from that formative experience he returned +home to make a new will, and consign his daughter and her fortune to the +lecturer. Joseph had a kindly disposition; and yet it was not without +reluctance that he accepted this new responsibility, advertised for a +nurse, and purchased a second-hand perambulator. Morris and John he made +more readily welcome; not so much because of the tie of consanguinity +as because the leather business (in which he hastened to invest their +fortune of thirty thousand pounds) had recently exhibited inexplicable +symptoms of decline. A young but capable Scot was chosen as manager to +the enterprise, and the cares of business never again afflicted Joseph +Finsbury. Leaving his charges in the hands of the capable Scot (who was +married), he began his extensive travels on the Continent and in Asia +Minor. + +With a polyglot Testament in one hand and a phrase-book in the other, +he groped his way among the speakers of eleven European languages. +The first of these guides is hardly applicable to the purposes of the +philosophic traveller, and even the second is designed more expressly +for the tourist than for the expert in life. But he pressed interpreters +into his service--whenever he could get their services for nothing--and +by one means and another filled many notebooks with the results of his +researches. + +In these wanderings he spent several years, and only returned to England +when the increasing age of his charges needed his attention. The two +lads had been placed in a good but economical school, where they had +received a sound commercial education; which was somewhat awkward, as +the leather business was by no means in a state to court enquiry. In +fact, when Joseph went over his accounts preparatory to surrendering his +trust, he was dismayed to discover that his brother’s fortune had not +increased by his stewardship; even by making over to his two wards +every penny he had in the world, there would still be a deficit of seven +thousand eight hundred pounds. When these facts were communicated to the +two brothers in the presence of a lawyer, Morris Finsbury threatened +his uncle with all the terrors of the law, and was only prevented from +taking extreme steps by the advice of the professional man. ‘You cannot +get blood from a stone,’ observed the lawyer. + +And Morris saw the point and came to terms with his uncle. On the one +side, Joseph gave up all that he possessed, and assigned to his +nephew his contingent interest in the tontine, already quite a hopeful +speculation. On the other, Morris agreed to harbour his uncle and Miss +Hazeltine (who had come to grief with the rest), and to pay to each +of them one pound a month as pocket-money. The allowance was amply +sufficient for the old man; it scarce appears how Miss Hazeltine +contrived to dress upon it; but she did, and, what is more, she never +complained. She was, indeed, sincerely attached to her incompetent +guardian. He had never been unkind; his age spoke for him loudly; there +was something appealing in his whole-souled quest of knowledge and +innocent delight in the smallest mark of admiration; and, though the +lawyer had warned her she was being sacrificed, Julia had refused to add +to the perplexities of Uncle Joseph. + +In a large, dreary house in John Street, Bloomsbury, these four dwelt +together; a family in appearance, in reality a financial association. +Julia and Uncle Joseph were, of course, slaves; John, a gentle man with +a taste for the banjo, the music-hall, the Gaiety bar, and the sporting +papers, must have been anywhere a secondary figure; and the cares +and delights of empire devolved entirely upon Morris. That these are +inextricably intermixed is one of the commonplaces with which the bland +essayist consoles the incompetent and the obscure, but in the case of +Morris the bitter must have largely outweighed the sweet. He grudged no +trouble to himself, he spared none to others; he called the servants +in the morning, he served out the stores with his own hand, he took +soundings of the sherry, he numbered the remainder biscuits; painful +scenes took place over the weekly bills, and the cook was frequently +impeached, and the tradespeople came and hectored with him in the back +parlour upon a question of three farthings. The superficial might have +deemed him a miser; in his own eyes he was simply a man who had been +defrauded; the world owed him seven thousand eight hundred pounds, and +he intended that the world should pay. + +But it was in his dealings with Joseph that Morris’s character +particularly shone. His uncle was a rather gambling stock in which he +had invested heavily; and he spared no pains in nursing the security. +The old man was seen monthly by a physician, whether he was well or ill. +His diet, his raiment, his occasional outings, now to Brighton, now to +Bournemouth, were doled out to him like pap to infants. In bad weather +he must keep the house. In good weather, by half-past nine, he must +be ready in the hall; Morris would see that he had gloves and that his +shoes were sound; and the pair would start for the leather business +arm in arm. The way there was probably dreary enough, for there was no +pretence of friendly feeling; Morris had never ceased to upbraid +his guardian with his defalcation and to lament the burthen of Miss +Hazeltine; and Joseph, though he was a mild enough soul, regarded his +nephew with something very near akin to hatred. But the way there +was nothing to the journey back; for the mere sight of the place of +business, as well as every detail of its transactions, was enough to +poison life for any Finsbury. + +Joseph’s name was still over the door; it was he who still signed the +cheques; but this was only policy on the part of Morris, and designed +to discourage other members of the tontine. In reality the business was +entirely his; and he found it an inheritance of sorrows. He tried to +sell it, and the offers he received were quite derisory. He tried to +extend it, and it was only the liabilities he succeeded in extending; to +restrict it, and it was only the profits he managed to restrict. Nobody +had ever made money out of that concern except the capable Scot, who +retired (after his discharge) to the neighbourhood of Banff and built a +castle with his profits. The memory of this fallacious Caledonian Morris +would revile daily, as he sat in the private office opening his mail, +with old Joseph at another table, sullenly awaiting orders, or savagely +affixing signatures to he knew not what. And when the man of the heather +pushed cynicism so far as to send him the announcement of his second +marriage (to Davida, eldest daughter of the Revd. Alexander McCraw), it +was really supposed that Morris would have had a fit. + +Business hours, in the Finsbury leather trade, had been cut to the +quick; even Morris’s strong sense of duty to himself was not strong +enough to dally within those walls and under the shadow of that +bankruptcy; and presently the manager and the clerks would draw a long +breath, and compose themselves for another day of procrastination. Raw +Haste, on the authority of my Lord Tennyson, is half-sister to Delay; +but the Business Habits are certainly her uncles. Meanwhile, the leather +merchant would lead his living investment back to John Street like a +puppy dog; and, having there immured him in the hall, would depart for +the day on the quest of seal rings, the only passion of his life. Joseph +had more than the vanity of man, he had that of lecturers. He owned he +was in fault, although more sinned against (by the capable Scot) than +sinning; but had he steeped his hands in gore, he would still not +deserve to be thus dragged at the chariot-wheels of a young man, to sit +a captive in the halls of his own leather business, to be entertained +with mortifying comments on his whole career--to have his costume +examined, his collar pulled up, the presence of his mittens verified, +and to be taken out and brought home in custody, like an infant with +a nurse. At the thought of it his soul would swell with venom, and he +would make haste to hang up his hat and coat and the detested mittens, +and slink upstairs to Julia and his notebooks. The drawing-room at least +was sacred from Morris; it belonged to the old man and the young girl; +it was there that she made her dresses; it was there that he inked +his spectacles over the registration of disconnected facts and the +calculation of insignificant statistics. + +Here he would sometimes lament his connection with the tontine. ‘If it +were not for that,’ he cried one afternoon, ‘he would not care to keep +me. I might be a free man, Julia. And I could so easily support myself +by giving lectures.’ + +‘To be sure you could,’ said she; ‘and I think it one of the meanest +things he ever did to deprive you of that amusement. There were those +nice people at the Isle of Cats (wasn’t it?) who wrote and asked you so +very kindly to give them an address. I did think he might have let you +go to the Isle of Cats.’ + +‘He is a man of no intelligence,’ cried Joseph. ‘He lives here literally +surrounded by the absorbing spectacle of life, and for all the good +it does him, he might just as well be in his coffin. Think of his +opportunities! The heart of any other young man would burn within him +at the chance. The amount of information that I have it in my power +to convey, if he would only listen, is a thing that beggars language, +Julia.’ + +‘Whatever you do, my dear, you mustn’t excite yourself,’ said Julia; +‘for you know, if you look at all ill, the doctor will be sent for.’ + +‘That is very true,’ returned the old man humbly, ‘I will compose myself +with a little study.’ He thumbed his gallery of notebooks. ‘I wonder,’ +he said, ‘I wonder (since I see your hands are occupied) whether it +might not interest you--’ + +‘Why, of course it would,’ cried Julia. ‘Read me one of your nice +stories, there’s a dear.’ + +He had the volume down and his spectacles upon his nose instanter, as +though to forestall some possible retractation. ‘What I propose to read +to you,’ said he, skimming through the pages, ‘is the notes of a highly +important conversation with a Dutch courier of the name of David Abbas, +which is the Latin for abbot. Its results are well worth the money +it cost me, for, as Abbas at first appeared somewhat impatient, I was +induced to (what is, I believe, singularly called) stand him drink. It +runs only to about five-and-twenty pages. Yes, here it is.’ He cleared +his throat, and began to read. + +Mr Finsbury (according to his own report) contributed about four hundred +and ninety-nine five-hundredths of the interview, and elicited from +Abbas literally nothing. It was dull for Julia, who did not require to +listen; for the Dutch courier, who had to answer, it must have been +a perfect nightmare. It would seem as if he had consoled himself by +frequent appliances to the bottle; it would even seem that (toward the +end) he had ceased to depend on Joseph’s frugal generosity and called +for the flagon on his own account. The effect, at least, of some +mellowing influence was visible in the record: Abbas became suddenly a +willing witness; he began to volunteer disclosures; and Julia had just +looked up from her seam with something like a smile, when Morris burst +into the house, eagerly calling for his uncle, and the next instant +plunged into the room, waving in the air the evening paper. + +It was indeed with great news that he came charged. The demise was +announced of Lieutenant-General Sir Glasgow Biggar, KCSI, KCMG, etc., +and the prize of the tontine now lay between the Finsbury brothers. Here +was Morris’s opportunity at last. The brothers had never, it is true, +been cordial. When word came that Joseph was in Asia Minor, Masterman +had expressed himself with irritation. ‘I call it simply indecent,’ he +had said. ‘Mark my words--we shall hear of him next at the North Pole.’ +And these bitter expressions had been reported to the traveller on his +return. What was worse, Masterman had refused to attend the lecture on +‘Education: Its Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability’, although +invited to the platform. Since then the brothers had not met. On the +other hand, they never had openly quarrelled; Joseph (by Morris’s +orders) was prepared to waive the advantage of his juniority; Masterman +had enjoyed all through life the reputation of a man neither greedy nor +unfair. Here, then, were all the elements of compromise assembled; +and Morris, suddenly beholding his seven thousand eight hundred pounds +restored to him, and himself dismissed from the vicissitudes of the +leather trade, hastened the next morning to the office of his cousin +Michael. + +Michael was something of a public character. Launched upon the law at a +very early age, and quite without protectors, he had become a trafficker +in shady affairs. He was known to be the man for a lost cause; it was +known he could extract testimony from a stone, and interest from a +gold-mine; and his office was besieged in consequence by all that +numerous class of persons who have still some reputation to lose, and +find themselves upon the point of losing it; by those who have +made undesirable acquaintances, who have mislaid a compromising +correspondence, or who are blackmailed by their own butlers. In +private life Michael was a man of pleasure; but it was thought his dire +experience at the office had gone far to sober him, and it was known +that (in the matter of investments) he preferred the solid to the +brilliant. What was yet more to the purpose, he had been all his life a +consistent scoffer at the Finsbury tontine. + +It was therefore with little fear for the result that Morris presented +himself before his cousin, and proceeded feverishly to set forth his +scheme. For near upon a quarter of an hour the lawyer suffered him to +dwell upon its manifest advantages uninterrupted. Then Michael rose from +his seat, and, ringing for his clerk, uttered a single clause: ‘It won’t +do, Morris.’ + +It was in vain that the leather merchant pleaded and reasoned, and +returned day after day to plead and reason. It was in vain that he +offered a bonus of one thousand, of two thousand, of three thousand +pounds; in vain that he offered, in Joseph’s name, to be content with +only one-third of the pool. Still there came the same answer: ‘It won’t +do.’ + +‘I can’t see the bottom of this,’ he said at last. ‘You answer none of +my arguments; you haven’t a word to say. For my part, I believe it’s +malice.’ + +The lawyer smiled at him benignly. ‘You may believe one thing,’ said he. +‘Whatever else I do, I am not going to gratify any of your curiosity. +You see I am a trifle more communicative today, because this is our last +interview upon the subject.’ + +‘Our last interview!’ cried Morris. + +‘The stirrup-cup, dear boy,’ returned Michael. ‘I can’t have my business +hours encroached upon. And, by the by, have you no business of your own? +Are there no convulsions in the leather trade?’ + +‘I believe it to be malice,’ repeated Morris doggedly. ‘You always hated +and despised me from a boy.’ + +‘No, no--not hated,’ returned Michael soothingly. ‘I rather like you +than otherwise; there’s such a permanent surprise about you, you look so +dark and attractive from a distance. Do you know that to the naked +eye you look romantic?--like what they call a man with a history? And +indeed, from all that I can hear, the history of the leather trade is +full of incident.’ + +‘Yes,’ said Morris, disregarding these remarks, ‘it’s no use coming +here. I shall see your father.’ + +‘O no, you won’t,’ said Michael. ‘Nobody shall see my father.’ + +‘I should like to know why,’ cried his cousin. + +‘I never make any secret of that,’ replied the lawyer. ‘He is too ill.’ + +‘If he is as ill as you say,’ cried the other, ‘the more reason for +accepting my proposal. I will see him.’ + +‘Will you?’ said Michael, and he rose and rang for his clerk. + +It was now time, according to Sir Faraday Bond, the medical baronet +whose name is so familiar at the foot of bulletins, that Joseph (the +poor Golden Goose) should be removed into the purer air of Bournemouth; +and for that uncharted wilderness of villas the family now shook off +the dust of Bloomsbury; Julia delighted, because at Bournemouth she +sometimes made acquaintances; John in despair, for he was a man of city +tastes; Joseph indifferent where he was, so long as there was pen and +ink and daily papers, and he could avoid martyrdom at the office; Morris +himself, perhaps, not displeased to pretermit these visits to the city, +and have a quiet time for thought. He was prepared for any sacrifice; +all he desired was to get his money again and clear his feet of leather; +and it would be strange, since he was so modest in his desires, and the +pool amounted to upward of a hundred and sixteen thousand pounds--it +would be strange indeed if he could find no way of influencing Michael. +‘If I could only guess his reason,’ he repeated to himself; and by day, +as he walked in Branksome Woods, and by night, as he turned upon his +bed, and at meal-times, when he forgot to eat, and in the bathing +machine, when he forgot to dress himself, that problem was constantly +before him: Why had Michael refused? + +At last, one night, he burst into his brother’s room and woke him. + +‘What’s all this?’ asked John. + +‘Julia leaves this place tomorrow,’ replied Morris. ‘She must go up to +town and get the house ready, and find servants. We shall all follow in +three days.’ + +‘Oh, brayvo!’ cried John. ‘But why?’ + +‘I’ve found it out, John,’ returned his brother gently. + +‘It? What?’ enquired John. + +‘Why Michael won’t compromise,’ said Morris. ‘It’s because he can’t. +It’s because Masterman’s dead, and he’s keeping it dark.’ + +‘Golly!’ cried the impressionable John. ‘But what’s the use? Why does he +do it, anyway?’ + +‘To defraud us of the tontine,’ said his brother. + +‘He couldn’t; you have to have a doctor’s certificate,’ objected John. + +‘Did you never hear of venal doctors?’ enquired Morris. ‘They’re as +common as blackberries: you can pick ‘em up for three-pound-ten a head.’ + +‘I wouldn’t do it under fifty if I were a sawbones,’ ejaculated John. + +‘And then Michael,’ continued Morris, ‘is in the very thick of it. All +his clients have come to grief; his whole business is rotten eggs. If +any man could arrange it, he could; and depend upon it, he has his plan +all straight; and depend upon it, it’s a good one, for he’s clever, and +be damned to him! But I’m clever too; and I’m desperate. I lost seven +thousand eight hundred pounds when I was an orphan at school.’ + +‘O, don’t be tedious,’ interrupted John. ‘You’ve lost far more already +trying to get it back.’ + + + +CHAPTER II. In Which Morris takes Action + +Some days later, accordingly, the three males of this depressing family +might have been observed (by a reader of G. P. R. James) taking their +departure from the East Station of Bournemouth. The weather was raw +and changeable, and Joseph was arrayed in consequence according to the +principles of Sir Faraday Bond, a man no less strict (as is well known) +on costume than on diet. There are few polite invalids who have not +lived, or tried to live, by that punctilious physician’s orders. ‘Avoid +tea, madam,’ the reader has doubtless heard him say, ‘avoid tea, fried +liver, antimonial wine, and bakers’ bread. Retire nightly at 10.45; +and clothe yourself (if you please) throughout in hygienic flannel. +Externally, the fur of the marten is indicated. Do not forget to +procure a pair of health boots at Messrs Dail and Crumbie’s.’ And he has +probably called you back, even after you have paid your fee, to add +with stentorian emphasis: ‘I had forgotten one caution: avoid kippered +sturgeon as you would the very devil.’ The unfortunate Joseph was cut to +the pattern of Sir Faraday in every button; he was shod with the health +boot; his suit was of genuine ventilating cloth; his shirt of hygienic +flannel, a somewhat dingy fabric; and he was draped to the knees in +the inevitable greatcoat of marten’s fur. The very railway porters at +Bournemouth (which was a favourite station of the doctor’s) marked the +old gentleman for a creature of Sir Faraday. There was but one evidence +of personal taste, a vizarded forage cap; from this form of headpiece, +since he had fled from a dying jackal on the plains of Ephesus, and +weathered a bora in the Adriatic, nothing could divorce our traveller. + +The three Finsburys mounted into their compartment, and fell immediately +to quarrelling, a step unseemly in itself and (in this case) highly +unfortunate for Morris. Had he lingered a moment longer by the window, +this tale need never have been written. For he might then have observed +(as the porters did not fail to do) the arrival of a second passenger in +the uniform of Sir Faraday Bond. But he had other matters on hand, which +he judged (God knows how erroneously) to be more important. + +‘I never heard of such a thing,’ he cried, resuming a discussion which +had scarcely ceased all morning. ‘The bill is not yours; it is mine.’ + +‘It is payable to me,’ returned the old gentleman, with an air of bitter +obstinacy. ‘I will do what I please with my own property.’ + +The bill was one for eight hundred pounds, which had been given him at +breakfast to endorse, and which he had simply pocketed. + +‘Hear him, Johnny!’ cried Morris. ‘His property! the very clothes upon +his back belong to me.’ + +‘Let him alone,’ said John. ‘I am sick of both of you.’ + +‘That is no way to speak of your uncle, sir,’ cried Joseph. ‘I will not +endure this disrespect. You are a pair of exceedingly forward, impudent, +and ignorant young men, and I have quite made up my mind to put an end +to the whole business.’. + +‘O skittles!’ said the graceful John. + +But Morris was not so easy in his mind. This unusual act of +insubordination had already troubled him; and these mutinous words now +sounded ominously in his ears. He looked at the old gentleman uneasily. +Upon one occasion, many years before, when Joseph was delivering a +lecture, the audience had revolted in a body; finding their entertainer +somewhat dry, they had taken the question of amusement into their own +hands; and the lecturer (along with the board schoolmaster, the Baptist +clergyman, and a working-man’s candidate, who made up his bodyguard) was +ultimately driven from the scene. Morris had not been present on that +fatal day; if he had, he would have recognized a certain fighting +glitter in his uncle’s eye, and a certain chewing movement of his lips, +as old acquaintances. But even to the inexpert these symptoms breathed +of something dangerous. + +‘Well, well,’ said Morris. ‘I have no wish to bother you further till we +get to London.’ + +Joseph did not so much as look at him in answer; with tremulous hands +he produced a copy of the British Mechanic, and ostentatiously buried +himself in its perusal. + +‘I wonder what can make him so cantankerous?’ reflected the nephew. ‘I +don’t like the look of it at all.’ And he dubiously scratched his nose. + +The train travelled forth into the world, bearing along with it the +customary freight of obliterated voyagers, and along with these old +Joseph, affecting immersion in his paper, and John slumbering over +the columns of the Pink Un, and Morris revolving in his mind a dozen +grudges, and suspicions, and alarms. It passed Christchurch by the sea, +Herne with its pinewoods, Ringwood on its mazy river. A little behind +time, but not much for the South-Western, it drew up at the platform of +a station, in the midst of the New Forest, the real name of which (in +case the railway company ‘might have the law of me’) I shall veil under +the alias of Browndean. + +Many passengers put their heads to the window, and among the rest an old +gentleman on whom I willingly dwell, for I am nearly done with him now, +and (in the whole course of the present narrative) I am not in the least +likely to meet another character so decent. His name is immaterial, not +so his habits. He had passed his life wandering in a tweed suit on the +continent of Europe; and years of Galignani’s Messenger having at length +undermined his eyesight, he suddenly remembered the rivers of Assyria +and came to London to consult an oculist. From the oculist to the +dentist, and from both to the physician, the step appears inevitable; +presently he was in the hands of Sir Faraday, robed in ventilating cloth +and sent to Bournemouth; and to that domineering baronet (who was his +only friend upon his native soil) he was now returning to report. The +case of these tweedsuited wanderers is unique. We have all seen them +entering the table d’hote (at Spezzia, or Grätz, or Venice) with a +genteel melancholy and a faint appearance of having been to India and +not succeeded. In the offices of many hundred hotels they are known by +name; and yet, if the whole of this wandering cohort were to disappear +tomorrow, their absence would be wholly unremarked. How much more, if +only one--say this one in the ventilating cloth--should vanish! He had +paid his bills at Bournemouth; his worldly effects were all in the van +in two portmanteaux, and these after the proper interval would be +sold as unclaimed baggage to a Jew; Sir Faraday’s butler would be a +half-crown poorer at the year’s end, and the hotelkeepers of Europe +about the same date would be mourning a small but quite observable +decline in profits. And that would be literally all. Perhaps the old +gentleman thought something of the sort, for he looked melancholy enough +as he pulled his bare, grey head back into the carriage, and the train +smoked under the bridge, and forth, with ever quickening speed, across +the mingled heaths and woods of the New Forest. + +Not many hundred yards beyond Browndean, however, a sudden jarring of +brakes set everybody’s teeth on edge, and there was a brutal stoppage. +Morris Finsbury was aware of a confused uproar of voices, and sprang to +the window. Women were screaming, men were tumbling from the windows on +the track, the guard was crying to them to stay where they were; at the +same time the train began to gather way and move very slowly backward +toward Browndean; and the next moment--, all these various sounds were +blotted out in the apocalyptic whistle and the thundering onslaught of +the down express. + +The actual collision Morris did not hear. Perhaps he fainted. He had a +wild dream of having seen the carriage double up and fall to pieces +like a pantomime trick; and sure enough, when he came to himself, he was +lying on the bare earth and under the open sky. His head ached savagely; +he carried his hand to his brow, and was not surprised to see it red +with blood. The air was filled with an intolerable, throbbing roar, +which he expected to find die away with the return of consciousness; and +instead of that it seemed but to swell the louder and to pierce the more +cruelly through his ears. It was a raging, bellowing thunder, like a +boiler-riveting factory. + +And now curiosity began to stir, and he sat up and looked about him. The +track at this point ran in a sharp curve about a wooded hillock; all +of the near side was heaped with the wreckage of the Bournemouth train; +that of the express was mostly hidden by the trees; and just at the +turn, under clouds of vomiting steam and piled about with cairns of +living coal, lay what remained of the two engines, one upon the other. +On the heathy margin of the line were many people running to and fro, +and crying aloud as they ran, and many others lying motionless like +sleeping tramps. + +Morris suddenly drew an inference. ‘There has been an accident’ thought +he, and was elated at his perspicacity. Almost at the same time his eye +lighted on John, who lay close by as white as paper. ‘Poor old John! +poor old cove!’ he thought, the schoolboy expression popping forth from +some forgotten treasury, and he took his brother’s hand in his with +childish tenderness. It was perhaps the touch that recalled him; +at least John opened his eyes, sat suddenly up, and after several +ineffectual movements of his lips, ‘What’s the row?’ said he, in a +phantom voice. + +The din of that devil’s smithy still thundered in their ears. ‘Let us +get away from that,’ Morris cried, and pointed to the vomit of steam +that still spouted from the broken engines. And the pair helped each +other up, and stood and quaked and wavered and stared about them at the +scene of death. + +Just then they were approached by a party of men who had already +organized themselves for the purposes of rescue. + +‘Are you hurt?’ cried one of these, a young fellow with the sweat +streaming down his pallid face, and who, by the way he was treated, was +evidently the doctor. + +Morris shook his head, and the young man, nodding grimly, handed him a +bottle of some spirit. + +‘Take a drink of that,’ he said; ‘your friend looks as if he needed it +badly. We want every man we can get,’ he added; ‘there’s terrible work +before us, and nobody should shirk. If you can do no more, you can carry +a stretcher.’ + +The doctor was hardly gone before Morris, under the spur of the dram, +awoke to the full possession of his wits. + +‘My God!’ he cried. ‘Uncle Joseph!’ + +‘Yes,’ said John, ‘where can he be? He can’t be far off. I hope the old +party isn’t damaged.’ + +‘Come and help me to look,’ said Morris, with a snap of savage +determination strangely foreign to his ordinary bearing; and then, for +one moment, he broke forth. ‘If he’s dead!’ he cried, and shook his fist +at heaven. + +To and fro the brothers hurried, staring in the faces of the wounded, +or turning the dead upon their backs. They must have thus examined forty +people, and still there was no word of Uncle Joseph. But now the course +of their search brought them near the centre of the collision, where the +boilers were still blowing off steam with a deafening clamour. It was +a part of the field not yet gleaned by the rescuing party. The ground, +especially on the margin of the wood, was full of inequalities--here +a pit, there a hillock surmounted with a bush of furze. It was a place +where many bodies might lie concealed, and they beat it like pointers +after game. Suddenly Morris, who was leading, paused and reached forth +his index with a tragic gesture. John followed the direction of his +brother’s hand. + +In the bottom of a sandy hole lay something that had once been human. +The face had suffered severely, and it was unrecognizable; but that was +not required. The snowy hair, the coat of marten, the ventilating cloth, +the hygienic flannel--everything down to the health boots from Messrs +Dail and Crumbie’s, identified the body as that of Uncle Joseph. Only +the forage cap must have been lost in the convulsion, for the dead man +was bareheaded. + +‘The poor old beggar!’ said John, with a touch of natural feeling; ‘I +would give ten pounds if we hadn’t chivvied him in the train!’ + +But there was no sentiment in the face of Morris as he gazed upon the +dead. Gnawing his nails, with introverted eyes, his brow marked with +the stamp of tragic indignation and tragic intellectual effort, he stood +there silent. Here was a last injustice; he had been robbed while he was +an orphan at school, he had been lashed to a decadent leather business, +he had been saddled with Miss Hazeltine, his cousin had been defrauding +him of the tontine, and he had borne all this, we might almost say, with +dignity, and now they had gone and killed his uncle! + +‘Here!’ he said suddenly, ‘take his heels, we must get him into the +woods. I’m not going to have anybody find this.’ + +‘O, fudge!’ said John, ‘where’s the use?’ + +‘Do what I tell you,’ spirted Morris, as he took the corpse by the +shoulders. ‘Am I to carry him myself?’ + +They were close upon the borders of the wood; in ten or twelve paces +they were under cover; and a little further back, in a sandy clearing of +the trees, they laid their burthen down, and stood and looked at it with +loathing. + +‘What do you mean to do?’ whispered John. + +‘Bury him, to be sure,’ responded Morris, and he opened his pocket-knife +and began feverishly to dig. + +‘You’ll never make a hand of it with that,’ objected the other. + +‘If you won’t help me, you cowardly shirk,’ screamed Morris, ‘you can go +to the devil!’ + +‘It’s the childishest folly,’ said John; ‘but no man shall call me a +coward,’ and he began to help his brother grudgingly. + +The soil was sandy and light, but matted with the roots of the +surrounding firs. Gorse tore their hands; and as they baled the sand +from the grave, it was often discoloured with their blood. An hour +passed of unremitting energy upon the part of Morris, of lukewarm help +on that of John; and still the trench was barely nine inches in depth. +Into this the body was rudely flung: sand was piled upon it, and then +more sand must be dug, and gorse had to be cut to pile on that; and +still from one end of the sordid mound a pair of feet projected and +caught the light upon their patent-leather toes. But by this time the +nerves of both were shaken; even Morris had enough of his grisly task; +and they skulked off like animals into the thickest of the neighbouring +covert. + +‘It’s the best that we can do,’ said Morris, sitting down. + +‘And now,’ said John, ‘perhaps you’ll have the politeness to tell me +what it’s all about.’ + +‘Upon my word,’ cried Morris, ‘if you do not understand for yourself, I +almost despair of telling you.’ + +‘O, of course it’s some rot about the tontine,’ returned the other. ‘But +it’s the merest nonsense. We’ve lost it, and there’s an end.’ + +‘I tell you,’ said Morris, ‘Uncle Masterman is dead. I know it, there’s +a voice that tells me so.’ + +‘Well, and so is Uncle Joseph,’ said John. + +‘He’s not dead, unless I choose,’ returned Morris. + +‘And come to that,’ cried John, ‘if you’re right, and Uncle Masterman’s +been dead ever so long, all we have to do is to tell the truth and +expose Michael.’ + +‘You seem to think Michael is a fool,’ sneered Morris. ‘Can’t you +understand he’s been preparing this fraud for years? He has the whole +thing ready: the nurse, the doctor, the undertaker, all bought, the +certificate all ready but the date! Let him get wind of this business, +and you mark my words, Uncle Masterman will die in two days and be +buried in a week. But see here, Johnny; what Michael can do, I can do. +If he plays a game of bluff, so can I. If his father is to live for +ever, by God, so shall my uncle!’ + +‘It’s illegal, ain’t it?’ said John. + +‘A man must have SOME moral courage,’ replied Morris with dignity. + +‘And then suppose you’re wrong? Suppose Uncle Masterman’s alive and +kicking?’ + +‘Well, even then,’ responded the plotter, ‘we are no worse off than we +were before; in fact, we’re better. Uncle Masterman must die some day; +as long as Uncle Joseph was alive, he might have died any day; but we’re +out of all that trouble now: there’s no sort of limit to the game that I +propose--it can be kept up till Kingdom Come.’ + +‘If I could only see how you meant to set about it’ sighed John. ‘But +you know, Morris, you always were such a bungler.’ + +‘I’d like to know what I ever bungled,’ cried Morris; ‘I have the best +collection of signet rings in London.’ + +‘Well, you know, there’s the leather business,’ suggested the other. +‘That’s considered rather a hash.’ + +It was a mark of singular self-control in Morris that he suffered this +to pass unchallenged, and even unresented. + +‘About the business in hand,’ said he, ‘once we can get him up to +Bloomsbury, there’s no sort of trouble. We bury him in the cellar, which +seems made for it; and then all I have to do is to start out and find a +venal doctor.’ + +‘Why can’t we leave him where he is?’ asked John. + +‘Because we know nothing about the country,’ retorted Morris. ‘This wood +may be a regular lovers’ walk. Turn your mind to the real difficulty. +How are we to get him up to Bloomsbury?’ + +Various schemes were mooted and rejected. The railway station at +Browndean was, of course, out of the question, for it would now be a +centre of curiosity and gossip, and (of all things) they would be +least able to dispatch a dead body without remark. John feebly proposed +getting an ale-cask and sending it as beer, but the objections to this +course were so overwhelming that Morris scorned to answer. The purchase +of a packing-case seemed equally hopeless, for why should two gentlemen +without baggage of any kind require a packing-case? They would be more +likely to require clean linen. + +‘We are working on wrong lines,’ cried Morris at last. ‘The thing must +be gone about more carefully. Suppose now,’ he added excitedly, speaking +by fits and starts, as if he were thinking aloud, ‘suppose we rent +a cottage by the month. A householder can buy a packing-case without +remark. Then suppose we clear the people out today, get the packing-case +tonight, and tomorrow I hire a carriage or a cart that we could +drive ourselves--and take the box, or whatever we get, to Ringwood or +Lyndhurst or somewhere; we could label it “specimens”, don’t you see? +Johnny, I believe I’ve hit the nail at last.’ + +‘Well, it sounds more feasible,’ admitted John. + +‘Of course we must take assumed names,’ continued Morris. ‘It would +never do to keep our own. What do you say to “Masterman” itself? It +sounds quiet and dignified.’ + +‘I will NOT take the name of Masterman,’ returned his brother; ‘you may, +if you like. I shall call myself Vance--the Great Vance; positively the +last six nights. There’s some go in a name like that.’ + +‘Vance?’ cried Morris. ‘Do you think we are playing a pantomime for our +amusement? There was never anybody named Vance who wasn’t a music-hall +singer.’ + +‘That’s the beauty of it,’ returned John; ‘it gives you some standing at +once. You may call yourself Fortescue till all’s blue, and nobody cares; +but to be Vance gives a man a natural nobility.’ + +‘But there’s lots of other theatrical names,’ cried Morris. ‘Leybourne, +Irving, Brough, Toole--’ + +‘Devil a one will I take!’ returned his brother. ‘I am going to have my +little lark out of this as well as you.’ + +‘Very well,’ said Morris, who perceived that John was determined to +carry his point, ‘I shall be Robert Vance.’ + +‘And I shall be George Vance,’ cried John, ‘the only original George +Vance! Rally round the only original!’ + +Repairing as well as they were able the disorder of their clothes, the +Finsbury brothers returned to Browndean by a circuitous route in quest +of luncheon and a suitable cottage. It is not always easy to drop at +a moment’s notice on a furnished residence in a retired locality; but +fortune presently introduced our adventurers to a deaf carpenter, a man +rich in cottages of the required description, and unaffectedly eager to +supply their wants. The second place they visited, standing, as it did, +about a mile and a half from any neighbours, caused them to exchange a +glance of hope. On a nearer view, the place was not without depressing +features. It stood in a marshy-looking hollow of a heath; tall trees +obscured its windows; the thatch visibly rotted on the rafters; and the +walls were stained with splashes of unwholesome green. The rooms were +small, the ceilings low, the furniture merely nominal; a strange chill +and a haunting smell of damp pervaded the kitchen; and the bedroom +boasted only of one bed. + +Morris, with a view to cheapening the place, remarked on this defect. + +‘Well,’ returned the man; ‘if you can’t sleep two abed, you’d better +take a villa residence.’ + +‘And then,’ pursued Morris, ‘there’s no water. How do you get your +water?’ + +‘We fill THAT from the spring,’ replied the carpenter, pointing to a big +barrel that stood beside the door. ‘The spring ain’t so VERY far off, +after all, and it’s easy brought in buckets. There’s a bucket there.’ + +Morris nudged his brother as they examined the water-butt. It was +new, and very solidly constructed for its office. If anything had been +wanting to decide them, this eminently practical barrel would have +turned the scale. A bargain was promptly struck, the month’s rent was +paid upon the nail, and about an hour later the Finsbury brothers might +have been observed returning to the blighted cottage, having along with +them the key, which was the symbol of their tenancy, a spirit-lamp, with +which they fondly told themselves they would be able to cook, a pork pie +of suitable dimensions, and a quart of the worst whisky in Hampshire. +Nor was this all they had effected; already (under the plea that they +were landscape-painters) they had hired for dawn on the morrow a light +but solid two-wheeled cart; so that when they entered in their new +character, they were able to tell themselves that the back of the +business was already broken. + +John proceeded to get tea; while Morris, foraging about the house, was +presently delighted by discovering the lid of the water-butt upon the +kitchen shelf. Here, then, was the packing-case complete; in the absence +of straw, the blankets (which he himself, at least, had not the smallest +intention of using for their present purpose) would exactly take the +place of packing; and Morris, as the difficulties began to vanish from +his path, rose almost to the brink of exultation. There was, however, +one difficulty not yet faced, one upon which his whole scheme depended. +Would John consent to remain alone in the cottage? He had not yet dared +to put the question. + +It was with high good-humour that the pair sat down to the deal table, +and proceeded to fall-to on the pork pie. Morris retailed the discovery +of the lid, and the Great Vance was pleased to applaud by beating on the +table with his fork in true music-hall style. + +‘That’s the dodge,’ he cried. ‘I always said a water-butt was what you +wanted for this business.’ + +‘Of course,’ said Morris, thinking this a favourable opportunity to +prepare his brother, ‘of course you must stay on in this place till I +give the word; I’ll give out that uncle is resting in the New Forest. It +would not do for both of us to appear in London; we could never conceal +the absence of the old man.’ + +John’s jaw dropped. + +‘O, come!’ he cried. ‘You can stay in this hole yourself. I won’t.’ + +The colour came into Morris’s cheeks. He saw that he must win his +brother at any cost. + +‘You must please remember, Johnny,’ he said, ‘the amount of the tontine. +If I succeed, we shall have each fifty thousand to place to our bank +account; ay, and nearer sixty.’ + +‘But if you fail,’ returned John, ‘what then? What’ll be the colour of +our bank account in that case?’ + +‘I will pay all expenses,’ said Morris, with an inward struggle; ‘you +shall lose nothing.’ + +‘Well,’ said John, with a laugh, ‘if the ex-s are yours, and +half-profits mine, I don’t mind remaining here for a couple of days.’ + +‘A couple of days!’ cried Morris, who was beginning to get angry and +controlled himself with difficulty; ‘why, you would do more to win five +pounds on a horse-race!’ + +‘Perhaps I would,’ returned the Great Vance; ‘it’s the artistic +temperament.’ + +‘This is monstrous!’ burst out Morris. ‘I take all risks; I pay all +expenses; I divide profits; and you won’t take the slightest pains to +help me. It’s not decent; it’s not honest; it’s not even kind.’ + +‘But suppose,’ objected John, who was considerably impressed by his +brother’s vehemence, ‘suppose that Uncle Masterman is alive after all, +and lives ten years longer; must I rot here all that time?’ + +‘Of course not,’ responded Morris, in a more conciliatory tone; ‘I only +ask a month at the outside; and if Uncle Masterman is not dead by that +time you can go abroad.’ + +‘Go abroad?’ repeated John eagerly. ‘Why shouldn’t I go at once? Tell +‘em that Joseph and I are seeing life in Paris.’ + +‘Nonsense,’ said Morris. + +‘Well, but look here,’ said John; ‘it’s this house, it’s such a pig-sty, +it’s so dreary and damp. You said yourself that it was damp.’ + +‘Only to the carpenter,’ Morris distinguished, ‘and that was to reduce +the rent. But really, you know, now we’re in it, I’ve seen worse.’ + +‘And what am I to do?’ complained the victim. ‘How can I entertain a +friend?’ + +‘My dear Johnny, if you don’t think the tontine worth a little trouble, +say so, and I’ll give the business up.’ + +‘You’re dead certain of the figures, I suppose?’ asked John. +‘Well’--with a deep sigh--‘send me the Pink Un and all the comic papers +regularly. I’ll face the music.’ + +As afternoon drew on, the cottage breathed more thrillingly of its +native marsh; a creeping chill inhabited its chambers; the fire smoked, +and a shower of rain, coming up from the channel on a slant of wind, +tingled on the window-panes. At intervals, when the gloom deepened +toward despair, Morris would produce the whisky-bottle, and at first +John welcomed the diversion--not for long. It has been said this spirit +was the worst in Hampshire; only those acquainted with the county can +appreciate the force of that superlative; and at length even the Great +Vance (who was no connoisseur) waved the decoction from his lips. The +approach of dusk, feebly combated with a single tallow candle, added +a touch of tragedy; and John suddenly stopped whistling through his +fingers--an art to the practice of which he had been reduced--and +bitterly lamented his concessions. + +‘I can’t stay here a month,’ he cried. ‘No one could. The thing’s +nonsense, Morris. The parties that lived in the Bastille would rise +against a place like this.’ + +With an admirable affectation of indifference, Morris proposed a game +of pitch-and-toss. To what will not the diplomatist condescend! It was +John’s favourite game; indeed his only game--he had found all the rest +too intellectual--and he played it with equal skill and good fortune. To +Morris himself, on the other hand, the whole business was detestable; +he was a bad pitcher, he had no luck in tossing, and he was one who +suffered torments when he lost. But John was in a dangerous humour, and +his brother was prepared for any sacrifice. + +By seven o’clock, Morris, with incredible agony, had lost a couple of +half-crowns. Even with the tontine before his eyes, this was as much as +he could bear; and, remarking that he would take his revenge some other +time, he proposed a bit of supper and a grog. + +Before they had made an end of this refreshment it was time to be at +work. A bucket of water for present necessities was withdrawn from the +water-butt, which was then emptied and rolled before the kitchen fire to +dry; and the two brothers set forth on their adventure under a starless +heaven. + + + +CHAPTER III. The Lecturer at Large + +Whether mankind is really partial to happiness is an open question. +Not a month passes by but some cherished son runs off into the merchant +service, or some valued husband decamps to Texas with a lady help; +clergymen have fled from their parishioners; and even judges have been +known to retire. To an open mind, it will appear (upon the whole) less +strange that Joseph Finsbury should have been led to entertain ideas of +escape. His lot (I think we may say) was not a happy one. My friend, Mr +Morris, with whom I travel up twice or thrice a week from Snaresbrook +Park, is certainly a gentleman whom I esteem; but he was scarce a model +nephew. As for John, he is of course an excellent fellow; but if he was +the only link that bound one to a home, I think the most of us would +vote for foreign travel. In the case of Joseph, John (if he were a link +at all) was not the only one; endearing bonds had long enchained the old +gentleman to Bloomsbury; and by these expressions I do not in the least +refer to Julia Hazeltine (of whom, however, he was fond enough), but to +that collection of manuscript notebooks in which his life lay buried. +That he should ever have made up his mind to separate himself from these +collections, and go forth upon the world with no other resources than +his memory supplied, is a circumstance highly pathetic in itself, and +but little creditable to the wisdom of his nephews. + +The design, or at least the temptation, was already some months old; and +when a bill for eight hundred pounds, payable to himself, was suddenly +placed in Joseph’s hand, it brought matters to an issue. He retained +that bill, which, to one of his frugality, meant wealth; and he promised +himself to disappear among the crowds at Waterloo, or (if that should +prove impossible) to slink out of the house in the course of the +evening and melt like a dream into the millions of London. By a peculiar +interposition of Providence and railway mismanagement he had not so long +to wait. + +He was one of the first to come to himself and scramble to his feet +after the Browndean catastrophe, and he had no sooner remarked his +prostrate nephews than he understood his opportunity and fled. A man of +upwards of seventy, who has just met with a railway accident, and who is +cumbered besides with the full uniform of Sir Faraday Bond, is not +very likely to flee far, but the wood was close at hand and offered the +fugitive at least a temporary covert. Hither, then, the old gentleman +skipped with extraordinary expedition, and, being somewhat winded and +a good deal shaken, here he lay down in a convenient grove and was +presently overwhelmed by slumber. The way of fate is often highly +entertaining to the looker-on, and it is certainly a pleasant +circumstance, that while Morris and John were delving in the sand to +conceal the body of a total stranger, their uncle lay in dreamless sleep +a few hundred yards deeper in the wood. + +He was awakened by the jolly note of a bugle from the neighbouring high +road, where a char-a-banc was bowling by with some belated tourists. The +sound cheered his old heart, it directed his steps into the bargain, and +soon he was on the highway, looking east and west from under his vizor, +and doubtfully revolving what he ought to do. A deliberate sound of +wheels arose in the distance, and then a cart was seen approaching, well +filled with parcels, driven by a good-natured looking man on a double +bench, and displaying on a board the legend, ‘I Chandler, carrier’. In +the infamously prosaic mind of Mr Finsbury, certain streaks of poetry +survived and were still efficient; they had carried him to Asia Minor +as a giddy youth of forty, and now, in the first hours of his recovered +freedom, they suggested to him the idea of continuing his flight in Mr +Chandler’s cart. It would be cheap; properly broached, it might even +cost nothing, and, after years of mittens and hygienic flannel, his +heart leaped out to meet the notion of exposure. + +Mr Chandler was perhaps a little puzzled to find so old a gentleman, so +strangely clothed, and begging for a lift on so retired a roadside. +But he was a good-natured man, glad to do a service, and so he took the +stranger up; and he had his own idea of civility, and so he asked no +questions. Silence, in fact, was quite good enough for Mr Chandler; +but the cart had scarcely begun to move forward ere he found himself +involved in a one-sided conversation. + +‘I can see,’ began Mr Finsbury, ‘by the mixture of parcels and boxes +that are contained in your cart, each marked with its individual label, +and by the good Flemish mare you drive, that you occupy the post of +carrier in that great English system of transport which, with all its +defects, is the pride of our country.’ + +‘Yes, sir,’ returned Mr Chandler vaguely, for he hardly knew what to +reply; ‘them parcels posts has done us carriers a world of harm.’ + +‘I am not a prejudiced man,’ continued Joseph Finsbury. ‘As a young +man I travelled much. Nothing was too small or too obscure for me to +acquire. At sea I studied seamanship, learned the complicated knots +employed by mariners, and acquired the technical terms. At Naples, +I would learn the art of making macaroni; at Nice, the principles of +making candied fruit. I never went to the opera without first buying the +book of the piece, and making myself acquainted with the principal airs +by picking them out on the piano with one finger.’ + +‘You must have seen a deal, sir,’ remarked the carrier, touching up his +horse; ‘I wish I could have had your advantages.’ + +‘Do you know how often the word whip occurs in the Old Testament?’ +continued the old gentleman. ‘One hundred and (if I remember exactly) +forty-seven times.’ + +‘Do it indeed, sir?’ said Mr Chandler. ‘I never should have thought it.’ + +‘The Bible contains three million five hundred and one thousand two +hundred and forty-nine letters. Of verses I believe there are upward of +eighteen thousand. There have been many editions of the Bible; Wycliff +was the first to introduce it into England about the year 1300. The +“Paragraph Bible”, as it is called, is a well-known edition, and is so +called because it is divided into paragraphs. The “Breeches Bible” is +another well-known instance, and gets its name either because it was +printed by one Breeches, or because the place of publication bore that +name.’ + +The carrier remarked drily that he thought that was only natural, and +turned his attention to the more congenial task of passing a cart of +hay; it was a matter of some difficulty, for the road was narrow, and +there was a ditch on either hand. + +‘I perceive,’ began Mr Finsbury, when they had successfully passed the +cart, ‘that you hold your reins with one hand; you should employ two.’ + +‘Well, I like that!’ cried the carrier contemptuously. ‘Why?’ + +‘You do not understand,’ continued Mr Finsbury. ‘What I tell you is a +scientific fact, and reposes on the theory of the lever, a branch of +mechanics. There are some very interesting little shilling books upon +the field of study, which I should think a man in your station would +take a pleasure to read. But I am afraid you have not cultivated the art +of observation; at least we have now driven together for some time, and +I cannot remember that you have contributed a single fact. This is a +very false principle, my good man. For instance, I do not know if you +observed that (as you passed the hay-cart man) you took your left?’ + +‘Of course I did,’ cried the carrier, who was now getting belligerent; +‘he’d have the law on me if I hadn’t.’ + +‘In France, now,’ resumed the old man, ‘and also, I believe, in the + +United States of America, you would have taken the right.’ + +‘I would not,’ cried Mr Chandler indignantly. ‘I would have taken the +left.’ + +‘I observe again,’ continued Mr Finsbury, scorning to reply, ‘that you +mend the dilapidated parts of your harness with string. I have always +protested against this carelessness and slovenliness of the English +poor. In an essay that I once read before an appreciative audience--’ + +‘It ain’t string,’ said the carrier sullenly, ‘it’s pack-thread.’ + +‘I have always protested,’ resumed the old man, ‘that in their private +and domestic life, as well as in their labouring career, the lower +classes of this country are improvident, thriftless, and extravagant. A +stitch in time--’ + +‘Who the devil ARE the lower classes?’ cried the carrier. ‘You are the +lower classes yourself! If I thought you were a blooming aristocrat, I +shouldn’t have given you a lift.’ + +The words were uttered with undisguised ill-feeling; it was plain the +pair were not congenial, and further conversation, even to one of Mr +Finsbury’s pathetic loquacity, was out of the question. With an angry +gesture, he pulled down the brim of the forage-cap over his eyes, +and, producing a notebook and a blue pencil from one of his innermost +pockets, soon became absorbed in calculations. + +On his part the carrier fell to whistling with fresh zest; and if (now +and again) he glanced at the companion of his drive, it was with mingled +feelings of triumph and alarm--triumph because he had succeeded in +arresting that prodigy of speech, and alarm lest (by any accident) it +should begin again. Even the shower, which presently overtook and passed +them, was endured by both in silence; and it was still in silence that +they drove at length into Southampton. + +Dusk had fallen; the shop windows glimmered forth into the streets of +the old seaport; in private houses lights were kindled for the evening +meal; and Mr Finsbury began to think complacently of his night’s +lodging. He put his papers by, cleared his throat, and looked doubtfully +at Mr Chandler. + +‘Will you be civil enough,’ said he, ‘to recommend me to an inn?’ Mr +Chandler pondered for a moment. + +‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘I wonder how about the “Tregonwell Arms”.’ + +‘The “Tregonwell Arms” will do very well,’ returned the old man, ‘if +it’s clean and cheap, and the people civil.’ + +‘I wasn’t thinking so much of you,’ returned Mr Chandler thoughtfully. +‘I was thinking of my friend Watts as keeps the ‘ouse; he’s a friend of +mine, you see, and he helped me through my trouble last year. And I was +thinking, would it be fair-like on Watts to saddle him with an old party +like you, who might be the death of him with general information. Would +it be fair to the ‘ouse?’ enquired Mr Chandler, with an air of candid +appeal. + +‘Mark me,’ cried the old gentleman with spirit. ‘It was kind in you to +bring me here for nothing, but it gives you no right to address me +in such terms. Here’s a shilling for your trouble; and, if you do +not choose to set me down at the “Tregonwell Arms”, I can find it for +myself.’ + +Chandler was surprised and a little startled; muttering something +apologetic, he returned the shilling, drove in silence through several +intricate lanes and small streets, drew up at length before the bright +windows of an inn, and called loudly for Mr Watts. + +‘Is that you, Jem?’ cried a hearty voice from the stableyard. ‘Come in +and warm yourself.’ + +‘I only stopped here,’ Mr Chandler explained, ‘to let down an old gent +that wants food and lodging. Mind, I warn you agin him; he’s worse nor a +temperance lecturer.’ + +Mr Finsbury dismounted with difficulty, for he was cramped with his long +drive, and the shaking he had received in the accident. The friendly Mr +Watts, in spite of the carter’s scarcely agreeable introduction, treated +the old gentleman with the utmost courtesy, and led him into the back +parlour, where there was a big fire burning in the grate. Presently a +table was spread in the same room, and he was invited to seat himself +before a stewed fowl--somewhat the worse for having seen service +before--and a big pewter mug of ale from the tap. + +He rose from supper a giant refreshed; and, changing his seat to one +nearer the fire, began to examine the other guests with an eye to the +delights of oratory. There were near a dozen present, all men, and (as +Joseph exulted to perceive) all working men. Often already had he seen +cause to bless that appetite for disconnected fact and rotatory argument +which is so marked a character of the mechanic. But even an audience of +working men has to be courted, and there was no man more deeply versed +in the necessary arts than Joseph Finsbury. He placed his glasses on his +nose, drew from his pocket a bundle of papers, and spread them before +him on a table. He crumpled them, he smoothed them out; now he skimmed +them over, apparently well pleased with their contents; now, with +tapping pencil and contracted brows, he seemed maturely to consider some +particular statement. A stealthy glance about the room assured him of +the success of his manoeuvres; all eyes were turned on the performer, +mouths were open, pipes hung suspended; the birds were charmed. At the +same moment the entrance of Mr Watts afforded him an opportunity. + +‘I observe,’ said he, addressing the landlord, but taking at the same +time the whole room into his confidence with an encouraging look, ‘I +observe that some of these gentlemen are looking with curiosity in +my direction; and certainly it is unusual to see anyone immersed in +literary and scientific labours in the public apartment of an inn. I +have here some calculations I made this morning upon the cost of living +in this and other countries--a subject, I need scarcely say, highly +interesting to the working classes. I have calculated a scale of living +for incomes of eighty, one hundred and sixty, two hundred, and two +hundred and forty pounds a year. I must confess that the income of +eighty pounds has somewhat baffled me, and the others are not so exact +as I could wish; for the price of washing varies largely in foreign +countries, and the different cokes, coals and firewoods fluctuate +surprisingly. I will read my researches, and I hope you won’t scruple to +point out to me any little errors that I may have committed either from +oversight or ignorance. I will begin, gentlemen, with the income of +eighty pounds a year.’ + +Whereupon the old gentleman, with less compassion than he would have had +for brute beasts, delivered himself of all his tedious calculations. +As he occasionally gave nine versions of a single income, placing +the imaginary person in London, Paris, Bagdad, Spitzbergen, +Bassorah, Heligoland, the Scilly Islands, Brighton, Cincinnati, and +Nijni-Novgorod, with an appropriate outfit for each locality, it is no +wonder that his hearers look back on that evening as the most tiresome +they ever spent. + +Long before Mr Finsbury had reached Nijni-Novgorod with the income of +one hundred and sixty pounds, the company had dwindled and faded away to +a few old topers and the bored but affable Watts. There was a constant +stream of customers from the outer world, but so soon as they were +served they drank their liquor quickly and departed with the utmost +celerity for the next public-house. + +By the time the young man with two hundred a year was vegetating in the +Scilly Islands, Mr Watts was left alone with the economist; and that +imaginary person had scarce commenced life at Brighton before the last +of his pursuers desisted from the chase. + +Mr Finsbury slept soundly after the manifold fatigues of the day. He +rose late, and, after a good breakfast, ordered the bill. Then it was +that he made a discovery which has been made by many others, both before +and since: that it is one thing to order your bill, and another to +discharge it. The items were moderate and (what does not always follow) +the total small; but, after the most sedulous review of all his pockets, +one and nine pence halfpenny appeared to be the total of the old +gentleman’s available assets. He asked to see Mr Watts. + +‘Here is a bill on London for eight hundred pounds,’ said Mr Finsbury, +as that worthy appeared. ‘I am afraid, unless you choose to discount it +yourself, it may detain me a day or two till I can get it cashed.’ + +Mr Watts looked at the bill, turned it over, and dogs-eared it with his +fingers. ‘It will keep you a day or two?’ he said, repeating the old +man’s words. ‘You have no other money with you?’ + +‘Some trifling change,’ responded Joseph. ‘Nothing to speak of.’ + +‘Then you can send it me; I should be pleased to trust you.’ + +‘To tell the truth,’ answered the old gentleman, ‘I am more than half +inclined to stay; I am in need of funds.’ + +‘If a loan of ten shillings would help you, it is at your service,’ +responded Watts, with eagerness. + +‘No, I think I would rather stay,’ said the old man, ‘and get my bill +discounted.’ + +‘You shall not stay in my house,’ cried Mr Watts. ‘This is the last time +you shall have a bed at the “Tregonwell Arms”.’ + +‘I insist upon remaining,’ replied Mr Finsbury, with spirit; ‘I remain +by Act of Parliament; turn me out if you dare.’ + +‘Then pay your bill,’ said Mr Watts. + +‘Take that,’ cried the old man, tossing him the negotiable bill. + +‘It is not legal tender,’ replied Mr Watts. ‘You must leave my house at +once.’ + +‘You cannot appreciate the contempt I feel for you, Mr Watts,’ said the +old gentleman, resigning himself to circumstances. ‘But you shall feel +it in one way: I refuse to pay my bill.’ + +‘I don’t care for your bill,’ responded Mr Watts. ‘What I want is your +absence.’ + +‘That you shall have!’ said the old gentleman, and, taking up his +forage cap as he spoke, he crammed it on his head. ‘Perhaps you are +too insolent,’ he added, ‘to inform me of the time of the next London +train?’ + +‘It leaves in three-quarters of an hour,’ returned the innkeeper with +alacrity. ‘You can easily catch it.’ + +Joseph’s position was one of considerable weakness. On the one hand, it +would have been well to avoid the direct line of railway, since it was +there he might expect his nephews to lie in wait for his recapture; on +the other, it was highly desirable, it was even strictly needful, to get +the bill discounted ere it should be stopped. To London, therefore, he +decided to proceed on the first train; and there remained but one point +to be considered, how to pay his fare. + +Joseph’s nails were never clean; he ate almost entirely with his knife. +I doubt if you could say he had the manners of a gentleman; but he had +better than that, a touch of genuine dignity. Was it from his stay in +Asia Minor? Was it from a strain in the Finsbury blood sometimes +alluded to by customers? At least, when he presented himself before the +station-master, his salaam was truly Oriental, palm-trees appeared to +crowd about the little office, and the simoom or the bulbul--but I leave +this image to persons better acquainted with the East. His appearance, +besides, was highly in his favour; the uniform of Sir Faraday, however +inconvenient and conspicuous, was, at least, a costume in which no +swindler could have hoped to prosper; and the exhibition of a valuable +watch and a bill for eight hundred pounds completed what deportment had +begun. A quarter of an hour later, when the train came up, Mr Finsbury +was introduced to the guard and installed in a first-class compartment, +the station-master smilingly assuming all responsibility. + +As the old gentleman sat waiting the moment of departure, he was the +witness of an incident strangely connected with the fortunes of his +house. A packing-case of cyclopean bulk was borne along the platform +by some dozen of tottering porters, and ultimately, to the delight of a +considerable crowd, hoisted on board the van. It is often the cheering +task of the historian to direct attention to the designs and (if it may +be reverently said) the artifices of Providence. In the luggage van, as +Joseph was borne out of the station of Southampton East upon his way +to London, the egg of his romance lay (so to speak) unhatched. The +huge packing-case was directed to lie at Waterloo till called for, and +addressed to one ‘William Dent Pitman’; and the very next article, +a goodly barrel jammed into the corner of the van, bore the +superscription, ‘M. Finsbury, 16 John Street, Bloomsbury. Carriage +paid.’ + +In this juxtaposition, the train of powder was prepared; and there was +now wanting only an idle hand to fire it off. + + + +CHAPTER IV. The Magistrate in the Luggage Van + +The city of Winchester is famed for a cathedral, a bishop--but he was +unfortunately killed some years ago while riding--a public school, a +considerable assortment of the military, and the deliberate passage of +the trains of the London and South-Western line. These and many +similar associations would have doubtless crowded on the mind of Joseph +Finsbury; but his spirit had at that time flitted from the railway +compartment to a heaven of populous lecture-halls and endless oratory. +His body, in the meanwhile, lay doubled on the cushions, the forage-cap +rakishly tilted back after the fashion of those that lie in wait for +nursery-maids, the poor old face quiescent, one arm clutching to his +heart Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper. + +To him, thus unconscious, enter and exeunt again a pair of voyagers. +These two had saved the train and no more. A tandem urged to its last +speed, an act of something closely bordering on brigandage at the ticket +office, and a spasm of running, had brought them on the platform just +as the engine uttered its departing snort. There was but one carriage +easily within their reach; and they had sprung into it, and the leader +and elder already had his feet upon the floor, when he observed Mr +Finsbury. + +‘Good God!’ he cried. ‘Uncle Joseph! This’ll never do.’ + +And he backed out, almost upsetting his companion, and once more closed +the door upon the sleeping patriarch. + +The next moment the pair had jumped into the baggage van. + +‘What’s the row about your Uncle Joseph?’ enquired the younger +traveller, mopping his brow. ‘Does he object to smoking?’ + +‘I don’t know that there’s anything the row with him,’ returned the +other. ‘He’s by no means the first comer, my Uncle Joseph, I can tell +you! Very respectable old gentleman; interested in leather; been to Asia +Minor; no family, no assets--and a tongue, my dear Wickham, sharper than +a serpent’s tooth.’ + +‘Cantankerous old party, eh?’ suggested Wickham. + +‘Not in the least,’ cried the other; ‘only a man with a solid talent +for being a bore; rather cheery I dare say, on a desert island, but on +a railway journey insupportable. You should hear him on Tonti, the ass +that started tontines. He’s incredible on Tonti.’ + +‘By Jove!’ cried Wickham, ‘then you’re one of these Finsbury tontine +fellows. I hadn’t a guess of that.’ + +‘Ah!’ said the other, ‘do you know that old boy in the carriage is worth +a hundred thousand pounds to me? There he was asleep, and nobody there +but you! But I spared him, because I’m a Conservative in politics.’ + +Mr Wickham, pleased to be in a luggage van, was flitting to and fro like +a gentlemanly butterfly. + +‘By Jingo!’ he cried, ‘here’s something for you! “M. Finsbury, 16 John +Street, Bloomsbury, London.” M. stands for Michael, you sly dog; you +keep two establishments, do you?’ + +‘O, that’s Morris,’ responded Michael from the other end of the van, +where he had found a comfortable seat upon some sacks. ‘He’s a little +cousin of mine. I like him myself, because he’s afraid of me. He’s +one of the ornaments of Bloomsbury, and has a collection of some +kind--birds’ eggs or something that’s supposed to be curious. I bet it’s +nothing to my clients!’ + +‘What a lark it would be to play billy with the labels!’ chuckled Mr +Wickham. ‘By George, here’s a tack-hammer! We might send all these +things skipping about the premises like what’s-his-name!’ + +At this moment, the guard, surprised by the sound of voices, opened the +door of his little cabin. + +‘You had best step in here, gentlemen,’ said he, when he had heard their +story. + +‘Won’t you come, Wickham?’ asked Michael. + +‘Catch me--I want to travel in a van,’ replied the youth. + +And so the door of communication was closed; and for the rest of the run +Mr Wickham was left alone over his diversions on the one side, and on +the other Michael and the guard were closeted together in familiar talk. + +‘I can get you a compartment here, sir,’ observed the official, as the +train began to slacken speed before Bishopstoke station. ‘You had best +get out at my door, and I can bring your friend.’ + +Mr Wickham, whom we left (as the reader has shrewdly suspected) +beginning to ‘play billy’ with the labels in the van, was a young +gentleman of much wealth, a pleasing but sandy exterior, and a highly +vacant mind. Not many months before, he had contrived to get himself +blackmailed by the family of a Wallachian Hospodar, resident for +political reasons in the gay city of Paris. A common friend (to whom he +had confided his distress) recommended him to Michael; and the lawyer +was no sooner in possession of the facts than he instantly assumed +the offensive, fell on the flank of the Wallachian forces, and, in the +inside of three days, had the satisfaction to behold them routed and +fleeing for the Danube. It is no business of ours to follow them on +this retreat, over which the police were so obliging as to preside +paternally. Thus relieved from what he loved to refer to as the +Bulgarian Atrocity, Mr Wickham returned to London with the most +unbounded and embarrassing gratitude and admiration for his saviour. +These sentiments were not repaid either in kind or degree; indeed, +Michael was a trifle ashamed of his new client’s friendship; it had +taken many invitations to get him to Winchester and Wickham Manor; but +he had gone at last, and was now returning. It has been remarked by some +judicious thinker (possibly J. F. Smith) that Providence despises to +employ no instrument, however humble; and it is now plain to the dullest +that both Mr Wickham and the Wallachian Hospodar were liquid lead and +wedges in the hand of Destiny. + +Smitten with the desire to shine in Michael’s eyes and show himself a +person of original humour and resources, the young gentleman (who was a +magistrate, more by token, in his native county) was no sooner alone in +the van than he fell upon the labels with all the zeal of a reformer; +and, when he rejoined the lawyer at Bishopstoke, his face was flushed +with his exertions, and his cigar, which he had suffered to go out was +almost bitten in two. + +‘By George, but this has been a lark!’ he cried. ‘I’ve sent the +wrong thing to everybody in England. These cousins of yours have a +packing-case as big as a house. I’ve muddled the whole business up to +that extent, Finsbury, that if it were to get out it’s my belief we +should get lynched.’ + +It was useless to be serious with Mr Wickham. ‘Take care,’ said +Michael. ‘I am getting tired of your perpetual scrapes; my reputation is +beginning to suffer.’ + +‘Your reputation will be all gone before you finish with me,’ replied +his companion with a grin. ‘Clap it in the bill, my boy. “For total loss +of reputation, six and eightpence.” But,’ continued Mr Wickham with more +seriousness, ‘could I be bowled out of the Commission for this +little jest? I know it’s small, but I like to be a JP. Speaking as a +professional man, do you think there’s any risk?’ + +‘What does it matter?’ responded Michael, ‘they’ll chuck you out sooner +or later. Somehow you don’t give the effect of being a good magistrate.’ + +‘I only wish I was a solicitor,’ retorted his companion, ‘instead of a +poor devil of a country gentleman. Suppose we start one of those tontine +affairs ourselves; I to pay five hundred a year, and you to guarantee me +against every misfortune except illness or marriage.’ + +‘It strikes me,’ remarked the lawyer with a meditative laugh, as he +lighted a cigar, ‘it strikes me that you must be a cursed nuisance in +this world of ours.’ + +‘Do you really think so, Finsbury?’ responded the magistrate, leaning +back in his cushions, delighted with the compliment. ‘Yes, I suppose +I am a nuisance. But, mind you, I have a stake in the country: don’t +forget that, dear boy.’ + + + +CHAPTER V. Mr Gideon Forsyth and the Gigantic Box + +It has been mentioned that at Bournemouth Julia sometimes made +acquaintances; it is true she had but a glimpse of them before the +doors of John Street closed again upon its captives, but the glimpse +was sometimes exhilarating, and the consequent regret was tempered +with hope. Among those whom she had thus met a year before was a young +barrister of the name of Gideon Forsyth. + +About three o’clock of the eventful day when the magistrate tampered +with the labels, a somewhat moody and distempered ramble had carried +Mr Forsyth to the corner of John Street; and about the same moment Miss +Hazeltine was called to the door of No. 16 by a thundering double knock. + +Mr Gideon Forsyth was a happy enough young man; he would have been +happier if he had had more money and less uncle. One hundred and +twenty pounds a year was all his store; but his uncle, Mr Edward Hugh +Bloomfield, supplemented this with a handsome allowance and a great +deal of advice, couched in language that would probably have been judged +intemperate on board a pirate ship. Mr Bloomfield was indeed a figure +quite peculiar to the days of Mr Gladstone; what we may call (for the +lack of an accepted expression) a Squirradical. Having acquired years +without experience, he carried into the Radical side of politics those +noisy, after-dinner-table passions, which we are more accustomed to +connect with Toryism in its severe and senile aspects. To the opinions +of Mr Bradlaugh, in fact, he added the temper and the sympathies of that +extinct animal, the Squire; he admired pugilism, he carried a formidable +oaken staff, he was a reverent churchman, and it was hard to know which +would have more volcanically stirred his choler--a person who should +have defended the established church, or one who should have neglected +to attend its celebrations. He had besides some levelling catchwords, +justly dreaded in the family circle; and when he could not go so far +as to declare a step un-English, he might still (and with hardly less +effect) denounce it as unpractical. It was under the ban of this lesser +excommunication that Gideon had fallen. His views on the study of law +had been pronounced unpractical; and it had been intimated to him, in +a vociferous interview punctuated with the oaken staff, that he must +either take a new start and get a brief or two, or prepare to live on +his own money. + +No wonder if Gideon was moody. He had not the slightest wish to modify +his present habits; but he would not stand on that, since the recall of +Mr Bloomfield’s allowance would revolutionize them still more radically. +He had not the least desire to acquaint himself with law; he had looked +into it already, and it seemed not to repay attention; but upon this +also he was ready to give way. In fact, he would go as far as he could +to meet the views of his uncle, the Squirradical. But there was one part +of the programme that appeared independent of his will. How to get +a brief? there was the question. And there was another and a worse. +Suppose he got one, should he prove the better man? + +Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd. A garishly illuminated van +was backed against the kerb; from its open stern, half resting on the +street, half supported by some glistening athletes, the end of the +largest packing-case in the county of Middlesex might have been seen +protruding; while, on the steps of the house, the burly person of +the driver and the slim figure of a young girl stood as upon a stage, +disputing. + +‘It is not for us,’ the girl was saying. ‘I beg you to take it away; it +couldn’t get into the house, even if you managed to get it out of the +van.’ + +‘I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M. Finsbury can arrange +with the Vestry as he likes,’ said the vanman. + +‘But I am not M. Finsbury,’ expostulated the girl. + +‘It doesn’t matter who you are,’ said the vanman. + +‘You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,’ said Gideon, putting +out his hand. + +Julia gave a little cry of pleasure. ‘O, Mr Forsyth,’ she cried, ‘I am +so glad to see you; we must get this horrid thing, which can only have +come here by mistake, into the house. The man says we’ll have to take +off the door, or knock two of our windows into one, or be fined by +the Vestry or Custom House or something for leaving our parcels on the +pavement.’ + +The men by this time had successfully removed the box from the van, had +plumped it down on the pavement, and now stood leaning against it, or +gazing at the door of No. 16, in visible physical distress and mental +embarrassment. The windows of the whole street had filled, as if by +magic, with interested and entertained spectators. + +With as thoughtful and scientific an expression as he could assume, +Gideon measured the doorway with his cane, while Julia entered his +observations in a drawing-book. He then measured the box, and, upon +comparing his data, found that there was just enough space for it to +enter. Next, throwing off his coat and waistcoat, he assisted the men to +take the door from its hinges. And lastly, all bystanders being pressed +into the service, the packing-case mounted the steps upon some +fifteen pairs of wavering legs--scraped, loudly grinding, through the +doorway--and was deposited at length, with a formidable convulsion, in +the far end of the lobby, which it almost blocked. The artisans of this +victory smiled upon each other as the dust subsided. It was true they +had smashed a bust of Apollo and ploughed the wall into deep ruts; but, +at least, they were no longer one of the public spectacles of London. + +‘Well, sir,’ said the vanman, ‘I never see such a job.’ + +Gideon eloquently expressed his concurrence in this sentiment by +pressing a couple of sovereigns in the man’s hand. + +‘Make it three, sir, and I’ll stand Sam to everybody here!’ cried the +latter, and, this having been done, the whole body of volunteer porters +swarmed into the van, which drove off in the direction of the nearest +reliable public-house. Gideon closed the door on their departure, and +turned to Julia; their eyes met; the most uncontrollable mirth seized +upon them both, and they made the house ring with their laughter. Then +curiosity awoke in Julia’s mind, and she went and examined the box, and +more especially the label. + +‘This is the strangest thing that ever happened,’ she said, with another +burst of laughter. ‘It is certainly Morris’s handwriting, and I had a +letter from him only this morning, telling me to expect a barrel. Is +there a barrel coming too, do you think, Mr Forsyth?’ + +“‘Statuary with Care, Fragile,’” read Gideon aloud from the painted +warning on the box. ‘Then you were told nothing about this?’ + +‘No,’ responded Julia. ‘O, Mr Forsyth, don’t you think we might take a +peep at it?’ + +‘Yes, indeed,’ cried Gideon. ‘Just let me have a hammer.’ + +‘Come down, and I’ll show you where it is,’ cried Julia. ‘The shelf is +too high for me to reach’; and, opening the door of the kitchen stair, +she bade Gideon follow her. They found both the hammer and a chisel; +but Gideon was surprised to see no sign of a servant. He also discovered +that Miss Hazeltine had a very pretty little foot and ankle; and the +discovery embarrassed him so much that he was glad to fall at once upon +the packing-case. + +He worked hard and earnestly, and dealt his blows with the precision +of a blacksmith; Julia the while standing silently by his side, and +regarding rather the workman than the work. He was a handsome fellow; +she told herself she had never seen such beautiful arms. And suddenly, +as though he had overheard these thoughts, Gideon turned and smiled to +her. She, too, smiled and coloured; and the double change became her +so prettily that Gideon forgot to turn away his eyes, and, swinging the +hammer with a will, discharged a smashing blow on his own knuckles. With +admirable presence of mind he crushed down an oath and substituted the +harmless comment, ‘Butter fingers!’ But the pain was sharp, his nerve +was shaken, and after an abortive trial he found he must desist from +further operations. + +In a moment Julia was off to the pantry; in a moment she was back again +with a basin of water and a sponge, and had begun to bathe his wounded +hand. + +‘I am dreadfully sorry!’ said Gideon apologetically. ‘If I had had +any manners I should have opened the box first and smashed my hand +afterward. It feels much better,’ he added. ‘I assure you it does.’ + +‘And now I think you are well enough to direct operations,’ said she. +‘Tell me what to do, and I’ll be your workman.’ + +‘A very pretty workman,’ said Gideon, rather forgetting himself. +She turned and looked at him, with a suspicion of a frown; and +the indiscreet young man was glad to direct her attention to the +packing-case. The bulk of the work had been accomplished; and presently +Julia had burst through the last barrier and disclosed a zone of straw. +in a moment they were kneeling side by side, engaged like haymakers; the +next they were rewarded with a glimpse of something white and polished; +and the next again laid bare an unmistakable marble leg. + +‘He is surely a very athletic person,’ said Julia. + +‘I never saw anything like it,’ responded Gideon. ‘His muscles stand out +like penny rolls.’ + +Another leg was soon disclosed, and then what seemed to be a third. This +resolved itself, however, into a knotted club resting upon a pedestal. + +‘It is a Hercules,’ cried Gideon; ‘I might have guessed that from his +calf. I’m supposed to be rather partial to statuary, but when it comes +to Hercules, the police should interfere. I should say,’ he added, +glancing with disaffection at the swollen leg, ‘that this was about the +biggest and the worst in Europe. What in heaven’s name can have induced +him to come here?’ + +‘I suppose nobody else would have a gift of him,’ said Julia. ‘And for +that matter, I think we could have done without the monster very well.’ + +‘O, don’t say that,’ returned Gideon. ‘This has been one of the most +amusing experiences of my life.’ + +‘I don’t think you’ll forget it very soon,’ said Julia. ‘Your hand will +remind you.’ + +‘Well, I suppose I must be going,’ said Gideon reluctantly. ‘No,’ +pleaded Julia. ‘Why should you? Stay and have tea with me.’ + +‘If I thought you really wished me to stay,’ said Gideon, looking at his +hat, ‘of course I should only be too delighted.’ + +‘What a silly person you must take me for!’ returned the girl. ‘Why, of +course I do; and, besides, I want some cakes for tea, and I’ve nobody to +send. Here is the latchkey.’ + +Gideon put on his hat with alacrity, and casting one look at Miss +Hazeltine, and another at the legs of Hercules, threw open the door and +departed on his errand. + +He returned with a large bag of the choicest and most tempting of cakes +and tartlets, and found Julia in the act of spreading a small tea-table +in the lobby. + +‘The rooms are all in such a state,’ she cried, ‘that I thought we +should be more cosy and comfortable in our own lobby, and under our own +vine and statuary.’ + +‘Ever so much better,’ cried Gideon delightedly. + +‘O what adorable cream tarts!’ said Julia, opening the bag, ‘and the +dearest little cherry tartlets, with all the cherries spilled out into +the cream!’ + +‘Yes,’ said Gideon, concealing his dismay, ‘I knew they would mix +beautifully; the woman behind the counter told me so.’ + +‘Now,’ said Julia, as they began their little festival, ‘I am going +to show you Morris’s letter; read it aloud, please; perhaps there’s +something I have missed.’ + +Gideon took the letter, and spreading it out on his knee, read as +follows: + + +DEAR JULIA, I write you from Browndean, where we are stopping over for +a few days. Uncle was much shaken in that dreadful accident, of which, +I dare say, you have seen the account. Tomorrow I leave him here with +John, and come up alone; but before that, you will have received a +barrel CONTAINING SPECIMENS FOR A FRIEND. Do not open it on any account, +but leave it in the lobby till I come. + +Yours in haste, + +M. FINSBURY. + +P.S.--Be sure and leave the barrel in the lobby. + + +‘No,’ said Gideon, ‘there seems to be nothing about the monument,’ +and he nodded, as he spoke, at the marble legs. ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he +continued, ‘would you mind me asking a few questions?’ + +‘Certainly not,’ replied Julia; ‘and if you can make me understand why +Morris has sent a statue of Hercules instead of a barrel containing +specimens for a friend, I shall be grateful till my dying day. And what +are specimens for a friend?’ + +‘I haven’t a guess,’ said Gideon. ‘Specimens are usually bits of stone, +but rather smaller than our friend the monument. Still, that is not the +point. Are you quite alone in this big house?’ + +‘Yes, I am at present,’ returned Julia. ‘I came up before them to +prepare the house, and get another servant. But I couldn’t get one I +liked.’ + +‘Then you are utterly alone,’ said Gideon in amazement. ‘Are you not +afraid?’ + +‘No,’ responded Julia stoutly. ‘I don’t see why I should be more afraid +than you would be; I am weaker, of course, but when I found I must sleep +alone in the house I bought a revolver wonderfully cheap, and made the +man show me how to use it.’ + +‘And how do you use it?’ demanded Gideon, much amused at her courage. + +‘Why,’ said she, with a smile, ‘you pull the little trigger thing on +top, and then pointing it very low, for it springs up as you fire, you +pull the underneath little trigger thing, and it goes off as well as if +a man had done it.’ + +‘And how often have you used it?’ asked Gideon. + +‘O, I have not used it yet,’ said the determined young lady; ‘but I +know how, and that makes me wonderfully courageous, especially when I +barricade my door with a chest of drawers.’ + +‘I’m awfully glad they are coming back soon,’ said Gideon. ‘This +business strikes me as excessively unsafe; if it goes on much longer, +I could provide you with a maiden aunt of mine, or my landlady if you +preferred.’ + +‘Lend me an aunt!’ cried Julia. ‘O, what generosity! I begin to think it +must have been you that sent the Hercules.’ + +‘Believe me,’ cried the young man, ‘I admire you too much to send you +such an infamous work of art..’ + +Julia was beginning to reply, when they were both startled by a knocking +at the door. + +‘O, Mr Forsyth!’ + +‘Don’t be afraid, my dear girl,’ said Gideon, laying his hand tenderly +on her arm. + +‘I know it’s the police,’ she whispered. ‘They are coming to complain +about the statue.’ + +The knock was repeated. It was louder than before, and more impatient. + +‘It’s Morris,’ cried Julia, in a startled voice, and she ran to the door +and opened it. + +It was indeed Morris that stood before them; not the Morris of ordinary +days, but a wild-looking fellow, pale and haggard, with bloodshot eyes, +and a two-days’ beard upon his chin. + +‘The barrel!’ he cried. ‘Where’s the barrel that came this morning?’ +And he stared about the lobby, his eyes, as they fell upon the legs of +Hercules, literally goggling in his head. ‘What is that?’ he screamed. +‘What is that waxwork? Speak, you fool! What is that? And where’s the +barrel--the water-butt?’ + +‘No barrel came, Morris,’ responded Julia coldly. ‘This is the only +thing that has arrived.’ + +‘This!’ shrieked the miserable man. ‘I never heard of it!’ + +‘It came addressed in your hand,’ replied Julia; ‘we had nearly to pull +the house down to get it in, that is all that I can tell you.’ + +Morris gazed at her in utter bewilderment. He passed his hand over his +forehead; he leaned against the wall like a man about to faint. Then his +tongue was loosed, and he overwhelmed the girl with torrents of abuse. +Such fire, such directness, such a choice of ungentlemanly language, +none had ever before suspected Morris to possess; and the girl trembled +and shrank before his fury. + +‘You shall not speak to Miss Hazeltine in that way,’ said Gideon +sternly. ‘It is what I will not suffer.’ + +‘I shall speak to the girl as I like,’ returned Morris, with a fresh +outburst of anger. ‘I’ll speak to the hussy as she deserves.’ + +‘Not a word more, sir, not one word,’ cried Gideon. ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he +continued, addressing the young girl, ‘you cannot stay a moment longer +in the same house with this unmanly fellow. Here is my arm; let me take +you where you will be secure from insult.’ + +‘Mr Forsyth,’ returned Julia, ‘you are right; I cannot stay here longer, +and I am sure I trust myself to an honourable gentleman.’ + +Pale and resolute, Gideon offered her his arm, and the pair descended +the steps, followed by Morris clamouring for the latchkey. + +Julia had scarcely handed the key to Morris before an empty hansom drove +smartly into John Street. It was hailed by both men, and as the cabman +drew up his restive horse, Morris made a dash into the vehicle. + +‘Sixpence above fare,’ he cried recklessly. ‘Waterloo Station for your +life. Sixpence for yourself!’ + +‘Make it a shilling, guv’ner,’ said the man, with a grin; ‘the other +parties were first.’ + +‘A shilling then,’ cried Morris, with the inward reflection that he +would reconsider it at Waterloo. The man whipped up his horse, and the +hansom vanished from John Street. + + + +CHAPTER VI. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the First + +As the hansom span through the streets of London, Morris sought to +rally the forces of his mind. The water-butt with the dead body had +miscarried, and it was essential to recover it. So much was clear; and +if, by some blest good fortune, it was still at the station, all might +be well. If it had been sent out, however, if it were already in the +hands of some wrong person, matters looked more ominous. People who +receive unexplained packages are usually keen to have them open; the +example of Miss Hazeltine (whom he cursed again) was there to remind him +of the circumstance; and if anyone had opened the water-butt--‘O Lord!’ +cried Morris at the thought, and carried his hand to his damp forehead. +The private conception of any breach of law is apt to be inspiriting, +for the scheme (while yet inchoate) wears dashing and attractive +colours. Not so in the least that part of the criminal’s later +reflections which deal with the police. That useful corps (as Morris +now began to think) had scarce been kept sufficiently in view when +he embarked upon his enterprise. ‘I must play devilish close,’ he +reflected, and he was aware of an exquisite thrill of fear in the region +of the spine. + +‘Main line or loop?’ enquired the cabman, through the scuttle. + +‘Main line,’ replied Morris, and mentally decided that the man should +have his shilling after all. ‘It would be madness to attract attention,’ +thought he. ‘But what this thing will cost me, first and last, begins to +be a nightmare!’ + +He passed through the booking-office and wandered disconsolately on the +platform. It was a breathing-space in the day’s traffic. There were +few people there, and these for the most part quiescent on the benches. +Morris seemed to attract no remark, which was a good thing; but, on the +other hand, he was making no progress in his quest. Something must be +done, something must be risked. Every passing instant only added to his +dangers. Summoning all his courage, he stopped a porter, and asked him +if he remembered receiving a barrel by the morning train. He was anxious +to get information, for the barrel belonged to a friend. ‘It is a matter +of some moment,’ he added, ‘for it contains specimens.’ + +‘I was not here this morning, sir,’ responded the porter, somewhat +reluctantly, ‘but I’ll ask Bill. Do you recollect, Bill, to have got a +barrel from Bournemouth this morning containing specimens?’ + +‘I don’t know about specimens,’ replied Bill; ‘but the party as received +the barrel I mean raised a sight of trouble.’ + +‘What’s that?’ cried Morris, in the agitation of the moment pressing a +penny into the man’s hand. + +‘You see, sir, the barrel arrived at one-thirty. No one claimed it till +about three, when a small, sickly--looking gentleman (probably a curate) +came up, and sez he, “Have you got anything for Pitman?” or “Wili’m Bent +Pitman,” if I recollect right. “I don’t exactly know,” sez I, “but I +rather fancy that there barrel bears that name.” The little man went +up to the barrel, and seemed regularly all took aback when he saw the +address, and then he pitched into us for not having brought what he +wanted. “I don’t care a damn what you want,” sez I to him, “but if you +are Will’m Bent Pitman, there’s your barrel.”’ + +‘Well, and did he take it?’ cried the breathless Morris. + +‘Well, sir,’ returned Bill, ‘it appears it was a packing-case he was +after. The packing-case came; that’s sure enough, because it was about +the biggest packing-case ever I clapped eyes on. And this Pitman he +seemed a good deal cut up, and he had the superintendent out, and +they got hold of the vanman--him as took the packing-case. Well, sir,’ +continued Bill, with a smile, ‘I never see a man in such a state. +Everybody about that van was mortal, bar the horses. Some gen’leman (as +well as I could make out) had given the vanman a sov.; and so that was +where the trouble come in, you see.’ + +‘But what did he say?’ gasped Morris. + +‘I don’t know as he SAID much, sir,’ said Bill. ‘But he offered to +fight this Pitman for a pot of beer. He had lost his book, too, and the +receipts, and his men were all as mortal as himself. O, they were all +like’--and Bill paused for a simile--‘like lords! The superintendent +sacked them on the spot.’ + +‘O, come, but that’s not so bad,’ said Morris, with a bursting sigh. ‘He +couldn’t tell where he took the packing-case, then?’ + +‘Not he,’ said Bill, ‘nor yet nothink else.’ + +‘And what--what did Pitman do?’ asked Morris. + +‘O, he went off with the barrel in a four-wheeler, very trembling like,’ +replied Bill. ‘I don’t believe he’s a gentleman as has good health.’ + +‘Well, so the barrel’s gone,’ said Morris, half to himself. + +‘You may depend on that, sir,’ returned the porter. ‘But you had better +see the superintendent.’ + +‘Not in the least; it’s of no account,’ said Morris. ‘It only contained +specimens.’ And he walked hastily away. + +Ensconced once more in a hansom, he proceeded to reconsider his +position. Suppose (he thought), suppose he should accept defeat and +declare his uncle’s death at once? He should lose the tontine, and with +that the last hope of his seven thousand eight hundred pounds. But on +the other hand, since the shilling to the hansom cabman, he had begun to +see that crime was expensive in its course, and, since the loss of the +water-butt, that it was uncertain in its consequences. Quietly at first, +and then with growing heat, he reviewed the advantages of backing out. +It involved a loss; but (come to think of it) no such great loss after +all; only that of the tontine, which had been always a toss-up, which +at bottom he had never really expected. He reminded himself of that +eagerly; he congratulated himself upon his constant moderation. He had +never really expected the tontine; he had never even very definitely +hoped to recover his seven thousand eight hundred pounds; he had been +hurried into the whole thing by Michael’s obvious dishonesty. Yes, it +would probably be better to draw back from this high-flying venture, +settle back on the leather business-- + +‘Great God!’ cried Morris, bounding in the hansom like a Jack-in-a-box. +‘I have not only not gained the tontine--I have lost the leather +business!’ + +Such was the monstrous fact. He had no power to sign; he could not draw +a cheque for thirty shillings. Until he could produce legal evidence +of his uncle’s death, he was a penniless outcast--and as soon as he +produced it he had lost the tontine! There was no hesitation on the part +of Morris; to drop the tontine like a hot chestnut, to concentrate +all his forces on the leather business and the rest of his small but +legitimate inheritance, was the decision of a single instant. And the +next, the full extent of his calamity was suddenly disclosed to him. +Declare his uncle’s death? He couldn’t! Since the body was lost Joseph +had (in a legal sense) become immortal. + +There was no created vehicle big enough to contain Morris and his woes. +He paid the hansom off and walked on he knew not whither. + +‘I seem to have gone into this business with too much precipitation,’ +he reflected, with a deadly sigh. ‘I fear it seems too ramified for a +person of my powers of mind.’ + +And then a remark of his uncle’s flashed into his memory: If you want to +think clearly, put it all down on paper. ‘Well, the old boy knew a thing +or two,’ said Morris. ‘I will try; but I don’t believe the paper was +ever made that will clear my mind.’ + +He entered a place of public entertainment, ordered bread and cheese, +and writing materials, and sat down before them heavily. He tried the +pen. It was an excellent pen, but what was he to write? ‘I have it,’ +cried Morris. ‘Robinson Crusoe and the double columns!’ He prepared his +paper after that classic model, and began as follows: + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 1. I have lost my uncle’s body. + + 1. But then Pitman has found it. + +‘Stop a bit,’ said Morris. ‘I am letting the spirit of antithesis run +away with me. Let’s start again.’ + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 1. I have lost my uncle’s body. + + 1. But then I no longer require to bury it. + + + 2. I have lost the tontine. + + 2.But I may still save that if Pitman disposes of the body, and + if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. + + + 3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle’s + succession. + + 3. But not if Pitman gives the body up to the police. + +‘O, but in that case I go to gaol; I had forgot that,’ thought Morris. +‘Indeed, I don’t know that I had better dwell on that hypothesis at all; +it’s all very well to talk of facing the worst; but in a case of this +kind a man’s first duty is to his own nerve. Is there any answer to No. +3? Is there any possible good side to such a beastly bungle? There must +be, of course, or where would be the use of this double-entry business? +And--by George, I have it!’ he exclaimed; ‘it’s exactly the same as the +last!’ And he hastily re-wrote the passage: + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle’s + succession. + + 3. But not if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. + +‘This venal doctor seems quite a desideratum,’ he reflected. ‘I want him +first to give me a certificate that my uncle is dead, so that I may get +the leather business; and then that he’s alive--but here we are again at +the incompatible interests!’ And he returned to his tabulation: + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 4. I have almost no money. + + 4. But there is plenty in the bank. + + + 5. Yes, but I can’t get the money in the bank. + + 5. But--well, that seems unhappily to be the case. + + + 6. I have left the bill for eight hundred pounds in Uncle + Joseph’s pocket. + + 6. But if Pitman is only a dishonest man, the presence of this + bill may lead him to keep the whole thing dark and throw the body + into the New Cut. + + + 7. Yes, but if Pitman is dishonest and finds the bill, he will + know who Joseph is, and he may blackmail me. + + 7. Yes, but if I am right about Uncle Masterman, I can blackmail + Michael. + + + 8. But I can’t blackmail Michael (which is, besides, a very + dangerous thing to do) until I find out. + + 8. Worse luck! + + + 9. The leather business will soon want money for current + expenses, and I have none to give. + + 9. But the leather business is a sinking ship. + + + 10. Yes, but it’s all the ship I have. + + 10. A fact. + + + 11. John will soon want money, and I have none to give. + + 11. + + + 12. And the venal doctor will want money down. + + 12. + + + 13. And if Pitman is dishonest and don’t send me to gaol, he will + want a fortune. + + 13. + +‘O, this seems to be a very one-sided business,’ exclaimed Morris. +‘There’s not so much in this method as I was led to think.’ He crumpled +the paper up and threw it down; and then, the next moment, picked it +up again and ran it over. ‘It seems it’s on the financial point that +my position is weakest,’ he reflected. ‘Is there positively no way of +raising the wind? In a vast city like this, and surrounded by all the +resources of civilization, it seems not to be conceived! Let us have +no more precipitation. Is there nothing I can sell? My collection of +signet--’ But at the thought of scattering these loved treasures the +blood leaped into Morris’s check. ‘I would rather die!’ he exclaimed, +and, cramming his hat upon his head, strode forth into the streets. + +‘I MUST raise funds,’ he thought. ‘My uncle being dead, the money in +the bank is mine, or would be mine but for the cursed injustice that has +pursued me ever since I was an orphan in a commercial academy. I know +what any other man would do; any other man in Christendom would forge; +although I don’t know why I call it forging, either, when Joseph’s dead, +and the funds are my own. When I think of that, when I think that my +uncle is really as dead as mutton, and that I can’t prove it, my gorge +rises at the injustice of the whole affair. I used to feel bitterly +about that seven thousand eight hundred pounds; it seems a trifle now! +Dear me, why, the day before yesterday I was comparatively happy.’ + +And Morris stood on the sidewalk and heaved another sobbing sigh. + +‘Then there’s another thing,’ he resumed; ‘can I? Am I able? Why didn’t +I practise different handwritings while I was young? How a fellow +regrets those lost opportunities when he grows up! But there’s +one comfort: it’s not morally wrong; I can try it on with a +clear conscience, and even if I was found out, I wouldn’t greatly +care--morally, I mean. And then, if I succeed, and if Pitman is staunch, +there’s nothing to do but find a venal doctor; and that ought to be +simple enough in a place like London. By all accounts the town’s +alive with them. It wouldn’t do, of course, to advertise for a corrupt +physician; that would be impolitic. No, I suppose a fellow has simply to +spot along the streets for a red lamp and herbs in the window, and +then you go in and--and--and put it to him plainly; though it seems a +delicate step.’ + +He was near home now, after many devious wanderings, and turned up +John Street. As he thrust his latchkey in the lock, another mortifying +reflection struck him to the heart. + +‘Not even this house is mine till I can prove him dead,’ he snarled, and +slammed the door behind him so that the windows in the attic rattled. + +Night had long fallen; long ago the lamps and the shop-fronts had begun +to glitter down the endless streets; the lobby was pitch--dark; and, as +the devil would have it, Morris barked his shins and sprawled all his +length over the pedestal of Hercules. The pain was sharp; his temper was +already thoroughly undermined; by a last misfortune his hand closed on +the hammer as he fell; and, in a spasm of childish irritation, he turned +and struck at the offending statue. There was a splintering crash. + +‘O Lord, what have I done next?’ wailed Morris; and he groped his way +to find a candle. ‘Yes,’ he reflected, as he stood with the light in +his hand and looked upon the mutilated leg, from which about a pound of +muscle was detached. ‘Yes, I have destroyed a genuine antique; I may be +in for thousands!’ And then there sprung up in his bosom a sort of angry +hope. ‘Let me see,’ he thought. ‘Julia’s got rid of--, there’s nothing +to connect me with that beast Forsyth; the men were all drunk, and +(what’s better) they’ve been all discharged. O, come, I think this is +another case of moral courage! I’ll deny all knowledge of the thing.’ + +A moment more, and he stood again before the Hercules, his lips sternly +compressed, the coal-axe and the meat-cleaver under his arm. The next, +he had fallen upon the packing-case. This had been already seriously +undermined by the operations of Gideon; a few well-directed blows, and +it already quaked and gaped; yet a few more, and it fell about Morris in +a shower of boards followed by an avalanche of straw. + +And now the leather-merchant could behold the nature of his task: and at +the first sight his spirit quailed. It was, indeed, no more ambitious a +task for De Lesseps, with all his men and horses, to attack the hills +of Panama, than for a single, slim young gentleman, with no previous +experience of labour in a quarry, to measure himself against that +bloated monster on his pedestal. And yet the pair were well encountered: +on the one side, bulk--on the other, genuine heroic fire. + +‘Down you shall come, you great big, ugly brute!’ cried Morris aloud, +with something of that passion which swept the Parisian mob against the +walls of the Bastille. ‘Down you shall come, this night. I’ll have none +of you in my lobby.’ + +The face, from its indecent expression, had particularly animated the +zeal of our iconoclast; and it was against the face that he began his +operations. The great height of the demigod--for he stood a fathom +and half in his stocking-feet--offered a preliminary obstacle to this +attack. But here, in the first skirmish of the battle, intellect already +began to triumph over matter. By means of a pair of library steps, +the injured householder gained a posture of advantage; and, with great +swipes of the coal-axe, proceeded to decapitate the brute. + +Two hours later, what had been the erect image of a gigantic coal-porter +turned miraculously white, was now no more than a medley of disjected +members; the quadragenarian torso prone against the pedestal; the +lascivious countenance leering down the kitchen stair; the legs, the +arms, the hands, and even the fingers, scattered broadcast on the lobby +floor. Half an hour more, and all the debris had been laboriously carted +to the kitchen; and Morris, with a gentle sentiment of triumph, looked +round upon the scene of his achievements. Yes, he could deny all +knowledge of it now: the lobby, beyond the fact that it was partly +ruinous, betrayed no trace of the passage of Hercules. But it was a +weary Morris that crept up to bed; his arms and shoulders ached, the +palms of his hands burned from the rough kisses of the coal-axe, and +there was one smarting finger that stole continually to his mouth. Sleep +long delayed to visit the dilapidated hero, and with the first peep of +day it had again deserted him. + +The morning, as though to accord with his disastrous fortunes, dawned +inclemently. An easterly gale was shouting in the streets; flaws of rain +angrily assailed the windows; and as Morris dressed, the draught from +the fireplace vividly played about his legs. + +‘I think,’ he could not help observing bitterly, ‘that with all I have +to bear, they might have given me decent weather.’ + +There was no bread in the house, for Miss Hazeltine (like all women left +to themselves) had subsisted entirely upon cake. But some of this was +found, and (along with what the poets call a glass of fair, cold water) +made up a semblance of a morning meal, and then down he sat undauntedly +to his delicate task. + +Nothing can be more interesting than the study of signatures, +written (as they are) before meals and after, during indigestion and +intoxication; written when the signer is trembling for the life of his +child or has come from winning the Derby, in his lawyer’s office, or +under the bright eyes of his sweetheart. To the vulgar, these seem never +the same; but to the expert, the bank clerk, or the lithographer, they +are constant quantities, and as recognizable as the North Star to the +night-watch on deck. + +To all this Morris was alive. In the theory of that graceful art in +which he was now embarking, our spirited leather-merchant was beyond +all reproach. But, happily for the investor, forgery is an affair +of practice. And as Morris sat surrounded by examples of his uncle’s +signature and of his own incompetence, insidious depression stole upon +his spirits. From time to time the wind wuthered in the chimney at his +back; from time to time there swept over Bloomsbury a squall so dark +that he must rise and light the gas; about him was the chill and the +mean disorder of a house out of commission--the floor bare, the sofa +heaped with books and accounts enveloped in a dirty table-cloth, the +pens rusted, the paper glazed with a thick film of dust; and yet these +were but adminicles of misery, and the true root of his depression lay +round him on the table in the shape of misbegotten forgeries. + +‘It’s one of the strangest things I ever heard of,’ he complained. ‘It +almost seems as if it was a talent that I didn’t possess.’ He went once +more minutely through his proofs. ‘A clerk would simply gibe at them,’ +said he. ‘Well, there’s nothing else but tracing possible.’ + +He waited till a squall had passed and there came a blink of scowling +daylight. Then he went to the window, and in the face of all John Street +traced his uncle’s signature. It was a poor thing at the best. ‘But it +must do,’ said he, as he stood gazing woefully on his handiwork. ‘He’s +dead, anyway.’ And he filled up the cheque for a couple of hundred and +sallied forth for the Anglo-Patagonian Bank. + +There, at the desk at which he was accustomed to transact business, +and with as much indifference as he could assume, Morris presented the +forged cheque to the big, red-bearded Scots teller. The teller seemed to +view it with surprise; and as he turned it this way and that, and even +scrutinized the signature with a magnifying-glass, his surprise appeared +to warm into disfavour. Begging to be excused for a moment, he +passed away into the rearmost quarters of the bank; whence, after an +appreciable interval, he returned again in earnest talk with a superior, +an oldish and a baldish, but a very gentlemanly man. + +‘Mr Morris Finsbury, I believe,’ said the gentlemanly man, fixing Morris +with a pair of double eye-glasses. + +‘That is my name,’ said Morris, quavering. ‘Is there anything wrong. + +‘Well, the fact is, Mr Finsbury, you see we are rather surprised at +receiving this,’ said the other, flicking at the cheque. ‘There are no +effects.’ + +‘No effects?’ cried Morris. ‘Why, I know myself there must be +eight-and-twenty hundred pounds, if there’s a penny.’ + +‘Two seven six four, I think,’ replied the gentlemanly man; ‘but it was +drawn yesterday.’ + +‘Drawn!’ cried Morris. + +‘By your uncle himself, sir,’ continued the other. ‘Not only that, but +we discounted a bill for him for--let me see--how much was it for, Mr +Bell?’ + +‘Eight hundred, Mr Judkin,’ replied the teller. + +‘Bent Pitman!’ cried Morris, staggering back. + +‘I beg your pardon,’ said Mr Judkin. + +‘It’s--it’s only an expletive,’ said Morris. + +‘I hope there’s nothing wrong, Mr Finsbury,’ said Mr Bell. + +‘All I can tell you,’ said Morris, with a harsh laugh,’ is that the +whole thing’s impossible. My uncle is at Bournemouth, unable to move.’ + +‘Really!’ cried Mr Bell, and he recovered the cheque from Mr Judkin. +‘But this cheque is dated in London, and today,’ he observed. ‘How d’ye +account for that, sir?’ + +‘O, that was a mistake,’ said Morris, and a deep tide of colour dyed his +face and neck. + +‘No doubt, no doubt,’ said Mr Judkin, but he looked at his customer +enquiringly. + +‘And--and--’ resumed Morris, ‘even if there were no effects--this is a +very trifling sum to overdraw--our firm--the name of Finsbury, is surely +good enough for such a wretched sum as this.’ + +‘No doubt, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Mr Judkin; ‘and if you insist I will +take it into consideration; but I hardly think--in short, Mr Finsbury, +if there had been nothing else, the signature seems hardly all that we +could wish.’ + +‘That’s of no consequence,’ replied Morris nervously. ‘I’ll get my uncle +to sign another. The fact is,’ he went on, with a bold stroke, ‘my uncle +is so far from well at present that he was unable to sign this cheque +without assistance, and I fear that my holding the pen for him may have +made the difference in the signature.’ + +Mr Judkin shot a keen glance into Morris’s face; and then turned and +looked at Mr Bell. + +‘Well,’ he said, ‘it seems as if we had been victimized by a swindler. +Pray tell Mr Finsbury we shall put detectives on at once. As for this +cheque of yours, I regret that, owing to the way it was signed, the +bank can hardly consider it--what shall I say?--businesslike,’ and he +returned the cheque across the counter. + +Morris took it up mechanically; he was thinking of something very +different. + +‘In a--case of this kind,’ he began, ‘I believe the loss falls on us; I +mean upon my uncle and myself.’ + +‘It does not, sir,’ replied Mr Bell; ‘the bank is responsible, and +the bank will either recover the money or refund it, you may depend on +that.’ + +Morris’s face fell; then it was visited by another gleam of hope. + +‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said, ‘you leave this entirely in my hands. +I’ll sift the matter. I’ve an idea, at any rate; and detectives,’ he +added appealingly, ‘are so expensive.’ + +‘The bank would not hear of it,’ returned Mr Judkin. ‘The bank stands to +lose between three and four thousand pounds; it will spend as much more +if necessary. An undiscovered forger is a permanent danger. We shall +clear it up to the bottom, Mr Finsbury; set your mind at rest on that.’ + +‘Then I’ll stand the loss,’ said Morris boldly. ‘I order you to abandon +the search.’ He was determined that no enquiry should be made. + +‘I beg your pardon,’ returned Mr Judkin, ‘but we have nothing to do with +you in this matter, which is one between your uncle and ourselves. If +he should take this opinion, and will either come here himself or let me +see him in his sick-room--’ + +‘Quite impossible,’ cried Morris. + +‘Well, then, you see,’ said Mr Judkin, ‘how my hands are tied. The whole +affair must go at once into the hands of the police.’ + +Morris mechanically folded the cheque and restored it to his +pocket--book. + +‘Good--morning,’ said he, and scrambled somehow out of the bank. + +‘I don’t know what they suspect,’ he reflected; ‘I can’t make them +out, their whole behaviour is thoroughly unbusinesslike. But it doesn’t +matter; all’s up with everything. The money has been paid; the police +are on the scent; in two hours that idiot Pitman will be nabbed--and the +whole story of the dead body in the evening papers.’ + +If he could have heard what passed in the bank after his departure he +would have been less alarmed, perhaps more mortified. + +‘That was a curious affair, Mr Bell,’ said Mr Judkin. + +‘Yes, sir,’ said Mr Bell, ‘but I think we have given him a fright.’ + +‘O, we shall hear no more of Mr Morris Finsbury,’ returned the other; +‘it was a first attempt, and the house have dealt with us so long that +I was anxious to deal gently. But I suppose, Mr Bell, there can be no +mistake about yesterday? It was old Mr Finsbury himself?’ + +‘There could be no possible doubt of that,’ said Mr Bell with a chuckle. +‘He explained to me the principles of banking.’ + +‘Well, well,’ said Mr Judkin. ‘The next time he calls ask him to step +into my room. It is only proper he should be warned.’ + + + +CHAPTER VII. In Which William Dent Pitman takes Legal Advice + +Norfolk Street, King’s Road--jocularly known among Mr Pitman’s lodgers +as ‘Norfolk Island’--is neither a long, a handsome, nor a pleasing +thoroughfare. Dirty, undersized maids-of-all-work issue from it in +pursuit of beer, or linger on its sidewalk listening to the voice of +love. The cat’s-meat man passes twice a day. An occasional organ-grinder +wanders in and wanders out again, disgusted. In holiday-time the +street is the arena of the young bloods of the neighbourhood, and +the householders have an opportunity of studying the manly art of +self-defence. And yet Norfolk Street has one claim to be respectable, +for it contains not a single shop--unless you count the public-house at +the corner, which is really in the King’s Road. + +The door of No. 7 bore a brass plate inscribed with the legend ‘W. D. +Pitman, Artist’. It was not a particularly clean brass plate, nor was +No. 7 itself a particularly inviting place of residence. And yet it +had a character of its own, such as may well quicken the pulse of +the reader’s curiosity. For here was the home of an artist--and a +distinguished artist too, highly distinguished by his ill-success--which +had never been made the subject of an article in the illustrated +magazines. No wood-engraver had ever reproduced ‘a corner in the back +drawing-room’ or ‘the studio mantelpiece’ of No. 7; no young lady author +had ever commented on ‘the unaffected simplicity’ with which Mr Pitman +received her in the midst of his ‘treasures’. It is an omission I would +gladly supply, but our business is only with the backward parts and +‘abject rear’ of this aesthetic dwelling. + +Here was a garden, boasting a dwarf fountain (that never played) in the +centre, a few grimy-looking flowers in pots, two or three newly +planted trees which the spring of Chelsea visited without noticeable +consequence, and two or three statues after the antique, representing +satyrs and nymphs in the worst possible style of sculptured art. On one +side the garden was overshadowed by a pair of crazy studios, usually +hired out to the more obscure and youthful practitioners of British +art. Opposite these another lofty out-building, somewhat more carefully +finished, and boasting of a communication with the house and a private +door on the back lane, enshrined the multifarious industry of Mr Pitman. +All day, it is true, he was engaged in the work of education at a +seminary for young ladies; but the evenings at least were his own, and +these he would prolong far into the night, now dashing off ‘A landscape +with waterfall’ in oil, now a volunteer bust [‘in marble’, as he would +gently but proudly observe) of some public character, now stooping +his chisel to a mere ‘nymph’ for a gasbracket on a stair, sir’, or a +life-size ‘Infant Samuel’ for a religious nursery. Mr Pitman had studied +in Paris, and he had studied in Rome, supplied with funds by a fond +parent who went subsequently bankrupt in consequence of a fall in +corsets; and though he was never thought to have the smallest modicum +of talent, it was at one time supposed that he had learned his business. +Eighteen years of what is called ‘tuition’ had relieved him of the +dangerous knowledge. His artist lodgers would sometimes reason with him; +they would point out to him how impossible it was to paint by gaslight, +or to sculpture life-sized nymphs without a model. + +‘I know that,’ he would reply. ‘No one in Norfolk Street knows it +better; and if I were rich I should certainly employ the best models +in London; but, being poor, I have taught myself to do without them. An +occasional model would only disturb my ideal conception of the figure, +and be a positive impediment in my career. As for painting by an +artificial light,’ he would continue, ‘that is simply a knack I have +found it necessary to acquire, my days being engrossed in the work of +tuition.’ + +At the moment when we must present him to our readers, Pitman was in his +studio alone, by the dying light of the October day. He sat (sure enough +with ‘unaffected simplicity’) in a Windsor chair, his low-crowned black +felt hat by his side; a dark, weak, harmless, pathetic little man, clad +in the hue of mourning, his coat longer than is usual with the laity, +his neck enclosed in a collar without a parting, his neckcloth pale in +hue and simply tied; the whole outward man, except for a pointed beard, +tentatively clerical. There was a thinning on the top of Pitman’s head, +there were silver hairs at Pitman’s temple. Poor gentleman, he was no +longer young; and years, and poverty, and humble ambition thwarted, make +a cheerless lot. + +In front of him, in the corner by the door, there stood a portly barrel; +and let him turn them where he might, it was always to the barrel that +his eyes and his thoughts returned. + +‘Should I open it? Should I return it? Should I communicate with Mr +Sernitopolis at once?’ he wondered. ‘No,’ he concluded finally, ‘nothing +without Mr Finsbury’s advice.’ And he arose and produced a shabby +leathern desk. It opened without the formality of unlocking, and +displayed the thick cream-coloured notepaper on which Mr Pitman was +in the habit of communicating with the proprietors of schools and the +parents of his pupils. He placed the desk on the table by the window, +and taking a saucer of Indian ink from the chimney-piece, laboriously +composed the following letter: + +‘My dear Mr Finsbury,’ it ran, ‘would it be presuming on your kindness +if I asked you to pay me a visit here this evening? It is in no trifling +matter that I invoke your valuable assistance, for need I say more than +it concerns the welfare of Mr Semitopolis’s statue of Hercules? I write +you in great agitation of mind; for I have made all enquiries, and +greatly fear that this work of ancient art has been mislaid. I labour +besides under another perplexity, not unconnected with the first. Pray +excuse the inelegance of this scrawl, and believe me yours in haste, +William D. Pitman.’ + +Armed with this he set forth and rang the bell of No. 233 King’s Road, +the private residence of Michael Finsbury. He had met the lawyer at a +time of great public excitement in Chelsea; Michael, who had a sense of +humour and a great deal of careless kindness in his nature, followed +the acquaintance up, and, having come to laugh, remained to drop into +a contemptuous kind of friendship. By this time, which was four years +after the first meeting, Pitman was the lawyer’s dog. + +‘No,’ said the elderly housekeeper, who opened the door in person, ‘Mr +Michael’s not in yet. But ye’re looking terribly poorly, Mr Pitman. Take +a glass of sherry, sir, to cheer ye up.’ + +‘No, I thank you, ma’am,’ replied the artist. ‘It is very good in you, +but I scarcely feel in sufficient spirits for sherry. Just give Mr +Finsbury this note, and ask him to look round--to the door in the lane, +you will please tell him; I shall be in the studio all evening.’ + +And he turned again into the street and walked slowly homeward. A +hairdresser’s window caught his attention, and he stared long and +earnestly at the proud, high--born, waxen lady in evening dress, who +circulated in the centre of the show. The artist woke in him, in spite +of his troubles. + +‘It is all very well to run down the men who make these things,’ +he cried, ‘but there’s a something--there’s a haughty, indefinable +something about that figure. It’s what I tried for in my “Empress +Eugenie”,’ he added, with a sigh. + +And he went home reflecting on the quality. ‘They don’t teach you that +direct appeal in Paris,’ he thought. ‘It’s British. Come, I am going to +sleep, I must wake up, I must aim higher--aim higher,’ cried the little +artist to himself. All through his tea and afterward, as he was giving +his eldest boy a lesson on the fiddle, his mind dwelt no longer on his +troubles, but he was rapt into the better land; and no sooner was he at +liberty than he hastened with positive exhilaration to his studio. + +Not even the sight of the barrel could entirely cast him down. He flung +himself with rising zest into his work--a bust of Mr Gladstone from a +photograph; turned (with extraordinary success) the difficulty of +the back of the head, for which he had no documents beyond a hazy +recollection of a public meeting; delighted himself by his treatment +of the collar; and was only recalled to the cares of life by Michael +Finsbury’s rattle at the door. + +‘Well, what’s wrong?’ said Michael, advancing to the grate, where, +knowing his friend’s delight in a bright fire, Mr Pitman had not spared +the fuel. ‘I suppose you have come to grief somehow.’ + +‘There is no expression strong enough,’ said the artist. ‘Mr +Semitopolis’s statue has not turned up, and I am afraid I shall be +answerable for the money; but I think nothing of that--what I fear, my +dear Mr Finsbury, what I fear--alas that I should have to say it! +is exposure. The Hercules was to be smuggled out of Italy; a thing +positively wrong, a thing of which a man of my principles and in my +responsible position should have taken (as I now see too late) no part +whatever.’ + +‘This sounds like very serious work,’ said the lawyer. ‘It will require +a great deal of drink, Pitman.’ + +‘I took the liberty of--in short, of being prepared for you,’ replied +the artist, pointing to a kettle, a bottle of gin, a lemon, and glasses. +Michael mixed himself a grog, and offered the artist a cigar. + +‘No, thank you,’ said Pitman. ‘I used occasionally to be rather partial +to it, but the smell is so disagreeable about the clothes.’ + +‘All right,’ said the lawyer. ‘I am comfortable now. Unfold your tale.’ + +At some length Pitman set forth his sorrows. He had gone today to +Waterloo, expecting to receive the colossal Hercules, and he had +received instead a barrel not big enough to hold Discobolus; yet +the barrel was addressed in the hand (with which he was perfectly +acquainted) of his Roman correspondent. What was stranger still, a case +had arrived by the same train, large enough and heavy enough to +contain the Hercules; and this case had been taken to an address now +undiscoverable. ‘The vanman (I regret to say it) had been drinking, and +his language was such as I could never bring myself to repeat. + +He was at once discharged by the superintendent of the line, who behaved +most properly throughout, and is to make enquiries at Southampton. +In the meanwhile, what was I to do? I left my address and brought the +barrel home; but, remembering an old adage, I determined not to open it +except in the presence of my lawyer.’ + +‘Is that all?’ asked Michael. ‘I don’t see any cause to worry. The +Hercules has stuck upon the road. It will drop in tomorrow or the day +after; and as for the barrel, depend upon it, it’s a testimonial from +one of your young ladies, and probably contains oysters.’ + +‘O, don’t speak so loud!’ cried the little artist. ‘It would cost me my +place if I were heard to speak lightly of the young ladies; and besides, +why oysters from Italy? and why should they come to me addressed in +Signor Ricardi’s hand?’ + +‘Well, let’s have a look at it,’ said Michael. ‘Let’s roll it forward to +the light.’ + +The two men rolled the barrel from the corner, and stood it on end +before the fire. + +‘It’s heavy enough to be oysters,’ remarked Michael judiciously. + +‘Shall we open it at once?’ enquired the artist, who had grown decidedly +cheerful under the combined effects of company and gin; and without +waiting for a reply, he began to strip as if for a prize-fight, tossed +his clerical collar in the wastepaper basket, hung his clerical coat +upon a nail, and with a chisel in one hand and a hammer in the other, +struck the first blow of the evening. + +‘That’s the style, William Dent’ cried Michael. ‘There’s fire for--your +money! It may be a romantic visit from one of the young ladies--a sort +of Cleopatra business. Have a care and don’t stave in Cleopatra’s head.’ + +But the sight of Pitman’s alacrity was infectious. The lawyer could +sit still no longer. Tossing his cigar into the fire, he snatched the +instrument from the unwilling hands of the artist, and fell to himself. +Soon the sweat stood in beads upon his large, fair brow; his stylish +trousers were defaced with iron rust, and the state of his chisel +testified to misdirected energies. + +A cask is not an easy thing to open, even when you set about it in the +right way; when you set about it wrongly, the whole structure must be +resolved into its elements. Such was the course pursued alike by the +artist and the lawyer. Presently the last hoop had been removed--a +couple of smart blows tumbled the staves upon the ground--and what +had once been a barrel was no more than a confused heap of broken and +distorted boards. + +In the midst of these, a certain dismal something, swathed in blankets, +remained for an instant upright, and then toppled to one side and +heavily collapsed before the fire. Even as the thing subsided, an +eye-glass tingled to the floor and rolled toward the screaming Pitman. + +‘Hold your tongue!’ said Michael. He dashed to the house door and locked +it; then, with a pale face and bitten lip, he drew near, pulled aside +a corner of the swathing blanket, and recoiled, shuddering. There was a +long silence in the studio. + +‘Now tell me,’ said Michael, in a low voice: ‘Had you any hand in it?’ +and he pointed to the body. + +The little artist could only utter broken and disjointed sounds. + +Michael poured some gin into a glass. ‘Drink that,’ he said. ‘Don’t be +afraid of me. I’m your friend through thick and thin.’ + +Pitman put the liquor down untasted. + +‘I swear before God,’ he said, ‘this is another mystery to me. In my +worst fears I never dreamed of such a thing. I would not lay a finger on +a sucking infant.’ + +‘That’s all square,’ said Michael, with a sigh of huge relief. ‘I +believe you, old boy.’ And he shook the artist warmly by the hand. ‘I +thought for a moment,’ he added with rather a ghastly smile, ‘I thought +for a moment you might have made away with Mr Semitopolis.’ + +‘It would make no difference if I had,’ groaned Pitman. ‘All is at an +end for me. There’s the writing on the wall.’ + +‘To begin with,’ said Michael, ‘let’s get him out of sight; for to be +quite plain with you, Pitman, I don’t like your friend’s appearance.’ +And with that the lawyer shuddered. ‘Where can we put it?’ + +‘You might put it in the closet there--if you could bear to touch it,’ +answered the artist. + +‘Somebody has to do it, Pitman,’ returned the lawyer; ‘and it seems as +if it had to be me. You go over to the table, turn your back, and mix me +a grog; that’s a fair division of labour.’ + +About ninety seconds later the closet-door was heard to shut. + +‘There,’ observed Michael, ‘that’s more homelike. You can turn now, my +pallid Pitman. Is this the grog?’ he ran on. ‘Heaven forgive you, it’s a +lemonade.’ + +‘But, O, Finsbury, what are we to do with it?’ walled the artist, laying +a clutching hand upon the lawyer’s arm. + +‘Do with it?’ repeated Michael. ‘Bury it in one of your flowerbeds, and +erect one of your own statues for a monument. I tell you we should look +devilish romantic shovelling out the sod by the moon’s pale ray. Here, +put some gin in this.’ + +‘I beg of you, Mr Finsbury, do not trifle with my misery,’ cried Pitman. +‘You see before you a man who has been all his life--I do not hesitate +to say it--imminently respectable. Even in this solemn hour I can lay my +hand upon my heart without a blush. Except on the really trifling point +of the smuggling of the Hercules (and even of that I now humbly repent), +my life has been entirely fit for publication. I never feared the +light,’ cried the little man; ‘and now--now--!’ + +‘Cheer up, old boy,’ said Michael. ‘I assure you we should count this +little contretemps a trifle at the office; it’s the sort of thing that +may occur to any one; and if you’re perfectly sure you had no hand in +it--’ + +‘What language am I to find--’ began Pitman. + +‘O, I’ll do that part of it,’ interrupted Michael, ‘you have no +experience.’ But the point is this: If--or rather since--you know +nothing of the crime, since the--the party in the closet--is +neither your father, nor your brother, nor your creditor, nor your +mother-in-law, nor what they call an injured husband--’ + +‘O, my dear sir!’ interjected Pitman, horrified. + +‘Since, in short,’ continued the lawyer, ‘you had no possible interest +in the crime, we have a perfectly free field before us and a safe game +to play. Indeed, the problem is really entertaining; it is one I have +long contemplated in the light of an A. B. case; here it is at last +under my hand in specie; and I mean to pull you through. Do you hear +that?--I mean to pull you through. Let me see: it’s a long time since I +have had what I call a genuine holiday; I’ll send an excuse tomorrow to +the office. We had best be lively,’ he added significantly; ‘for we must +not spoil the market for the other man.’ + +‘What do you mean?’ enquired Pitman. ‘What other man? The inspector of +police?’ + +‘Damn the inspector of police!’ remarked his companion. ‘If you won’t +take the short cut and bury this in your back garden, we must find some +one who will bury it in his. We must place the affair, in short, in the +hands of some one with fewer scruples and more resources.’ + +‘A private detective, perhaps?’ suggested Pitman. + +‘There are times when you fill me with pity,’ observed the lawyer. ‘By +the way, Pitman,’ he added in another key, ‘I have always regretted that +you have no piano in this den of yours. Even if you don’t play yourself, +your friends might like to entertain themselves with a little music +while you were mudding.’ + +‘I shall get one at once if you like,’ said Pitman nervously, anxious to +please. ‘I play the fiddle a little as it is.’ + +‘I know you do,’ said Michael; ‘but what’s the fiddle--above all as you +play it? What you want is polyphonic music. And I’ll tell you what it +is--since it’s too late for you to buy a piano I’ll give you mine.’ + +‘Thank you,’ said the artist blankly. ‘You will give me yours? I am sure +it’s very good in you.’ + +‘Yes, I’ll give you mine,’ continued Michael, ‘for the inspector of +police to play on while his men are digging up your back garden.’ Pitman +stared at him in pained amazement. + +‘No, I’m not insane,’ Michael went on. ‘I’m playful, but quite coherent. +See here, Pitman: follow me one half minute. I mean to profit by the +refreshing fact that we are really and truly innocent; nothing but the +presence of the--you know what--connects us with the crime; once let us +get rid of it, no matter how, and there is no possible clue to trace +us by. Well, I give you my piano; we’ll bring it round this very night. +Tomorrow we rip the fittings out, deposit the--our friend--inside, plump +the whole on a cart, and carry it to the chambers of a young gentleman +whom I know by sight.’ + +‘Whom do you know by sight?’ repeated Pitman. + +‘And what is more to the purpose,’ continued Michael, ‘whose chambers I +know better than he does himself. A friend of mine--I call him my friend +for brevity; he is now, I understand, in Demerara and (most likely) +in gaol--was the previous occupant. I defended him, and I got him off +too--all saved but honour; his assets were nil, but he gave me what he +had, poor gentleman, and along with the rest--the key of his chambers. +It’s there that I propose to leave the piano and, shall we say, +Cleopatra?’ + +‘It seems very wild,’ said Pitman. ‘And what will become of the poor +young gentleman whom you know by sight?’ + +‘It will do him good,’--said Michael cheerily. ‘Just what he wants to +steady him.’ + +‘But, my dear sir, he might be involved in a charge of--a charge of +murder,’ gulped the artist. + +‘Well, he’ll be just where we are,’ returned the lawyer. ‘He’s +innocent, you see. What hangs people, my dear Pitman, is the unfortunate +circumstance of guilt.’ + +‘But indeed, indeed,’ pleaded Pitman, ‘the whole scheme appears to me so +wild. Would it not be safer, after all, just to send for the police?’ + +‘And make a scandal?’ enquired Michael. ‘“The Chelsea Mystery; alleged +innocence of Pitman”? How would that do at the Seminary?’ + +‘It would imply my discharge,’ admitted the drawing--master. ‘I cannot +deny that.’ + +‘And besides,’ said Michael, ‘I am not going to embark in such a +business and have no fun for my money.’ + +‘O my dear sir, is that a proper spirit?’ cried Pitman. + +‘O, I only said that to cheer you up,’ said the unabashed Michael. +‘Nothing like a little judicious levity. But it’s quite needless to +discuss. If you mean to follow my advice, come on, and let us get the +piano at once. If you don’t, just drop me the word, and I’ll leave you +to deal with the whole thing according to your better judgement.’ + +‘You know perfectly well that I depend on you entirely,’ returned +Pitman. ‘But O, what a night is before me with that--horror in my +studio! How am I to think of it on my pillow?’ + +‘Well, you know, my piano will be there too,’ said Michael. ‘That’ll +raise the average.’ + +An hour later a cart came up the lane, and the lawyer’s piano--a +momentous Broadwood grand--was deposited in Mr Pitman’s studio. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. In Which Michael Finsbury Enjoys a Holiday + +Punctually at eight o’clock next morning the lawyer rattled (according +to previous appointment) on the studio door. He found the artist sadly +altered for the worse--bleached, bloodshot, and chalky--a man upon +wires, the tail of his haggard eye still wandering to the closet. Nor +was the professor of drawing less inclined to wonder at his friend. +Michael was usually attired in the height of fashion, with a certain +mercantile brilliancy best described perhaps as stylish; nor could +anything be said against him, as a rule, but that he looked a trifle +too like a wedding guest to be quite a gentleman. Today he had fallen +altogether from these heights. He wore a flannel shirt of washed-out +shepherd’s tartan, and a suit of reddish tweeds, of the colour known to +tailors as ‘heather mixture’; his neckcloth was black, and tied loosely +in a sailor’s knot; a rusty ulster partly concealed these advantages; +and his feet were shod with rough walking boots. His hat was an old soft +felt, which he removed with a flourish as he entered. + +‘Here I am, William Dent!’ he cried, and drawing from his pocket +two little wisps of reddish hair, he held them to his cheeks like +sidewhiskers and danced about the studio with the filmy graces of a +ballet-girl. + +Pitman laughed sadly. ‘I should never have known you,’ said he. + +‘Nor were you intended to,’ returned Michael, replacing his false +whiskers in his pocket. ‘Now we must overhaul you and your wardrobe, and +disguise you up to the nines.’ + +‘Disguise!’ cried the artist. ‘Must I indeed disguise myself. Has it +come to that?’ + +‘My dear creature,’ returned his companion, ‘disguise is the spice of +life. What is life, passionately exclaimed a French philosopher, without +the pleasures of disguise? I don’t say it’s always good taste, and +I know it’s unprofessional; but what’s the odds, downhearted +drawing-master? It has to be. We have to leave a false impression on +the minds of many persons, and in particular on the mind of Mr Gideon +Forsyth--the young gentleman I know by sight--if he should have the bad +taste to be at home.’ + +‘If he be at home?’ faltered the artist. ‘That would be the end of all.’ + +‘Won’t matter a d--,’ returned Michael airily. ‘Let me see your clothes, +and I’ll make a new man of you in a jiffy.’ + +In the bedroom, to which he was at once conducted, Michael examined +Pitman’s poor and scanty wardrobe with a humorous eye, picked out a +short jacket of black alpaca, and presently added to that a pair of +summer trousers which somehow took his fancy as incongruous. Then, with +the garments in his hand, he scrutinized the artist closely. + +‘I don’t like that clerical collar,’ he remarked. ‘Have you nothing +else?’ + +The professor of drawing pondered for a moment, and then brightened; +‘I have a pair of low-necked shirts,’ he said, ‘that I used to wear in +Paris as a student. They are rather loud.’ + +‘The very thing!’ ejaculated Michael. ‘You’ll look perfectly beastly. +Here are spats, too,’ he continued, drawing forth a pair of those +offensive little gaiters. ‘Must have spats! And now you jump into these, +and whistle a tune at the window for (say) three-quarters of an hour. +After that you can rejoin me on the field of glory.’ + +So saying, Michael returned to the studio. It was the morning of the +easterly gale; the wind blew shrilly among the statues in the garden, +and drove the rain upon the skylight in the studio ceiling; and at about +the same moment of the time when Morris attacked the hundredth version +of his uncle’s signature in Bloomsbury, Michael, in Chelsea, began to +rip the wires out of the Broadwood grand. + +Three-quarters of an hour later Pitman was admitted, to find the +closet-door standing open, the closet untenanted, and the piano +discreetly shut. + +‘It’s a remarkably heavy instrument,’ observed Michael, and turned +to consider his friend’s disguise. ‘You must shave off that beard of +yours,’ he said. + +‘My beard!’ cried Pitman. ‘I cannot shave my beard. I cannot tamper with +my appearance--my principals would object. They hold very strong views +as to the appearance of the professors--young ladies are considered so +romantic. My beard was regarded as quite a feature when I went about the +place. It was regarded,’ said the artist, with rising colour, ‘it was +regarded as unbecoming.’ + +‘You can let it grow again,’ returned Michael, ‘and then you’ll be so +precious ugly that they’ll raise your salary.’ + +‘But I don’t want to be ugly,’ cried the artist. + +‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Michael, who hated beards and was delighted to +destroy one. ‘Off with it like a man!’ + +‘Of course, if you insist,’ said Pitman; and then he sighed, fetched +some hot water from the kitchen, and setting a glass upon his easel, +first clipped his beard with scissors and then shaved his chin. He +could not conceal from himself, as he regarded the result, that his last +claims to manhood had been sacrificed, but Michael seemed delighted. + +‘A new man, I declare!’ he cried. ‘When I give you the windowglass +spectacles I have in my pocket, you’ll be the beau-ideal of a French +commercial traveller.’ + +Pitman did not reply, but continued to gaze disconsolately on his image +in the glass. + +‘Do you know,’ asked Michael, ‘what the Governor of South Carolina said +to the Governor of North Carolina? “It’s a long time between drinks,” + observed that powerful thinker; and if you will put your hand into the +top left-hand pocket of my ulster, I have an impression you will find a +flask of brandy. Thank you, Pitman,’ he added, as he filled out a glass +for each. ‘Now you will give me news of this.’ + +The artist reached out his hand for the water-jug, but Michael arrested +the movement. + +‘Not if you went upon your knees!’ he cried. ‘This is the finest liqueur +brandy in Great Britain.’ + +Pitman put his lips to it, set it down again, and sighed. + +‘Well, I must say you’re the poorest companion for a holiday!’ cried +Michael. ‘If that’s all you know of brandy, you shall have no more of +it; and while I finish the flask, you may as well begin business. Come +to think of it,’ he broke off, ‘I have made an abominable error: you +should have ordered the cart before you were disguised. Why, Pitman, +what the devil’s the use of you? why couldn’t you have reminded me of +that?’ + +‘I never even knew there was a cart to be ordered,’ said the artist. +‘But I can take off the disguise again,’ he suggested eagerly. + +‘You would find it rather a bother to put on your beard,’ observed the +lawyer. ‘No, it’s a false step; the sort of thing that hangs people,’ he +continued, with eminent cheerfulness, as he sipped his brandy; ‘and +it can’t be retraced now. Off to the mews with you, make all the +arrangements; they’re to take the piano from here, cart it to Victoria, +and dispatch it thence by rail to Cannon Street, to lie till called for +in the name of Fortune du Boisgobey.’ + +‘Isn’t that rather an awkward name?’ pleaded Pitman. + +‘Awkward?’ cried Michael scornfully. ‘It would hang us both! Brown is +both safer and easier to pronounce. Call it Brown.’ + +‘I wish,’ said Pitman, ‘for my sake, I wish you wouldn’t talk so much of +hanging.’ + +‘Talking about it’s nothing, my boy!’ returned Michael. ‘But take your +hat and be off, and mind and pay everything beforehand.’ + +Left to himself, the lawyer turned his attention for some time +exclusively to the liqueur brandy, and his spirits, which had been +pretty fair all morning, now prodigiously rose. He proceeded to adjust +his whiskers finally before the glass. ‘Devilish rich,’ he remarked, as +he contemplated his reflection. ‘I look like a purser’s mate.’ And at +that moment the window-glass spectacles (which he had hitherto destined +for Pitman) flashed into his mind; he put them on, and fell in love with +the effect. ‘Just what I required,’ he said. ‘I wonder what I look like +now? A humorous novelist, I should think,’ and he began to practise +divers characters of walk, naming them to himself as--he proceeded. +‘Walk of a humorous novelist--but that would require an umbrella. Walk +of a purser’s mate. Walk of an Australian colonist revisiting the scenes +of childhood. Walk of Sepoy colonel, ditto, ditto. And in the midst +of the Sepoy colonel (which was an excellent assumption, although +inconsistent with the style of his make-up), his eye lighted on the +piano. This instrument was made to lock both at the top and at the +keyboard, but the key of the latter had been mislaid. Michael opened +it and ran his fingers over the dumb keys. ‘Fine instrument--full, rich +tone,’ he observed, and he drew in a seat. + +When Mr Pitman returned to the studio, he was appalled to observe his +guide, philosopher, and friend performing miracles of execution on the +silent grand. + +‘Heaven help me!’ thought the little man, ‘I fear he has been drinking! +Mr Finsbury,’ he said aloud; and Michael, without rising, turned upon +him a countenance somewhat flushed, encircled with the bush of the red +whiskers, and bestridden by the spectacles. ‘Capriccio in B-flat on the +departure of a friend,’ said he, continuing his noiseless evolutions. + +Indignation awoke in the mind of Pitman. ‘Those spectacles were to be +mine,’ he cried. ‘They are an essential part of my disguise.’ + +‘I am going to wear them myself,’ replied Michael; and he added, with +some show of truth, ‘There would be a devil of a lot of suspicion +aroused if we both wore spectacles.’ + +‘O, well,’ said the assenting Pitman, ‘I rather counted on them; but of +course, if you insist. And at any rate, here is the cart at the door.’ + +While the men were at work, Michael concealed himself in the closet +among the debris of the barrel and the wires of the piano; and as soon +as the coast was clear the pair sallied forth by the lane, jumped into +a hansom in the King’s Road, and were driven rapidly toward town. It +was still cold and raw and boisterous; the rain beat strongly in their +faces, but Michael refused to have the glass let down; he had now +suddenly donned the character of cicerone, and pointed out and lucidly +commented on the sights of London, as they drove. ‘My dear fellow,’ he +said, ‘you don’t seem to know anything of your native city. Suppose we +visited the Tower? No? Well, perhaps it’s a trifle out of our way. +But, anyway--Here, cabby, drive round by Trafalgar Square!’ And on that +historic battlefield he insisted on drawing up, while he criticized the +statues and gave the artist many curious details (quite new to history) +of the lives of the celebrated men they represented. + +It would be difficult to express what Pitman suffered in the cab: cold, +wet, terror in the capital degree, a grounded distrust of the commander +under whom he served, a sense of imprudency in the matter of the +low-necked shirt, a bitter sense of the decline and fall involved in the +deprivation of his beard, all these were among the ingredients of the +bowl. To reach the restaurant, for which they were deviously steering, +was the first relief. To hear Michael bespeak a private room was a +second and a still greater. Nor, as they mounted the stair under the +guidance of an unintelligible alien, did he fail to note with gratitude +the fewness of the persons present, or the still more cheering fact that +the greater part of these were exiles from the land of France. It was +thus a blessed thought that none of them would be connected with the +Seminary; for even the French professor, though admittedly a Papist, he +could scarce imagine frequenting so rakish an establishment. + +The alien introduced them into a small bare room with a single table, +a sofa, and a dwarfish fire; and Michael called promptly for more coals +and a couple of brandies and sodas. + +‘O, no,’ said Pitman, ‘surely not--no more to drink.’ + +‘I don’t know what you would be at,’ said Michael plaintively. ‘It’s +positively necessary to do something; and one shouldn’t smoke before +meals. I thought that was understood. You seem to have no idea +of hygiene.’ And he compared his watch with the clock upon the +chimney-piece. + +Pitman fell into bitter musing; here he was, ridiculously shorn, +absurdly disguised, in the company of a drunken man in spectacles, and +waiting for a champagne luncheon in a restaurant painfully foreign. What +would his principals think, if they could see him? What if they knew his +tragic and deceitful errand? + +From these reflections he was aroused by the entrance of the alien with +the brandies and sodas. Michael took one and bade the waiter pass the +other to his friend. + +Pitman waved it from him with his hand. ‘Don’t let me lose all +self-respect,’ he said. + +‘Anything to oblige a friend,’ returned Michael. ‘But I’m not going to +drink alone. Here,’ he added to the waiter, ‘you take it.’ And, then, +touching glasses, ‘The health of Mr Gideon Forsyth,’ said he. + +‘Meestare Gidden Borsye,’ replied the waiter, and he tossed off the +liquor in four gulps. + +‘Have another?’ said Michael, with undisguised interest. ‘I never saw a +man drink faster. It restores one’s confidence in the human race. + +But the waiter excused himself politely, and, assisted by some one from +without, began to bring in lunch. + +Michael made an excellent meal, which he washed down with a bottle of +Heidsieck’s dry monopole. As for the artist, he was far too uneasy to +eat, and his companion flatly refused to let him share in the champagne +unless he did. + +‘One of us must stay sober,’ remarked the lawyer, ‘and I won’t give you +champagne on the strength of a leg of grouse. I have to be cautious,’ he +added confidentially. ‘One drunken man, excellent business--two drunken +men, all my eye.’ + +On the production of coffee and departure of the waiter, Michael might +have been observed to make portentous efforts after gravity of mien. +He looked his friend in the face (one eye perhaps a trifle off), and +addressed him thickly but severely. + +‘Enough of this fooling,’ was his not inappropriate exordium. ‘To +business. Mark me closely. I am an Australian. My name is John Dickson, +though you mightn’t think it from my unassuming appearance. You will be +relieved to hear that I am rich, sir, very rich. You can’t go into this +sort of thing too thoroughly, Pitman; the whole secret is preparation, +and I can get up my biography from the beginning, and I could tell it +you now, only I have forgotten it.’ + +‘Perhaps I’m stupid--’ began Pitman. + +‘That’s it!’ cried Michael. ‘Very stupid; but rich too--richer than I +am. I thought you would enjoy it, Pitman, so I’ve arranged that you were +to be literally wallowing in wealth. But then, on the other hand, you’re +only an American, and a maker of india-rubber overshoes at that. And the +worst of it is--why should I conceal it from you?--the worst of it +is that you’re called Ezra Thomas. Now,’ said Michael, with a really +appalling seriousness of manner, ‘tell me who we are.’ + +The unfortunate little man was cross-examined till he knew these facts +by heart. + +‘There!’ cried the lawyer. ‘Our plans are laid. Thoroughly +consistent--that’s the great thing.’ + +‘But I don’t understand,’ objected Pitman. + +‘O, you’ll understand right enough when it comes to the point,’ said +Michael, rising. + +‘There doesn’t seem any story to it,’ said the artist. + +‘We can invent one as we go along,’ returned the lawyer. + +‘But I can’t invent,’ protested Pitman. ‘I never could invent in all my +life.’ + +‘You’ll find you’ll have to, my boy,’ was Michael’s easy comment, and he +began calling for the waiter, with whom he at once resumed a sparkling +conversation. + +It was a downcast little man that followed him. ‘Of course he is very +clever, but can I trust him in such a state?’ he asked himself. And when +they were once more in a hansom, he took heart of grace. + +‘Don’t you think,’ he faltered, ‘it would be wiser, considering all +things, to put this business off?’ + +‘Put off till tomorrow what can be done today?’ cried Michael, with +indignation. ‘Never heard of such a thing! Cheer up, it’s all right, go +in and win--there’s a lion-hearted Pitman!’ + +At Cannon Street they enquired for Mr Brown’s piano, which had duly +arrived, drove thence to a neighbouring mews, where they contracted +for a cart, and while that was being got ready, took shelter in the +harness-room beside the stove. Here the lawyer presently toppled against +the wall and fell into a gentle slumber; so that Pitman found himself +launched on his own resources in the midst of several staring loafers, +such as love to spend unprofitable days about a stable. ‘Rough day, +sir,’ observed one. ‘Do you go far?’ + +‘Yes, it’s a--rather a rough day,’ said the artist; and then, feeling +that he must change the conversation, ‘My friend is an Australian; he is +very impulsive,’ he added. + +‘An Australian?’ said another. ‘I’ve a brother myself in Melbourne. Does +your friend come from that way at all?’ + +‘No, not exactly,’ replied the artist, whose ideas of the geography of +New Holland were a little scattered. ‘He lives immensely far inland, and +is very rich.’ + +The loafers gazed with great respect upon the slumbering colonist. + +‘Well,’ remarked the second speaker, ‘it’s a mighty big place, is +Australia. Do you come from thereaway too?’ + +‘No, I do not,’ said Pitman. ‘I do not, and I don’t want to,’ he added +irritably. And then, feeling some diversion needful, he fell upon +Michael and shook him up. + +‘Hullo,’ said the lawyer, ‘what’s wrong?’ + +‘The cart is nearly ready,’ said Pitman sternly. ‘I will not allow you +to sleep.’ + +‘All right--no offence, old man,’ replied Michael, yawning. ‘A little +sleep never did anybody any harm; I feel comparatively sober now. But +what’s all the hurry?’ he added, looking round him glassily. ‘I don’t +see the cart, and I’ve forgotten where we left the piano.’ + +What more the lawyer might have said, in the confidence of the moment, +is with Pitman a matter of tremulous conjecture to this day; but by the +most blessed circumstance the cart was then announced, and Michael must +bend the forces of his mind to the more difficult task of rising. + +‘Of course you’ll drive,’ he remarked to his companion, as he clambered +on the vehicle. + +‘I drive!’ cried Pitman. ‘I never did such a thing in my life. I cannot +drive.’ + +‘Very well,’ responded Michael with entire composure, ‘neither can I +see. But just as you like. Anything to oblige a friend.’ + +A glimpse of the ostler’s darkening countenance decided Pitman. ‘All +right,’ he said desperately, ‘you drive. I’ll tell you where to go.’ + +On Michael in the character of charioteer (since this is not intended +to be a novel of adventure) it would be superfluous to dwell at length. +Pitman, as he sat holding on and gasping counsels, sole witness of this +singular feat, knew not whether most to admire the driver’s valour or +his undeserved good fortune. But the latter at least prevailed, the +cart reached Cannon Street without disaster; and Mr Brown’s piano was +speedily and cleverly got on board. + +‘Well, sir,’ said the leading porter, smiling as he mentally reckoned up +a handful of loose silver, ‘that’s a mortal heavy piano.’ + +‘It’s the richness of the tone,’ returned Michael, as he drove away. + +It was but a little distance in the rain, which now fell thick and +quiet, to the neighbourhood of Mr Gideon Forsyth’s chambers in the +Temple. There, in a deserted by-street, Michael drew up the horses and +gave them in charge to a blighted shoe-black; and the pair descending +from the cart, whereon they had figured so incongruously, set forth +on foot for the decisive scene of their adventure. For the first time +Michael displayed a shadow of uneasiness. + +‘Are my whiskers right?’ he asked. ‘It would be the devil and all if I +was spotted.’ + +‘They are perfectly in their place,’ returned Pitman, with scant +attention. ‘But is my disguise equally effective? There is nothing more +likely than that I should meet some of my patrons.’ + +‘O, nobody could tell you without your beard,’ said Michael. ‘All you +have to do is to remember to speak slow; you speak through your nose +already.’ + +‘I only hope the young man won’t be at home,’ sighed Pitman. + +‘And I only hope he’ll be alone,’ returned the lawyer. ‘It will save a +precious sight of manoeuvring.’ + +And sure enough, when they had knocked at the door, Gideon admitted them +in person to a room, warmed by a moderate fire, framed nearly to the +roof in works connected with the bench of British Themis, and offering, +except in one particular, eloquent testimony to the legal zeal of the +proprietor. The one particular was the chimney-piece, which displayed +a varied assortment of pipes, tobacco, cigar-boxes, and yellow-backed +French novels. + +‘Mr Forsyth, I believe?’ It was Michael who thus opened the engagement. +‘We have come to trouble you with a piece of business. I fear it’s +scarcely professional--’ + +‘I am afraid I ought to be instructed through a solicitor,’ replied +Gideon. + +‘Well, well, you shall name your own, and the whole affair can be put +on a more regular footing tomorrow,’ replied Michael, taking a chair +and motioning Pitman to do the same. ‘But you see we didn’t know any +solicitors; we did happen to know of you, and time presses.’ + +‘May I enquire, gentlemen,’ asked Gideon, ‘to whom it was I am indebted +for a recommendation?’ + +‘You may enquire,’ returned the lawyer, with a foolish laugh; ‘but I was +invited not to tell you--till the thing was done.’ + +‘My uncle, no doubt,’ was the barrister’s conclusion. + +‘My name is John Dickson,’ continued Michael; ‘a pretty well-known name +in Ballarat; and my friend here is Mr Ezra Thomas, of the United States +of America, a wealthy manufacturer of india-rubber overshoes.’ + +‘Stop one moment till I make a note of that,’ said Gideon; any one might +have supposed he was an old practitioner. + +‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind my smoking a cigar?’ asked Michael. He had +pulled himself together for the entrance; now again there began to +settle on his mind clouds of irresponsible humour and incipient slumber; +and he hoped (as so many have hoped in the like case) that a cigar would +clear him. + +‘Oh, certainly,’ cried Gideon blandly. ‘Try one of mine; I can +confidently recommend them.’ And he handed the box to his client. + +‘In case I don’t make myself perfectly clear,’ observed the Australian, +‘it’s perhaps best to tell you candidly that I’ve been lunching. It’s a +thing that may happen to any one.’ + +‘O, certainly,’ replied the affable barrister. ‘But please be under no +sense of hurry. I can give you,’ he added, thoughtfully consulting his +watch--‘yes, I can give you the whole afternoon.’ + +‘The business that brings me here,’ resumed the Australian with gusto, +‘is devilish delicate, I can tell you. My friend Mr Thomas, being an +American of Portuguese extraction, unacquainted with our habits, and a +wealthy manufacturer of Broadwood pianos--’ + +‘Broadwood pianos?’ cried Gideon, with some surprise. ‘Dear me, do I +understand Mr Thomas to be a member of the firm?’ + +‘O, pirated Broadwoods,’ returned Michael. ‘My friend’s the American +Broadwood.’ + +‘But I understood you to say,’ objected Gideon, ‘I certainly have it +so in my notes--that your friend was a manufacturer of india--rubber +overshoes.’ + +‘I know it’s confusing at first,’ said the Australian, with a beaming +smile. ‘But he--in short, he combines the two professions. And many +others besides--many, many, many others,’ repeated Mr Dickson, with +drunken solemnity. ‘Mr Thomas’s cotton-mills are one of the sights of +Tallahassee; Mr Thomas’s tobacco-mills are the pride of Richmond, Va.; +in short, he’s one of my oldest friends, Mr Forsyth, and I lay his case +before you with emotion.’ + +The barrister looked at Mr Thomas and was agreeably prepossessed by his +open although nervous countenance, and the simplicity and timidity of +his manner. ‘What a people are these Americans!’ he thought. ‘Look at +this nervous, weedy, simple little bird in a lownecked shirt, and +think of him wielding and directing interests so extended and seemingly +incongruous! ‘But had we not better,’ he observed aloud, ‘had we not +perhaps better approach the facts?’ + +‘Man of business, I perceive, sir!’ said the Australian. ‘Let’s approach +the facts. It’s a breach of promise case.’ + +The unhappy artist was so unprepared for this view of his position that +he could scarce suppress a cry. + +‘Dear me,’ said Gideon, ‘they are apt to be very troublesome. Tell me +everything about it,’ he added kindly; ‘if you require my assistance, +conceal nothing.’ + +‘You tell him,’ said Michael, feeling, apparently, that he had done his +share. ‘My friend will tell you all about it,’ he added to Gideon, with +a yawn. ‘Excuse my closing my eyes a moment; I’ve been sitting up with a +sick friend.’ + +Pitman gazed blankly about the room; rage and despair seethed in his +innocent spirit; thoughts of flight, thoughts even of suicide, came and +went before him; and still the barrister patiently waited, and still the +artist groped in vain for any form of words, however insignificant. + +‘It’s a breach of promise case,’ he said at last, in a low voice. ‘I--I +am threatened with a breach of promise case.’ Here, in desperate quest +of inspiration, he made a clutch at his beard; his fingers closed upon +the unfamiliar smoothness of a shaven chin; and with that, hope and +courage (if such expressions could ever have been appropriate in the +case of Pitman) conjointly fled. He shook Michael roughly. ‘Wake up!’ +he cried, with genuine irritation in his tones. ‘I cannot do it, and you +know I can’t.’ + +‘You must excuse my friend,’ said Michael; ‘he’s no hand as a narrator +of stirring incident. The case is simple,’ he went on. ‘My friend is +a man of very strong passions, and accustomed to a simple, patriarchal +style of life. You see the thing from here: unfortunate visit to Europe, +followed by unfortunate acquaintance with sham foreign count, who has a +lovely daughter. Mr Thomas was quite carried away; he proposed, he was +accepted, and he wrote--wrote in a style which I am sure he must +regret today. If these letters are produced in court, sir, Mr Thomas’s +character is gone.’ + +‘Am I to understand--’ began Gideon. + +‘My dear sir,’ said the Australian emphatically, ‘it isn’t possible to +understand unless you saw them.’ + +‘That is a painful circumstance,’ said Gideon; he glanced pityingly in +the direction of the culprit, and, observing on his countenance every +mark of confusion, pityingly withdrew his eyes. + +‘And that would be nothing,’ continued Mr Dickson sternly, ‘but I +wish--I wish from my heart, sir, I could say that Mr Thomas’s hands were +clean. He has no excuse; for he was engaged at the time--and is still +engaged--to the belle of Constantinople, Ga. My friend’s conduct was +unworthy of the brutes that perish.’ + +‘Ga.?’ repeated Gideon enquiringly. + +‘A contraction in current use,’ said Michael. ‘Ga. for Georgia, in The +same way as Co. for Company.’ + +‘I was aware it was sometimes so written,’ returned the barrister, ‘but +not that it was so pronounced.’ + +‘Fact, I assure you,’ said Michael. ‘You now see for yourself, sir, that +if this unhappy person is to be saved, some devilish sharp practice will +be needed. There’s money, and no desire to spare it. Mr Thomas could +write a cheque tomorrow for a hundred thousand. And, Mr Forsyth, +there’s better than money. The foreign count--Count Tarnow, he calls +himself--was formerly a tobacconist in Bayswater, and passed under +the humble but expressive name of Schmidt; his daughter--if she is his +daughter--there’s another point--make a note of that, Mr Forsyth--his +daughter at that time actually served in the shop--and she now proposes +to marry a man of the eminence of Mr Thomas! Now do you see our game? We +know they contemplate a move; and we wish to forestall ‘em. Down you +go to Hampton Court, where they live, and threaten, or bribe, or both, +until you get the letters; if you can’t, God help us, we must go to +court and Thomas must be exposed. I’ll be done with him for one,’ added +the unchivalrous friend. + +‘There seem some elements of success,’ said Gideon. ‘Was Schmidt at all +known to the police?’ + +‘We hope so,’ said Michael. ‘We have every ground to think so. Mark +the neighbourhood--Bayswater! Doesn’t Bayswater occur to you as very +suggestive?’ + +For perhaps the sixth time during this remarkable interview, Gideon +wondered if he were not becoming light-headed. ‘I suppose it’s just +because he has been lunching,’ he thought; and then added aloud, ‘To +what figure may I go?’ + +‘Perhaps five thousand would be enough for today,’ said Michael. ‘And +now, sir, do not let me detain you any longer; the afternoon wears +on; there are plenty of trains to Hampton Court; and I needn’t try to +describe to you the impatience of my friend. Here is a five-pound note +for current expenses; and here is the address.’ And Michael began to +write, paused, tore up the paper, and put the pieces in his pocket. ‘I +will dictate,’ he said, ‘my writing is so uncertain.’ + +Gideon took down the address, ‘Count Tarnow, Kurnaul Villa, Hampton +Court.’ Then he wrote something else on a sheet of paper. ‘You said you +had not chosen a solicitor,’ he said. ‘For a case of this sort, here is +the best man in London.’ And he handed the paper to Michael. + +‘God bless me!’ ejaculated Michael, as he read his own address. + +‘O, I daresay you have seen his name connected with some rather painful +cases,’ said Gideon. ‘But he is himself a perfectly honest man, and his +capacity is recognized. And now, gentlemen, it only remains for me to +ask where I shall communicate with you.’ + +‘The Langham, of course,’ returned Michael. ‘Till tonight.’ + +‘Till tonight,’ replied Gideon, smiling. ‘I suppose I may knock you up +at a late hour?’ + +‘Any hour, any hour,’ cried the vanishing solicitor. + +‘Now there’s a young fellow with a head upon his shoulders,’ he said to +Pitman, as soon as they were in the street. + +Pitman was indistinctly heard to murmur, ‘Perfect fool.’ + +‘Not a bit of him,’ returned Michael. ‘He knows who’s the best solicitor +in London, and it’s not every man can say the same. But, I say, didn’t I +pitch it in hot?’ + +Pitman returned no answer. + +‘Hullo!’ said the lawyer, pausing, ‘what’s wrong with the long-suffering +Pitman?’ + +‘You had no right to speak of me as you did,’ the artist broke out; +‘your language was perfectly unjustifiable; you have wounded me deeply.’ + +‘I never said a word about you,’ replied Michael. ‘I spoke of Ezra +Thomas; and do please remember that there’s no such party.’ + +‘It’s just as hard to bear,’ said the artist. + +But by this time they had reached the corner of the by-street; and +there was the faithful shoeblack, standing by the horses’ heads with +a splendid assumption of dignity; and there was the piano, figuring +forlorn upon the cart, while the rain beat upon its unprotected sides +and trickled down its elegantly varnished legs. + +The shoeblack was again put in requisition to bring five or six strong +fellows from the neighbouring public-house; and the last battle of the +campaign opened. It is probable that Mr Gideon Forsyth had not yet taken +his seat in the train for Hampton Court, before Michael opened the door +of the chambers, and the grunting porters deposited the Broadwood grand +in the middle of the floor. + +‘And now,’ said the lawyer, after he had sent the men about their +business, ‘one more precaution. We must leave him the key of the piano, +and we must contrive that he shall find it. Let me see.’ And he built a +square tower of cigars upon the top of the instrument, and dropped the +key into the middle. + +‘Poor young man,’ said the artist, as they descended the stairs. + +‘He is in a devil of a position,’ assented Michael drily. ‘It’ll brace +him up.’ + +‘And that reminds me,’ observed the excellent Pitman, ‘that I fear I +displayed a most ungrateful temper. I had no right, I see, to resent +expressions, wounding as they were, which were in no sense directed.’ + +‘That’s all right,’ cried Michael, getting on the cart. ‘Not a word +more, Pitman. Very proper feeling on your part; no man of self-respect +can stand by and hear his alias insulted.’ + +The rain had now ceased, Michael was fairly sober, the body had been +disposed of, and the friends were reconciled. The return to the mews was +therefore (in comparison with previous stages of the day’s adventures) +quite a holiday outing; and when they had returned the cart and walked +forth again from the stable-yard, unchallenged, and even unsuspected, +Pitman drew a deep breath of joy. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘we can go home.’ + +‘Pitman,’ said the lawyer, stopping short, ‘your recklessness fills me +with concern. What! we have been wet through the greater part of the +day, and you propose, in cold blood, to go home! No, sir--hot Scotch.’ + +And taking his friend’s arm he led him sternly towards the nearest +public-house. Nor was Pitman (I regret to say) wholly unwilling. +Now that peace was restored and the body gone, a certain innocent +skittishness began to appear in the manners of the artist; and when +he touched his steaming glass to Michael’s, he giggled aloud like a +venturesome schoolgirl at a picnic. + + + +CHAPTER IX. Glorious Conclusion of Michael Finsbury’s Holiday + +I know Michael Finsbury personally; my business--I know the awkwardness +of having such a man for a lawyer--still it’s an old story now, and +there is such a thing as gratitude, and, in short, my legal business, +although now (I am thankful to say) of quite a placid character, remains +entirely in Michael’s hands. But the trouble is I have no natural talent +for addresses; I learn one for every man--that is friendship’s offering; +and the friend who subsequently changes his residence is dead to me, +memory refusing to pursue him. Thus it comes about that, as I always +write to Michael at his office, I cannot swear to his number in the +King’s Road. Of course (like my neighbours), I have been to dinner +there. Of late years, since his accession to wealth, neglect of +business, and election to the club, these little festivals have become +common. He picks up a few fellows in the smoking-room--all men of Attic +wit--myself, for instance, if he has the luck to find me disengaged; a +string of hansoms may be observed (by Her Majesty) bowling gaily through +St James’s Park; and in a quarter of an hour the party surrounds one of +the best appointed boards in London. + +But at the time of which we write the house in the King’s Road (let us +still continue to call it No. 233) was kept very quiet; when Michael +entertained guests it was at the halls of Nichol or Verrey that he would +convene them, and the door of his private residence remained closed +against his friends. The upper storey, which was sunny, was set apart +for his father; the drawing-room was never opened; the dining-room was +the scene of Michael’s life. It is in this pleasant apartment, +sheltered from the curiosity of King’s Road by wire blinds, and entirely +surrounded by the lawyer’s unrivalled library of poetry and criminal +trials, that we find him sitting down to his dinner after his holiday +with Pitman. A spare old lady, with very bright eyes and a mouth +humorously compressed, waited upon the lawyer’s needs; in every line of +her countenance she betrayed the fact that she was an old retainer; +in every word that fell from her lips she flaunted the glorious +circumstance of a Scottish origin; and the fear with which this powerful +combination fills the boldest was obviously no stranger to the bosom of +our friend. The hot Scotch having somewhat warmed up the embers of the +Heidsieck. It was touching to observe the master’s eagerness to pull +himself together under the servant’s eye; and when he remarked, ‘I +think, Teena, I’ll take a brandy and soda,’ he spoke like a man doubtful +of his elocution, and not half certain of obedience. + +‘No such a thing, Mr Michael,’ was the prompt return. ‘Clar’t and +water.’ + +‘Well, well, Teena, I daresay you know best,’ said the master. ‘Very +fatiguing day at the office, though.’ + +‘What?’ said the retainer, ‘ye never were near the office!’ + +‘O yes, I was though; I was repeatedly along Fleet Street,’ returned +Michael. + +‘Pretty pliskies ye’ve been at this day!’ cried the old lady, with +humorous alacrity; and then, ‘Take care--don’t break my crystal!’ she +cried, as the lawyer came within an ace of knocking the glasses off the +table. + +‘And how is he keeping?’ asked Michael. + +‘O, just the same, Mr Michael, just the way he’ll be till the end, +worthy man!’ was the reply. ‘But ye’ll not be the first that’s asked me +that the day.’ + +‘No?’ said the lawyer. ‘Who else?’ + +‘Ay, that’s a joke, too,’ said Teena grimly. ‘A friend of yours: Mr +Morris.’ + +‘Morris! What was the little beggar wanting here?’ enquired Michael. + +‘Wantin’? To see him,’ replied the housekeeper, completing her meaning +by a movement of the thumb toward the upper storey. ‘That’s by his way +of it; but I’ve an idee of my own. He tried to bribe me, Mr Michael. +Bribe--me!’ she repeated, with inimitable scorn. ‘That’s no’ kind of a +young gentleman.’ + +‘Did he so?’ said Michael. ‘I bet he didn’t offer much.’ + +‘No more he did,’ replied Teena; nor could any subsequent questioning +elicit from her the sum with which the thrifty leather merchant had +attempted to corrupt her. ‘But I sent him about his business,’ she said +gallantly. ‘He’ll not come here again in a hurry.’ + +‘He mustn’t see my father, you know; mind that!’ said Michael. ‘I’m not +going to have any public exhibition to a little beast like him.’ + +‘No fear of me lettin’ him,’ replied the trusty one. ‘But the joke +is this, Mr Michael--see, ye’re upsettin’ the sauce, that’s a clean +tablecloth--the best of the joke is that he thinks your father’s dead +and you’re keepin’ it dark.’ + +Michael whistled. ‘Set a thief to catch a thief,’ said he. + +‘Exac’ly what I told him!’ cried the delighted dame. + +‘I’ll make him dance for that,’ said Michael. + +‘Couldn’t ye get the law of him some way?’ suggested Teena truculently. + +‘No, I don’t think I could, and I’m quite sure I don’t want to,’ +replied Michael. ‘But I say, Teena, I really don’t believe this claret’s +wholesome; it’s not a sound, reliable wine. Give us a brandy and soda, +there’s a good soul.’ Teena’s face became like adamant. ‘Well, then,’ +said the lawyer fretfully, ‘I won’t eat any more dinner.’ + +‘Ye can please yourself about that, Mr Michael,’ said Teena, and began +composedly to take away. + +‘I do wish Teena wasn’t a faithful servant!’ sighed the lawyer, as he +issued into Kings’s Road. + +The rain had ceased; the wind still blew, but only with a pleasant +freshness; the town, in the clear darkness of the night, glittered with +street-lamps and shone with glancing rain-pools. ‘Come, this is better,’ +thought the lawyer to himself, and he walked on eastward, lending a +pleased ear to the wheels and the million footfalls of the city. + +Near the end of the King’s Road he remembered his brandy and soda, and +entered a flaunting public-house. A good many persons were present, a +waterman from a cab-stand, half a dozen of the chronically unemployed, a +gentleman (in one corner) trying to sell aesthetic photographs out of +a leather case to another and very youthful gentleman with a yellow +goatee, and a pair of lovers debating some fine shade (in the other). +But the centre-piece and great attraction was a little old man, in a +black, ready-made surtout, which was obviously a recent purchase. On +the marble table in front of him, beside a sandwich and a glass of +beer, there lay a battered forage cap. His hand fluttered abroad with +oratorical gestures; his voice, naturally shrill, was plainly tuned to +the pitch of the lecture room; and by arts, comparable to those of +the Ancient Mariner, he was now holding spellbound the barmaid, the +waterman, and four of the unemployed. + +‘I have examined all the theatres in London,’ he was saying; ‘and pacing +the principal entrances, I have ascertained them to be ridiculously +disproportionate to the requirements of their audiences. The doors +opened the wrong way--I forget at this moment which it is, but have a +note of it at home; they were frequently locked during the performance, +and when the auditorium was literally thronged with English people. You +have probably not had my opportunities of comparing distant lands; but +I can assure you this has been long ago recognized as a mark +of aristocratic government. Do you suppose, in a country really +self-governed, such abuses could exist? Your own intelligence, however +uncultivated, tells you they could not. Take Austria, a country even +possibly more enslaved than England. I have myself conversed with one of +the survivors of the Ring Theatre, and though his colloquial German +was not very good, I succeeded in gathering a pretty clear idea of his +opinion of the case. But, what will perhaps interest you still more, +here is a cutting on the subject from a Vienna newspaper, which I will +now read to you, translating as I go. You can see for yourselves; it +is printed in the German character.’ And he held the cutting out for +verification, much as a conjuror passes a trick orange along the front +bench. + +‘Hullo, old gentleman! Is this you?’ said Michael, laying his hand upon +the orator’s shoulder. + +The figure turned with a convulsion of alarm, and showed the countenance +of Mr Joseph Finsbury. ‘You, Michael!’ he cried. ‘There’s no one with +you, is there?’ + +‘No,’ replied Michael, ordering a brandy and soda, ‘there’s nobody with +me; whom do you expect?’ + +‘I thought of Morris or John,’ said the old gentleman, evidently greatly +relieved. + +‘What the devil would I be doing with Morris or John?’ cried the nephew. + +‘There is something in that,’ returned Joseph. ‘And I believe I can +trust you. I believe you will stand by me.’ + +‘I hardly know what you mean,’ said the lawyer, ‘but if you are in need +of money I am flush.’ + +‘It’s not that, my dear boy,’ said the uncle, shaking him by the hand. +‘I’ll tell you all about it afterwards.’ + +‘All right,’ responded the nephew. ‘I stand treat, Uncle Joseph; what +will you have?’ + +‘In that case,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘I’ll take another +sandwich. I daresay I surprise you,’ he went on, ‘with my presence in +a public-house; but the fact is, I act on a sound but little-known +principle of my own--’ + +‘O, it’s better known than you suppose,’ said Michael sipping his brandy +and soda. ‘I always act on it myself when I want a drink.’ + +The old gentleman, who was anxious to propitiate Michael, laughed a +cheerless laugh. ‘You have such a flow of spirits,’ said he, ‘I am sure +I often find it quite amusing. But regarding this principle of which +I was about to speak. It is that of accommodating one’s-self to the +manners of any land (however humble) in which our lot may be cast. Now, +in France, for instance, every one goes to a cafe for his meals; in +America, to what is called a “two-bit house”; in England the people +resort to such an institution as the present for refreshment. With +sandwiches, tea, and an occasional glass of bitter beer, a man can live +luxuriously in London for fourteen pounds twelve shillings per annum.’ + +‘Yes, I know,’ returned Michael, ‘but that’s not including clothes, +washing, or boots. The whole thing, with cigars and occasional sprees, +costs me over seven hundred a year.’ + +But this was Michael’s last interruption. He listened in good-humoured +silence to the remainder of his uncle’s lecture, which speedily branched +to political reform, thence to the theory of the weather-glass, with an +illustrative account of a bora in the Adriatic; thence again to the best +manner of teaching arithmetic to the deaf-and-dumb; and with that, the +sandwich being then no more, explicuit valde feliciter. A moment later +the pair issued forth on the King’s Road. + +‘Michael,’ said his uncle, ‘the reason that I am here is because I +cannot endure those nephews of mine. I find them intolerable.’ + +‘I daresay you do,’ assented Michael, ‘I never could stand them for a +moment.’ + +‘They wouldn’t let me speak,’ continued the old gentleman bitterly; ‘I +never was allowed to get a word in edgewise; I was shut up at once with +some impertinent remark. They kept me on short allowance of pencils, +when I wished to make notes of the most absorbing interest; the daily +newspaper was guarded from me like a young baby from a gorilla. Now, you +know me, Michael. I live for my calculations; I live for my manifold and +ever-changing views of life; pens and paper and the productions of the +popular press are to me as important as food and drink; and my life +was growing quite intolerable when, in the confusion of that fortunate +railway accident at Browndean, I made my escape. They must think +me dead, and are trying to deceive the world for the chance of the +tontine.’ + +‘By the way, how do you stand for money?’ asked Michael kindly. + +‘Pecuniarily speaking, I am rich,’ returned the old man with +cheerfulness. ‘I am living at present at the rate of one hundred a year, +with unlimited pens and paper; the British Museum at which to get books; +and all the newspapers I choose to read. But it’s extraordinary how +little a man of intellectual interest requires to bother with books in a +progressive age. The newspapers supply all the conclusions.’ + +‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Michael, ‘come and stay with me.’ + +‘Michael,’ said the old gentleman, ‘it’s very kind of you, but you +scarcely understand what a peculiar position I occupy. There are some +little financial complications; as a guardian, my efforts were not +altogether blessed; and not to put too fine a point upon the matter, I +am absolutely in the power of that vile fellow, Morris.’ + +‘You should be disguised,’ cried Michael eagerly; ‘I will lend you a +pair of window-glass spectacles and some red side-whiskers.’ + +‘I had already canvassed that idea,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘but +feared to awaken remark in my unpretentious lodgings. The aristocracy, I +am well aware--’ + +‘But see here,’ interrupted Michael, ‘how do you come to have any money +at all? Don’t make a stranger of me, Uncle Joseph; I know all about the +trust, and the hash you made of it, and the assignment you were forced +to make to Morris.’ + +Joseph narrated his dealings with the bank. + +‘O, but I say, this won’t do,’ cried the lawyer. ‘You’ve put your foot +in it. You had no right to do what you did.’ + +‘The whole thing is mine, Michael,’ protested the old gentleman. ‘I +founded and nursed that business on principles entirely of my own.’ + +‘That’s all very fine,’ said the lawyer; ‘but you made an assignment, +you were forced to make it, too; even then your position was extremely +shaky; but now, my dear sir, it means the dock.’ + +‘It isn’t possible,’ cried Joseph; ‘the law cannot be so unjust as +that?’ + +‘And the cream of the thing,’ interrupted Michael, with a sudden shout +of laughter, ‘the cream of the thing is this, that of course you’ve +downed the leather business! I must say, Uncle Joseph, you have strange +ideas of law, but I like your taste in humour.’ + +‘I see nothing to laugh at,’ observed Mr Finsbury tartly. + +‘And talking of that, has Morris any power to sign for the firm?’ asked +Michael. + +‘No one but myself,’ replied Joseph. + +‘Poor devil of a Morris! O, poor devil of a Morris!’ cried the lawyer in +delight. ‘And his keeping up the farce that you’re at home! O, Morris, +the Lord has delivered you into my hands! Let me see, Uncle Joseph, what +do you suppose the leather business worth?’ + +‘It was worth a hundred thousand,’ said Joseph bitterly, ‘when it was +in my hands. But then there came a Scotsman--it is supposed he had a +certain talent--it was entirely directed to bookkeeping--no accountant +in London could understand a word of any of his books; and then there +was Morris, who is perfectly incompetent. And now it is worth very +little. Morris tried to sell it last year; and Pogram and Jarris offered +only four thousand.’ + +‘I shall turn my attention to leather,’ said Michael with decision. + +‘You?’ asked Joseph. ‘I advise you not. There is nothing in the whole +field of commerce more surprising than the fluctuations of the leather +market. Its sensitiveness may be described as morbid.’ + +‘And now, Uncle Joseph, what have you done with all that money?’ asked +the lawyer. + +‘Paid it into a bank and drew twenty pounds,’ answered Mr Finsbury +promptly. ‘Why?’ + +‘Very well,’ said Michael. ‘Tomorrow I shall send down a clerk with a +cheque for a hundred, and he’ll draw out the original sum and return it +to the Anglo-Patagonian, with some sort of explanation which I will try +to invent for you. That will clear your feet, and as Morris can’t touch +a penny of it without forgery, it will do no harm to my little scheme.’ + +‘But what am I to do?’ asked Joseph; ‘I cannot live upon nothing.’ + +‘Don’t you hear?’ returned Michael. ‘I send you a cheque for a hundred; +which leaves you eighty to go along upon; and when that’s done, apply to +me again.’ + +‘I would rather not be beholden to your bounty all the same,’ said +Joseph, biting at his white moustache. ‘I would rather live on my own +money, since I have it.’ + +Michael grasped his arm. ‘Will nothing make you believe,’ he cried, +‘that I am trying to save you from Dartmoor?’ + +His earnestness staggered the old man. ‘I must turn my attention +to law,’ he said; ‘it will be a new field; for though, of course, I +understand its general principles, I have never really applied my +mind to the details, and this view of yours, for example, comes on me +entirely by surprise. But you may be right, and of course at my time +of life--for I am no longer young--any really long term of imprisonment +would be highly prejudicial. But, my dear nephew, I have no claim on +you; you have no call to support me.’ + +‘That’s all right,’ said Michael; ‘I’ll probably get it out of the +leather business.’ + +And having taken down the old gentleman’s address, Michael left him at +the corner of a street. + +‘What a wonderful old muddler!’ he reflected, ‘and what a singular thing +is life! I seem to be condemned to be the instrument of Providence. Let +me see; what have I done today? Disposed of a dead body, saved Pitman, +saved my Uncle Joseph, brightened up Forsyth, and drunk a devil of a lot +of most indifferent liquor. Let’s top off with a visit to my cousins, +and be the instrument of Providence in earnest. Tomorrow I can turn +my attention to leather; tonight I’ll just make it lively for ‘em in a +friendly spirit.’ + +About a quarter of an hour later, as the clocks were striking eleven, +the instrument of Providence descended from a hansom, and, bidding the +driver wait, rapped at the door of No. 16 John Street. + +It was promptly opened by Morris. + +‘O, it’s you, Michael,’ he said, carefully blocking up the narrow +opening: ‘it’s very late.’ + +Michael without a word reached forth, grasped Morris warmly by the hand, +and gave it so extreme a squeeze that the sullen householder fell back. +Profiting by this movement, the lawyer obtained a footing in the lobby +and marched into the dining-room, with Morris at his heels. + +‘Where’s my Uncle Joseph?’ demanded Michael, sitting down in the most +comfortable chair. + +‘He’s not been very well lately,’ replied Morris; ‘he’s staying at +Browndean; John is nursing him; and I am alone, as you see.’ + +Michael smiled to himself. ‘I want to see him on particular business,’ +he said. + +‘You can’t expect to see my uncle when you won’t let me see your +father,’ returned Morris. + +‘Fiddlestick,’ said Michael. ‘My father is my father; but Joseph is just +as much my uncle as he’s yours; and you have no right to sequestrate his +person.’ + +‘I do no such thing,’ said Morris doggedly. ‘He is not well, he is +dangerously ill and nobody can see him.’ + +‘I’ll tell you what, then,’ said Michael. ‘I’ll make a clean breast +of it. I have come down like the opossum, Morris; I have come to +compromise.’ + +Poor Morris turned as pale as death, and then a flush of wrath against +the injustice of man’s destiny dyed his very temples. ‘What do you +mean?’ he cried, ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’ And when Michael had +assured him of his seriousness, ‘Well, then,’ he cried, with another +deep flush, ‘I won’t; so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.’ + +‘Oho!’ said Michael queerly. ‘You say your uncle is dangerously ill, and +you won’t compromise? There’s something very fishy about that.’ + +‘What do you mean?’ cried Morris hoarsely. + +‘I only say it’s fishy,’ returned Michael, ‘that is, pertaining to the +finny tribe.’ + +‘Do you mean to insinuate anything?’ cried Morris stormily, trying the +high hand. + +‘Insinuate?’ repeated Michael. ‘O, don’t let’s begin to use awkward +expressions! Let us drown our differences in a bottle, like two affable +kinsmen. The Two Affable Kinsmen, sometimes attributed to Shakespeare,’ +he added. + +Morris’s mind was labouring like a mill. ‘Does he suspect? or is this +chance and stuff? Should I soap, or should I bully? Soap,’ he concluded. +‘It gains time.’ ‘Well,’ said he aloud, and with rather a painful +affectation of heartiness, ‘it’s long since we have had an evening +together, Michael; and though my habits (as you know) are very +temperate, I may as well make an exception. Excuse me one moment till I +fetch a bottle of whisky from the cellar.’ + +‘No whisky for me,’ said Michael; ‘a little of the old still champagne +or nothing.’ + +For a moment Morris stood irresolute, for the wine was very valuable: +the next he had quitted the room without a word. His quick mind had +perceived his advantage; in thus dunning him for the cream of the +cellar, Michael was playing into his hand. ‘One bottle?’ he thought. ‘By +George, I’ll give him two! this is no moment for economy; and once the +beast is drunk, it’s strange if I don’t wring his secret out of him.’ + +With two bottles, accordingly, he returned. Glasses were produced, and +Morris filled them with hospitable grace. + +‘I drink to you, cousin!’ he cried gaily. ‘Don’t spare the wine-cup in +my house.’ + +Michael drank his glass deliberately, standing at the table; filled it +again, and returned to his chair, carrying the bottle along with him. + +‘The spoils of war!’ he said apologetically. ‘The weakest goes to the +wall. Science, Morris, science.’ Morris could think of no reply, and for +an appreciable interval silence reigned. But two glasses of the still +champagne produced a rapid change in Michael. + +‘There’s a want of vivacity about you, Morris,’ he observed. ‘You may be +deep; but I’ll be hanged if you’re vivacious!’ + +‘What makes you think me deep?’ asked Morris with an air of pleased +simplicity. + +‘Because you won’t compromise,’ said the lawyer. ‘You’re deep dog, +Morris, very deep dog, not t’ compromise--remarkable deep dog. And +a very good glass of wine; it’s the only respectable feature in the +Finsbury family, this wine; rarer thing than a title--much rarer. Now a +man with glass wine like this in cellar, I wonder why won’t compromise?’ + +‘Well, YOU wouldn’t compromise before, you know,’ said the smiling +Morris. ‘Turn about is fair play.’ + +‘I wonder why _I_ wouldn’ compromise? I wonder why YOU wouldn’?’ +enquired Michael. ‘I wonder why we each think the other wouldn’? ‘S +quite a remarrable--remarkable problem,’ he added, triumphing over oral +obstacles, not without obvious pride. ‘Wonder what we each think--don’t +you?’ + +‘What do you suppose to have been my reason?’ asked Morris adroitly. + +Michael looked at him and winked. ‘That’s cool,’ said he. ‘Next thing, +you’ll ask me to help you out of the muddle. I know I’m emissary of +Providence, but not that kind! You get out of it yourself, like Aesop +and the other fellow. Must be dreadful muddle for young orphan o’ forty; +leather business and all!’ + +‘I am sure I don’t know what you mean,’ said Morris. + +‘Not sure I know myself,’ said Michael. ‘This is exc’lent vintage, +sir--exc’lent vintage. Nothing against the tipple. Only thing: here’s a +valuable uncle disappeared. Now, what I want to know: where’s valuable +uncle?’ + +‘I have told you: he is at Browndean,’ answered Morris, furtively wiping +his brow, for these repeated hints began to tell upon him cruelly. + +‘Very easy say Brown--Browndee--no’ so easy after all!’ cried Michael. +‘Easy say; anything’s easy say, when you can say it. What I don’ like’s +total disappearance of an uncle. Not businesslike.’ And he wagged his +head. + +‘It is all perfectly simple,’ returned Morris, with laborious calm. +‘There is no mystery. He stays at Browndean, where he got a shake in the +accident.’ + +‘Ah!’ said Michael, ‘got devil of a shake!’ + +‘Why do you say that?’ cried Morris sharply. + +‘Best possible authority. Told me so yourself,’ said the lawyer. ‘But if +you tell me contrary now, of course I’m bound to believe either the one +story or the other. Point is I’ve upset this bottle, still champagne’s +exc’lent thing carpet--point is, is valuable uncle dead--an’--bury?’ + +Morris sprang from his seat. ‘What’s that you say?’ he gasped. + +‘I say it’s exc’lent thing carpet,’ replied Michael, rising. ‘Exc’lent +thing promote healthy action of the skin. Well, it’s all one, anyway. +Give my love to Uncle Champagne.’ + +‘You’re not going away?’ said Morris. + +‘Awf’ly sorry, ole man. Got to sit up sick friend,’ said the wavering +Michael. + +‘You shall not go till you have explained your hints,’ returned Morris +fiercely. ‘What do you mean? What brought you here?’ + +‘No offence, I trust,’ said the lawyer, turning round as he opened the +door; ‘only doing my duty as shemishery of Providence.’ + +Groping his way to the front-door, he opened it with some difficulty, +and descended the steps to the hansom. The tired driver looked up as he +approached, and asked where he was to go next. + +Michael observed that Morris had followed him to the steps; a brilliant +inspiration came to him. ‘Anything t’ give pain,’ he reflected. . . . +‘Drive Shcotlan’ Yard,’ he added aloud, holding to the wheel to steady +himself; ‘there’s something devilish fishy, cabby, about those cousins. +Mush’ be cleared up! Drive Shcotlan’ Yard.’ + +‘You don’t mean that, sir,’ said the man, with the ready sympathy of the +lower orders for an intoxicated gentleman. ‘I had better take you home, +sir; you can go to Scotland Yard tomorrow.’ + +‘Is it as friend or as perfessional man you advise me not to go +Shcotlan’ Yard t’night?’ enquired Michael. ‘All righ’, never min’ +Shcotlan’ Yard, drive Gaiety bar.’ + +‘The Gaiety bar is closed,’ said the man. + +‘Then home,’ said Michael, with the same cheerfulness. + +‘Where to, sir?’ + +‘I don’t remember, I’m sure,’ said Michael, entering the vehicle, ‘drive +Shcotlan’ Yard and ask.’ + +‘But you’ll have a card,’ said the man, through the little aperture in +the top, ‘give me your card-case.’ + +‘What imagi--imagination in a cabby!’ cried the lawyer, producing his +card-case, and handing it to the driver. + +The man read it by the light of the lamp. ‘Mr Michael Finsbury, 233 +King’s Road, Chelsea. Is that it, sir?’ + +‘Right you are,’ cried Michael, ‘drive there if you can see way.’ + + + +CHAPTER X. Gideon Forsyth and the Broadwood Grand + +The reader has perhaps read that remarkable work, Who Put Back the +Clock? by E. H. B., which appeared for several days upon the railway +bookstalls and then vanished entirely from the face of the earth. +Whether eating Time makes the chief of his diet out of old editions; +whether Providence has passed a special enactment on behalf of authors; +or whether these last have taken the law into their own hand, bound +themselves into a dark conspiracy with a password, which I would +die rather than reveal, and night after night sally forth under some +vigorous leader, such as Mr James Payn or Mr Walter Besant, on their +task of secret spoliation--certain it is, at least, that the old +editions pass, giving place to new. To the proof, it is believed there +are now only three copies extant of Who Put Back the Clock? one in +the British Museum, successfully concealed by a wrong entry in the +catalogue; another in one of the cellars (the cellar where the music +accumulates) of the Advocates’ Library at Edinburgh; and a third, bound +in morocco, in the possession of Gideon Forsyth. To account for the very +different fate attending this third exemplar, the readiest theory is +to suppose that Gideon admired the tale. How to explain that admiration +might appear (to those who have perused the work) more difficult; but +the weakness of a parent is extreme, and Gideon (and not his uncle, +whose initials he had humorously borrowed) was the author of Who Put +Back the Clock? He had never acknowledged it, or only to some intimate +friends while it was still in proof; after its appearance and alarming +failure, the modesty of the novelist had become more pressing, and the +secret was now likely to be better kept than that of the authorship of +Waverley. + +A copy of the work (for the date of my tale is already yesterday) still +figured in dusty solitude in the bookstall at Waterloo; and Gideon, as +he passed with his ticket for Hampton Court, smiled contemptuously at +the creature of his thoughts. What an idle ambition was the author’s! +How far beneath him was the practice of that childish art! With his hand +closing on his first brief, he felt himself a man at last; and the +muse who presides over the police romance, a lady presumably of French +extraction, fled his neighbourhood, and returned to join the dance round +the springs of Helicon, among her Grecian sisters. + +Robust, practical reflection still cheered the young barrister upon his +journey. Again and again he selected the little country-house in its +islet of great oaks, which he was to make his future home. Like a +prudent householder, he projected improvements as he passed; to one he +added a stable, to another a tennis-court, a third he supplied with a +becoming rustic boat-house. + +‘How little a while ago,’ he could not but reflect, ‘I was a careless +young dog with no thought but to be comfortable! I cared for nothing +but boating and detective novels. I would have passed an old-fashioned +country-house with large kitchen-garden, stabling, boat-house, and +spacious offices, without so much as a look, and certainly would have +made no enquiry as to the drains. How a man ripens with the years!’ + +The intelligent reader will perceive the ravages of Miss Hazeltine. +Gideon had carried Julia straight to Mr Bloomfield’s house; and +that gentleman, having been led to understand she was the victim of +oppression, had noisily espoused her cause. He worked himself into +a fine breathing heat; in which, to a man of his temperament, action +became needful. + +‘I do not know which is the worse,’ he cried, ‘the fraudulent old +villain or the unmanly young cub. I will write to the Pall Mall and +expose them. Nonsense, sir; they must be exposed! It’s a public duty. +Did you not tell me the fellow was a Tory? O, the uncle is a Radical +lecturer, is he? No doubt the uncle has been grossly wronged. But of +course, as you say, that makes a change; it becomes scarce so much a +public duty.’ + +And he sought and instantly found a fresh outlet for his alacrity. Miss +Hazeltine (he now perceived) must be kept out of the way; his houseboat +was lying ready--he had returned but a day or two before from his usual +cruise; there was no place like a houseboat for concealment; and that +very morning, in the teeth of the easterly gale, Mr and Mrs Bloomfield +and Miss Julia Hazeltine had started forth on their untimely voyage. +Gideon pled in vain to be allowed to join the party. ‘No, Gid,’ said his +uncle. ‘You will be watched; you must keep away from us.’ Nor had the +barrister ventured to contest this strange illusion; for he feared if +he rubbed off any of the romance, that Mr Bloomfield might weary of the +whole affair. And his discretion was rewarded; for the Squirradical, +laying a heavy hand upon his nephew’s shoulder, had added these notable +expressions: ‘I see what you are after, Gid. But if you’re going to get +the girl, you have to work, sir.’ + +These pleasing sounds had cheered the barrister all day, as he sat +reading in chambers; they continued to form the ground-base of his manly +musings as he was whirled to Hampton Court; even when he landed at the +station, and began to pull himself together for his delicate interview, +the voice of Uncle Ned and the eyes of Julia were not forgotten. + +But now it began to rain surprises: in all Hampton Court there was no +Kurnaul Villa, no Count Tarnow, and no count. This was strange; but, +viewed in the light of the incoherency of his instructions, not perhaps +inexplicable; Mr Dickson had been lunching, and he might have made some +fatal oversight in the address. What was the thoroughly prompt, manly, +and businesslike step? thought Gideon; and he answered himself at +once: ‘A telegram, very laconic.’ Speedily the wires were flashing the +following very important missive: ‘Dickson, Langham Hotel. Villa and +persons both unknown here, suppose erroneous address; follow self next +train.--Forsyth.’ And at the Langham Hotel, sure enough, with a brow +expressive of dispatch and intellectual effort, Gideon descended not +long after from a smoking hansom. + +I do not suppose that Gideon will ever forget the Langham Hotel. No +Count Tarnow was one thing; no John Dickson and no Ezra Thomas, quite +another. How, why, and what next, danced in his bewildered brain; from +every centre of what we playfully call the human intellect incongruous +messages were telegraphed; and before the hubbub of dismay had quite +subsided, the barrister found himself driving furiously for his +chambers. There was at least a cave of refuge; it was at least a place +to think in; and he climbed the stair, put his key in the lock and +opened the door, with some approach to hope. + +It was all dark within, for the night had some time fallen; but Gideon +knew his room, he knew where the matches stood on the end of the +chimney-piece; and he advanced boldly, and in so doing dashed himself +against a heavy body; where (slightly altering the expressions of the +song) no heavy body should have been. There had been nothing there when +Gideon went out; he had locked the door behind him, he had found it +locked on his return, no one could have entered, the furniture could not +have changed its own position. And yet undeniably there was a something +there. He thrust out his hands in the darkness. Yes, there was +something, something large, something smooth, something cold. + +‘Heaven forgive me!’ said Gideon, ‘it feels like a piano.’ + +And the next moment he remembered the vestas in his waistcoat pocket and +had struck a light. + +It was indeed a piano that met his doubtful gaze; a vast and costly +instrument, stained with the rains of the afternoon and defaced +with recent scratches. The light of the vesta was reflected from the +varnished sides, like a star in quiet water; and in the farther end of +the room the shadow of that strange visitor loomed bulkily and wavered +on the wall. + +Gideon let the match burn to his fingers, and the darkness closed once +more on his bewilderment. Then with trembling hands he lit the lamp and +drew near. Near or far, there was no doubt of the fact: the thing was +a piano. There, where by all the laws of God and man it was impossible +that it should be--there the thing impudently stood. Gideon threw open +the keyboard and struck a chord. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the +room. ‘Is there anything wrong with me?’ he thought, with a pang; and +drawing in a seat, obstinately persisted in his attempts to ravish +silence, now with sparkling arpeggios, now with a sonata of Beethoven’s +which (in happier days) he knew to be one of the loudest pieces of that +powerful composer. Still not a sound. He gave the Broadwood two great +bangs with his clenched first. All was still as the grave. The young +barrister started to his feet. + +‘I am stark-staring mad,’ he cried aloud, ‘and no one knows it but +myself. God’s worst curse has fallen on me.’ + +His fingers encountered his watch-chain; instantly he had plucked forth +his watch and held it to his ear. He could hear it ticking. + +‘I am not deaf,’ he said aloud. ‘I am only insane. My mind has quitted +me for ever.’ + +He looked uneasily about the room, and--gazed with lacklustre eyes at +the chair in which Mr Dickson had installed himself. The end of a cigar +lay near on the fender. + +‘No,’ he thought, ‘I don’t believe that was a dream; but God knows +my mind is failing rapidly. I seem to be hungry, for instance; it’s +probably another hallucination. Still I might try. I shall have one more +good meal; I shall go to the Cafe Royal, and may possibly be removed +from there direct to the asylum.’ + +He wondered with morbid interest, as he descended the stairs, how he +would first betray his terrible condition--would he attack a waiter? or +eat glass?--and when he had mounted into a cab, he bade the man drive to +Nichol’s, with a lurking fear that there was no such place. + +The flaring, gassy entrance of the cafe speedily set his mind at rest; +he was cheered besides to recognize his favourite waiter; his orders +appeared to be coherent; the dinner, when it came, was quite a sensible +meal, and he ate it with enjoyment. ‘Upon my word,’ he reflected, ‘I +am about tempted to indulge a hope. Have I been hasty? Have I done what +Robert Skill would have done?’ Robert Skill (I need scarcely mention) +was the name of the principal character in Who Put Back the Clock? It +had occurred to the author as a brilliant and probable invention; to +readers of a critical turn, Robert appeared scarce upon a level with his +surname; but it is the difficulty of the police romance, that the reader +is always a man of such vastly greater ingenuity than the writer. In the +eyes of his creator, however, Robert Skill was a word to conjure with; +the thought braced and spurred him; what that brilliant creature would +have done Gideon would do also. This frame of mind is not uncommon; the +distressed general, the baited divine, the hesitating author, decide +severally to do what Napoleon, what St Paul, what Shakespeare would +have done; and there remains only the minor question, What is that? In +Gideon’s case one thing was clear: Skill was a man of singular decision, +he would have taken some step (whatever it was) at once; and the only +step that Gideon could think of was to return to his chambers. + +This being achieved, all further inspiration failed him, and he stood +pitifully staring at the instrument of his confusion. To touch the keys +again was more than he durst venture on; whether they had maintained +their former silence, or responded with the tones of the last trump, +it would have equally dethroned his resolution. ‘It may be a practical +jest,’ he reflected, ‘though it seems elaborate and costly. And yet what +else can it be? It MUST be a practical jest.’ And just then his eye fell +upon a feature which seemed corroborative of that view: the pagoda of +cigars which Michael had erected ere he left the chambers. ‘Why that?’ +reflected Gideon. ‘It seems entirely irresponsible.’ And drawing near, +he gingerly demolished it. ‘A key,’ he thought. ‘Why that? And why +so conspicuously placed?’ He made the circuit of the instrument, and +perceived the keyhole at the back. ‘Aha! this is what the key is for,’ +said he. ‘They wanted me to look inside. Stranger and stranger.’ And +with that he turned the key and raised the lid. + +In what antics of agony, in what fits of flighty resolution, in what +collapses of despair, Gideon consumed the night, it would be ungenerous +to enquire too closely. + +That trill of tiny song with which the eaves-birds of London welcome +the approach of day found him limp and rumpled and bloodshot, and with a +mind still vacant of resource. He rose and looked forth unrejoicingly on +blinded windows, an empty street, and the grey daylight dotted with the +yellow lamps. There are mornings when the city seems to awake with a +sick headache; this was one of them; and still the twittering reveille +of the sparrows stirred in Gideon’s spirit. + +‘Day here,’ he thought, ‘and I still helpless! This must come to an +end.’ And he locked up the piano, put the key in his pocket, and set +forth in quest of coffee. As he went, his mind trudged for the hundredth +time a certain mill-road of terrors, misgivings, and regrets. To call +in the police, to give up the body, to cover London with handbills +describing John Dickson and Ezra Thomas, to fill the papers with +paragraphs, Mysterious Occurrence in the Temple--Mr Forsyth admitted to +bail, this was one course, an easy course, a safe course; but not, the +more he reflected on it, not a pleasant one. For, was it not to publish +abroad a number of singular facts about himself? A child ought to +have seen through the story of these adventurers, and he had gaped and +swallowed it. A barrister of the least self-respect should have refused +to listen to clients who came before him in a manner so irregular, and +he had listened. And O, if he had only listened; but he had gone upon +their errand--he, a barrister, uninstructed even by the shadow of +a solicitor--upon an errand fit only for a private detective; and +alas!--and for the hundredth time the blood surged to his brow--he had +taken their money! ‘No,’ said he, ‘the thing is as plain as St Paul’s. I +shall be dishonoured! I have smashed my career for a five-pound note.’ + +Between the possibility of being hanged in all innocence, and the +certainty of a public and merited disgrace, no gentleman of spirit +could long hesitate. After three gulps of that hot, snuffy, and muddy +beverage, that passes on the streets of London for a decoction of the +coffee berry, Gideon’s mind was made up. He would do without the police. +He must face the other side of the dilemma, and be Robert Skill in +earnest. What would Robert Skill have done? How does a gentleman dispose +of a dead body, honestly come by? He remembered the inimitable story +of the hunchback; reviewed its course, and dismissed it for a worthless +guide. It was impossible to prop a corpse on the corner of Tottenham +Court Road without arousing fatal curiosity in the bosoms of the +passers-by; as for lowering it down a London chimney, the physical +obstacles were insurmountable. To get it on board a train and drop it +out, or on the top of an omnibus and drop it off, were equally out +of the question. To get it on a yacht and drop it overboard, was more +conceivable; but for a man of moderate means it seemed extravagant. The +hire of the yacht was in itself a consideration; the subsequent support +of the whole crew (which seemed a necessary consequence) was simply +not to be thought of. His uncle and the houseboat here occurred in very +luminous colours to his mind. A musical composer (say, of the name of +Jimson) might very well suffer, like Hogarth’s musician before him, from +the disturbances of London. He might very well be pressed for time to +finish an opera--say the comic opera Orange Pekoe--Orange Pekoe, music +by Jimson--‘this young maestro, one of the most promising of our +recent English school’--vigorous entrance of the drums, etc.--the whole +character of Jimson and his music arose in bulk before the mind of +Gideon. What more likely than Jimson’s arrival with a grand piano (say, +at Padwick), and his residence in a houseboat alone with the unfinished +score of Orange Pekoe? His subsequent disappearance, leaving nothing +behind but an empty piano case, it might be more difficult to account +for. And yet even that was susceptible of explanation. For, suppose +Jimson had gone mad over a fugal passage, and had thereupon destroyed +the accomplice of his infamy, and plunged into the welcome river? What +end, on the whole, more probable for a modern musician? + +‘By Jove, I’ll do it,’ cried Gideon. ‘Jimson is the boy!’ + + + +CHAPTER XI. The Maestro Jimson + +Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield having announced his intention to stay in the +neighbourhood of Maidenhead, what more probable than that the Maestro +Jimson should turn his mind toward Padwick? Near this pleasant riverside +village he remembered to have observed an ancient, weedy houseboat lying +moored beside a tuft of willows. It had stirred in him, in his careless +hours, as he pulled down the river under a more familiar name, a certain +sense of the romantic; and when the nice contrivance of his story was +already complete in his mind, he had come near pulling it all down +again, like an ungrateful clock, in order to introduce a chapter in +which Richard Skill (who was always being decoyed somewhere) should +be decoyed on board that lonely hulk by Lord Bellew and the American +desperado Gin Sling. It was fortunate he had not done so, he reflected, +since the hulk was now required for very different purposes. + +Jimson, a man of inconspicuous costume, but insinuating manners, +had little difficulty in finding the hireling who had charge of the +houseboat, and still less in persuading him to resign his care. The rent +was almost nominal, the entry immediate, the key was exchanged against a +suitable advance in money, and Jimson returned to town by the afternoon +train to see about dispatching his piano. + +‘I will be down tomorrow,’ he had said reassuringly. ‘My opera is waited +for with such impatience, you know.’ + +And, sure enough, about the hour of noon on the following day, Jimson +might have been observed ascending the riverside road that goes from +Padwick to Great Haverham, carrying in one hand a basket of provisions, +and under the other arm a leather case containing (it is to be +conjectured) the score of Orange Pekoe. It was October weather; the +stone-grey sky was full of larks, the leaden mirror of the Thames +brightened with autumnal foliage, and the fallen leaves of the chestnuts +chirped under the composer’s footing. There is no time of the year +in England more courageous; and Jimson, though he was not without his +troubles, whistled as he went. + +A little above Padwick the river lies very solitary. On the opposite +shore the trees of a private park enclose the view, the chimneys of the +mansion just pricking forth above their clusters; on the near side the +path is bordered by willows. Close among these lay the houseboat, a +thing so soiled by the tears of the overhanging willows, so grown upon +with parasites, so decayed, so battered, so neglected, such a haunt of +rats, so advertised a storehouse of rheumatic agonies, that the heart +of an intending occupant might well recoil. A plank, by way of flying +drawbridge, joined it to the shore. And it was a dreary moment for +Jimson when he pulled this after him and found himself alone on this +unwholesome fortress. He could hear the rats scuttle and flop in the +abhorred interior; the key cried among the wards like a thing in pain; +the sitting-room was deep in dust, and smelt strong of bilge-water. It +could not be called a cheerful spot, even for a composer absorbed in +beloved toil; how much less for a young gentleman haunted by alarms and +awaiting the arrival of a corpse! + +He sat down, cleared away a piece of the table, and attacked the cold +luncheon in his basket. In case of any subsequent inquiry into the fate +of Jimson, It was desirable he should be little seen: in other words, +that he should spend the day entirely in the house. To this end, and +further to corroborate his fable, he had brought in the leather case not +only writing materials, but a ream of large-size music paper, such as he +considered suitable for an ambitious character like Jimson’s. ‘And now +to work,’ said he, when he had satisfied his appetite. ‘We must leave +traces of the wretched man’s activity.’ And he wrote in bold characters: + + ORANGE PEKOE. + Op. 17. + J. B. JIMSON. + Vocal and p. f. score. + +‘I suppose they never do begin like this,’ reflected Gideon; ‘but then +it’s quite out of the question for me to tackle a full score, and +Jimson was so unconventional. A dedication would be found convincing, I +believe. “Dedicated to” (let me see) “to William Ewart Gladstone, by his +obedient servant the composer.” And now some music: I had better avoid +the overture; it seems to present difficulties. Let’s give an air for +the tenor: key--O, something modern!--seven sharps.’ And he made a +businesslike signature across the staves, and then paused and browsed +for a while on the handle of his pen. Melody, with no better inspiration +than a sheet of paper, is not usually found to spring unbidden in the +mind of the amateur; nor is the key of seven sharps a place of much +repose to the untried. He cast away that sheet. ‘It will help to build +up the character of Jimson,’ Gideon remarked, and again waited on +the muse, in various keys and on divers sheets of paper, but all with +results so inconsiderable that he stood aghast. ‘It’s very odd,’ thought +he. ‘I seem to have less fancy than I thought, or this is an off-day +with me; yet Jimson must leave something.’ And again he bent himself to +the task. + +Presently the penetrating chill of the houseboat began to attack the +very seat of life. He desisted from his unremunerative trial, and, to +the audible annoyance of the rats, walked briskly up and down the cabin. +Still he was cold. ‘This is all nonsense,’ said he. ‘I don’t care about +the risk, but I will not catch a catarrh. I must get out of this den.’ + +He stepped on deck, and passing to the bow of his embarkation, looked +for the first time up the river. He started. Only a few hundred yards +above another houseboat lay moored among the willows. It was very +spick-and-span, an elegant canoe hung at the stern, the windows were +concealed by snowy curtains, a flag floated from a staff. The more +Gideon looked at it, the more there mingled with his disgust a sense +of impotent surprise. It was very like his uncle’s houseboat; it was +exceedingly like--it was identical. But for two circumstances, he +could have sworn it was the same. The first, that his uncle had gone to +Maidenhead, might be explained away by that flightiness of purpose which +is so common a trait among the more than usually manly. The second, +however, was conclusive: it was not in the least like Mr Bloomfield to +display a banner on his floating residence; and if he ever did, it +would certainly be dyed in hues of emblematical propriety. Now the +Squirradical, like the vast majority of the more manly, had drawn +knowledge at the wells of Cambridge--he was wooden spoon in the year +1850; and the flag upon the houseboat streamed on the afternoon air with +the colours of that seat of Toryism, that cradle of Puseyism, that +home of the inexact and the effete Oxford. Still it was strangely like, +thought Gideon. + +And as he thus looked and thought, the door opened, and a young lady +stepped forth on deck. The barrister dropped and fled into his cabin--it +was Julia Hazeltine! Through the window he watched her draw in the +canoe, get on board of it, cast off, and come dropping downstream in his +direction. + +‘Well, all is up now,’ said he, and he fell on a seat. + +‘Good-afternoon, miss,’ said a voice on the water. Gideon knew it for +the voice of his landlord. + +‘Good-afternoon,’ replied Julia, ‘but I don’t know who you are; do I? O +yes, I do though. You are the nice man that gave us leave to sketch from +the old houseboat.’ + +Gideon’s heart leaped with fear. + +‘That’s it,’ returned the man. ‘And what I wanted to say was as you +couldn’t do it any more. You see I’ve let it.’ + +‘Let it!’ cried Julia. + +‘Let it for a month,’ said the man. ‘Seems strange, don’t it? Can’t see +what the party wants with it?’ + +‘It seems very romantic of him, I think,’ said Julia, ‘What sort of a +person is he?’ + +Julia in her canoe, the landlord in his wherry, were close alongside, +and holding on by the gunwale of the houseboat; so that not a word was +lost on Gideon. + +‘He’s a music-man,’ said the landlord, ‘or at least that’s what he told +me, miss; come down here to write an op’ra.’ + +‘Really!’ cried Julia, ‘I never heard of anything so delightful! Why, we +shall be able to slip down at night and hear him improvise! What is his +name?’ + +‘Jimson,’ said the man. + +‘Jimson?’ repeated Julia, and interrogated her memory in vain. But +indeed our rising school of English music boasts so many professors that +we rarely hear of one till he is made a baronet. ‘Are you sure you have +it right?’ + +‘Made him spell it to me,’ replied the landlord. ‘J-I-M-S-O-N--Jimson; +and his op’ra’s called--some kind of tea.’ + +‘SOME KIND OF TEA!’ cried the girl. ‘What a very singular name for an +opera! What can it be about?’ And Gideon heard her pretty laughter flow +abroad. ‘We must try to get acquainted with this Mr Jimson; I feel sure +he must be nice.’ + +‘Well, miss, I’m afraid I must be going on. I’ve got to be at Haverham, +you see.’ + +‘O, don’t let me keep you, you kind man!’ said Julia. ‘Good afternoon.’ + +‘Good afternoon to you, miss.’ + +Gideon sat in the cabin a prey to the most harrowing thoughts. Here he +was anchored to a rotting houseboat, soon to be anchored to it still +more emphatically by the presence of the corpse, and here was the +country buzzing about him, and young ladies already proposing pleasure +parties to surround his house at night. Well, that meant the gallows; +and much he cared for that. What troubled him now was Julia’s +indescribable levity. That girl would scrape acquaintance with anybody; +she had no reserve, none of the enamel of the lady. She was familiar +with a brute like his landlord; she took an immediate interest (which +she lacked even the delicacy to conceal) in a creature like Jimson! He +could conceive her asking Jimson to have tea with her! And it was for a +girl like this that a man like Gideon--Down, manly heart! + +He was interrupted by a sound that sent him whipping behind the door in +a trice. Miss Hazeltine had stepped on board the houseboat. Her sketch +was promising; judging from the stillness, she supposed Jimson not yet +come; and she had decided to seize occasion and complete the work +of art. Down she sat therefore in the bow, produced her block and +water-colours, and was soon singing over (what used to be called) the +ladylike accomplishment. Now and then indeed her song was interrupted, +as she searched in her memory for some of the odious little receipts +by means of which the game is practised--or used to be practised in the +brave days of old; they say the world, and those ornaments of the world, +young ladies, are become more sophisticated now; but Julia had probably +studied under Pitman, and she stood firm in the old ways. + +Gideon, meanwhile, stood behind the door, afraid to move, afraid to +breathe, afraid to think of what must follow, racked by confinement and +borne to the ground with tedium. This particular phase, he felt with +gratitude, could not last for ever; whatever impended (even the gallows, +he bitterly and perhaps erroneously reflected) could not fail to be +a relief. To calculate cubes occurred to him as an ingenious and even +profitable refuge from distressing thoughts, and he threw his manhood +into that dreary exercise. + +Thus, then, were these two young persons occupied--Gideon attacking the +perfect number with resolution; Julia vigorously stippling incongruous +colours on her block, when Providence dispatched into these waters a +steam-launch asthmatically panting up the Thames. All along the banks +the water swelled and fell, and the reeds rustled. The houseboat itself, +that ancient stationary creature, became suddenly imbued with life, and +rolled briskly at her moorings, like a sea-going ship when she begins +to smell the harbour bar. The wash had nearly died away, and the quick +panting of the launch sounded already faint and far off, when Gideon was +startled by a cry from Julia. Peering through the window, he beheld +her staring disconsolately downstream at the fast-vanishing canoe. +The barrister (whatever were his faults) displayed on this occasion a +promptitude worthy of his hero, Robert Skill; with one effort of his +mind he foresaw what was about to follow; with one movement of his body +he dropped to the floor and crawled under the table. + +Julia, on her part, was not yet alive to her position. She saw she had +lost the canoe, and she looked forward with something less than avidity +to her next interview with Mr Bloomfield; but she had no idea that she +was imprisoned, for she knew of the plank bridge. + +She made the circuit of the house, and found the door open and the +bridge withdrawn. It was plain, then, that Jimson must have come; +plain, too, that he must be on board. He must be a very shy man to +have suffered this invasion of his residence, and made no sign; and her +courage rose higher at the thought. He must come now, she must force him +from his privacy, for the plank was too heavy for her single strength; +so she tapped upon the open door. Then she tapped again. + +‘Mr Jimson,’ she cried, ‘Mr Jimson! here, come!--you must come, you +know, sooner or later, for I can’t get off without you. O, don’t be so +exceedingly silly! O, please, come!’ + +Still there was no reply. + +‘If he is here he must be mad,’ she thought, with a little fear. And the +next moment she remembered he had probably gone aboard like herself in +a boat. In that case she might as well see the houseboat, and she pushed +open the door and stepped in. Under the table, where he lay smothered +with dust, Gideon’s heart stood still. + +There were the remains of Jimson’s lunch. ‘He likes rather nice things +to eat,’ she thought. ‘O, I am sure he is quite a delightful man. I +wonder if he is as good-looking as Mr Forsyth. Mrs Jimson--I don’t +believe it sounds as nice as Mrs Forsyth; but then “Gideon” is so really +odious! And here is some of his music too; this is delightful. Orange +Pekoe--O, that’s what he meant by some kind of tea.’ And she trilled +with laughter. ‘Adagio molto espressivo, sempre legato,’ she read +next. (For the literary part of a composer’s business Gideon was well +equipped.) ‘How very strange to have all these directions, and +only three or four notes! O, here’s another with some more. Andante +patetico.’ And she began to glance over the music. ‘O dear me,’ she +thought, ‘he must be terribly modern! It all seems discords to me. Let’s +try the air. It is very strange, it seems familiar.’ She began to sing +it, and suddenly broke off with laughter. ‘Why, it’s “Tommy make room +for your Uncle!”’ she cried aloud, so that the soul of Gideon was filled +with bitterness. ‘Andante patetico, indeed! The man must be a mere +impostor.’ + +And just at this moment there came a confused, scuffling sound from +underneath the table; a strange note, like that of a barn-door fowl, +ushered in a most explosive sneeze; the head of the sufferer was at +the same time brought smartly in contact with the boards above; and the +sneeze was followed by a hollow groan. + +Julia fled to the door, and there, with the salutary instinct of the +brave, turned and faced the danger. There was no pursuit. The sounds +continued; below the table a crouching figure was indistinctly to be +seen jostled by the throes of a sneezing-fit; and that was all. + +‘Surely,’ thought Julia, ‘this is most unusual behaviour. He cannot be a +man of the world!’ + +Meanwhile the dust of years had been disturbed by the young barrister’s +convulsions; and the sneezing-fit was succeeded by a passionate access +of coughing. + +Julia began to feel a certain interest. ‘I am afraid you are really +quite ill,’ she said, drawing a little nearer. ‘Please don’t let me put +you out, and do not stay under that table, Mr Jimson. Indeed it cannot +be good for you.’ + +Mr Jimson only answered by a distressing cough; and the next moment +the girl was on her knees, and their faces had almost knocked together +under the table. + +‘O, my gracious goodness!’ exclaimed Miss Hazeltine, and sprang to her +feet. ‘Mr Forsyth gone mad!’ + +‘I am not mad,’ said the gentleman ruefully, extricating himself from +his position. ‘Dearest. Miss Hazeltine, I vow to you upon my knees I am +not mad!’ + +‘You are not!’ she cried, panting. + +‘I know,’ he said, ‘that to a superficial eye my conduct may appear +unconventional.’ + +‘If you are not mad, it was no conduct at all,’ cried the girl, with +a flash of colour, ‘and showed you did not care one penny for my +feelings!’ + +‘This is the very devil and all. I know--I admit that,’ cried Gideon, +with a great effort of manly candour. + +‘It was abominable conduct!’ said Julia, with energy. + +‘I know it must have shaken your esteem,’ said the barrister. ‘But, +dearest Miss Hazeltine, I beg of you to hear me out; my behaviour, +strange as it may seem, is not unsusceptible of explanation; and I +positively cannot and will not consent to continue to try to exist +without--without the esteem of one whom I admire--the moment is ill +chosen, I am well aware of that; but I repeat the expression--one whom I +admire.’ + +A touch of amusement appeared on Miss Hazeltine’s face. ‘Very well,’ +said she, ‘come out of this dreadfully cold place, and let us sit down +on deck.’ The barrister dolefully followed her. ‘Now,’ said she, making +herself comfortable against the end of the house, ‘go on. I will hear +you out.’ And then, seeing him stand before her with so much obvious +disrelish to the task, she was suddenly overcome with laughter. Julia’s +laugh was a thing to ravish lovers; she rolled her mirthful descant with +the freedom and the melody of a blackbird’s song upon the river, and +repeated by the echoes of the farther bank. It seemed a thing in its own +place and a sound native to the open air. There was only one creature +who heard it without joy, and that was her unfortunate admirer. + +‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he said, in a voice that tottered with annoyance, ‘I +speak as your sincere well-wisher, but this can only be called levity.’ + +Julia made great eyes at him. + +‘I can’t withdraw the word,’ he said: ‘already the freedom with which I +heard you hobnobbing with a boatman gave me exquisite pain. Then there +was a want of reserve about Jimson--’ + +‘But Jimson appears to be yourself,’ objected Julia. + +‘I am far from denying that,’ cried the barrister, ‘but you did not +know it at the time. What could Jimson be to you? Who was Jimson? Miss +Hazeltine, it cut me to the heart.’ + +‘Really this seems to me to be very silly,’ returned Julia, with severe +decision. ‘You have behaved in the most extraordinary manner; you +pretend you are able to explain your conduct, and instead of doing so +you begin to attack me.’ + +‘I am well aware of that,’ replied Gideon. ‘I--I will make a clean +breast of it. When you know all the circumstances you will be able to +excuse me. + +And sitting down beside her on the deck, he poured forth his miserable +history. + +‘O, Mr Forsyth,’ she cried, when he had done, ‘I am--so--sorry! wish +I hadn’t laughed at you--only you know you really were so exceedingly +funny. But I wish I hadn’t, and I wouldn’t either if I had only known.’ +And she gave him her hand. + +Gideon kept it in his own. ‘You do not think the worse of me for this?’ +he asked tenderly. + +‘Because you have been so silly and got into such dreadful trouble? you +poor boy, no!’ cried Julia; and, in the warmth of the moment, reached +him her other hand; ‘you may count on me,’ she added. + +‘Really?’ said Gideon. + +‘Really and really!’ replied the girl. + +‘I do then, and I will,’ cried the young man. ‘I admit the moment is not +well chosen; but I have no friends--to speak of.’ + +‘No more have I,’ said Julia. ‘But don’t you think it’s perhaps time you +gave me back my hands?’ + +‘La ci darem la mano,’ said the barrister, ‘the merest moment more! I +have so few friends,’ he added. + +‘I thought it was considered such a bad account of a young man to have +no friends,’ observed Julia. + +‘O, but I have crowds of FRIENDS!’ cried Gideon. ‘That’s not what I +mean. I feel the moment is ill chosen; but O, Julia, if you could only +see yourself!’ + +‘Mr Forsyth--’ + +‘Don’t call me by that beastly name!’ cried the youth. ‘Call me Gideon!’ + +‘O, never that,’ from Julia. ‘Besides, we have known each other such a +short time.’ + +‘Not at all!’ protested Gideon. ‘We met at Bournemouth ever so long ago. +I never forgot you since. Say you never forgot me. Say you never forgot +me, and call me Gideon!’ + +‘Isn’t this rather--a want of reserve about Jimson?’ enquired the girl. + +‘O, I know I am an ass,’ cried the barrister, ‘and I don’t care a +halfpenny! I know I’m an ass, and you may laugh at me to your heart’s +delight.’ And as Julia’s lips opened with a smile, he once more dropped +into music. ‘There’s the Land of Cherry Isle!’ he sang, courting her +with his eyes. + +‘It’s like an opera,’ said Julia, rather faintly. + +‘What should it be?’ said Gideon. ‘Am I not Jimson? It would be strange +if I did not serenade my love. O yes, I mean the word, my Julia; and I +mean to win you. I am in dreadful trouble, and I have not a penny of +my own, and I have cut the silliest figure; and yet I mean to win you, +Julia. Look at me, if you can, and tell me no!’ + +She looked at him; and whatever her eyes may have told him, it is to be +supposed he took a pleasure in the message, for he read it a long while. + +‘And Uncle Ned will give us some money to go on upon in the meanwhile,’ +he said at last. + +‘Well, I call that cool!’ said a cheerful voice at his elbow. + +Gideon and Julia sprang apart with wonderful alacrity; the latter +annoyed to observe that although they had never moved since they sat +down, they were now quite close together; both presenting faces of a +very heightened colour to the eyes of Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield. That +gentleman, coming up the river in his boat, had captured the truant +canoe, and divining what had happened, had thought to steal a march upon +Miss Hazeltine at her sketch. He had unexpectedly brought down two birds +with one stone; and as he looked upon the pair of flushed and breathless +culprits, the pleasant human instinct of the matchmaker softened his +heart. + +‘Well, I call that cool,’ he repeated; ‘you seem to count very securely +upon Uncle Ned. But look here, Gid, I thought I had told you to keep +away?’ + +‘To keep away from Maidenhead,’ replied Gid. ‘But how should I expect to +find you here?’ + +‘There is something in that,’ Mr Bloomfield admitted. ‘You see I thought +it better that even you should be ignorant of my address; those rascals, +the Finsburys, would have wormed it out of you. And just to put them off +the scent I hoisted these abominable colours. But that is not all, +Gid; you promised me to work, and here I find you playing the fool at +Padwick.’ + +‘Please, Mr Bloomfield, you must not be hard on Mr Forsyth,’ said Julia. +‘Poor boy, he is in dreadful straits.’ + +‘What’s this, Gid?’ enquired the uncle. ‘Have you been fighting? or is +it a bill?’ + +These, in the opinion of the Squirradical, were the two misfortunes +incident to gentlemen; and indeed both were culled from his own career. +He had once put his name (as a matter of form) on a friend’s paper; it +had cost him a cool thousand; and the friend had gone about with the +fear of death upon him ever since, and never turned a corner without +scouting in front of him for Mr Bloomfield and the oaken staff. As for +fighting, the Squirradical was always on the brink of it; and once, when +(in the character of president of a Radical club) he had cleared out +the hall of his opponents, things had gone even further. Mr Holtum, +the Conservative candidate, who lay so long on the bed of sickness, was +prepared to swear to Mr Bloomfield. ‘I will swear to it in any court--it +was the hand of that brute that struck me down,’ he was reported to have +said; and when he was thought to be sinking, it was known that he had +made an ante-mortem statement in that sense. It was a cheerful day for +the Squirradical when Holtum was restored to his brewery. + +‘It’s much worse than that,’ said Gideon; ‘a combination of +circumstances really providentially unjust--a--in fact, a syndicate of +murderers seem to have perceived my latent ability to rid them of the +traces of their crime. It’s a legal study after all, you see!’ And with +these words, Gideon, for the second time that day, began to describe the +adventures of the Broadwood Grand. + +‘I must write to The Times,’ cried Mr Bloomfield. + +‘Do you want to get me disbarred?’ asked Gideon. + +‘Disbarred! Come, it can’t be as bad as that,’ said his uncle. ‘It’s +a good, honest, Liberal Government that’s in, and they would certainly +move at my request. Thank God, the days of Tory jobbery are at an end.’ + +‘It wouldn’t do, Uncle Ned,’ said Gideon. + +‘But you’re not mad enough,’ cried Mr Bloomfield, ‘to persist in trying +to dispose of it yourself?’ + +‘There is no other path open to me,’ said Gideon. + +‘It’s not common sense, and I will not hear of it,’ cried Mr Bloomfield. +‘I command you, positively, Gid, to desist from this criminal +interference.’ + +‘Very well, then, I hand it over to you,’ said Gideon, ‘and you can do +what you like with the dead body.’ + +‘God forbid!’ ejaculated the president of the Radical Club, ‘I’ll have +nothing to do with it.’ + +‘Then you must allow me to do the best I can,’ returned his nephew. +‘Believe me, I have a distinct talent for this sort of difficulty.’ + +‘We might forward it to that pest-house, the Conservative Club,’ +observed Mr Bloomfield. ‘It might damage them in the eyes of their +constituents; and it could be profitably worked up in the local +journal.’ + +‘If you see any political capital in the thing,’ said Gideon, ‘you may +have it for me.’ + +‘No, no, Gid--no, no, I thought you might. I will have no hand in the +thing. On reflection, it’s highly undesirable that either I or Miss +Hazeltine should linger here. We might be observed,’ said the +president, looking up and down the river; ‘and in my public position +the consequences would be painful for the party. And, at any rate, it’s +dinner-time.’ + +‘What?’ cried Gideon, plunging for his watch. ‘And so it is! Great +heaven, the piano should have been here hours ago!’ + +Mr Bloomfield was clambering back into his boat; but at these words he +paused. + +‘I saw it arrive myself at the station; I hired a carrier man; he had a +round to make, but he was to be here by four at the latest,’ cried the +barrister. ‘No doubt the piano is open, and the body found.’ + +‘You must fly at once,’ cried Mr Bloomfield, ‘it’s the only manly step.’ + +‘But suppose it’s all right?’ wailed Gideon. ‘Suppose the piano comes, +and I am not here to receive it? I shall have hanged myself by my +cowardice. No, Uncle Ned, enquiries must be made in Padwick; I dare +not go, of course; but you may--you could hang about the police office, +don’t you see?’ + +‘No, Gid--no, my dear nephew,’ said Mr Bloomfield, with the voice of one +on the rack. ‘I regard you with the most sacred affection; and I thank +God I am an Englishman--and all that. But not--not the police, Gid.’ + +‘Then you desert me?’ said Gideon. ‘Say it plainly.’ + +‘Far from it! far from it!’ protested Mr Bloomfield. ‘I only propose +caution. Common sense, Gid, should always be an Englishman’s guide.’ + +‘Will you let me speak?’ said Julia. ‘I think Gideon had better leave +this dreadful houseboat, and wait among the willows over there. If the +piano comes, then he could step out and take it in; and if the police +come, he could slip into our houseboat, and there needn’t be any +more Jimson at all. He could go to bed, and we could burn his clothes +(couldn’t we?) in the steam-launch; and then really it seems as if it +would be all right. Mr Bloomfield is so respectable, you know, and such +a leading character, it would be quite impossible even to fancy that he +could be mixed up with it.’ + +‘This young lady has strong common sense,’ said the Squirradical. + +‘O, I don’t think I’m at all a fool,’ said Julia, with conviction. + +‘But what if neither of them come?’ asked Gideon; ‘what shall I do +then?’ + +‘Why then,’ said she, ‘you had better go down to the village after dark; +and I can go with you, and then I am sure you could never be suspected; +and even if you were, I could tell them it was altogether a mistake.’ + +‘I will not permit that--I will not suffer Miss Hazeltine to go,’ cried +Mr Bloomfield. + +‘Why?’ asked Julia. + +Mr Bloomfield had not the least desire to tell her why, for it was +simply a craven fear of being drawn himself into the imbroglio; but with +the usual tactics of a man who is ashamed of himself, he took the high +hand. ‘God forbid, my dear Miss Hazeltine, that I should dictate to a +lady on the question of propriety--’ he began. + +‘O, is that all?’ interrupted Julia. ‘Then we must go all three.’ + +‘Caught!’ thought the Squirradical. + + + +CHAPTER XII. Positively the Last Appearance of the Broadwood Grand + +England is supposed to be unmusical; but without dwelling on the +patronage extended to the organ-grinder, without seeking to found any +argument on the prevalence of the Jew’s trump, there is surely one +instrument that may be said to be national in the fullest acceptance +of the word. The herdboy in the broom, already musical in the days of +Father Chaucer, startles (and perhaps pains) the lark with this exiguous +pipe; and in the hands of the skilled bricklayer, + +‘The thing becomes a trumpet, whence he blows’ + +(as a general rule) either ‘The British Grenadiers’ or ‘Cherry Ripe’. +The latter air is indeed the shibboleth and diploma piece of the +penny whistler; I hazard a guess it was originally composed for this +instrument. It is singular enough that a man should be able to gain +a livelihood, or even to tide over a period of unemployment, by the +display of his proficiency upon the penny whistle; still more so, that +the professional should almost invariably confine himself to ‘Cherry +Ripe’. But indeed, singularities surround the subject, thick like +blackberries. Why, for instance, should the pipe be called a penny +whistle? I think no one ever bought it for a penny. Why should the +alternative name be tin whistle? I am grossly deceived if it be made +of tin. Lastly, in what deaf catacomb, in what earless desert, does the +beginner pass the excruciating interval of his apprenticeship? We have +all heard people learning the piano, the fiddle, and the cornet; but +the young of the penny whistler (like that of the salmon) is occult from +observation; he is never heard until proficient; and providence (perhaps +alarmed by the works of Mr Mallock) defends human hearing from his first +attempts upon the upper octave. + +A really noteworthy thing was taking place in a green lane, not far from +Padwick. On the bench of a carrier’s cart there sat a tow-headed, lanky, +modest-looking youth; the reins were on his lap; the whip lay behind +him in the interior of the cart; the horse proceeded without guidance +or encouragement; the carrier (or the carrier’s man), rapt into a higher +sphere than that of his daily occupations, his looks dwelling on the +skies, devoted himself wholly to a brand-new D penny whistle, whence he +diffidently endeavoured to elicit that pleasing melody ‘The Ploughboy’. +To any observant person who should have chanced to saunter in that lane, +the hour would have been thrilling. ‘Here at last,’ he would have said, +‘is the beginner.’ + +The tow-headed youth (whose name was Harker) had just encored himself +for the nineteenth time, when he was struck into the extreme of +confusion by the discovery that he was not alone. + +‘There you have it!’ cried a manly voice from the side of the road. + +‘That’s as good as I want to hear. Perhaps a leetle oilier in the run,’ +the voice suggested, with meditative gusto. ‘Give it us again.’ + +Harker glanced, from the depths of his humiliation, at the speaker. He +beheld a powerful, sun-brown, clean-shaven fellow, about forty years of +age, striding beside the cart with a non-commissioned military bearing, +and (as he strode) spinning in the air a cane. The fellow’s clothes were +very bad, but he looked clean and self-reliant. + +‘I’m only a beginner,’ gasped the blushing Harker, ‘I didn’t think +anybody could hear me.’ + +‘Well, I like that!’ returned the other. ‘You’re a pretty old beginner. +Come, I’ll give you a lead myself. Give us a seat here beside you.’ + +The next moment the military gentleman was perched on the cart, pipe in +hand. He gave the instrument a knowing rattle on the shaft, mouthed it, +appeared to commune for a moment with the muse, and dashed into ‘The +girl I left behind me’. He was a great, rather than a fine, performer; +he lacked the bird-like richness; he could scarce have extracted all +the honey out of ‘Cherry Ripe’; he did not fear--he even ostentatiously +displayed and seemed to revel in he shrillness of the instrument; but +in fire, speed, precision, evenness, and fluency; in linked agility of +jimmy--a technical expression, by your leave, answering to warblers on +the bagpipe; and perhaps, above all, in that inspiring side-glance of +the eye, with which he followed the effect and (as by a human appeal) +eked out the insufficiency of his performance: in these, the fellow +stood without a rival. Harker listened: ‘The girl I left behind me’ +filled him with despair; ‘The Soldier’s Joy’ carried him beyond jealousy +into generous enthusiasm. + +‘Turn about,’ said the military gentleman, offering the pipe. + +‘O, not after you!’ cried Harker; ‘you’re a professional.’ + +‘No,’ said his companion; ‘an amatyure like yourself. That’s one style +of play, yours is the other, and I like it best. But I began when I was +a boy, you see, before my taste was formed. When you’re my age you’ll +play that thing like a cornet-a-piston. Give us that air again; how does +it go?’ and he affected to endeavour to recall ‘The Ploughboy’. + +A timid, insane hope sprang in the breast of Harker. Was it possible? +Was there something in his playing? It had, indeed, seemed to him at +times as if he got a kind of a richness out of it. Was he a genius? +Meantime the military gentleman stumbled over the air. + +‘No,’ said the unhappy Harker, ‘that’s not quite it. It goes this +way--just to show you.’ + +And, taking the pipe between his lips, he sealed his doom. When he had +played the air, and then a second time, and a third; when the military +gentleman had tried it once more, and once more failed; when it became +clear to Harker that he, the blushing debutant, was actually giving a +lesson to this full-grown flutist--and the flutist under his care was +not very brilliantly progressing--how am I to tell what floods of glory +brightened the autumnal countryside; how, unless the reader were an +amateur himself, describe the heights of idiotic vanity to which +the carrier climbed? One significant fact shall paint the situation: +thenceforth it was Harker who played, and the military gentleman +listened and approved. + +As he listened, however, he did not forget the habit of soldierly +precaution, looking both behind and before. He looked behind and +computed the value of the carrier’s load, divining the contents of the +brown-paper parcels and the portly hamper, and briefly setting down the +grand piano in the brand-new piano-case as ‘difficult to get rid of’. +He looked before, and spied at the corner of the green lane a little +country public-house embowered in roses. ‘I’ll have a shy at it,’ +concluded the military gentleman, and roundly proposed a glass. ‘Well, +I’m not a drinking man,’ said Harker. + +‘Look here, now,’ cut in the other, ‘I’ll tell you who I am: I’m +Colour-Sergeant Brand of the Blankth. That’ll tell you if I’m a drinking +man or not.’ It might and it might not, thus a Greek chorus would have +intervened, and gone on to point out how very far it fell short of +telling why the sergeant was tramping a country lane in tatters; or even +to argue that he must have pretermitted some while ago his labours for +the general defence, and (in the interval) possibly turned his attention +to oakum. But there was no Greek chorus present; and the man of war went +on to contend that drinking was one thing and a friendly glass another. + +In the Blue Lion, which was the name of the country public-house, +Colour-Sergeant Brand introduced his new friend, Mr Harker, to a +number of ingenious mixtures, calculated to prevent the approaches of +intoxication. These he explained to be ‘rekisite’ in the service, so +that a self-respecting officer should always appear upon parade in a +condition honourable to his corps. The most efficacious of these devices +was to lace a pint of mild ale with twopenceworth of London gin. I am +pleased to hand in this recipe to the discerning reader, who may find +it useful even in civil station; for its effect upon Mr Harker was +revolutionary. He must be helped on board his own waggon, where he +proceeded to display a spirit entirely given over to mirth and music, +alternately hooting with laughter, to which the sergeant hastened to +bear chorus, and incoherently tootling on the pipe. The man of war, +meantime, unostentatiously possessed himself of the reins. It was plain +he had a taste for the secluded beauties of an English landscape; for +the cart, although it wandered under his guidance for some time, was +never observed to issue on the dusty highway, journeying between hedge +and ditch, and for the most part under overhanging boughs. It was plain, +besides, he had an eye to the true interests of Mr Harker; for though +the cart drew up more than once at the doors of public-houses, it was +only the sergeant who set foot to ground, and, being equipped himself +with a quart bottle, once more proceeded on his rural drive. + +To give any idea of the complexity of the sergeant’s course, a map of +that part of Middlesex would be required, and my publisher is averse +from the expense. Suffice it, that a little after the night had closed, +the cart was brought to a standstill in a woody road; where the sergeant +lifted from among the parcels, and tenderly deposited upon the wayside, +the inanimate form of Harker. + +‘If you come-to before daylight,’ thought the sergeant, ‘I shall be +surprised for one.’ + +From the various pockets of the slumbering carrier he gently collected +the sum of seventeen shillings and eightpence sterling; and, getting +once more into the cart, drove thoughtfully away. + +‘If I was exactly sure of where I was, it would be a good job,’ he +reflected. ‘Anyway, here’s a corner.’ + +He turned it, and found himself upon the riverside. A little above him +the lights of a houseboat shone cheerfully; and already close at hand, +so close that it was impossible to avoid their notice, three persons, a +lady and two gentlemen, were deliberately drawing near. The sergeant put +his trust in the convenient darkness of the night, and drove on to meet +them. One of the gentlemen, who was of a portly figure, walked in the +midst of the fairway, and presently held up a staff by way of signal. + +‘My man, have you seen anything of a carrier’s cart?’ he cried. + +Dark as it was, it seemed to the sergeant as though the slimmer of +the two gentlemen had made a motion to prevent the other speaking, and +(finding himself too late) had skipped aside with some alacrity. At +another season, Sergeant Brand would have paid more attention to the +fact; but he was then immersed in the perils of his own predicament. + +‘A carrier’s cart?’ said he, with a perceptible uncertainty of voice. +‘No, sir.’ + +‘Ah!’ said the portly gentleman, and stood aside to let the sergeant +pass. The lady appeared to bend forward and study the cart with every +mark of sharpened curiosity, the slimmer gentleman still keeping in the +rear. + +‘I wonder what the devil they would be at,’ thought Sergeant Brand; and, +looking fearfully back, he saw the trio standing together in the midst +of the way, like folk consulting. The bravest of military heroes are +not always equal to themselves as to their reputation; and fear, on some +singular provocation, will find a lodgment in the most unfamiliar bosom. +The word ‘detective’ might have been heard to gurgle in the sergeant’s +throat; and vigorously applying the whip, he fled up the riverside road +to Great Haverham, at the gallop of the carrier’s horse. The lights of +the houseboat flashed upon the flying waggon as it passed; the beat of +hoofs and the rattle of the vehicle gradually coalesced and died away; +and presently, to the trio on the riverside, silence had redescended. + +‘It’s the most extraordinary thing,’ cried the slimmer of the two +gentlemen, ‘but that’s the cart.’ + +‘And I know I saw a piano,’ said the girl. + +‘O, it’s the cart, certainly; and the extraordinary thing is, it’s not +the man,’ added the first. + +‘It must be the man, Gid, it must be,’ said the portly one. + +‘Well, then, why is he running away?’ asked Gideon. + +‘His horse bolted, I suppose,’ said the Squirradical. + +‘Nonsense! I heard the whip going like a flail,’ said Gideon. ‘It simply +defies the human reason.’ + +‘I’ll tell you,’ broke in the girl, ‘he came round that corner. Suppose +we went and--what do you call it in books?--followed his trail? There +may be a house there, or somebody who saw him, or something.’ + +‘Well, suppose we did, for the fun of the thing,’ said Gideon. + +The fun of the thing (it would appear) consisted in the extremely close +juxtaposition of himself and Miss Hazeltine. To Uncle Ned, who was +excluded from these simple pleasures, the excursion appeared hopeless +from the first; and when a fresh perspective of darkness opened up, +dimly contained between park palings on the one side and a hedge and +ditch upon the other, the whole without the smallest signal of human +habitation, the Squirradical drew up. + +‘This is a wild-goose chase,’ said he. + +With the cessation of the footfalls, another sound smote upon their +ears. + +‘O, what’s that?’ cried Julia. + +‘I can’t think,’ said Gideon. + +The Squirradical had his stick presented like a sword. ‘Gid,’ he began, +‘Gid, I--’ + +‘O Mr Forsyth!’ cried the girl. ‘O don’t go forward, you don’t know what +it might be--it might be something perfectly horrid.’ + +‘It may be the devil itself,’ said Gideon, disengaging himself, ‘but I +am going to see it.’ + +‘Don’t be rash, Gid,’ cried his uncle. + +The barrister drew near to the sound, which was certainly of a +portentous character. In quality it appeared to blend the strains of +the cow, the fog-horn, and the mosquito; and the startling manner of its +enunciation added incalculably to its terrors. A dark object, not unlike +the human form divine, appeared on the brink of the ditch. + +‘It’s a man,’ said Gideon, ‘it’s only a man; he seems to be asleep and +snoring. Hullo,’ he added, a moment after, ‘there must be something +wrong with him, he won’t waken.’ + +Gideon produced his vestas, struck one, and by its light recognized the +tow head of Harker. + +‘This is the man,’ said he, ‘as drunk as Belial. I see the whole story’; +and to his two companions, who had now ventured to rejoin him, he set +forth a theory of the divorce between the carrier and his cart, which +was not unlike the truth. + +‘Drunken brute!’ said Uncle Ned, ‘let’s get him to a pump and give him +what he deserves.’ + +‘Not at all!’ said Gideon. ‘It is highly undesirable he should see us +together; and really, do you know, I am very much obliged to him, for +this is about the luckiest thing that could have possibly occurred. It +seems to me--Uncle Ned, I declare to heaven it seems to me--I’m clear of +it!’ + +‘Clear of what?’ asked the Squirradical. + +‘The whole affair!’ cried Gideon. ‘That man has been ass enough to steal +the cart and the dead body; what he hopes to do with it I neither know +nor care. My hands are free, Jimson ceases; down with Jimson. Shake +hands with me, Uncle Ned--Julia, darling girl, Julia, I--’ + +‘Gideon, Gideon!’ said his uncle. ‘O, it’s all right, uncle, when +we’re going to be married so soon,’ said Gideon. ‘You know you said so +yourself in the houseboat.’ + +‘Did I?’ said Uncle Ned; ‘I am certain I said no such thing.’ + +‘Appeal to him, tell him he did, get on his soft side,’ cried Gideon. +‘He’s a real brick if you get on his soft side.’ + +‘Dear Mr Bloomfield,’ said Julia, ‘I know Gideon will be such a very +good boy, and he has promised me to do such a lot of law, and I will +see that he does too. And you know it is so very steadying to young men, +everybody admits that; though, of course, I know I have no money, Mr +Bloomfield,’ she added. + +‘My dear young lady, as this rapscallion told you today on the boat, +Uncle Ned has plenty,’ said the Squirradical, ‘and I can never forget +that you have been shamefully defrauded. So as there’s nobody looking, +you had better give your Uncle Ned a kiss. There, you rogue,’ resumed +Mr Bloomfield, when the ceremony had been daintily performed, ‘this very +pretty young lady is yours, and a vast deal more than you deserve. But +now, let us get back to the houseboat, get up steam on the launch, and +away back to town.’ + +‘That’s the thing!’ cried Gideon; ‘and tomorrow there will be no +houseboat, and no Jimson, and no carrier’s cart, and no piano; and when +Harker awakes on the ditchside, he may tell himself the whole affair has +been a dream.’ + +‘Aha!’ said Uncle Ned, ‘but there’s another man who will have a +different awakening. That fellow in the cart will find he has been too +clever by half.’ + +‘Uncle Ned and Julia,’ said Gideon, ‘I am as happy as the King of +Tartary, my heart is like a threepenny-bit, my heels are like feathers; +I am out of all my troubles, Julia’s hand is in mine. Is this a time +for anything but handsome sentiments? Why, there’s not room in me for +anything that’s not angelic! And when I think of that poor unhappy devil +in the cart, I stand here in the night and cry with a single heart God +help him!’ + +‘Amen,’ said Uncle Ned. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the Second + +In a really polite age of literature I would have scorned to cast my eye +again on the contortions of Morris. But the study is in the spirit of +the day; it presents, besides, features of a high, almost a repulsive, +morality; and if it should prove the means of preventing any respectable +and inexperienced gentleman from plunging light-heartedly into crime, +even political crime, this work will not have been penned in vain. + +He rose on the morrow of his night with Michael, rose from the leaden +slumber of distress, to find his hand tremulous, his eyes closed with +rheum, his throat parched, and his digestion obviously paralysed. +‘Lord knows it’s not from eating!’ Morris thought; and as he dressed +he reconsidered his position under several heads. Nothing will so well +depict the troubled seas in which he was now voyaging as a review +of these various anxieties. I have thrown them (for the reader’s +convenience) into a certain order; but in the mind of one poor human +equal they whirled together like the dust of hurricanes. With the same +obliging preoccupation, I have put a name to each of his distresses; +and it will be observed with pity that every individual item would have +graced and commended the cover of a railway novel. + +Anxiety the First: Where is the Body? or, The Mystery of Bent Pitman. It +was now manifestly plain that Bent Pitman (as was to be looked for from +his ominous appellation) belonged to the darker order of the criminal +class. An honest man would not have cashed the bill; a humane man would +not have accepted in silence the tragic contents of the water-butt; a +man, who was not already up to the hilts in gore, would have lacked +the means of secretly disposing them. This process of reasoning left a +horrid image of the monster, Pitman. Doubtless he had long ago disposed +of the body--dropping it through a trapdoor in his back kitchen, Morris +supposed, with some hazy recollection of a picture in a penny dreadful; +and doubtless the man now lived in wanton splendour on the proceeds of +the bill. So far, all was peace. But with the profligate habits of a man +like Bent Pitman (who was no doubt a hunchback in the bargain), eight +hundred pounds could be easily melted in a week. When they were gone, +what would he be likely to do next? A hell-like voice in Morris’s own +bosom gave the answer: ‘Blackmail me.’ + +Anxiety the Second: The Fraud of the Tontine; or, Is my Uncle dead? +This, on which all Morris’s hopes depended, was yet a question. He had +tried to bully Teena; he had tried to bribe her; and nothing came of +it. He had his moral conviction still; but you cannot blackmail a sharp +lawyer on a moral conviction. And besides, since his interview with +Michael, the idea wore a less attractive countenance. Was Michael +the man to be blackmailed? and was Morris the man to do it? Grave +considerations. ‘It’s not that I’m afraid of him,’ Morris so far +condescended to reassure himself; ‘but I must be very certain of my +ground, and the deuce of it is, I see no way. How unlike is life to +novels! I wouldn’t have even begun this business in a novel, but what +I’d have met a dark, slouching fellow in the Oxford Road, who’d have +become my accomplice, and known all about how to do it, and probably +broken into Michael’s house at night and found nothing but a waxwork +image; and then blackmailed or murdered me. But here, in real life, I +might walk the streets till I dropped dead, and none of the criminal +classes would look near me. Though, to be sure, there is always Pitman,’ +he added thoughtfully. + +Anxiety the Third: The Cottage at Browndean; or, The Underpaid +Accomplice. For he had an accomplice, and that accomplice was blooming +unseen in a damp cottage in Hampshire with empty pockets. What could be +done about that? He really ought to have sent him something; if it was +only a post-office order for five bob, enough to prove that he was kept +in mind, enough to keep him in hope, beer, and tobacco. ‘But what +would you have?’ thought Morris; and ruefully poured into his hand +a half-crown, a florin, and eightpence in small change. For a man in +Morris’s position, at war with all society, and conducting, with the +hand of inexperience, a widely ramified intrigue, the sum was already a +derision. John would have to be doing; no mistake of that. ‘But then,’ +asked the hell-like voice, ‘how long is John likely to stand it?’ + +Anxiety the Fourth: The Leather Business; or, The Shutters at Last: a +Tale of the City. On this head Morris had no news. He had not yet dared +to visit the family concern; yet he knew he must delay no longer, and +if anything had been wanted to sharpen this conviction, Michael’s +references of the night before rang ambiguously in his ear. Well and +good. To visit the city might be indispensable; but what was he to do +when he was there? He had no right to sign in his own name; and, with +all the will in the world, he seemed to lack the art of signing with +his uncle’s. Under these circumstances, Morris could do nothing to +procrastinate the crash; and, when it came, when prying eyes began to be +applied to every joint of his behaviour, two questions could not fail to +be addressed, sooner or later, to a speechless and perspiring insolvent. +Where is Mr Joseph Finsbury? and how about your visit to the bank? +Questions, how easy to put!--ye gods, how impossible to answer! The man +to whom they should be addressed went certainly to gaol, and--eh! what +was this?--possibly to the gallows. Morris was trying to shave when this +idea struck him, and he laid the razor down. Here (in Michael’s words) +was the total disappearance of a valuable uncle; here was a time of +inexplicable conduct on the part of a nephew who had been in bad +blood with the old man any time these seven years; what a chance for a +judicial blunder! ‘But no,’ thought Morris, ‘they cannot, they dare not, +make it murder. Not that. But honestly, and speaking as a man to a man, +I don’t see any other crime in the calendar (except arson) that I don’t +seem somehow to have committed. And yet I’m a perfectly respectable man, +and wished nothing but my due. Law is a pretty business.’ + +With this conclusion firmly seated in his mind, Morris Finsbury +descended to the hall of the house in John Street, still half-shaven. +There was a letter in the box; he knew the handwriting: John at last! + +‘Well, I think I might have been spared this,’ he said bitterly, and +tore it open. + +Dear Morris [it ran], what the dickens do you mean by it? I’m in an +awful hole down here; I have to go on tick, and the parties on the spot +don’t cotton to the idea; they couldn’t, because it is so plain I’m in a +stait of Destitution. I’ve got no bedclothes, think of that, I must have +coins, the hole thing’s a Mockry, I wont stand it, nobody would. I would +have come away before, only I have no money for the railway fare. Don’t +be a lunatic, Morris, you don’t seem to understand my dredful situation. +I have to get the stamp on tick. A fact. + +--Ever your affte. Brother, + +J. FINSBURY + +‘Can’t even spell!’ Morris reflected, as he crammed the letter in his +pocket, and left the house. ‘What can I do for him? I have to go to the +expense of a barber, I’m so shattered! How can I send anybody coins? +It’s hard lines, I daresay; but does he think I’m living on hot muffins? +One comfort,’ was his grim reflection, ‘he can’t cut and run--he’s got +to stay; he’s as helpless as the dead.’ And then he broke forth again: +‘Complains, does he? and he’s never even heard of Bent Pitman! If he had +what I have on my mind, he might complain with a good grace.’ + +But these were not honest arguments, or not wholly honest; there was a +struggle in the mind of Morris; he could not disguise from himself that +his brother John was miserably situated at Browndean, without news, +without money, without bedclothes, without society or any entertainment; +and by the time he had been shaved and picked a hasty breakfast at a +coffee tavern, Morris had arrived at a compromise. + +‘Poor Johnny,’ he said to himself, ‘he’s in an awful box! I can’t +send him coins, but I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll send him the Pink +Un--it’ll cheer John up; and besides, it’ll do his credit good getting +anything by post.’ + +Accordingly, on his way to the leather business, whither he proceeded +(according to his thrifty habit) on foot, Morris purchased and +dispatched a single copy of that enlivening periodical, to which (in +a sudden pang of remorse) he added at random the Athenaeum, the +Revivalist, and the Penny Pictorial Weekly. So there was John set up +with literature, and Morris had laid balm upon his conscience. + +As if to reward him, he was received in his place of business with good +news. Orders were pouring in; there was a run on some of the back stock, +and the figure had gone up. Even the manager appeared elated. As for +Morris, who had almost forgotten the meaning of good news, he longed to +sob like a little child; he could have caught the manager (a pallid +man with startled eyebrows) to his bosom; he could have found it in +his generosity to give a cheque (for a small sum) to every clerk in +the counting-house. As he sat and opened his letters a chorus of airy +vocalists sang in his brain, to most exquisite music, ‘This whole +concern may be profitable yet, profitable yet, profitable yet.’ + +To him, in this sunny moment of relief, enter a Mr Rodgerson, a +creditor, but not one who was expected to be pressing, for his +connection with the firm was old and regular. + +‘O, Finsbury,’ said he, not without embarrassment, ‘it’s of course only +fair to let you know--the fact is, money is a trifle tight--I have some +paper out--for that matter, every one’s complaining--and in short--’ + +‘It has never been our habit, Rodgerson,’ said Morris, turning pale. +‘But give me time to turn round, and I’ll see what I can do; I daresay +we can let you have something to account.’ + +‘Well, that’s just where is,’ replied Rodgerson. ‘I was tempted; I’ve +let the credit out of MY hands.’ + +‘Out of your hands?’ repeated Morris. ‘That’s playing rather fast and +loose with us, Mr Rodgerson.’ + +‘Well, I got cent. for cent. for it,’ said the other, ‘on the nail, in a +certified cheque.’ + +‘Cent. for cent.!’ cried Morris. ‘Why, that’s something like thirty per +cent. bonus; a singular thing! Who’s the party?’ + +‘Don’t know the man,’ was the reply. ‘Name of Moss.’ + +‘A Jew,’ Morris reflected, when his visitor was gone. And what could a +Jew want with a claim of--he verified the amount in the books--a claim +of three five eight, nineteen, ten, against the house of Finsbury? And +why should he pay cent. for cent.? The figure proved the loyalty of +Rodgerson--even Morris admitted that. But it proved unfortunately +something else--the eagerness of Moss. The claim must have been wanted +instantly, for that day, for that morning even. Why? The mystery of Moss +promised to be a fit pendant to the mystery of Pitman. ‘And just when +all was looking well too!’ cried Morris, smiting his hand upon the desk. +And almost at the same moment Mr Moss was announced. + +Mr Moss was a radiant Hebrew, brutally handsome, and offensively polite. +He was acting, it appeared, for a third party; he understood nothing of +the circumstances; his client desired to have his position regularized; +but he would accept an antedated cheque--antedated by two months, if Mr +Finsbury chose. + +‘But I don’t understand this,’ said Morris. ‘What made you pay cent. per +cent. for it today?’ + +Mr Moss had no idea; only his orders. + +‘The whole thing is thoroughly irregular,’ said Morris. ‘It is not the +custom of the trade to settle at this time of the year. What are your +instructions if I refuse?’ + +‘I am to see Mr Joseph Finsbury, the head of the firm,’ said Mr Moss. +‘I was directed to insist on that; it was implied you had no status +here--the expressions are not mine.’ + +‘You cannot see Mr Joseph; he is unwell,’ said Morris. + +‘In that case I was to place the matter in the hands of a lawyer. Let +me see,’ said Mr Moss, opening a pocket-book with, perhaps, suspicious +care, at the right place--‘Yes--of Mr Michael Finsbury. A relation, +perhaps? In that case, I presume, the matter will be pleasantly +arranged.’ + +To pass into the hands of Michael was too much for Morris. He struck his +colours. A cheque at two months was nothing, after all. In two months +he would probably be dead, or in a gaol at any rate. He bade the manager +give Mr Moss a chair and the paper. ‘I’m going over to get a cheque +signed by Mr Finsbury,’ said he, ‘who is lying ill at John Street.’ + +A cab there and a cab back; here were inroads on his wretched capital! +He counted the cost; when he was done with Mr Moss he would be left with +twelvepence-halfpenny in the world. What was even worse, he had now been +forced to bring his uncle up to Bloomsbury. ‘No use for poor Johnny +in Hampshire now,’ he reflected. ‘And how the farce is to be kept up +completely passes me. At Browndean it was just possible; in Bloomsbury +it seems beyond human ingenuity--though I suppose it’s what Michael +does. But then he has accomplices--that Scotsman and the whole gang. Ah, +if I had accomplices!’ + +Necessity is the mother of the arts. Under a spur so immediate, Morris +surprised himself by the neatness and dispatch of his new forgery, and +within three-fourths of an hour had handed it to Mr Moss. + +‘That is very satisfactory,’ observed that gentleman, rising. ‘I was to +tell you it will not be presented, but you had better take care.’ + +The room swam round Morris. ‘What--what’s that?’ he cried, grasping the +table. He was miserably conscious the next moment of his shrill tongue +and ashen face. ‘What do you mean--it will not be presented? Why am I to +take care? What is all this mummery?’ + +‘I have no idea, Mr Finsbury,’ replied the smiling Hebrew. ‘It was a +message I was to deliver. The expressions were put into my mouth.’ + +‘What is your client’s name?’ asked Morris. + +‘That is a secret for the moment,’ answered Mr Moss. Morris bent toward +him. ‘It’s not the bank?’ he asked hoarsely. + +‘I have no authority to say more, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Mr Moss. ‘I +will wish you a good morning, if you please.’ + +‘Wish me a good morning!’ thought Morris; and the next moment, seizing +his hat, he fled from his place of business like a madman. Three streets +away he stopped and groaned. ‘Lord! I should have borrowed from the +manager!’ he cried. ‘But it’s too late now; it would look dicky to go +back; I’m penniless--simply penniless--like the unemployed.’ + +He went home and sat in the dismantled dining-room with his head in his +hands. Newton never thought harder than this victim of circumstances, +and yet no clearness came. ‘It may be a defect in my intelligence,’ he +cried, rising to his feet, ‘but I cannot see that I am fairly used. The +bad luck I’ve had is a thing to write to The Times about; it’s enough to +breed a revolution. And the plain English of the whole thing is that I +must have money at once. I’m done with all morality now; I’m long past +that stage; money I must have, and the only chance I see is Bent Pitman. +Bent Pitman is a criminal, and therefore his position’s weak. He must +have some of that eight hundred left; if he has I’ll force him to go +shares; and even if he hasn’t, I’ll tell him the tontine affair, and +with a desperate man like Pitman at my back, it’ll be strange if I don’t +succeed.’ + +Well and good. But how to lay hands upon Bent Pitman, except by +advertisement, was not so clear. And even so, in what terms to ask a +meeting? on what grounds? and where? Not at John Street, for it would +never do to let a man like Bent Pitman know your real address; nor yet +at Pitman’s house, some dreadful place in Holloway, with a trapdoor +in the back kitchen; a house which you might enter in a light summer +overcoat and varnished boots, to come forth again piecemeal in a +market-basket. That was the drawback of a really efficient accomplice, +Morris felt, not without a shudder. ‘I never dreamed I should come to +actually covet such society,’ he thought. And then a brilliant idea +struck him. Waterloo Station, a public place, yet at certain hours of +the day a solitary; a place, besides, the very name of which must knock +upon the heart of Pitman, and at once suggest a knowledge of the latest +of his guilty secrets. Morris took a piece of paper and sketched his +advertisement. + + +WILLIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of +SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE on the far end of the main line departure +platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M., Sunday next. + +Morris reperused this literary trifle with approbation. ‘Terse,’ he +reflected. ‘Something to his advantage is not strictly true; but it’s +taking and original, and a man is not on oath in an advertisement. +All that I require now is the ready cash for my own meals and for the +advertisement, and--no, I can’t lavish money upon John, but I’ll give +him some more papers. How to raise the wind?’ + +He approached his cabinet of signets, and the collector suddenly +revolted in his blood. ‘I will not!’ he cried; ‘nothing shall induce me +to massacre my collection--rather theft!’ And dashing upstairs to the +drawing-room, he helped himself to a few of his uncle’s curiosities: +a pair of Turkish babooshes, a Smyrna fan, a water-cooler, a musket +guaranteed to have been seized from an Ephesian bandit, and a pocketful +of curious but incomplete seashells. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. William Bent Pitman Hears of Something to his Advantage + +On the morning of Sunday, William Dent Pitman rose at his usual hour, +although with something more than the usual reluctance. The day before +(it should be explained) an addition had been made to his family in the +person of a lodger. Michael Finsbury had acted sponsor in the business, +and guaranteed the weekly bill; on the other hand, no doubt with a spice +of his prevailing jocularity, he had drawn a depressing portrait of the +lodger’s character. Mr Pitman had been led to understand his guest was +not good company; he had approached the gentleman with fear, and had +rejoiced to find himself the entertainer of an angel. At tea he had been +vastly pleased; till hard on one in the morning he had sat entranced by +eloquence and progressively fortified with information in the studio; +and now, as he reviewed over his toilet the harmless pleasures of +the evening, the future smiled upon him with revived attractions. ‘Mr +Finsbury is indeed an acquisition,’ he remarked to himself; and as +he entered the little parlour, where the table was already laid for +breakfast, the cordiality of his greeting would have befitted an +acquaintanceship already old. + +‘I am delighted to see you, sir’--these were his expressions--‘and I +trust you have slept well.’ + +‘Accustomed as I have been for so long to a life of almost perpetual +change,’ replied the guest, ‘the disturbance so often complained of by +the more sedentary, as attending their first night in (what is called) a +new bed, is a complaint from which I am entirely free.’ + +‘I am delighted to hear it,’ said the drawing-master warmly. ‘But I see +I have interrupted you over the paper.’ + +‘The Sunday paper is one of the features of the age,’ said Mr Finsbury. +‘In America, I am told, it supersedes all other literature, the bone and +sinew of the nation finding their requirements catered for; hundreds of +columns will be occupied with interesting details of the world’s +doings, such as water-spouts, elopements, conflagrations, and public +entertainments; there is a corner for politics, ladies’ work, chess, +religion, and even literature; and a few spicy editorials serve to +direct the course of public thought. It is difficult to estimate the +part played by such enormous and miscellaneous repositories in the +education of the people. But this (though interesting in itself) +partakes of the nature of a digression; and what I was about to ask you +was this: Are you yourself a student of the daily press?’ + +‘There is not much in the papers to interest an artist,’ returned +Pitman. + +‘In that case,’ resumed Joseph, ‘an advertisement which has appeared +the last two days in various journals, and reappears this morning, +may possibly have failed to catch your eye. The name, with a trifling +variation, bears a strong resemblance to your own. Ah, here it is. If +you please, I will read it to you: + +WILIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of +SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at the far end of the main line departure +platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M. today. + +‘Is that in print?’ cried Pitman. ‘Let me see it! Bent? It must be Dent! +SOMETHING TO MY ADVANTAGE? Mr Finsbury, excuse me offering a word of +caution; I am aware how strangely this must sound in your ears, but +there are domestic reasons why this little circumstance might perhaps +be better kept between ourselves. Mrs Pitman--my dear Sir, I assure you +there is nothing dishonourable in my secrecy; the reasons are domestic, +merely domestic; and I may set your conscience at rest when I assure +you all the circumstances are known to our common friend, your excellent +nephew, Mr Michael, who has not withdrawn from me his esteem.’ + +‘A word is enough, Mr Pitman,’ said Joseph, with one of his Oriental +reverences. + +Half an hour later, the drawing-master found Michael in bed and reading +a book, the picture of good-humour and repose. + +‘Hillo, Pitman,’ he said, laying down his book, ‘what brings you here at +this inclement hour? Ought to be in church, my boy!’ + +‘I have little thought of church today, Mr Finsbury,’ said the +drawing-master. ‘I am on the brink of something new, Sir.’ And he +presented the advertisement. + +‘Why, what is this?’ cried Michael, sitting suddenly up. He studied +it for half a minute with a frown. ‘Pitman, I don’t care about this +document a particle,’ said he. + +‘It will have to be attended to, however,’ said Pitman. + +‘I thought you’d had enough of Waterloo,’ returned the lawyer. ‘Have you +started a morbid craving? You’ve never been yourself anyway since you +lost that beard. I believe now it was where you kept your senses.’ + +‘Mr Finsbury,’ said the drawing-master, ‘I have tried to reason this +matter out, and, with your permission, I should like to lay before you +the results.’ + +‘Fire away,’ said Michael; ‘but please, Pitman, remember it’s Sunday, +and let’s have no bad language.’ + +‘There are three views open to us,’ began Pitman. ‘First this may +be connected with the barrel; second, it may be connected with Mr +Semitopolis’s statue; and third, it may be from my wife’s brother, who +went to Australia. In the first case, which is of course possible, I +confess the matter would be best allowed to drop.’ + +‘The court is with you there, Brother Pitman,’ said Michael. + +‘In the second,’ continued the other, ‘it is plainly my duty to leave no +stone unturned for the recovery of the lost antique.’ + +‘My dear fellow, Semitopolis has come down like a trump; he has pocketed +the loss and left you the profit. What more would you have?’ enquired +the lawyer. + +‘I conceive, sir, under correction, that Mr Semitopolis’s generosity +binds me to even greater exertion,’ said the drawing-master. ‘The whole +business was unfortunate; it was--I need not disguise it from you--it +was illegal from the first: the more reason that I should try to behave +like a gentleman,’ concluded Pitman, flushing. + +‘I have nothing to say to that,’ returned the lawyer. ‘I have sometimes +thought I should like to try to behave like a gentleman myself; only +it’s such a one-sided business, with the world and the legal profession +as they are.’ + +‘Then, in the third,’ resumed the drawing-master, ‘if it’s Uncle Tim, of +course, our fortune’s made.’ + +‘It’s not Uncle Tim, though,’ said the lawyer. + +‘Have you observed that very remarkable expression: SOMETHING TO HIS +ADVANTAGE?’ enquired Pitman shrewdly. + +‘You innocent mutton,’ said Michael, ‘it’s the seediest commonplace in +the English language, and only proves the advertiser is an ass. Let me +demolish your house of cards for you at once. Would Uncle Tim make +that blunder in your name?--in itself, the blunder is delicious, a huge +improvement on the gross reality, and I mean to adopt it in the future; +but is it like Uncle Tim?’ + +‘No, it’s not like him,’ Pitman admitted. ‘But his mind may have become +unhinged at Ballarat.’ + +‘If you come to that, Pitman,’ said Michael, ‘the advertiser may be +Queen Victoria, fired with the desire to make a duke of you. I put it +to yourself if that’s probable; and yet it’s not against the laws of +nature. But we sit here to consider probabilities; and with your genteel +permission, I eliminate her Majesty and Uncle Tim on the threshold. To +proceed, we have your second idea, that this has some connection with +the statue. Possible; but in that case who is the advertiser? Not +Ricardi, for he knows your address; not the person who got the box, for +he doesn’t know your name. The vanman, I hear you suggest, in a lucid +interval. He might have got your name, and got it incorrectly, at the +station; and he might have failed to get your address. I grant the +vanman. But a question: Do you really wish to meet the vanman?’ + +‘Why should I not?’ asked Pitman. + +‘If he wants to meet you,’ replied Michael, ‘observe this: it is because +he has found his address-book, has been to the house that got the +statue, and-mark my words!--is moving at the instigation of the +murderer.’ + +‘I should be very sorry to think so,’ said Pitman; ‘but I still consider +it my duty to Mr Sernitopolis. . .’ + +‘Pitman,’ interrupted Michael, ‘this will not do. Don’t seek to impose +on your legal adviser; don’t try to pass yourself off for the Duke of +Wellington, for that is not your line. Come, I wager a dinner I can read +your thoughts. You still believe it’s Uncle Tim.’ + +‘Mr Finsbury,’ said the drawing-master, colouring, ‘you are not a man in +narrow circumstances, and you have no family. Guendolen is growing up, +a very promising girl--she was confirmed this year; and I think you will +be able to enter into my feelings as a parent when I tell you she is +quite ignorant of dancing. The boys are at the board school, which is +all very well in its way; at least, I am the last man in the world to +criticize the institutions of my native land. But I had fondly hoped +that Harold might become a professional musician; and little Otho +shows a quite remarkable vocation for the Church. I am not exactly an +ambitious man...’ + +‘Well, well,’ interrupted Michael. ‘Be explicit; you think it’s Uncle +Tim?’ + +‘It might be Uncle Tim,’ insisted Pitman, ‘and if it were, and I +neglected the occasion, how could I ever look my children in the face? I +do not refer to Mrs Pitman. . .’ + +‘No, you never do,’ said Michael. + +‘. . . but in the case of her own brother returning from Ballarat. . .’ +continued Pitman. + +‘. . . with his mind unhinged,’ put in the lawyer. + +‘. . . returning from Ballarat with a large fortune, her impatience may +be more easily imagined than described,’ concluded Pitman. + +‘All right,’ said Michael, ‘be it so. And what do you propose to do?’ + +‘I am going to Waterloo,’ said Pitman, ‘in disguise.’ + +‘All by your little self?’ enquired the lawyer. ‘Well, I hope you think +it safe. Mind and send me word from the police cells.’ + +‘O, Mr Finsbury, I had ventured to hope--perhaps you might be induced +to--to make one of us,’ faltered Pitman. + +‘Disguise myself on Sunday?’ cried Michael. ‘How little you understand +my principles!’ + +‘Mr Finsbury, I have no means of showing you my gratitude; but let me +ask you one question,’ said Pitman. ‘If I were a very rich client, would +you not take the risk?’ + +‘Diamond, Diamond, you know not what you do!’ cried Michael. ‘Why, man, +do you suppose I make a practice of cutting about London with my clients +in disguise? Do you suppose money would induce me to touch this business +with a stick? I give you my word of honour, it would not. But I own I +have a real curiosity to see how you conduct this interview--that tempts +me; it tempts me, Pitman, more than gold--it should be exquisitely +rich.’ And suddenly Michael laughed. ‘Well, Pitman,’ said he, ‘have all +the truck ready in the studio. I’ll go.’ + +About twenty minutes after two, on this eventful day, the vast and +gloomy shed of Waterloo lay, like the temple of a dead religion, silent +and deserted. Here and there at one of the platforms, a train lay +becalmed; here and there a wandering footfall echoed; the cab-horses +outside stamped with startling reverberations on the stones; or from the +neighbouring wilderness of railway an engine snorted forth a whistle. +The main-line departure platform slumbered like the rest; the +booking-hutches closed; the backs of Mr Haggard’s novels, with which +upon a weekday the bookstall shines emblazoned, discreetly hidden behind +dingy shutters; the rare officials, undisguisedly somnambulant; and the +customary loiterers, even to the middle-aged woman with the ulster and +the handbag, fled to more congenial scenes. As in the inmost dells of +some small tropic island the throbbing of the ocean lingers, so here a +faint pervading hum and trepidation told in every corner of surrounding +London. + +At the hour already named, persons acquainted with John Dickson, of +Ballarat, and Ezra Thomas, of the United States of America, would have +been cheered to behold them enter through the booking-office. + +‘What names are we to take?’ enquired the latter, anxiously adjusting +the window-glass spectacles which he had been suffered on this occasion +to assume. + +‘There’s no choice for you, my boy,’ returned Michael. ‘Bent Pitman +or nothing. As for me, I think I look as if I might be called Appleby; +something agreeably old-world about Appleby--breathes of Devonshire +cider. Talking of which, suppose you wet your whistle? the interview is +likely to be trying.’ + +‘I think I’ll wait till afterwards,’ returned Pitman; ‘on the whole, I +think I’ll wait till the thing’s over. I don’t know if it strikes you +as it does me; but the place seems deserted and silent, Mr Finsbury, and +filled with very singular echoes.’ + +‘Kind of Jack-in-the-box feeling?’ enquired Michael, ‘as if all these +empty trains might be filled with policemen waiting for a signal? and +Sir Charles Warren perched among the girders with a silver whistle to +his lips? It’s guilt, Pitman.’ + +In this uneasy frame of mind they walked nearly the whole length of +the departure platform, and at the western extremity became aware of a +slender figure standing back against a pillar. The figure was plainly +sunk into a deep abstraction; he was not aware of their approach, but +gazed far abroad over the sunlit station. Michael stopped. + +‘Holloa!’ said he, ‘can that be your advertiser? If so, I’m done with +it.’ And then, on second thoughts: ‘Not so, either,’ he resumed more +cheerfully. ‘Here, turn your back a moment. So. Give me the specs.’ + +‘But you agreed I was to have them,’ protested Pitman. + +‘Ah, but that man knows me,’ said Michael. + +‘Does he? what’s his name?’ cried Pitman. + +‘O, he took me into his confidence,’ returned the lawyer. ‘But I may say +one thing: if he’s your advertiser (and he may be, for he seems to +have been seized with criminal lunacy) you can go ahead with a clear +conscience, for I hold him in the hollow of my hand.’ + +The change effected, and Pitman comforted with this good news, the pair +drew near to Morris. + +‘Are you looking for Mr William Bent Pitman?’ enquired the +drawing-master. ‘I am he.’ + +Morris raised his head. He saw before him, in the speaker, a person +of almost indescribable insignificance, in white spats and a shirt cut +indecently low. A little behind, a second and more burly figure +offered little to criticism, except ulster, whiskers, spectacles, +and deerstalker hat. Since he had decided to call up devils from the +underworld of London, Morris had pondered deeply on the probabilities +of their appearance. His first emotion, like that of Charoba when she +beheld the sea, was one of disappointment; his second did more justice +to the case. Never before had he seen a couple dressed like these; he +had struck a new stratum. + +‘I must speak with you alone,’ said he. + +‘You need not mind Mr Appleby,’ returned Pitman. ‘He knows all.’ + +‘All? Do you know what I am here to speak of?’ enquired Morris--. ‘The +barrel.’ + +Pitman turned pale, but it was with manly indignation. ‘You are the +man!’ he cried. ‘You very wicked person.’ + +‘Am I to speak before him?’ asked Morris, disregarding these severe +expressions. + +‘He has been present throughout,’ said Pitman. ‘He opened the barrel; +your guilty secret is already known to him, as well as to your Maker and +myself.’ + +‘Well, then,’ said Morris, ‘what have you done with the money?’ + +‘I know nothing about any money,’ said Pitman. + +‘You needn’t try that on,’ said Morris. ‘I have tracked you down; you +came to the station sacrilegiously disguised as a clergyman, procured my +barrel, opened it, rifled the body, and cashed the bill. I have been to +the bank, I tell you! I have followed you step by step, and your denials +are childish and absurd.’ + +‘Come, come, Morris, keep your temper,’ said Mr Appleby. + +‘Michael!’ cried Morris, ‘Michael here too!’ + +‘Here too,’ echoed the lawyer; ‘here and everywhere, my good fellow; +every step you take is counted; trained detectives follow you like your +shadow; they report to me every three-quarters of an hour; no expense is +spared.’ + +Morris’s face took on a hue of dirty grey. ‘Well, I don’t care; I have +the less reserve to keep,’ he cried. ‘That man cashed my bill; it’s a +theft, and I want the money back.’ + +‘Do you think I would lie to you, Morris?’ asked Michael. + +‘I don’t know,’ said his cousin. ‘I want my money.’ + +‘It was I alone who touched the body,’ began Michael. + +‘You? Michael!’ cried Morris, starting back. ‘Then why haven’t you +declared the death?’ ‘What the devil do you mean?’ asked Michael. + +‘Am I mad? or are you?’ cried Morris. + +‘I think it must be Pitman,’ said Michael. + +The three men stared at each other, wild-eyed. + +‘This is dreadful,’ said Morris, ‘dreadful. I do not understand one word +that is addressed to me.’ + +‘I give you my word of honour, no more do I,’ said Michael. + +‘And in God’s name, why whiskers?’ cried Morris, pointing in a ghastly +manner at his cousin. ‘Does my brain reel? How whiskers?’ + +‘O, that’s a matter of detail,’ said Michael. + +There was another silence, during which Morris appeared to himself to +be shot in a trapeze as high as St Paul’s, and as low as Baker Street +Station. + +‘Let us recapitulate,’ said Michael, ‘unless it’s really a dream, in +which case I wish Teena would call me for breakfast. My friend Pitman, +here, received a barrel which, it now appears, was meant for you. The +barrel contained the body of a man. How or why you killed him...’ + +‘I never laid a hand on him,’ protested Morris. ‘This is what I have +dreaded all along. But think, Michael! I’m not that kind of man; with +all my faults, I wouldn’t touch a hair of anybody’s head, and it was all +dead loss to me. He got killed in that vile accident.’ + +Suddenly Michael was seized by mirth so prolonged and excessive that his +companions supposed beyond a doubt his reason had deserted him. Again +and again he struggled to compose himself, and again and again laughter +overwhelmed him like a tide. In all this maddening interview there had +been no more spectral feature than this of Michael’s merriment; and +Pitman and Morris, drawn together by the common fear, exchanged glances +of anxiety. + +‘Morris,’ gasped the lawyer, when he was at last able to articulate, +‘hold on, I see it all now. I can make it clear in one word. Here’s the +key: I NEVER GUESSED IT WAS UNCLE JOSEPH TILL THIS MOMENT.’ + +This remark produced an instant lightening of the tension for Morris. +For Pitman it quenched the last ray of hope and daylight. Uncle Joseph, +whom he had left an hour ago in Norfolk Street, pasting newspaper +cuttings?--it?--the dead body?--then who was he, Pitman? and was this +Waterloo Station or Colney Hatch? + +‘To be sure!’ cried Morris; ‘it was badly smashed, I know. How stupid +not to think of that! Why, then, all’s clear; and, my dear Michael, I’ll +tell you what--we’re saved, both saved. You get the tontine--I don’t +grudge it you the least--and I get the leather business, which is really +beginning to look up. Declare the death at once, don’t mind me in the +smallest, don’t consider me; declare the death, and we’re all right.’ + +‘Ah, but I can’t declare it,’ said Michael. + +‘Why not?’ cried Morris. + +‘I can’t produce the corpus, Morris. I’ve lost it,’ said the lawyer. + +‘Stop a bit,’ ejaculated the leather merchant. ‘How is this? It’s not +possible. I lost it.’ + +‘Well, I’ve lost it too, my son,’ said Michael, with extreme serenity. +‘Not recognizing it, you see, and suspecting something irregular in its +origin, I got rid of--what shall we say?--got rid of the proceeds at +once.’ + +‘You got rid of the body? What made you do that?’ walled Morris. ‘But +you can get it again? You know where it is?’ + +‘I wish I did, Morris, and you may believe me there, for it would be a +small sum in my pocket; but the fact is, I don’t,’ said Michael. + +‘Good Lord,’ said Morris, addressing heaven and earth, ‘good Lord, I’ve +lost the leather business!’ + +Michael was once more shaken with laughter. + +‘Why do you laugh, you fool?’ cried his cousin, ‘you lose more than I. +You’ve bungled it worse than even I did. If you had a spark of feeling, +you would be shaking in your boots with vexation. But I’ll tell you one +thing--I’ll have that eight hundred pound--I’ll have that and go to Swan +River--that’s mine, anyway, and your friend must have forged to cash it. +Give me the eight hundred, here, upon this platform, or I go straight to +Scotland Yard and turn the whole disreputable story inside out.’ + +‘Morris,’ said Michael, laying his hand upon his shoulder, ‘hear reason. +It wasn’t us, it was the other man. We never even searched the body.’ + +‘The other man?’ repeated Morris. + +‘Yes, the other man. We palmed Uncle Joseph off upon another man,’ said +Michael. + +‘You what? You palmed him off? That’s surely a singular expression,’ +said Morris. + +‘Yes, palmed him off for a piano,’ said Michael with perfect simplicity. +‘Remarkably full, rich tone,’ he added. + +Morris carried his hand to his brow and looked at it; it was wet with +sweat. ‘Fever,’ said he. + +‘No, it was a Broadwood grand,’ said Michael. ‘Pitman here will tell you +if it was genuine or not.’ + +‘Eh? O! O yes, I believe it was a genuine Broadwood; I have played upon +it several times myself,’ said Pitman. ‘The three-letter E was broken.’ + +‘Don’t say anything more about pianos,’ said Morris, with a strong +shudder; ‘I’m not the man I used to be! This--this other man--let’s come +to him, if I can only manage to follow. Who is he? Where can I get hold +of him?’ + +‘Ah, that’s the rub,’ said Michael. ‘He’s been in possession of the +desired article, let me see--since Wednesday, about four o’clock, and is +now, I should imagine, on his way to the isles of Javan and Gadire.’ + +‘Michael,’ said Morris pleadingly, ‘I am in a very weak state, and I beg +your consideration for a kinsman. Say it slowly again, and be sure you +are correct. When did he get it?’ + +Michael repeated his statement. + +‘Yes, that’s the worst thing yet,’ said Morris, drawing in his breath. + +‘What is?’ asked the lawyer. + +‘Even the dates are sheer nonsense,’ said the leather merchant. + +‘The bill was cashed on Tuesday. There’s not a gleam of reason in the +whole transaction.’ + +A young gentleman, who had passed the trio and suddenly started and +turned back, at this moment laid a heavy hand on Michael’s shoulder. + +‘Aha! so this is Mr Dickson?’ said he. + +The trump of judgement could scarce have rung with a more dreadful note +in the ears of Pitman and the lawyer. To Morris this erroneous name +seemed a legitimate enough continuation of the nightmare in which he +had so long been wandering. And when Michael, with his brand-new bushy +whiskers, broke from the grasp of the stranger and turned to run, and +the weird little shaven creature in the low-necked shirt followed his +example with a bird-like screech, and the stranger (finding the rest of +his prey escape him) pounced with a rude grasp on Morris himself, +that gentleman’s frame of mind might be very nearly expressed in the +colloquial phrase: ‘I told you so!’ + +‘I have one of the gang,’ said Gideon Forsyth. + +‘I do not understand,’ said Morris dully. + +‘O, I will make you understand,’ returned Gideon grimly. + +‘You will be a good friend to me if you can make me understand +anything,’ cried Morris, with a sudden energy of conviction. + +‘I don’t know you personally, do I?’ continued Gideon, examining his +unresisting prisoner. ‘Never mind, I know your friends. They are your +friends, are they not?’ + +‘I do not understand you,’ said Morris. + +‘You had possibly something to do with a piano?’ suggested Gideon. + +‘A piano!’ cried Morris, convulsively clasping Gideon by the arm. ‘Then +you’re the other man! Where is it? Where is the body? And did you cash +the draft?’ + +‘Where is the body? This is very strange,’ mused Gideon. ‘Do you want +the body?’ + +‘Want it?’ cried Morris. ‘My whole fortune depends upon it! I lost it. +Where is it? Take me to it? + +‘O, you want it, do you? And the other man, Dickson--does he want it?’ +enquired Gideon. + +‘Who do you mean by Dickson? O, Michael Finsbury! Why, of course he +does! He lost it too. If he had it, he’d have won the tontine tomorrow.’ + +‘Michael Finsbury! Not the solicitor?’ cried Gideon. ‘Yes, the +solicitor,’ said Morris. ‘But where is the body?’ + +‘Then that is why he sent the brief! What is Mr Finsbury’s private +address?’ asked Gideon. + +‘233 King’s Road. What brief? Where are you going? Where is the body?’ +cried Morris, clinging to Gideon’s arm. + +‘I have lost it myself,’ returned Gideon, and ran out of the station. + + + +CHAPTER XV. The Return of the Great Vance + +Morris returned from Waterloo in a frame of mind that baffles +description. He was a modest man; he had never conceived an overweening +notion of his own powers; he knew himself unfit to write a book, turn a +table napkin-ring, entertain a Christmas party with legerdemain--grapple +(in short) any of those conspicuous accomplishments that are usually +classed under the head of genius. He knew--he admitted--his parts to be +pedestrian, but he had considered them (until quite lately) fully equal +to the demands of life. And today he owned himself defeated: life had +the upper hand; if there had been any means of flight or place to flee +to, if the world had been so ordered that a man could leave it like a +place of entertainment, Morris would have instantly resigned all further +claim on its rewards and pleasures, and, with inexpressible contentment, +ceased to be. As it was, one aim shone before him: he could get home. +Even as the sick dog crawls under the sofa, Morris could shut the door +of John Street and be alone. + +The dusk was falling when he drew near this place of refuge; and the +first thing that met his eyes was the figure of a man upon the step, +alternately plucking at the bell-handle and pounding on the panels. The +man had no hat, his clothes were hideous with filth, he had the air of a +hop-picker. Yet Morris knew him; it was John. + +The first impulse of flight was succeeded, in the elder brother’s +bosom, by the empty quiescence of despair. ‘What does it matter now?’ he +thought, and drawing forth his latchkey ascended the steps. + +John turned about; his face was ghastly with weariness and dirt and +fury; and as he recognized the head of his family, he drew in a long +rasping breath, and his eyes glittered. + +‘Open that door,’ he said, standing back. + +‘I am going to,’ said Morris, and added mentally, ‘He looks like +murder!’ + +The brothers passed into the hall, the door closed behind them; and +suddenly John seized Morris by the shoulders and shook him as a terrier +shakes a rat. ‘You mangy little cad,’ he said, ‘I’d serve you right to +smash your skull!’ And shook him again, so that his teeth rattled and +his head smote upon the wall. + +‘Don’t be violent, Johnny,’ said Morris. ‘It can’t do any good now.’ + +‘Shut your mouth,’ said John, ‘your time’s come to listen.’ + +He strode into the dining-room, fell into the easy-chair, and taking off +one of his burst walking-shoes, nursed for a while his foot like one in +agony. ‘I’m lame for life,’ he said. ‘What is there for dinner?’ + +‘Nothing, Johnny,’ said Morris. + +‘Nothing? What do you mean by that?’ enquired the Great Vance. ‘Don’t +set up your chat to me!’ + +‘I mean simply nothing,’ said his brother. ‘I have nothing to eat, and +nothing to buy it with. I’ve only had a cup of tea and a sandwich all +this day myself.’ + +‘Only a sandwich?’ sneered Vance. ‘I suppose YOU’RE going to complain +next. But you had better take care: I’ve had all I mean to take; and +I can tell you what it is, I mean to dine and to dine well. Take your +signets and sell them.’ + +‘I can’t today,’ objected Morris; ‘it’s Sunday.’ + +‘I tell you I’m going to dine!’ cried the younger brother. + +‘But if it’s not possible, Johnny?’ pleaded the other. + +‘You nincompoop!’ cried Vance. ‘Ain’t we householders? Don’t they know +us at that hotel where Uncle Parker used to come. Be off with you; and +if you ain’t back in half an hour, and if the dinner ain’t good, first +I’ll lick you till you don’t want to breathe, and then I’ll go straight +to the police and blow the gaff. Do you understand that, Morris +Finsbury? Because if you do, you had better jump.’ + +The idea smiled even upon the wretched Morris, who was sick with famine. +He sped upon his errand, and returned to find John still nursing his +foot in the armchair. + +‘What would you like to drink, Johnny?’ he enquired soothingly. + +‘Fizz,’ said John. ‘Some of the poppy stuff from the end bin; a bottle +of the old port that Michael liked, to follow; and see and don’t shake +the port. And look here, light the fire--and the gas, and draw down the +blinds; it’s cold and it’s getting dark. And then you can lay the cloth. +And, I say--here, you! bring me down some clothes.’ + +The room looked comparatively habitable by the time the dinner came; and +the dinner itself was good: strong gravy soup, fillets of sole, mutton +chops and tomato sauce, roast beef done rare with roast potatoes, +cabinet pudding, a piece of Chester cheese, and some early celery: a +meal uncompromisingly British, but supporting. + +‘Thank God!’ said John, his nostrils sniffing wide, surprised by joy +into the unwonted formality of grace. ‘Now I’m going to take this chair +with my back to the fire--there’s been a strong frost these two last +nights, and I can’t get it out of my bones; the celery will be just the +ticket--I’m going to sit here, and you are going to stand there, Morris +Finsbury, and play butler.’ + +‘But, Johnny, I’m so hungry myself,’ pleaded Morris. + +‘You can have what I leave,’ said Vance. ‘You’re just beginning to +pay your score, my daisy; I owe you one-pound-ten; don’t you rouse the +British lion!’ There was something indescribably menacing in the face +and voice of the Great Vance as he uttered these words, at which the +soul of Morris withered. ‘There!’ resumed the feaster, ‘give us a glass +of the fizz to start with. Gravy soup! And I thought I didn’t like gravy +soup! Do you know how I got here?’ he asked, with another explosion of +wrath. + +‘No, Johnny; how could I?’ said the obsequious Morris. + +‘I walked on my ten toes!’ cried John; ‘tramped the whole way from +Browndean; and begged! I would like to see you beg. It’s not so easy +as you might suppose. I played it on being a shipwrecked mariner from +Blyth; I don’t know where Blyth is, do you? but I thought it sounded +natural. I begged from a little beast of a schoolboy, and he forked out +a bit of twine, and asked me to make a clove hitch; I did, too, I know I +did, but he said it wasn’t, he said it was a granny’s knot, and I was a +what-d’ye-call-’em, and he would give me in charge. Then I begged from +a naval officer--he never bothered me with knots, but he only gave me +a tract; there’s a nice account of the British navy!--and then from a +widow woman that sold lollipops, and I got a hunch of bread from her. +Another party I fell in with said you could generally always get bread; +and the thing to do was to break a plateglass window and get into gaol; +seemed rather a brilliant scheme. Pass the beef.’ + +‘Why didn’t you stay at Browndean?’ Morris ventured to enquire. + +‘Skittles!’ said John. ‘On what? The Pink Un and a measly religious +paper? I had to leave Browndean; I had to, I tell you. I got tick at +a public, and set up to be the Great Vance; so would you, if you were +leading such a beastly existence! And a card stood me a lot of ale and +stuff, and we got swipey, talking about music-halls and the piles of tin +I got for singing; and then they got me on to sing “Around her splendid +form I weaved the magic circle,” and then he said I couldn’t be Vance, +and I stuck to it like grim death I was. It was rot of me to sing, of +course, but I thought I could brazen it out with a set of yokels. It +settled my hash at the public,’ said John, with a sigh. ‘And then the +last thing was the carpenter--’ + +‘Our landlord?’ enquired Morris. + +‘That’s the party,’ said John. ‘He came nosing about the place, and then +wanted to know where the water-butt was, and the bedclothes. I told him +to go to the devil; so would you too, when there was no possible thing +to say! And then he said I had pawned them, and did I know it was +felony? Then I made a pretty neat stroke. I remembered he was deaf, and +talked a whole lot of rot, very politely, just so low he couldn’t hear +a word. “I don’t hear you,” says he. “I know you don’t, my buck, and I +don’t mean you to,” says I, smiling away like a haberdasher. “I’m hard +of hearing,” he roars. “I’d be in a pretty hot corner if you weren’t,” + says I, making signs as if I was explaining everything. It was tip-top +as long as it lasted. “Well,” he said, “I’m deaf, worse luck, but I +bet the constable can hear you.” And off he started one way, and I the +other. They got a spirit-lamp and the Pink Un, and that old religious +paper, and another periodical you sent me. I think you must have been +drunk--it had a name like one of those spots that Uncle Joseph used to +hold forth at, and it was all full of the most awful swipes about poetry +and the use of the globes. It was the kind of thing that nobody could +read out of a lunatic asylum. The Athaeneum, that was the name! Golly, +what a paper!’ + +‘Athenaeum, you mean,’ said Morris. + +‘I don’t care what you call it,’ said John, ‘so as I don’t require to +take it in! There, I feel better. Now I’m going to sit by the fire in +the easy-chair; pass me the cheese, and the celery, and the bottle of +port--no, a champagne glass, it holds more. And now you can pitch in; +there’s some of the fish left and a chop, and some fizz. Ah,’ sighed the +refreshed pedestrian, ‘Michael was right about that port; there’s old +and vatted for you! Michael’s a man I like; he’s clever and reads books, +and the Athaeneum, and all that; but he’s not dreary to meet, he don’t +talk Athaeneum like the other parties; why, the most of them would throw +a blight over a skittle alley! Talking of Michael, I ain’t bored myself +to put the question, because of course I knew it from the first. You’ve +made a hash of it, eh?’ + +‘Michael made a hash of it,’ said Morris, flushing dark. + +‘What have we got to do with that?’ enquired John. + +‘He has lost the body, that’s what we have to do with it,’ cried Morris. +‘He has lost the body, and the death can’t be established.’ + +‘Hold on,’ said John. ‘I thought you didn’t want to?’ + +‘O, we’re far past that,’ said his brother. ‘It’s not the tontine now, +it’s the leather business, Johnny; it’s the clothes upon our back.’ + +‘Stow the slow music,’ said John, ‘and tell your story from beginning to +end.’ Morris did as he was bid. + +‘Well, now, what did I tell you?’ cried the Great Vance, when the other +had done. ‘But I know one thing: I’m not going to be humbugged out of my +property.’ + +‘I should like to know what you mean to do,’ said Morris. + +‘I’ll tell you that,’ responded John with extreme decision. ‘I’m going +to put my interests in the hands of the smartest lawyer in London; and +whether you go to quod or not is a matter of indifference to me.’ + +‘Why, Johnny, we’re in the same boat!’ expostulated Morris. + +‘Are we?’ cried his brother. ‘I bet we’re not! Have I committed forgery? +have I lied about Uncle Joseph? have I put idiotic advertisements in the +comic papers? have I smashed other people’s statues? I like your cheek, +Morris Finsbury. No, I’ve let you run my affairs too long; now they +shall go to Michael. I like Michael, anyway; and it’s time I understood +my situation.’ + +At this moment the brethren were interrupted by a ring at the bell, +and Morris, going timorously to the door, received from the hands of a +commissionaire a letter addressed in the hand of Michael. Its contents +ran as follows: + +MORRIS FINSBURY, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of +SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at my office, in Chancery Lane, at 10 A.M. +tomorrow. + +MICHAEL FINSBURY + + +So utter was Morris’s subjection that he did not wait to be asked, but +handed the note to John as soon as he had glanced at it himself. + +‘That’s the way to write a letter,’ cried John. ‘Nobody but Michael +could have written that.’ + +And Morris did not even claim the credit of priority. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. Final Adjustment of the Leather Business + +Finsbury brothers were ushered, at ten the next morning, into a large +apartment in Michael’s office; the Great Vance, somewhat restored from +yesterday’s exhaustion, but with one foot in a slipper; Morris, not +positively damaged, but a man ten years older than he who had left +Bournemouth eight days before, his face ploughed full of anxious +wrinkles, his dark hair liberally grizzled at the temples. + +Three persons were seated at a table to receive them: Michael in +the midst, Gideon Forsyth on his right hand, on his left an ancient +gentleman with spectacles and silver hair. ‘By Jingo, it’s Uncle Joe!’ +cried John. + +But Morris approached his uncle with a pale countenance and glittering +eyes. + +‘I’ll tell you what you did!’ he cried. ‘You absconded!’ + +‘Good morning, Morris Finsbury,’ returned Joseph, with no less asperity; +‘you are looking seriously ill.’ + +‘No use making trouble now,’ remarked Michael. ‘Look the facts in the +face. Your uncle, as you see, was not so much as shaken in the accident; +a man of your humane disposition ought to be delighted.’ + +‘Then, if that’s so,’ Morris broke forth, ‘how about the body? You don’t +mean to insinuate that thing I schemed and sweated for, and colported +with my own hands, was the body of a total stranger?’ + +‘O no, we can’t go as far as that,’ said Michael soothingly; ‘you may +have met him at the club.’ + +Morris fell into a chair. ‘I would have found it out if it had come to +the house,’ he complained. ‘And why didn’t it? why did it go to Pitman? +what right had Pitman to open it?’ + +‘If you come to that, Morris, what have you done with the colossal +Hercules?’ asked Michael. + +‘He went through it with the meat-axe,’ said John. ‘It’s all in +spillikins in the back garden.’ + +‘Well, there’s one thing,’ snapped Morris; ‘there’s my uncle again, my +fraudulent trustee. He’s mine, anyway. And the tontine too. I claim the +tontine; I claim it now. I believe Uncle Masterman’s dead.’ + +‘I must put a stop to this nonsense,’ said Michael, ‘and that for ever. +You say too near the truth. In one sense your uncle is dead, and has +been so long; but not in the sense of the tontine, which it is even on +the cards he may yet live to win. Uncle Joseph saw him this morning; he +will tell you he still lives, but his mind is in abeyance.’ + +‘He did not know me,’ said Joseph; to do him justice, not without +emotion. + +‘So you’re out again there, Morris,’ said John. ‘My eye! what a fool +you’ve made of yourself!’ + +‘And that was why you wouldn’t compromise,’ said Morris. + +‘As for the absurd position in which you and Uncle Joseph have been +making yourselves an exhibition,’ resumed Michael, ‘it is more than time +it came to an end. I have prepared a proper discharge in full, which you +shall sign as a preliminary.’ + +‘What?’ cried Morris, ‘and lose my seven thousand eight hundred pounds, +and the leather business, and the contingent interest, and get nothing? +Thank you.’ + +‘It’s like you to feel gratitude, Morris,’ began Michael. + +‘O, I know it’s no good appealing to you, you sneering devil!’ cried +Morris. ‘But there’s a stranger present, I can’t think why, and I appeal +to him. I was robbed of that money when I was an orphan, a mere child, +at a commercial academy. Since then, I’ve never had a wish but to get +back my own. You may hear a lot of stuff about me; and there’s no doubt +at times I have been ill-advised. But it’s the pathos of my situation; +that’s what I want to show you.’ + +‘Morris,’ interrupted Michael, ‘I do wish you would let me add one +point, for I think it will affect your judgement. It’s pathetic too +since that’s your taste in literature.’ + +‘Well, what is it?’ said Morris. + +‘It’s only the name of one of the persons who’s to witness your +signature, Morris,’ replied Michael. ‘His name’s Moss, my dear.’ + +There was a long silence. ‘I might have been sure it was you!’ cried +Morris. + +‘You’ll sign, won’t you?’ said Michael. + +‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ cried Morris. ‘You’re compounding a +felony.’ + +‘Very well, then, we won’t compound it, Morris,’ returned Michael. ‘See +how little I understood the sterling integrity of your character! I +thought you would prefer it so.’ + +‘Look here, Michael,’ said John, ‘this is all very fine and large; but +how about me? Morris is gone up, I see that; but I’m not. And I was +robbed, too, mind you; and just as much an orphan, and at the blessed +same academy as himself.’ + +‘Johnny,’ said Michael, ‘don’t you think you’d better leave it to me?’ + +‘I’m your man,’ said John. ‘You wouldn’t deceive a poor orphan, I’ll +take my oath. Morris, you sign that document, or I’ll start in and +astonish your weak mind.’ + +With a sudden alacrity, Morris proffered his willingness. Clerks were +brought in, the discharge was executed, and there was Joseph a free man +once more. + +‘And now,’ said Michael, ‘hear what I propose to do. Here, John +and Morris, is the leather business made over to the pair of you in +partnership. I have valued it at the lowest possible figure, Pogram and +Jarris’s. And here is a cheque for the balance of your fortune. Now, you +see, Morris, you start fresh from the commercial academy; and, as you +said yourself the leather business was looking up, I suppose you’ll +probably marry before long. Here’s your marriage present--from a Mr +Moss.’ + +Morris bounded on his cheque with a crimsoned countenance. + +‘I don’t understand the performance,’ remarked John. ‘It seems too good +to be true.’ + +‘It’s simply a readjustment,’ Michael explained. ‘I take up Uncle +Joseph’s liabilities; and if he gets the tontine, it’s to be mine; if +my father gets it, it’s mine anyway, you see. So that I’m rather +advantageously placed.’ + +‘Morris, my unconverted friend, you’ve got left,’ was John’s comment. + +‘And now, Mr Forsyth,’ resumed Michael, turning to his silent guest, +‘here are all the criminals before you, except Pitman. I really didn’t +like to interrupt his scholastic career; but you can have him arrested +at the seminary--I know his hours. Here we are then; we’re not pretty to +look at: what do you propose to do with us?’ + +‘Nothing in the world, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Gideon. ‘I seem to +understand that this gentleman’---indicating Morris--‘is the fons et +origo of the trouble; and, from what I gather, he has already paid +through the nose. And really, to be quite frank, I do not see who is to +gain by any scandal; not me, at least. And besides, I have to thank you +for that brief.’ + +Michael blushed. ‘It was the least I could do to let you have some +business,’ he said. ‘But there’s one thing more. I don’t want you to +misjudge poor Pitman, who is the most harmless being upon earth. I +wish you would dine with me tonight, and see the creature on his native +heath--say at Verrey’s?’ + +‘I have no engagement, Mr Finsbury,’ replied Gideon. ‘I shall be +delighted. But subject to your judgement, can we do nothing for the man +in the cart? I have qualms of conscience.’ + +‘Nothing but sympathize,’ said Michael. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wrong Box, by +Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1585 *** diff --git a/1585-0.zip b/1585-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ca055a --- /dev/null +++ b/1585-0.zip diff --git a/1585-h.zip b/1585-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..03bc855 --- /dev/null +++ b/1585-h.zip diff --git a/1585-h/1585-h.htm b/1585-h/1585-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a866041 --- /dev/null +++ b/1585-h/1585-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8088 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Wrong Box, by Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; 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right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1585 ***</div> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE WRONG BOX + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON<br /> and<br /> LLOYD OSBOURNE + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h4> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </h4> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + In Which Morris Suspects + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + In Which Morris takes Action + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Lecturer at Large + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Magistrate in the Luggage Van + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + Mr Gideon Forsyth and the Gigantic Box + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Tribulations of Morris: Part the First + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + In Which William Dent Pitman takes Legal Advice + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + In Which Michael Finsbury Enjoys a Holiday + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + Glorious Conclusion of Michael Finsbury’s Holiday + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + Gideon Forsyth and the Broadwood Grand + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Maestro Jimson + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + Positively the Last Appearance of the Broadwood Grand + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Tribulations of Morris: Part the Second + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + William Bent Pitman Hears of Something to his Advantage + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Return of the Great Vance + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + Final Adjustment of the Leather Business + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + ‘Nothing like a little judicious levity,’ says Michael Finsbury in the + text: nor can any better excuse be found for the volume in the reader’s + hand. The authors can but add that one of them is old enough to be ashamed + of himself, and the other young enough to learn better. + </p> + <p> + R. L. S. L. O. <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. In Which Morris Suspects + </h2> + <p> + How very little does the amateur, dwelling at home at ease, comprehend the + labours and perils of the author, and, when he smilingly skims the surface + of a work of fiction, how little does he consider the hours of toil, + consultation of authorities, researches in the Bodleian, correspondence + with learned and illegible Germans—in one word, the vast scaffolding + that was first built up and then knocked down, to while away an hour for + him in a railway train! Thus I might begin this tale with a biography of + Tonti—birthplace, parentage, genius probably inherited from his + mother, remarkable instance of precocity, etc—and a complete + treatise on the system to which he bequeathed his name. The material is + all beside me in a pigeon-hole, but I scorn to appear vainglorious. Tonti + is dead, and I never saw anyone who even pretended to regret him; and, as + for the tontine system, a word will suffice for all the purposes of this + unvarnished narrative. + </p> + <p> + A number of sprightly youths (the more the merrier) put up a certain sum + of money, which is then funded in a pool under trustees; coming on for a + century later, the proceeds are fluttered for a moment in the face of the + last survivor, who is probably deaf, so that he cannot even hear of his + success—and who is certainly dying, so that he might just as well + have lost. The peculiar poetry and even humour of the scheme is now + apparent, since it is one by which nobody concerned can possibly profit; + but its fine, sportsmanlike character endeared it to our grandparents. + </p> + <p> + When Joseph Finsbury and his brother Masterman were little lads in + white-frilled trousers, their father—a well-to-do merchant in + Cheapside—caused them to join a small but rich tontine of + seven-and-thirty lives. A thousand pounds was the entrance fee; and Joseph + Finsbury can remember to this day the visit to the lawyer’s, where the + members of the tontine—all children like himself—were + assembled together, and sat in turn in the big office chair, and signed + their names with the assistance of a kind old gentleman in spectacles and + Wellington boots. He remembers playing with the children afterwards on the + lawn at the back of the lawyer’s house, and a battle-royal that he had + with a brother tontiner who had kicked his shins. The sound of war called + forth the lawyer from where he was dispensing cake and wine to the + assembled parents in the office, and the combatants were separated, and + Joseph’s spirit (for he was the smaller of the two) commended by the + gentleman in the Wellington boots, who vowed he had been just such another + at the same age. Joseph wondered to himself if he had worn at that time + little Wellingtons and a little bald head, and when, in bed at night, he + grew tired of telling himself stories of sea-fights, he used to dress + himself up as the old gentleman, and entertain other little boys and girls + with cake and wine. + </p> + <p> + In the year 1840 the thirty-seven were all alive; in 1850 their number had + decreased by six; in 1856 and 1857 business was more lively, for the + Crimea and the Mutiny carried off no less than nine. There remained in + 1870 but five of the original members, and at the date of my story, + including the two Finsburys, but three. + </p> + <p> + By this time Masterman was in his seventy-third year; he had long + complained of the effects of age, had long since retired from business, + and now lived in absolute seclusion under the roof of his son Michael, the + well-known solicitor. Joseph, on the other hand, was still up and about, + and still presented but a semi-venerable figure on the streets in which he + loved to wander. This was the more to be deplored because Masterman had + led (even to the least particular) a model British life. Industry, + regularity, respectability, and a preference for the four per cents are + understood to be the very foundations of a green old age. All these + Masterman had eminently displayed, and here he was, ab agendo, at + seventy-three; while Joseph, barely two years younger, and in the most + excellent preservation, had disgraced himself through life by idleness and + eccentricity. Embarked in the leather trade, he had early wearied of + business, for which he was supposed to have small parts. A taste for + general information, not promptly checked, had soon begun to sap his + manhood. There is no passion more debilitating to the mind, unless, + perhaps, it be that itch of public speaking which it not infrequently + accompanies or begets. The two were conjoined in the case of Joseph; the + acute stage of this double malady, that in which the patient delivers + gratuitous lectures, soon declared itself with severity, and not many + years had passed over his head before he would have travelled thirty miles + to address an infant school. He was no student; his reading was confined + to elementary textbooks and the daily papers; he did not even fly as high + as cyclopedias; life, he would say, was his volume. His lectures were not + meant, he would declare, for college professors; they were addressed + direct to ‘the great heart of the people’, and the heart of the people + must certainly be sounder than its head, for his lucubrations were + received with favour. That entitled ‘How to Live Cheerfully on Forty + Pounds a Year’, created a sensation among the unemployed. ‘Education: Its + Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability’, gained him the respect of the + shallow-minded. As for his celebrated essay on ‘Life Insurance Regarded in + its Relation to the Masses’, read before the Working Men’s Mutual + Improvement Society, Isle of Dogs, it was received with a ‘literal + ovation’ by an unintelligent audience of both sexes, and so marked was the + effect that he was next year elected honorary president of the + institution, an office of less than no emolument—since the holder + was expected to come down with a donation—but one which highly + satisfied his self-esteem. + </p> + <p> + While Joseph was thus building himself up a reputation among the more + cultivated portion of the ignorant, his domestic life was suddenly + overwhelmed by orphans. The death of his younger brother Jacob saddled him + with the charge of two boys, Morris and John; and in the course of the + same year his family was still further swelled by the addition of a little + girl, the daughter of John Henry Hazeltine, Esq., a gentleman of small + property and fewer friends. He had met Joseph only once, at a lecture-hall + in Holloway; but from that formative experience he returned home to make a + new will, and consign his daughter and her fortune to the lecturer. Joseph + had a kindly disposition; and yet it was not without reluctance that he + accepted this new responsibility, advertised for a nurse, and purchased a + second-hand perambulator. Morris and John he made more readily welcome; + not so much because of the tie of consanguinity as because the leather + business (in which he hastened to invest their fortune of thirty thousand + pounds) had recently exhibited inexplicable symptoms of decline. A young + but capable Scot was chosen as manager to the enterprise, and the cares of + business never again afflicted Joseph Finsbury. Leaving his charges in the + hands of the capable Scot (who was married), he began his extensive + travels on the Continent and in Asia Minor. + </p> + <p> + With a polyglot Testament in one hand and a phrase-book in the other, he + groped his way among the speakers of eleven European languages. The first + of these guides is hardly applicable to the purposes of the philosophic + traveller, and even the second is designed more expressly for the tourist + than for the expert in life. But he pressed interpreters into his service—whenever + he could get their services for nothing—and by one means and another + filled many notebooks with the results of his researches. + </p> + <p> + In these wanderings he spent several years, and only returned to England + when the increasing age of his charges needed his attention. The two lads + had been placed in a good but economical school, where they had received a + sound commercial education; which was somewhat awkward, as the leather + business was by no means in a state to court enquiry. In fact, when Joseph + went over his accounts preparatory to surrendering his trust, he was + dismayed to discover that his brother’s fortune had not increased by his + stewardship; even by making over to his two wards every penny he had in + the world, there would still be a deficit of seven thousand eight hundred + pounds. When these facts were communicated to the two brothers in the + presence of a lawyer, Morris Finsbury threatened his uncle with all the + terrors of the law, and was only prevented from taking extreme steps by + the advice of the professional man. ‘You cannot get blood from a stone,’ + observed the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + And Morris saw the point and came to terms with his uncle. On the one + side, Joseph gave up all that he possessed, and assigned to his nephew his + contingent interest in the tontine, already quite a hopeful speculation. + On the other, Morris agreed to harbour his uncle and Miss Hazeltine (who + had come to grief with the rest), and to pay to each of them one pound a + month as pocket-money. The allowance was amply sufficient for the old man; + it scarce appears how Miss Hazeltine contrived to dress upon it; but she + did, and, what is more, she never complained. She was, indeed, sincerely + attached to her incompetent guardian. He had never been unkind; his age + spoke for him loudly; there was something appealing in his whole-souled + quest of knowledge and innocent delight in the smallest mark of + admiration; and, though the lawyer had warned her she was being + sacrificed, Julia had refused to add to the perplexities of Uncle Joseph. + </p> + <p> + In a large, dreary house in John Street, Bloomsbury, these four dwelt + together; a family in appearance, in reality a financial association. + Julia and Uncle Joseph were, of course, slaves; John, a gentle man with a + taste for the banjo, the music-hall, the Gaiety bar, and the sporting + papers, must have been anywhere a secondary figure; and the cares and + delights of empire devolved entirely upon Morris. That these are + inextricably intermixed is one of the commonplaces with which the bland + essayist consoles the incompetent and the obscure, but in the case of + Morris the bitter must have largely outweighed the sweet. He grudged no + trouble to himself, he spared none to others; he called the servants in + the morning, he served out the stores with his own hand, he took soundings + of the sherry, he numbered the remainder biscuits; painful scenes took + place over the weekly bills, and the cook was frequently impeached, and + the tradespeople came and hectored with him in the back parlour upon a + question of three farthings. The superficial might have deemed him a + miser; in his own eyes he was simply a man who had been defrauded; the + world owed him seven thousand eight hundred pounds, and he intended that + the world should pay. + </p> + <p> + But it was in his dealings with Joseph that Morris’s character + particularly shone. His uncle was a rather gambling stock in which he had + invested heavily; and he spared no pains in nursing the security. The old + man was seen monthly by a physician, whether he was well or ill. His diet, + his raiment, his occasional outings, now to Brighton, now to Bournemouth, + were doled out to him like pap to infants. In bad weather he must keep the + house. In good weather, by half-past nine, he must be ready in the hall; + Morris would see that he had gloves and that his shoes were sound; and the + pair would start for the leather business arm in arm. The way there was + probably dreary enough, for there was no pretence of friendly feeling; + Morris had never ceased to upbraid his guardian with his defalcation and + to lament the burthen of Miss Hazeltine; and Joseph, though he was a mild + enough soul, regarded his nephew with something very near akin to hatred. + But the way there was nothing to the journey back; for the mere sight of + the place of business, as well as every detail of its transactions, was + enough to poison life for any Finsbury. + </p> + <p> + Joseph’s name was still over the door; it was he who still signed the + cheques; but this was only policy on the part of Morris, and designed to + discourage other members of the tontine. In reality the business was + entirely his; and he found it an inheritance of sorrows. He tried to sell + it, and the offers he received were quite derisory. He tried to extend it, + and it was only the liabilities he succeeded in extending; to restrict it, + and it was only the profits he managed to restrict. Nobody had ever made + money out of that concern except the capable Scot, who retired (after his + discharge) to the neighbourhood of Banff and built a castle with his + profits. The memory of this fallacious Caledonian Morris would revile + daily, as he sat in the private office opening his mail, with old Joseph + at another table, sullenly awaiting orders, or savagely affixing + signatures to he knew not what. And when the man of the heather pushed + cynicism so far as to send him the announcement of his second marriage (to + Davida, eldest daughter of the Revd. Alexander McCraw), it was really + supposed that Morris would have had a fit. + </p> + <p> + Business hours, in the Finsbury leather trade, had been cut to the quick; + even Morris’s strong sense of duty to himself was not strong enough to + dally within those walls and under the shadow of that bankruptcy; and + presently the manager and the clerks would draw a long breath, and compose + themselves for another day of procrastination. Raw Haste, on the authority + of my Lord Tennyson, is half-sister to Delay; but the Business Habits are + certainly her uncles. Meanwhile, the leather merchant would lead his + living investment back to John Street like a puppy dog; and, having there + immured him in the hall, would depart for the day on the quest of seal + rings, the only passion of his life. Joseph had more than the vanity of + man, he had that of lecturers. He owned he was in fault, although more + sinned against (by the capable Scot) than sinning; but had he steeped his + hands in gore, he would still not deserve to be thus dragged at the + chariot-wheels of a young man, to sit a captive in the halls of his own + leather business, to be entertained with mortifying comments on his whole + career—to have his costume examined, his collar pulled up, the + presence of his mittens verified, and to be taken out and brought home in + custody, like an infant with a nurse. At the thought of it his soul would + swell with venom, and he would make haste to hang up his hat and coat and + the detested mittens, and slink upstairs to Julia and his notebooks. The + drawing-room at least was sacred from Morris; it belonged to the old man + and the young girl; it was there that she made her dresses; it was there + that he inked his spectacles over the registration of disconnected facts + and the calculation of insignificant statistics. + </p> + <p> + Here he would sometimes lament his connection with the tontine. ‘If it + were not for that,’ he cried one afternoon, ‘he would not care to keep me. + I might be a free man, Julia. And I could so easily support myself by + giving lectures.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To be sure you could,’ said she; ‘and I think it one of the meanest + things he ever did to deprive you of that amusement. There were those nice + people at the Isle of Cats (wasn’t it?) who wrote and asked you so very + kindly to give them an address. I did think he might have let you go to + the Isle of Cats.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is a man of no intelligence,’ cried Joseph. ‘He lives here literally + surrounded by the absorbing spectacle of life, and for all the good it + does him, he might just as well be in his coffin. Think of his + opportunities! The heart of any other young man would burn within him at + the chance. The amount of information that I have it in my power to + convey, if he would only listen, is a thing that beggars language, Julia.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whatever you do, my dear, you mustn’t excite yourself,’ said Julia; ‘for + you know, if you look at all ill, the doctor will be sent for.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very true,’ returned the old man humbly, ‘I will compose myself + with a little study.’ He thumbed his gallery of notebooks. ‘I wonder,’ he + said, ‘I wonder (since I see your hands are occupied) whether it might not + interest you—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, of course it would,’ cried Julia. ‘Read me one of your nice stories, + there’s a dear.’ + </p> + <p> + He had the volume down and his spectacles upon his nose instanter, as + though to forestall some possible retractation. ‘What I propose to read to + you,’ said he, skimming through the pages, ‘is the notes of a highly + important conversation with a Dutch courier of the name of David Abbas, + which is the Latin for abbot. Its results are well worth the money it cost + me, for, as Abbas at first appeared somewhat impatient, I was induced to + (what is, I believe, singularly called) stand him drink. It runs only to + about five-and-twenty pages. Yes, here it is.’ He cleared his throat, and + began to read. + </p> + <p> + Mr Finsbury (according to his own report) contributed about four hundred + and ninety-nine five-hundredths of the interview, and elicited from Abbas + literally nothing. It was dull for Julia, who did not require to listen; + for the Dutch courier, who had to answer, it must have been a perfect + nightmare. It would seem as if he had consoled himself by frequent + appliances to the bottle; it would even seem that (toward the end) he had + ceased to depend on Joseph’s frugal generosity and called for the flagon + on his own account. The effect, at least, of some mellowing influence was + visible in the record: Abbas became suddenly a willing witness; he began + to volunteer disclosures; and Julia had just looked up from her seam with + something like a smile, when Morris burst into the house, eagerly calling + for his uncle, and the next instant plunged into the room, waving in the + air the evening paper. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed with great news that he came charged. The demise was + announced of Lieutenant-General Sir Glasgow Biggar, KCSI, KCMG, etc., and + the prize of the tontine now lay between the Finsbury brothers. Here was + Morris’s opportunity at last. The brothers had never, it is true, been + cordial. When word came that Joseph was in Asia Minor, Masterman had + expressed himself with irritation. ‘I call it simply indecent,’ he had + said. ‘Mark my words—we shall hear of him next at the North Pole.’ + And these bitter expressions had been reported to the traveller on his + return. What was worse, Masterman had refused to attend the lecture on + ‘Education: Its Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability’, although + invited to the platform. Since then the brothers had not met. On the other + hand, they never had openly quarrelled; Joseph (by Morris’s orders) was + prepared to waive the advantage of his juniority; Masterman had enjoyed + all through life the reputation of a man neither greedy nor unfair. Here, + then, were all the elements of compromise assembled; and Morris, suddenly + beholding his seven thousand eight hundred pounds restored to him, and + himself dismissed from the vicissitudes of the leather trade, hastened the + next morning to the office of his cousin Michael. + </p> + <p> + Michael was something of a public character. Launched upon the law at a + very early age, and quite without protectors, he had become a trafficker + in shady affairs. He was known to be the man for a lost cause; it was + known he could extract testimony from a stone, and interest from a + gold-mine; and his office was besieged in consequence by all that numerous + class of persons who have still some reputation to lose, and find + themselves upon the point of losing it; by those who have made undesirable + acquaintances, who have mislaid a compromising correspondence, or who are + blackmailed by their own butlers. In private life Michael was a man of + pleasure; but it was thought his dire experience at the office had gone + far to sober him, and it was known that (in the matter of investments) he + preferred the solid to the brilliant. What was yet more to the purpose, he + had been all his life a consistent scoffer at the Finsbury tontine. + </p> + <p> + It was therefore with little fear for the result that Morris presented + himself before his cousin, and proceeded feverishly to set forth his + scheme. For near upon a quarter of an hour the lawyer suffered him to + dwell upon its manifest advantages uninterrupted. Then Michael rose from + his seat, and, ringing for his clerk, uttered a single clause: ‘It won’t + do, Morris.’ + </p> + <p> + It was in vain that the leather merchant pleaded and reasoned, and + returned day after day to plead and reason. It was in vain that he offered + a bonus of one thousand, of two thousand, of three thousand pounds; in + vain that he offered, in Joseph’s name, to be content with only one-third + of the pool. Still there came the same answer: ‘It won’t do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t see the bottom of this,’ he said at last. ‘You answer none of my + arguments; you haven’t a word to say. For my part, I believe it’s malice.’ + </p> + <p> + The lawyer smiled at him benignly. ‘You may believe one thing,’ said he. + ‘Whatever else I do, I am not going to gratify any of your curiosity. You + see I am a trifle more communicative today, because this is our last + interview upon the subject.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Our last interview!’ cried Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘The stirrup-cup, dear boy,’ returned Michael. ‘I can’t have my business + hours encroached upon. And, by the by, have you no business of your own? + Are there no convulsions in the leather trade?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe it to be malice,’ repeated Morris doggedly. ‘You always hated + and despised me from a boy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no—not hated,’ returned Michael soothingly. ‘I rather like you + than otherwise; there’s such a permanent surprise about you, you look so + dark and attractive from a distance. Do you know that to the naked eye you + look romantic?—like what they call a man with a history? And indeed, + from all that I can hear, the history of the leather trade is full of + incident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Morris, disregarding these remarks, ‘it’s no use coming here. + I shall see your father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O no, you won’t,’ said Michael. ‘Nobody shall see my father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like to know why,’ cried his cousin. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never make any secret of that,’ replied the lawyer. ‘He is too ill.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If he is as ill as you say,’ cried the other, ‘the more reason for + accepting my proposal. I will see him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you?’ said Michael, and he rose and rang for his clerk. + </p> + <p> + It was now time, according to Sir Faraday Bond, the medical baronet whose + name is so familiar at the foot of bulletins, that Joseph (the poor Golden + Goose) should be removed into the purer air of Bournemouth; and for that + uncharted wilderness of villas the family now shook off the dust of + Bloomsbury; Julia delighted, because at Bournemouth she sometimes made + acquaintances; John in despair, for he was a man of city tastes; Joseph + indifferent where he was, so long as there was pen and ink and daily + papers, and he could avoid martyrdom at the office; Morris himself, + perhaps, not displeased to pretermit these visits to the city, and have a + quiet time for thought. He was prepared for any sacrifice; all he desired + was to get his money again and clear his feet of leather; and it would be + strange, since he was so modest in his desires, and the pool amounted to + upward of a hundred and sixteen thousand pounds—it would be strange + indeed if he could find no way of influencing Michael. ‘If I could only + guess his reason,’ he repeated to himself; and by day, as he walked in + Branksome Woods, and by night, as he turned upon his bed, and at + meal-times, when he forgot to eat, and in the bathing machine, when he + forgot to dress himself, that problem was constantly before him: Why had + Michael refused? + </p> + <p> + At last, one night, he burst into his brother’s room and woke him. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s all this?’ asked John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Julia leaves this place tomorrow,’ replied Morris. ‘She must go up to + town and get the house ready, and find servants. We shall all follow in + three days.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, brayvo!’ cried John. ‘But why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve found it out, John,’ returned his brother gently. + </p> + <p> + ‘It? What?’ enquired John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why Michael won’t compromise,’ said Morris. ‘It’s because he can’t. It’s + because Masterman’s dead, and he’s keeping it dark.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Golly!’ cried the impressionable John. ‘But what’s the use? Why does he + do it, anyway?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To defraud us of the tontine,’ said his brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘He couldn’t; you have to have a doctor’s certificate,’ objected John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you never hear of venal doctors?’ enquired Morris. ‘They’re as common + as blackberries: you can pick ‘em up for three-pound-ten a head.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wouldn’t do it under fifty if I were a sawbones,’ ejaculated John. + </p> + <p> + ‘And then Michael,’ continued Morris, ‘is in the very thick of it. All his + clients have come to grief; his whole business is rotten eggs. If any man + could arrange it, he could; and depend upon it, he has his plan all + straight; and depend upon it, it’s a good one, for he’s clever, and be + damned to him! But I’m clever too; and I’m desperate. I lost seven + thousand eight hundred pounds when I was an orphan at school.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, don’t be tedious,’ interrupted John. ‘You’ve lost far more already + trying to get it back.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. In Which Morris takes Action + </h2> + <p> + Some days later, accordingly, the three males of this depressing family + might have been observed (by a reader of G. P. R. James) taking their + departure from the East Station of Bournemouth. The weather was raw and + changeable, and Joseph was arrayed in consequence according to the + principles of Sir Faraday Bond, a man no less strict (as is well known) on + costume than on diet. There are few polite invalids who have not lived, or + tried to live, by that punctilious physician’s orders. ‘Avoid tea, madam,’ + the reader has doubtless heard him say, ‘avoid tea, fried liver, + antimonial wine, and bakers’ bread. Retire nightly at 10.45; and clothe + yourself (if you please) throughout in hygienic flannel. Externally, the + fur of the marten is indicated. Do not forget to procure a pair of health + boots at Messrs Dail and Crumbie’s.’ And he has probably called you back, + even after you have paid your fee, to add with stentorian emphasis: ‘I had + forgotten one caution: avoid kippered sturgeon as you would the very + devil.’ The unfortunate Joseph was cut to the pattern of Sir Faraday in + every button; he was shod with the health boot; his suit was of genuine + ventilating cloth; his shirt of hygienic flannel, a somewhat dingy fabric; + and he was draped to the knees in the inevitable greatcoat of marten’s + fur. The very railway porters at Bournemouth (which was a favourite + station of the doctor’s) marked the old gentleman for a creature of Sir + Faraday. There was but one evidence of personal taste, a vizarded forage + cap; from this form of headpiece, since he had fled from a dying jackal on + the plains of Ephesus, and weathered a bora in the Adriatic, nothing could + divorce our traveller. + </p> + <p> + The three Finsburys mounted into their compartment, and fell immediately + to quarrelling, a step unseemly in itself and (in this case) highly + unfortunate for Morris. Had he lingered a moment longer by the window, + this tale need never have been written. For he might then have observed + (as the porters did not fail to do) the arrival of a second passenger in + the uniform of Sir Faraday Bond. But he had other matters on hand, which + he judged (God knows how erroneously) to be more important. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never heard of such a thing,’ he cried, resuming a discussion which had + scarcely ceased all morning. ‘The bill is not yours; it is mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is payable to me,’ returned the old gentleman, with an air of bitter + obstinacy. ‘I will do what I please with my own property.’ + </p> + <p> + The bill was one for eight hundred pounds, which had been given him at + breakfast to endorse, and which he had simply pocketed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hear him, Johnny!’ cried Morris. ‘His property! the very clothes upon his + back belong to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let him alone,’ said John. ‘I am sick of both of you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is no way to speak of your uncle, sir,’ cried Joseph. ‘I will not + endure this disrespect. You are a pair of exceedingly forward, impudent, + and ignorant young men, and I have quite made up my mind to put an end to + the whole business.’. + </p> + <p> + ‘O skittles!’ said the graceful John. + </p> + <p> + But Morris was not so easy in his mind. This unusual act of + insubordination had already troubled him; and these mutinous words now + sounded ominously in his ears. He looked at the old gentleman uneasily. + Upon one occasion, many years before, when Joseph was delivering a + lecture, the audience had revolted in a body; finding their entertainer + somewhat dry, they had taken the question of amusement into their own + hands; and the lecturer (along with the board schoolmaster, the Baptist + clergyman, and a working-man’s candidate, who made up his bodyguard) was + ultimately driven from the scene. Morris had not been present on that + fatal day; if he had, he would have recognized a certain fighting glitter + in his uncle’s eye, and a certain chewing movement of his lips, as old + acquaintances. But even to the inexpert these symptoms breathed of + something dangerous. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ said Morris. ‘I have no wish to bother you further till we + get to London.’ + </p> + <p> + Joseph did not so much as look at him in answer; with tremulous hands he + produced a copy of the British Mechanic, and ostentatiously buried himself + in its perusal. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder what can make him so cantankerous?’ reflected the nephew. ‘I + don’t like the look of it at all.’ And he dubiously scratched his nose. + </p> + <p> + The train travelled forth into the world, bearing along with it the + customary freight of obliterated voyagers, and along with these old + Joseph, affecting immersion in his paper, and John slumbering over the + columns of the Pink Un, and Morris revolving in his mind a dozen grudges, + and suspicions, and alarms. It passed Christchurch by the sea, Herne with + its pinewoods, Ringwood on its mazy river. A little behind time, but not + much for the South-Western, it drew up at the platform of a station, in + the midst of the New Forest, the real name of which (in case the railway + company ‘might have the law of me’) I shall veil under the alias of + Browndean. + </p> + <p> + Many passengers put their heads to the window, and among the rest an old + gentleman on whom I willingly dwell, for I am nearly done with him now, + and (in the whole course of the present narrative) I am not in the least + likely to meet another character so decent. His name is immaterial, not so + his habits. He had passed his life wandering in a tweed suit on the + continent of Europe; and years of Galignani’s Messenger having at length + undermined his eyesight, he suddenly remembered the rivers of Assyria and + came to London to consult an oculist. From the oculist to the dentist, and + from both to the physician, the step appears inevitable; presently he was + in the hands of Sir Faraday, robed in ventilating cloth and sent to + Bournemouth; and to that domineering baronet (who was his only friend upon + his native soil) he was now returning to report. The case of these + tweedsuited wanderers is unique. We have all seen them entering the table + d’hote (at Spezzia, or Grätz, or Venice) with a genteel melancholy and a + faint appearance of having been to India and not succeeded. In the offices + of many hundred hotels they are known by name; and yet, if the whole of + this wandering cohort were to disappear tomorrow, their absence would be + wholly unremarked. How much more, if only one—say this one in the + ventilating cloth—should vanish! He had paid his bills at + Bournemouth; his worldly effects were all in the van in two portmanteaux, + and these after the proper interval would be sold as unclaimed baggage to + a Jew; Sir Faraday’s butler would be a half-crown poorer at the year’s + end, and the hotelkeepers of Europe about the same date would be mourning + a small but quite observable decline in profits. And that would be + literally all. Perhaps the old gentleman thought something of the sort, + for he looked melancholy enough as he pulled his bare, grey head back into + the carriage, and the train smoked under the bridge, and forth, with ever + quickening speed, across the mingled heaths and woods of the New Forest. + </p> + <p> + Not many hundred yards beyond Browndean, however, a sudden jarring of + brakes set everybody’s teeth on edge, and there was a brutal stoppage. + Morris Finsbury was aware of a confused uproar of voices, and sprang to + the window. Women were screaming, men were tumbling from the windows on + the track, the guard was crying to them to stay where they were; at the + same time the train began to gather way and move very slowly backward + toward Browndean; and the next moment—, all these various sounds + were blotted out in the apocalyptic whistle and the thundering onslaught + of the down express. + </p> + <p> + The actual collision Morris did not hear. Perhaps he fainted. He had a + wild dream of having seen the carriage double up and fall to pieces like a + pantomime trick; and sure enough, when he came to himself, he was lying on + the bare earth and under the open sky. His head ached savagely; he carried + his hand to his brow, and was not surprised to see it red with blood. The + air was filled with an intolerable, throbbing roar, which he expected to + find die away with the return of consciousness; and instead of that it + seemed but to swell the louder and to pierce the more cruelly through his + ears. It was a raging, bellowing thunder, like a boiler-riveting factory. + </p> + <p> + And now curiosity began to stir, and he sat up and looked about him. The + track at this point ran in a sharp curve about a wooded hillock; all of + the near side was heaped with the wreckage of the Bournemouth train; that + of the express was mostly hidden by the trees; and just at the turn, under + clouds of vomiting steam and piled about with cairns of living coal, lay + what remained of the two engines, one upon the other. On the heathy margin + of the line were many people running to and fro, and crying aloud as they + ran, and many others lying motionless like sleeping tramps. + </p> + <p> + Morris suddenly drew an inference. ‘There has been an accident’ thought + he, and was elated at his perspicacity. Almost at the same time his eye + lighted on John, who lay close by as white as paper. ‘Poor old John! poor + old cove!’ he thought, the schoolboy expression popping forth from some + forgotten treasury, and he took his brother’s hand in his with childish + tenderness. It was perhaps the touch that recalled him; at least John + opened his eyes, sat suddenly up, and after several ineffectual movements + of his lips, ‘What’s the row?’ said he, in a phantom voice. + </p> + <p> + The din of that devil’s smithy still thundered in their ears. ‘Let us get + away from that,’ Morris cried, and pointed to the vomit of steam that + still spouted from the broken engines. And the pair helped each other up, + and stood and quaked and wavered and stared about them at the scene of + death. + </p> + <p> + Just then they were approached by a party of men who had already organized + themselves for the purposes of rescue. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you hurt?’ cried one of these, a young fellow with the sweat + streaming down his pallid face, and who, by the way he was treated, was + evidently the doctor. + </p> + <p> + Morris shook his head, and the young man, nodding grimly, handed him a + bottle of some spirit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Take a drink of that,’ he said; ‘your friend looks as if he needed it + badly. We want every man we can get,’ he added; ‘there’s terrible work + before us, and nobody should shirk. If you can do no more, you can carry a + stretcher.’ + </p> + <p> + The doctor was hardly gone before Morris, under the spur of the dram, + awoke to the full possession of his wits. + </p> + <p> + ‘My God!’ he cried. ‘Uncle Joseph!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said John, ‘where can he be? He can’t be far off. I hope the old + party isn’t damaged.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come and help me to look,’ said Morris, with a snap of savage + determination strangely foreign to his ordinary bearing; and then, for one + moment, he broke forth. ‘If he’s dead!’ he cried, and shook his fist at + heaven. + </p> + <p> + To and fro the brothers hurried, staring in the faces of the wounded, or + turning the dead upon their backs. They must have thus examined forty + people, and still there was no word of Uncle Joseph. But now the course of + their search brought them near the centre of the collision, where the + boilers were still blowing off steam with a deafening clamour. It was a + part of the field not yet gleaned by the rescuing party. The ground, + especially on the margin of the wood, was full of inequalities—here + a pit, there a hillock surmounted with a bush of furze. It was a place + where many bodies might lie concealed, and they beat it like pointers + after game. Suddenly Morris, who was leading, paused and reached forth his + index with a tragic gesture. John followed the direction of his brother’s + hand. + </p> + <p> + In the bottom of a sandy hole lay something that had once been human. The + face had suffered severely, and it was unrecognizable; but that was not + required. The snowy hair, the coat of marten, the ventilating cloth, the + hygienic flannel—everything down to the health boots from Messrs + Dail and Crumbie’s, identified the body as that of Uncle Joseph. Only the + forage cap must have been lost in the convulsion, for the dead man was + bareheaded. + </p> + <p> + ‘The poor old beggar!’ said John, with a touch of natural feeling; ‘I + would give ten pounds if we hadn’t chivvied him in the train!’ + </p> + <p> + But there was no sentiment in the face of Morris as he gazed upon the + dead. Gnawing his nails, with introverted eyes, his brow marked with the + stamp of tragic indignation and tragic intellectual effort, he stood there + silent. Here was a last injustice; he had been robbed while he was an + orphan at school, he had been lashed to a decadent leather business, he + had been saddled with Miss Hazeltine, his cousin had been defrauding him + of the tontine, and he had borne all this, we might almost say, with + dignity, and now they had gone and killed his uncle! + </p> + <p> + ‘Here!’ he said suddenly, ‘take his heels, we must get him into the woods. + I’m not going to have anybody find this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, fudge!’ said John, ‘where’s the use?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do what I tell you,’ spirted Morris, as he took the corpse by the + shoulders. ‘Am I to carry him myself?’ + </p> + <p> + They were close upon the borders of the wood; in ten or twelve paces they + were under cover; and a little further back, in a sandy clearing of the + trees, they laid their burthen down, and stood and looked at it with + loathing. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean to do?’ whispered John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bury him, to be sure,’ responded Morris, and he opened his pocket-knife + and began feverishly to dig. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll never make a hand of it with that,’ objected the other. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you won’t help me, you cowardly shirk,’ screamed Morris, ‘you can go + to the devil!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the childishest folly,’ said John; ‘but no man shall call me a + coward,’ and he began to help his brother grudgingly. + </p> + <p> + The soil was sandy and light, but matted with the roots of the surrounding + firs. Gorse tore their hands; and as they baled the sand from the grave, + it was often discoloured with their blood. An hour passed of unremitting + energy upon the part of Morris, of lukewarm help on that of John; and + still the trench was barely nine inches in depth. Into this the body was + rudely flung: sand was piled upon it, and then more sand must be dug, and + gorse had to be cut to pile on that; and still from one end of the sordid + mound a pair of feet projected and caught the light upon their + patent-leather toes. But by this time the nerves of both were shaken; even + Morris had enough of his grisly task; and they skulked off like animals + into the thickest of the neighbouring covert. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the best that we can do,’ said Morris, sitting down. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now,’ said John, ‘perhaps you’ll have the politeness to tell me what + it’s all about.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my word,’ cried Morris, ‘if you do not understand for yourself, I + almost despair of telling you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, of course it’s some rot about the tontine,’ returned the other. ‘But + it’s the merest nonsense. We’ve lost it, and there’s an end.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you,’ said Morris, ‘Uncle Masterman is dead. I know it, there’s a + voice that tells me so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, and so is Uncle Joseph,’ said John. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s not dead, unless I choose,’ returned Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘And come to that,’ cried John, ‘if you’re right, and Uncle Masterman’s + been dead ever so long, all we have to do is to tell the truth and expose + Michael.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You seem to think Michael is a fool,’ sneered Morris. ‘Can’t you + understand he’s been preparing this fraud for years? He has the whole + thing ready: the nurse, the doctor, the undertaker, all bought, the + certificate all ready but the date! Let him get wind of this business, and + you mark my words, Uncle Masterman will die in two days and be buried in a + week. But see here, Johnny; what Michael can do, I can do. If he plays a + game of bluff, so can I. If his father is to live for ever, by God, so + shall my uncle!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s illegal, ain’t it?’ said John. + </p> + <p> + ‘A man must have SOME moral courage,’ replied Morris with dignity. + </p> + <p> + ‘And then suppose you’re wrong? Suppose Uncle Masterman’s alive and + kicking?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, even then,’ responded the plotter, ‘we are no worse off than we + were before; in fact, we’re better. Uncle Masterman must die some day; as + long as Uncle Joseph was alive, he might have died any day; but we’re out + of all that trouble now: there’s no sort of limit to the game that I + propose—it can be kept up till Kingdom Come.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If I could only see how you meant to set about it’ sighed John. ‘But you + know, Morris, you always were such a bungler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’d like to know what I ever bungled,’ cried Morris; ‘I have the best + collection of signet rings in London.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you know, there’s the leather business,’ suggested the other. + ‘That’s considered rather a hash.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a mark of singular self-control in Morris that he suffered this to + pass unchallenged, and even unresented. + </p> + <p> + ‘About the business in hand,’ said he, ‘once we can get him up to + Bloomsbury, there’s no sort of trouble. We bury him in the cellar, which + seems made for it; and then all I have to do is to start out and find a + venal doctor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why can’t we leave him where he is?’ asked John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because we know nothing about the country,’ retorted Morris. ‘This wood + may be a regular lovers’ walk. Turn your mind to the real difficulty. How + are we to get him up to Bloomsbury?’ + </p> + <p> + Various schemes were mooted and rejected. The railway station at Browndean + was, of course, out of the question, for it would now be a centre of + curiosity and gossip, and (of all things) they would be least able to + dispatch a dead body without remark. John feebly proposed getting an + ale-cask and sending it as beer, but the objections to this course were so + overwhelming that Morris scorned to answer. The purchase of a packing-case + seemed equally hopeless, for why should two gentlemen without baggage of + any kind require a packing-case? They would be more likely to require + clean linen. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are working on wrong lines,’ cried Morris at last. ‘The thing must be + gone about more carefully. Suppose now,’ he added excitedly, speaking by + fits and starts, as if he were thinking aloud, ‘suppose we rent a cottage + by the month. A householder can buy a packing-case without remark. Then + suppose we clear the people out today, get the packing-case tonight, and + tomorrow I hire a carriage or a cart that we could drive ourselves—and + take the box, or whatever we get, to Ringwood or Lyndhurst or somewhere; + we could label it “specimens”, don’t you see? Johnny, I believe I’ve hit + the nail at last.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it sounds more feasible,’ admitted John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course we must take assumed names,’ continued Morris. ‘It would never + do to keep our own. What do you say to “Masterman” itself? It sounds quiet + and dignified.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will NOT take the name of Masterman,’ returned his brother; ‘you may, + if you like. I shall call myself Vance—the Great Vance; positively + the last six nights. There’s some go in a name like that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Vance?’ cried Morris. ‘Do you think we are playing a pantomime for our + amusement? There was never anybody named Vance who wasn’t a music-hall + singer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the beauty of it,’ returned John; ‘it gives you some standing at + once. You may call yourself Fortescue till all’s blue, and nobody cares; + but to be Vance gives a man a natural nobility.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But there’s lots of other theatrical names,’ cried Morris. ‘Leybourne, + Irving, Brough, Toole—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Devil a one will I take!’ returned his brother. ‘I am going to have my + little lark out of this as well as you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ said Morris, who perceived that John was determined to carry + his point, ‘I shall be Robert Vance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I shall be George Vance,’ cried John, ‘the only original George + Vance! Rally round the only original!’ + </p> + <p> + Repairing as well as they were able the disorder of their clothes, the + Finsbury brothers returned to Browndean by a circuitous route in quest of + luncheon and a suitable cottage. It is not always easy to drop at a + moment’s notice on a furnished residence in a retired locality; but + fortune presently introduced our adventurers to a deaf carpenter, a man + rich in cottages of the required description, and unaffectedly eager to + supply their wants. The second place they visited, standing, as it did, + about a mile and a half from any neighbours, caused them to exchange a + glance of hope. On a nearer view, the place was not without depressing + features. It stood in a marshy-looking hollow of a heath; tall trees + obscured its windows; the thatch visibly rotted on the rafters; and the + walls were stained with splashes of unwholesome green. The rooms were + small, the ceilings low, the furniture merely nominal; a strange chill and + a haunting smell of damp pervaded the kitchen; and the bedroom boasted + only of one bed. + </p> + <p> + Morris, with a view to cheapening the place, remarked on this defect. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ returned the man; ‘if you can’t sleep two abed, you’d better take + a villa residence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And then,’ pursued Morris, ‘there’s no water. How do you get your water?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We fill THAT from the spring,’ replied the carpenter, pointing to a big + barrel that stood beside the door. ‘The spring ain’t so VERY far off, + after all, and it’s easy brought in buckets. There’s a bucket there.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris nudged his brother as they examined the water-butt. It was new, and + very solidly constructed for its office. If anything had been wanting to + decide them, this eminently practical barrel would have turned the scale. + A bargain was promptly struck, the month’s rent was paid upon the nail, + and about an hour later the Finsbury brothers might have been observed + returning to the blighted cottage, having along with them the key, which + was the symbol of their tenancy, a spirit-lamp, with which they fondly + told themselves they would be able to cook, a pork pie of suitable + dimensions, and a quart of the worst whisky in Hampshire. Nor was this all + they had effected; already (under the plea that they were + landscape-painters) they had hired for dawn on the morrow a light but + solid two-wheeled cart; so that when they entered in their new character, + they were able to tell themselves that the back of the business was + already broken. + </p> + <p> + John proceeded to get tea; while Morris, foraging about the house, was + presently delighted by discovering the lid of the water-butt upon the + kitchen shelf. Here, then, was the packing-case complete; in the absence + of straw, the blankets (which he himself, at least, had not the smallest + intention of using for their present purpose) would exactly take the place + of packing; and Morris, as the difficulties began to vanish from his path, + rose almost to the brink of exultation. There was, however, one difficulty + not yet faced, one upon which his whole scheme depended. Would John + consent to remain alone in the cottage? He had not yet dared to put the + question. + </p> + <p> + It was with high good-humour that the pair sat down to the deal table, and + proceeded to fall-to on the pork pie. Morris retailed the discovery of the + lid, and the Great Vance was pleased to applaud by beating on the table + with his fork in true music-hall style. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the dodge,’ he cried. ‘I always said a water-butt was what you + wanted for this business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ said Morris, thinking this a favourable opportunity to + prepare his brother, ‘of course you must stay on in this place till I give + the word; I’ll give out that uncle is resting in the New Forest. It would + not do for both of us to appear in London; we could never conceal the + absence of the old man.’ + </p> + <p> + John’s jaw dropped. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, come!’ he cried. ‘You can stay in this hole yourself. I won’t.’ + </p> + <p> + The colour came into Morris’s cheeks. He saw that he must win his brother + at any cost. + </p> + <p> + ‘You must please remember, Johnny,’ he said, ‘the amount of the tontine. + If I succeed, we shall have each fifty thousand to place to our bank + account; ay, and nearer sixty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But if you fail,’ returned John, ‘what then? What’ll be the colour of our + bank account in that case?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will pay all expenses,’ said Morris, with an inward struggle; ‘you + shall lose nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said John, with a laugh, ‘if the ex-s are yours, and half-profits + mine, I don’t mind remaining here for a couple of days.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A couple of days!’ cried Morris, who was beginning to get angry and + controlled himself with difficulty; ‘why, you would do more to win five + pounds on a horse-race!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I would,’ returned the Great Vance; ‘it’s the artistic + temperament.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is monstrous!’ burst out Morris. ‘I take all risks; I pay all + expenses; I divide profits; and you won’t take the slightest pains to help + me. It’s not decent; it’s not honest; it’s not even kind.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But suppose,’ objected John, who was considerably impressed by his + brother’s vehemence, ‘suppose that Uncle Masterman is alive after all, and + lives ten years longer; must I rot here all that time?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course not,’ responded Morris, in a more conciliatory tone; ‘I only + ask a month at the outside; and if Uncle Masterman is not dead by that + time you can go abroad.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go abroad?’ repeated John eagerly. ‘Why shouldn’t I go at once? Tell ‘em + that Joseph and I are seeing life in Paris.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, but look here,’ said John; ‘it’s this house, it’s such a pig-sty, + it’s so dreary and damp. You said yourself that it was damp.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only to the carpenter,’ Morris distinguished, ‘and that was to reduce the + rent. But really, you know, now we’re in it, I’ve seen worse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what am I to do?’ complained the victim. ‘How can I entertain a + friend?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Johnny, if you don’t think the tontine worth a little trouble, + say so, and I’ll give the business up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re dead certain of the figures, I suppose?’ asked John. ‘Well’—with + a deep sigh—‘send me the Pink Un and all the comic papers regularly. + I’ll face the music.’ + </p> + <p> + As afternoon drew on, the cottage breathed more thrillingly of its native + marsh; a creeping chill inhabited its chambers; the fire smoked, and a + shower of rain, coming up from the channel on a slant of wind, tingled on + the window-panes. At intervals, when the gloom deepened toward despair, + Morris would produce the whisky-bottle, and at first John welcomed the + diversion—not for long. It has been said this spirit was the worst + in Hampshire; only those acquainted with the county can appreciate the + force of that superlative; and at length even the Great Vance (who was no + connoisseur) waved the decoction from his lips. The approach of dusk, + feebly combated with a single tallow candle, added a touch of tragedy; and + John suddenly stopped whistling through his fingers—an art to the + practice of which he had been reduced—and bitterly lamented his + concessions. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t stay here a month,’ he cried. ‘No one could. The thing’s + nonsense, Morris. The parties that lived in the Bastille would rise + against a place like this.’ + </p> + <p> + With an admirable affectation of indifference, Morris proposed a game of + pitch-and-toss. To what will not the diplomatist condescend! It was John’s + favourite game; indeed his only game—he had found all the rest too + intellectual—and he played it with equal skill and good fortune. To + Morris himself, on the other hand, the whole business was detestable; he + was a bad pitcher, he had no luck in tossing, and he was one who suffered + torments when he lost. But John was in a dangerous humour, and his brother + was prepared for any sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + By seven o’clock, Morris, with incredible agony, had lost a couple of + half-crowns. Even with the tontine before his eyes, this was as much as he + could bear; and, remarking that he would take his revenge some other time, + he proposed a bit of supper and a grog. + </p> + <p> + Before they had made an end of this refreshment it was time to be at work. + A bucket of water for present necessities was withdrawn from the + water-butt, which was then emptied and rolled before the kitchen fire to + dry; and the two brothers set forth on their adventure under a starless + heaven. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. The Lecturer at Large + </h2> + <p> + Whether mankind is really partial to happiness is an open question. Not a + month passes by but some cherished son runs off into the merchant service, + or some valued husband decamps to Texas with a lady help; clergymen have + fled from their parishioners; and even judges have been known to retire. + To an open mind, it will appear (upon the whole) less strange that Joseph + Finsbury should have been led to entertain ideas of escape. His lot (I + think we may say) was not a happy one. My friend, Mr Morris, with whom I + travel up twice or thrice a week from Snaresbrook Park, is certainly a + gentleman whom I esteem; but he was scarce a model nephew. As for John, he + is of course an excellent fellow; but if he was the only link that bound + one to a home, I think the most of us would vote for foreign travel. In + the case of Joseph, John (if he were a link at all) was not the only one; + endearing bonds had long enchained the old gentleman to Bloomsbury; and by + these expressions I do not in the least refer to Julia Hazeltine (of whom, + however, he was fond enough), but to that collection of manuscript + notebooks in which his life lay buried. That he should ever have made up + his mind to separate himself from these collections, and go forth upon the + world with no other resources than his memory supplied, is a circumstance + highly pathetic in itself, and but little creditable to the wisdom of his + nephews. + </p> + <p> + The design, or at least the temptation, was already some months old; and + when a bill for eight hundred pounds, payable to himself, was suddenly + placed in Joseph’s hand, it brought matters to an issue. He retained that + bill, which, to one of his frugality, meant wealth; and he promised + himself to disappear among the crowds at Waterloo, or (if that should + prove impossible) to slink out of the house in the course of the evening + and melt like a dream into the millions of London. By a peculiar + interposition of Providence and railway mismanagement he had not so long + to wait. + </p> + <p> + He was one of the first to come to himself and scramble to his feet after + the Browndean catastrophe, and he had no sooner remarked his prostrate + nephews than he understood his opportunity and fled. A man of upwards of + seventy, who has just met with a railway accident, and who is cumbered + besides with the full uniform of Sir Faraday Bond, is not very likely to + flee far, but the wood was close at hand and offered the fugitive at least + a temporary covert. Hither, then, the old gentleman skipped with + extraordinary expedition, and, being somewhat winded and a good deal + shaken, here he lay down in a convenient grove and was presently + overwhelmed by slumber. The way of fate is often highly entertaining to + the looker-on, and it is certainly a pleasant circumstance, that while + Morris and John were delving in the sand to conceal the body of a total + stranger, their uncle lay in dreamless sleep a few hundred yards deeper in + the wood. + </p> + <p> + He was awakened by the jolly note of a bugle from the neighbouring high + road, where a char-a-banc was bowling by with some belated tourists. The + sound cheered his old heart, it directed his steps into the bargain, and + soon he was on the highway, looking east and west from under his vizor, + and doubtfully revolving what he ought to do. A deliberate sound of wheels + arose in the distance, and then a cart was seen approaching, well filled + with parcels, driven by a good-natured looking man on a double bench, and + displaying on a board the legend, ‘I Chandler, carrier’. In the infamously + prosaic mind of Mr Finsbury, certain streaks of poetry survived and were + still efficient; they had carried him to Asia Minor as a giddy youth of + forty, and now, in the first hours of his recovered freedom, they + suggested to him the idea of continuing his flight in Mr Chandler’s cart. + It would be cheap; properly broached, it might even cost nothing, and, + after years of mittens and hygienic flannel, his heart leaped out to meet + the notion of exposure. + </p> + <p> + Mr Chandler was perhaps a little puzzled to find so old a gentleman, so + strangely clothed, and begging for a lift on so retired a roadside. But he + was a good-natured man, glad to do a service, and so he took the stranger + up; and he had his own idea of civility, and so he asked no questions. + Silence, in fact, was quite good enough for Mr Chandler; but the cart had + scarcely begun to move forward ere he found himself involved in a + one-sided conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can see,’ began Mr Finsbury, ‘by the mixture of parcels and boxes that + are contained in your cart, each marked with its individual label, and by + the good Flemish mare you drive, that you occupy the post of carrier in + that great English system of transport which, with all its defects, is the + pride of our country.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir,’ returned Mr Chandler vaguely, for he hardly knew what to + reply; ‘them parcels posts has done us carriers a world of harm.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not a prejudiced man,’ continued Joseph Finsbury. ‘As a young man I + travelled much. Nothing was too small or too obscure for me to acquire. At + sea I studied seamanship, learned the complicated knots employed by + mariners, and acquired the technical terms. At Naples, I would learn the + art of making macaroni; at Nice, the principles of making candied fruit. I + never went to the opera without first buying the book of the piece, and + making myself acquainted with the principal airs by picking them out on + the piano with one finger.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You must have seen a deal, sir,’ remarked the carrier, touching up his + horse; ‘I wish I could have had your advantages.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know how often the word whip occurs in the Old Testament?’ + continued the old gentleman. ‘One hundred and (if I remember exactly) + forty-seven times.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do it indeed, sir?’ said Mr Chandler. ‘I never should have thought it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Bible contains three million five hundred and one thousand two + hundred and forty-nine letters. Of verses I believe there are upward of + eighteen thousand. There have been many editions of the Bible; Wycliff was + the first to introduce it into England about the year 1300. The “Paragraph + Bible”, as it is called, is a well-known edition, and is so called because + it is divided into paragraphs. The “Breeches Bible” is another well-known + instance, and gets its name either because it was printed by one Breeches, + or because the place of publication bore that name.’ + </p> + <p> + The carrier remarked drily that he thought that was only natural, and + turned his attention to the more congenial task of passing a cart of hay; + it was a matter of some difficulty, for the road was narrow, and there was + a ditch on either hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘I perceive,’ began Mr Finsbury, when they had successfully passed the + cart, ‘that you hold your reins with one hand; you should employ two.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I like that!’ cried the carrier contemptuously. ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You do not understand,’ continued Mr Finsbury. ‘What I tell you is a + scientific fact, and reposes on the theory of the lever, a branch of + mechanics. There are some very interesting little shilling books upon the + field of study, which I should think a man in your station would take a + pleasure to read. But I am afraid you have not cultivated the art of + observation; at least we have now driven together for some time, and I + cannot remember that you have contributed a single fact. This is a very + false principle, my good man. For instance, I do not know if you observed + that (as you passed the hay-cart man) you took your left?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I did,’ cried the carrier, who was now getting belligerent; + ‘he’d have the law on me if I hadn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In France, now,’ resumed the old man, ‘and also, I believe, in the + </p> + <p> + United States of America, you would have taken the right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would not,’ cried Mr Chandler indignantly. ‘I would have taken the + left.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I observe again,’ continued Mr Finsbury, scorning to reply, ‘that you + mend the dilapidated parts of your harness with string. I have always + protested against this carelessness and slovenliness of the English poor. + In an essay that I once read before an appreciative audience—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It ain’t string,’ said the carrier sullenly, ‘it’s pack-thread.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have always protested,’ resumed the old man, ‘that in their private and + domestic life, as well as in their labouring career, the lower classes of + this country are improvident, thriftless, and extravagant. A stitch in + time—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who the devil ARE the lower classes?’ cried the carrier. ‘You are the + lower classes yourself! If I thought you were a blooming aristocrat, I + shouldn’t have given you a lift.’ + </p> + <p> + The words were uttered with undisguised ill-feeling; it was plain the pair + were not congenial, and further conversation, even to one of Mr Finsbury’s + pathetic loquacity, was out of the question. With an angry gesture, he + pulled down the brim of the forage-cap over his eyes, and, producing a + notebook and a blue pencil from one of his innermost pockets, soon became + absorbed in calculations. + </p> + <p> + On his part the carrier fell to whistling with fresh zest; and if (now and + again) he glanced at the companion of his drive, it was with mingled + feelings of triumph and alarm—triumph because he had succeeded in + arresting that prodigy of speech, and alarm lest (by any accident) it + should begin again. Even the shower, which presently overtook and passed + them, was endured by both in silence; and it was still in silence that + they drove at length into Southampton. + </p> + <p> + Dusk had fallen; the shop windows glimmered forth into the streets of the + old seaport; in private houses lights were kindled for the evening meal; + and Mr Finsbury began to think complacently of his night’s lodging. He put + his papers by, cleared his throat, and looked doubtfully at Mr Chandler. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you be civil enough,’ said he, ‘to recommend me to an inn?’ Mr + Chandler pondered for a moment. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘I wonder how about the “Tregonwell Arms”.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The “Tregonwell Arms” will do very well,’ returned the old man, ‘if it’s + clean and cheap, and the people civil.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wasn’t thinking so much of you,’ returned Mr Chandler thoughtfully. ‘I + was thinking of my friend Watts as keeps the ‘ouse; he’s a friend of mine, + you see, and he helped me through my trouble last year. And I was + thinking, would it be fair-like on Watts to saddle him with an old party + like you, who might be the death of him with general information. Would it + be fair to the ‘ouse?’ enquired Mr Chandler, with an air of candid appeal. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mark me,’ cried the old gentleman with spirit. ‘It was kind in you to + bring me here for nothing, but it gives you no right to address me in such + terms. Here’s a shilling for your trouble; and, if you do not choose to + set me down at the “Tregonwell Arms”, I can find it for myself.’ + </p> + <p> + Chandler was surprised and a little startled; muttering something + apologetic, he returned the shilling, drove in silence through several + intricate lanes and small streets, drew up at length before the bright + windows of an inn, and called loudly for Mr Watts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that you, Jem?’ cried a hearty voice from the stableyard. ‘Come in and + warm yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I only stopped here,’ Mr Chandler explained, ‘to let down an old gent + that wants food and lodging. Mind, I warn you agin him; he’s worse nor a + temperance lecturer.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Finsbury dismounted with difficulty, for he was cramped with his long + drive, and the shaking he had received in the accident. The friendly Mr + Watts, in spite of the carter’s scarcely agreeable introduction, treated + the old gentleman with the utmost courtesy, and led him into the back + parlour, where there was a big fire burning in the grate. Presently a + table was spread in the same room, and he was invited to seat himself + before a stewed fowl—somewhat the worse for having seen service + before—and a big pewter mug of ale from the tap. + </p> + <p> + He rose from supper a giant refreshed; and, changing his seat to one + nearer the fire, began to examine the other guests with an eye to the + delights of oratory. There were near a dozen present, all men, and (as + Joseph exulted to perceive) all working men. Often already had he seen + cause to bless that appetite for disconnected fact and rotatory argument + which is so marked a character of the mechanic. But even an audience of + working men has to be courted, and there was no man more deeply versed in + the necessary arts than Joseph Finsbury. He placed his glasses on his + nose, drew from his pocket a bundle of papers, and spread them before him + on a table. He crumpled them, he smoothed them out; now he skimmed them + over, apparently well pleased with their contents; now, with tapping + pencil and contracted brows, he seemed maturely to consider some + particular statement. A stealthy glance about the room assured him of the + success of his manoeuvres; all eyes were turned on the performer, mouths + were open, pipes hung suspended; the birds were charmed. At the same + moment the entrance of Mr Watts afforded him an opportunity. + </p> + <p> + ‘I observe,’ said he, addressing the landlord, but taking at the same time + the whole room into his confidence with an encouraging look, ‘I observe + that some of these gentlemen are looking with curiosity in my direction; + and certainly it is unusual to see anyone immersed in literary and + scientific labours in the public apartment of an inn. I have here some + calculations I made this morning upon the cost of living in this and other + countries—a subject, I need scarcely say, highly interesting to the + working classes. I have calculated a scale of living for incomes of + eighty, one hundred and sixty, two hundred, and two hundred and forty + pounds a year. I must confess that the income of eighty pounds has + somewhat baffled me, and the others are not so exact as I could wish; for + the price of washing varies largely in foreign countries, and the + different cokes, coals and firewoods fluctuate surprisingly. I will read + my researches, and I hope you won’t scruple to point out to me any little + errors that I may have committed either from oversight or ignorance. I + will begin, gentlemen, with the income of eighty pounds a year.’ + </p> + <p> + Whereupon the old gentleman, with less compassion than he would have had + for brute beasts, delivered himself of all his tedious calculations. As he + occasionally gave nine versions of a single income, placing the imaginary + person in London, Paris, Bagdad, Spitzbergen, Bassorah, Heligoland, the + Scilly Islands, Brighton, Cincinnati, and Nijni-Novgorod, with an + appropriate outfit for each locality, it is no wonder that his hearers + look back on that evening as the most tiresome they ever spent. + </p> + <p> + Long before Mr Finsbury had reached Nijni-Novgorod with the income of one + hundred and sixty pounds, the company had dwindled and faded away to a few + old topers and the bored but affable Watts. There was a constant stream of + customers from the outer world, but so soon as they were served they drank + their liquor quickly and departed with the utmost celerity for the next + public-house. + </p> + <p> + By the time the young man with two hundred a year was vegetating in the + Scilly Islands, Mr Watts was left alone with the economist; and that + imaginary person had scarce commenced life at Brighton before the last of + his pursuers desisted from the chase. + </p> + <p> + Mr Finsbury slept soundly after the manifold fatigues of the day. He rose + late, and, after a good breakfast, ordered the bill. Then it was that he + made a discovery which has been made by many others, both before and + since: that it is one thing to order your bill, and another to discharge + it. The items were moderate and (what does not always follow) the total + small; but, after the most sedulous review of all his pockets, one and + nine pence halfpenny appeared to be the total of the old gentleman’s + available assets. He asked to see Mr Watts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here is a bill on London for eight hundred pounds,’ said Mr Finsbury, as + that worthy appeared. ‘I am afraid, unless you choose to discount it + yourself, it may detain me a day or two till I can get it cashed.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Watts looked at the bill, turned it over, and dogs-eared it with his + fingers. ‘It will keep you a day or two?’ he said, repeating the old man’s + words. ‘You have no other money with you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Some trifling change,’ responded Joseph. ‘Nothing to speak of.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you can send it me; I should be pleased to trust you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To tell the truth,’ answered the old gentleman, ‘I am more than half + inclined to stay; I am in need of funds.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If a loan of ten shillings would help you, it is at your service,’ + responded Watts, with eagerness. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I think I would rather stay,’ said the old man, ‘and get my bill + discounted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You shall not stay in my house,’ cried Mr Watts. ‘This is the last time + you shall have a bed at the “Tregonwell Arms”.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I insist upon remaining,’ replied Mr Finsbury, with spirit; ‘I remain by + Act of Parliament; turn me out if you dare.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then pay your bill,’ said Mr Watts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Take that,’ cried the old man, tossing him the negotiable bill. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not legal tender,’ replied Mr Watts. ‘You must leave my house at + once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You cannot appreciate the contempt I feel for you, Mr Watts,’ said the + old gentleman, resigning himself to circumstances. ‘But you shall feel it + in one way: I refuse to pay my bill.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care for your bill,’ responded Mr Watts. ‘What I want is your + absence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That you shall have!’ said the old gentleman, and, taking up his forage + cap as he spoke, he crammed it on his head. ‘Perhaps you are too + insolent,’ he added, ‘to inform me of the time of the next London train?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It leaves in three-quarters of an hour,’ returned the innkeeper with + alacrity. ‘You can easily catch it.’ + </p> + <p> + Joseph’s position was one of considerable weakness. On the one hand, it + would have been well to avoid the direct line of railway, since it was + there he might expect his nephews to lie in wait for his recapture; on the + other, it was highly desirable, it was even strictly needful, to get the + bill discounted ere it should be stopped. To London, therefore, he decided + to proceed on the first train; and there remained but one point to be + considered, how to pay his fare. + </p> + <p> + Joseph’s nails were never clean; he ate almost entirely with his knife. I + doubt if you could say he had the manners of a gentleman; but he had + better than that, a touch of genuine dignity. Was it from his stay in Asia + Minor? Was it from a strain in the Finsbury blood sometimes alluded to by + customers? At least, when he presented himself before the station-master, + his salaam was truly Oriental, palm-trees appeared to crowd about the + little office, and the simoom or the bulbul—but I leave this image + to persons better acquainted with the East. His appearance, besides, was + highly in his favour; the uniform of Sir Faraday, however inconvenient and + conspicuous, was, at least, a costume in which no swindler could have + hoped to prosper; and the exhibition of a valuable watch and a bill for + eight hundred pounds completed what deportment had begun. A quarter of an + hour later, when the train came up, Mr Finsbury was introduced to the + guard and installed in a first-class compartment, the station-master + smilingly assuming all responsibility. + </p> + <p> + As the old gentleman sat waiting the moment of departure, he was the + witness of an incident strangely connected with the fortunes of his house. + A packing-case of cyclopean bulk was borne along the platform by some + dozen of tottering porters, and ultimately, to the delight of a + considerable crowd, hoisted on board the van. It is often the cheering + task of the historian to direct attention to the designs and (if it may be + reverently said) the artifices of Providence. In the luggage van, as + Joseph was borne out of the station of Southampton East upon his way to + London, the egg of his romance lay (so to speak) unhatched. The huge + packing-case was directed to lie at Waterloo till called for, and + addressed to one ‘William Dent Pitman’; and the very next article, a + goodly barrel jammed into the corner of the van, bore the superscription, + ‘M. Finsbury, 16 John Street, Bloomsbury. Carriage paid.’ + </p> + <p> + In this juxtaposition, the train of powder was prepared; and there was now + wanting only an idle hand to fire it off. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. The Magistrate in the Luggage Van + </h2> + <p> + The city of Winchester is famed for a cathedral, a bishop—but he was + unfortunately killed some years ago while riding—a public school, a + considerable assortment of the military, and the deliberate passage of the + trains of the London and South-Western line. These and many similar + associations would have doubtless crowded on the mind of Joseph Finsbury; + but his spirit had at that time flitted from the railway compartment to a + heaven of populous lecture-halls and endless oratory. His body, in the + meanwhile, lay doubled on the cushions, the forage-cap rakishly tilted + back after the fashion of those that lie in wait for nursery-maids, the + poor old face quiescent, one arm clutching to his heart Lloyd’s Weekly + Newspaper. + </p> + <p> + To him, thus unconscious, enter and exeunt again a pair of voyagers. These + two had saved the train and no more. A tandem urged to its last speed, an + act of something closely bordering on brigandage at the ticket office, and + a spasm of running, had brought them on the platform just as the engine + uttered its departing snort. There was but one carriage easily within + their reach; and they had sprung into it, and the leader and elder already + had his feet upon the floor, when he observed Mr Finsbury. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good God!’ he cried. ‘Uncle Joseph! This’ll never do.’ + </p> + <p> + And he backed out, almost upsetting his companion, and once more closed + the door upon the sleeping patriarch. + </p> + <p> + The next moment the pair had jumped into the baggage van. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the row about your Uncle Joseph?’ enquired the younger traveller, + mopping his brow. ‘Does he object to smoking?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know that there’s anything the row with him,’ returned the other. + ‘He’s by no means the first comer, my Uncle Joseph, I can tell you! Very + respectable old gentleman; interested in leather; been to Asia Minor; no + family, no assets—and a tongue, my dear Wickham, sharper than a + serpent’s tooth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cantankerous old party, eh?’ suggested Wickham. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least,’ cried the other; ‘only a man with a solid talent for + being a bore; rather cheery I dare say, on a desert island, but on a + railway journey insupportable. You should hear him on Tonti, the ass that + started tontines. He’s incredible on Tonti.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove!’ cried Wickham, ‘then you’re one of these Finsbury tontine + fellows. I hadn’t a guess of that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said the other, ‘do you know that old boy in the carriage is worth a + hundred thousand pounds to me? There he was asleep, and nobody there but + you! But I spared him, because I’m a Conservative in politics.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Wickham, pleased to be in a luggage van, was flitting to and fro like a + gentlemanly butterfly. + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jingo!’ he cried, ‘here’s something for you! “M. Finsbury, 16 John + Street, Bloomsbury, London.” M. stands for Michael, you sly dog; you keep + two establishments, do you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, that’s Morris,’ responded Michael from the other end of the van, where + he had found a comfortable seat upon some sacks. ‘He’s a little cousin of + mine. I like him myself, because he’s afraid of me. He’s one of the + ornaments of Bloomsbury, and has a collection of some kind—birds’ + eggs or something that’s supposed to be curious. I bet it’s nothing to my + clients!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a lark it would be to play billy with the labels!’ chuckled Mr + Wickham. ‘By George, here’s a tack-hammer! We might send all these things + skipping about the premises like what’s-his-name!’ + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the guard, surprised by the sound of voices, opened the + door of his little cabin. + </p> + <p> + ‘You had best step in here, gentlemen,’ said he, when he had heard their + story. + </p> + <p> + ‘Won’t you come, Wickham?’ asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Catch me—I want to travel in a van,’ replied the youth. + </p> + <p> + And so the door of communication was closed; and for the rest of the run + Mr Wickham was left alone over his diversions on the one side, and on the + other Michael and the guard were closeted together in familiar talk. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can get you a compartment here, sir,’ observed the official, as the + train began to slacken speed before Bishopstoke station. ‘You had best get + out at my door, and I can bring your friend.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Wickham, whom we left (as the reader has shrewdly suspected) beginning + to ‘play billy’ with the labels in the van, was a young gentleman of much + wealth, a pleasing but sandy exterior, and a highly vacant mind. Not many + months before, he had contrived to get himself blackmailed by the family + of a Wallachian Hospodar, resident for political reasons in the gay city + of Paris. A common friend (to whom he had confided his distress) + recommended him to Michael; and the lawyer was no sooner in possession of + the facts than he instantly assumed the offensive, fell on the flank of + the Wallachian forces, and, in the inside of three days, had the + satisfaction to behold them routed and fleeing for the Danube. It is no + business of ours to follow them on this retreat, over which the police + were so obliging as to preside paternally. Thus relieved from what he + loved to refer to as the Bulgarian Atrocity, Mr Wickham returned to London + with the most unbounded and embarrassing gratitude and admiration for his + saviour. These sentiments were not repaid either in kind or degree; + indeed, Michael was a trifle ashamed of his new client’s friendship; it + had taken many invitations to get him to Winchester and Wickham Manor; but + he had gone at last, and was now returning. It has been remarked by some + judicious thinker (possibly J. F. Smith) that Providence despises to + employ no instrument, however humble; and it is now plain to the dullest + that both Mr Wickham and the Wallachian Hospodar were liquid lead and + wedges in the hand of Destiny. + </p> + <p> + Smitten with the desire to shine in Michael’s eyes and show himself a + person of original humour and resources, the young gentleman (who was a + magistrate, more by token, in his native county) was no sooner alone in + the van than he fell upon the labels with all the zeal of a reformer; and, + when he rejoined the lawyer at Bishopstoke, his face was flushed with his + exertions, and his cigar, which he had suffered to go out was almost + bitten in two. + </p> + <p> + ‘By George, but this has been a lark!’ he cried. ‘I’ve sent the wrong + thing to everybody in England. These cousins of yours have a packing-case + as big as a house. I’ve muddled the whole business up to that extent, + Finsbury, that if it were to get out it’s my belief we should get + lynched.’ + </p> + <p> + It was useless to be serious with Mr Wickham. ‘Take care,’ said Michael. + ‘I am getting tired of your perpetual scrapes; my reputation is beginning + to suffer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your reputation will be all gone before you finish with me,’ replied his + companion with a grin. ‘Clap it in the bill, my boy. “For total loss of + reputation, six and eightpence.” But,’ continued Mr Wickham with more + seriousness, ‘could I be bowled out of the Commission for this little + jest? I know it’s small, but I like to be a JP. Speaking as a professional + man, do you think there’s any risk?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What does it matter?’ responded Michael, ‘they’ll chuck you out sooner or + later. Somehow you don’t give the effect of being a good magistrate.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I only wish I was a solicitor,’ retorted his companion, ‘instead of a + poor devil of a country gentleman. Suppose we start one of those tontine + affairs ourselves; I to pay five hundred a year, and you to guarantee me + against every misfortune except illness or marriage.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It strikes me,’ remarked the lawyer with a meditative laugh, as he + lighted a cigar, ‘it strikes me that you must be a cursed nuisance in this + world of ours.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you really think so, Finsbury?’ responded the magistrate, leaning back + in his cushions, delighted with the compliment. ‘Yes, I suppose I am a + nuisance. But, mind you, I have a stake in the country: don’t forget that, + dear boy.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. Mr Gideon Forsyth and the Gigantic Box + </h2> + <p> + It has been mentioned that at Bournemouth Julia sometimes made + acquaintances; it is true she had but a glimpse of them before the doors + of John Street closed again upon its captives, but the glimpse was + sometimes exhilarating, and the consequent regret was tempered with hope. + Among those whom she had thus met a year before was a young barrister of + the name of Gideon Forsyth. + </p> + <p> + About three o’clock of the eventful day when the magistrate tampered with + the labels, a somewhat moody and distempered ramble had carried Mr Forsyth + to the corner of John Street; and about the same moment Miss Hazeltine was + called to the door of No. 16 by a thundering double knock. + </p> + <p> + Mr Gideon Forsyth was a happy enough young man; he would have been happier + if he had had more money and less uncle. One hundred and twenty pounds a + year was all his store; but his uncle, Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield, + supplemented this with a handsome allowance and a great deal of advice, + couched in language that would probably have been judged intemperate on + board a pirate ship. Mr Bloomfield was indeed a figure quite peculiar to + the days of Mr Gladstone; what we may call (for the lack of an accepted + expression) a Squirradical. Having acquired years without experience, he + carried into the Radical side of politics those noisy, after-dinner-table + passions, which we are more accustomed to connect with Toryism in its + severe and senile aspects. To the opinions of Mr Bradlaugh, in fact, he + added the temper and the sympathies of that extinct animal, the Squire; he + admired pugilism, he carried a formidable oaken staff, he was a reverent + churchman, and it was hard to know which would have more volcanically + stirred his choler—a person who should have defended the established + church, or one who should have neglected to attend its celebrations. He + had besides some levelling catchwords, justly dreaded in the family + circle; and when he could not go so far as to declare a step un-English, + he might still (and with hardly less effect) denounce it as unpractical. + It was under the ban of this lesser excommunication that Gideon had + fallen. His views on the study of law had been pronounced unpractical; and + it had been intimated to him, in a vociferous interview punctuated with + the oaken staff, that he must either take a new start and get a brief or + two, or prepare to live on his own money. + </p> + <p> + No wonder if Gideon was moody. He had not the slightest wish to modify his + present habits; but he would not stand on that, since the recall of Mr + Bloomfield’s allowance would revolutionize them still more radically. He + had not the least desire to acquaint himself with law; he had looked into + it already, and it seemed not to repay attention; but upon this also he + was ready to give way. In fact, he would go as far as he could to meet the + views of his uncle, the Squirradical. But there was one part of the + programme that appeared independent of his will. How to get a brief? there + was the question. And there was another and a worse. Suppose he got one, + should he prove the better man? + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd. A garishly illuminated van + was backed against the kerb; from its open stern, half resting on the + street, half supported by some glistening athletes, the end of the largest + packing-case in the county of Middlesex might have been seen protruding; + while, on the steps of the house, the burly person of the driver and the + slim figure of a young girl stood as upon a stage, disputing. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not for us,’ the girl was saying. ‘I beg you to take it away; it + couldn’t get into the house, even if you managed to get it out of the + van.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M. Finsbury can arrange with + the Vestry as he likes,’ said the vanman. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am not M. Finsbury,’ expostulated the girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘It doesn’t matter who you are,’ said the vanman. + </p> + <p> + ‘You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,’ said Gideon, putting out + his hand. + </p> + <p> + Julia gave a little cry of pleasure. ‘O, Mr Forsyth,’ she cried, ‘I am so + glad to see you; we must get this horrid thing, which can only have come + here by mistake, into the house. The man says we’ll have to take off the + door, or knock two of our windows into one, or be fined by the Vestry or + Custom House or something for leaving our parcels on the pavement.’ + </p> + <p> + The men by this time had successfully removed the box from the van, had + plumped it down on the pavement, and now stood leaning against it, or + gazing at the door of No. 16, in visible physical distress and mental + embarrassment. The windows of the whole street had filled, as if by magic, + with interested and entertained spectators. + </p> + <p> + With as thoughtful and scientific an expression as he could assume, Gideon + measured the doorway with his cane, while Julia entered his observations + in a drawing-book. He then measured the box, and, upon comparing his data, + found that there was just enough space for it to enter. Next, throwing off + his coat and waistcoat, he assisted the men to take the door from its + hinges. And lastly, all bystanders being pressed into the service, the + packing-case mounted the steps upon some fifteen pairs of wavering legs—scraped, + loudly grinding, through the doorway—and was deposited at length, + with a formidable convulsion, in the far end of the lobby, which it almost + blocked. The artisans of this victory smiled upon each other as the dust + subsided. It was true they had smashed a bust of Apollo and ploughed the + wall into deep ruts; but, at least, they were no longer one of the public + spectacles of London. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ said the vanman, ‘I never see such a job.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon eloquently expressed his concurrence in this sentiment by pressing + a couple of sovereigns in the man’s hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Make it three, sir, and I’ll stand Sam to everybody here!’ cried the + latter, and, this having been done, the whole body of volunteer porters + swarmed into the van, which drove off in the direction of the nearest + reliable public-house. Gideon closed the door on their departure, and + turned to Julia; their eyes met; the most uncontrollable mirth seized upon + them both, and they made the house ring with their laughter. Then + curiosity awoke in Julia’s mind, and she went and examined the box, and + more especially the label. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is the strangest thing that ever happened,’ she said, with another + burst of laughter. ‘It is certainly Morris’s handwriting, and I had a + letter from him only this morning, telling me to expect a barrel. Is there + a barrel coming too, do you think, Mr Forsyth?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Statuary with Care, Fragile,’” read Gideon aloud from the painted + warning on the box. ‘Then you were told nothing about this?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ responded Julia. ‘O, Mr Forsyth, don’t you think we might take a + peep at it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, indeed,’ cried Gideon. ‘Just let me have a hammer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come down, and I’ll show you where it is,’ cried Julia. ‘The shelf is too + high for me to reach’; and, opening the door of the kitchen stair, she + bade Gideon follow her. They found both the hammer and a chisel; but + Gideon was surprised to see no sign of a servant. He also discovered that + Miss Hazeltine had a very pretty little foot and ankle; and the discovery + embarrassed him so much that he was glad to fall at once upon the + packing-case. + </p> + <p> + He worked hard and earnestly, and dealt his blows with the precision of a + blacksmith; Julia the while standing silently by his side, and regarding + rather the workman than the work. He was a handsome fellow; she told + herself she had never seen such beautiful arms. And suddenly, as though he + had overheard these thoughts, Gideon turned and smiled to her. She, too, + smiled and coloured; and the double change became her so prettily that + Gideon forgot to turn away his eyes, and, swinging the hammer with a will, + discharged a smashing blow on his own knuckles. With admirable presence of + mind he crushed down an oath and substituted the harmless comment, ‘Butter + fingers!’ But the pain was sharp, his nerve was shaken, and after an + abortive trial he found he must desist from further operations. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Julia was off to the pantry; in a moment she was back again + with a basin of water and a sponge, and had begun to bathe his wounded + hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am dreadfully sorry!’ said Gideon apologetically. ‘If I had had any + manners I should have opened the box first and smashed my hand afterward. + It feels much better,’ he added. ‘I assure you it does.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And now I think you are well enough to direct operations,’ said she. + ‘Tell me what to do, and I’ll be your workman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A very pretty workman,’ said Gideon, rather forgetting himself. She + turned and looked at him, with a suspicion of a frown; and the indiscreet + young man was glad to direct her attention to the packing-case. The bulk + of the work had been accomplished; and presently Julia had burst through + the last barrier and disclosed a zone of straw. in a moment they were + kneeling side by side, engaged like haymakers; the next they were rewarded + with a glimpse of something white and polished; and the next again laid + bare an unmistakable marble leg. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is surely a very athletic person,’ said Julia. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never saw anything like it,’ responded Gideon. ‘His muscles stand out + like penny rolls.’ + </p> + <p> + Another leg was soon disclosed, and then what seemed to be a third. This + resolved itself, however, into a knotted club resting upon a pedestal. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a Hercules,’ cried Gideon; ‘I might have guessed that from his + calf. I’m supposed to be rather partial to statuary, but when it comes to + Hercules, the police should interfere. I should say,’ he added, glancing + with disaffection at the swollen leg, ‘that this was about the biggest and + the worst in Europe. What in heaven’s name can have induced him to come + here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose nobody else would have a gift of him,’ said Julia. ‘And for + that matter, I think we could have done without the monster very well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, don’t say that,’ returned Gideon. ‘This has been one of the most + amusing experiences of my life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think you’ll forget it very soon,’ said Julia. ‘Your hand will + remind you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I suppose I must be going,’ said Gideon reluctantly. ‘No,’ pleaded + Julia. ‘Why should you? Stay and have tea with me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If I thought you really wished me to stay,’ said Gideon, looking at his + hat, ‘of course I should only be too delighted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a silly person you must take me for!’ returned the girl. ‘Why, of + course I do; and, besides, I want some cakes for tea, and I’ve nobody to + send. Here is the latchkey.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon put on his hat with alacrity, and casting one look at Miss + Hazeltine, and another at the legs of Hercules, threw open the door and + departed on his errand. + </p> + <p> + He returned with a large bag of the choicest and most tempting of cakes + and tartlets, and found Julia in the act of spreading a small tea-table in + the lobby. + </p> + <p> + ‘The rooms are all in such a state,’ she cried, ‘that I thought we should + be more cosy and comfortable in our own lobby, and under our own vine and + statuary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ever so much better,’ cried Gideon delightedly. + </p> + <p> + ‘O what adorable cream tarts!’ said Julia, opening the bag, ‘and the + dearest little cherry tartlets, with all the cherries spilled out into the + cream!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Gideon, concealing his dismay, ‘I knew they would mix + beautifully; the woman behind the counter told me so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Julia, as they began their little festival, ‘I am going to + show you Morris’s letter; read it aloud, please; perhaps there’s something + I have missed.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon took the letter, and spreading it out on his knee, read as follows: + </p> + <p> + DEAR JULIA, I write you from Browndean, where we are stopping over for a + few days. Uncle was much shaken in that dreadful accident, of which, I + dare say, you have seen the account. Tomorrow I leave him here with John, + and come up alone; but before that, you will have received a barrel + CONTAINING SPECIMENS FOR A FRIEND. Do not open it on any account, but + leave it in the lobby till I come. + </p> + <p> + Yours in haste, + </p> + <p> + M. FINSBURY. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Be sure and leave the barrel in the lobby. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Gideon, ‘there seems to be nothing about the monument,’ and he + nodded, as he spoke, at the marble legs. ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he continued, + ‘would you mind me asking a few questions?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly not,’ replied Julia; ‘and if you can make me understand why + Morris has sent a statue of Hercules instead of a barrel containing + specimens for a friend, I shall be grateful till my dying day. And what + are specimens for a friend?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t a guess,’ said Gideon. ‘Specimens are usually bits of stone, + but rather smaller than our friend the monument. Still, that is not the + point. Are you quite alone in this big house?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I am at present,’ returned Julia. ‘I came up before them to prepare + the house, and get another servant. But I couldn’t get one I liked.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you are utterly alone,’ said Gideon in amazement. ‘Are you not + afraid?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ responded Julia stoutly. ‘I don’t see why I should be more afraid + than you would be; I am weaker, of course, but when I found I must sleep + alone in the house I bought a revolver wonderfully cheap, and made the man + show me how to use it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And how do you use it?’ demanded Gideon, much amused at her courage. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ said she, with a smile, ‘you pull the little trigger thing on top, + and then pointing it very low, for it springs up as you fire, you pull the + underneath little trigger thing, and it goes off as well as if a man had + done it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And how often have you used it?’ asked Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I have not used it yet,’ said the determined young lady; ‘but I know + how, and that makes me wonderfully courageous, especially when I barricade + my door with a chest of drawers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m awfully glad they are coming back soon,’ said Gideon. ‘This business + strikes me as excessively unsafe; if it goes on much longer, I could + provide you with a maiden aunt of mine, or my landlady if you preferred.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lend me an aunt!’ cried Julia. ‘O, what generosity! I begin to think it + must have been you that sent the Hercules.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Believe me,’ cried the young man, ‘I admire you too much to send you such + an infamous work of art..’ + </p> + <p> + Julia was beginning to reply, when they were both startled by a knocking + at the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, Mr Forsyth!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be afraid, my dear girl,’ said Gideon, laying his hand tenderly on + her arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it’s the police,’ she whispered. ‘They are coming to complain + about the statue.’ + </p> + <p> + The knock was repeated. It was louder than before, and more impatient. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s Morris,’ cried Julia, in a startled voice, and she ran to the door + and opened it. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed Morris that stood before them; not the Morris of ordinary + days, but a wild-looking fellow, pale and haggard, with bloodshot eyes, + and a two-days’ beard upon his chin. + </p> + <p> + ‘The barrel!’ he cried. ‘Where’s the barrel that came this morning?’ And + he stared about the lobby, his eyes, as they fell upon the legs of + Hercules, literally goggling in his head. ‘What is that?’ he screamed. + ‘What is that waxwork? Speak, you fool! What is that? And where’s the + barrel—the water-butt?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No barrel came, Morris,’ responded Julia coldly. ‘This is the only thing + that has arrived.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This!’ shrieked the miserable man. ‘I never heard of it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It came addressed in your hand,’ replied Julia; ‘we had nearly to pull + the house down to get it in, that is all that I can tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris gazed at her in utter bewilderment. He passed his hand over his + forehead; he leaned against the wall like a man about to faint. Then his + tongue was loosed, and he overwhelmed the girl with torrents of abuse. + Such fire, such directness, such a choice of ungentlemanly language, none + had ever before suspected Morris to possess; and the girl trembled and + shrank before his fury. + </p> + <p> + ‘You shall not speak to Miss Hazeltine in that way,’ said Gideon sternly. + ‘It is what I will not suffer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall speak to the girl as I like,’ returned Morris, with a fresh + outburst of anger. ‘I’ll speak to the hussy as she deserves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a word more, sir, not one word,’ cried Gideon. ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he + continued, addressing the young girl, ‘you cannot stay a moment longer in + the same house with this unmanly fellow. Here is my arm; let me take you + where you will be secure from insult.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Forsyth,’ returned Julia, ‘you are right; I cannot stay here longer, + and I am sure I trust myself to an honourable gentleman.’ + </p> + <p> + Pale and resolute, Gideon offered her his arm, and the pair descended the + steps, followed by Morris clamouring for the latchkey. + </p> + <p> + Julia had scarcely handed the key to Morris before an empty hansom drove + smartly into John Street. It was hailed by both men, and as the cabman + drew up his restive horse, Morris made a dash into the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sixpence above fare,’ he cried recklessly. ‘Waterloo Station for your + life. Sixpence for yourself!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Make it a shilling, guv’ner,’ said the man, with a grin; ‘the other + parties were first.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A shilling then,’ cried Morris, with the inward reflection that he would + reconsider it at Waterloo. The man whipped up his horse, and the hansom + vanished from John Street. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the First + </h2> + <p> + As the hansom span through the streets of London, Morris sought to rally + the forces of his mind. The water-butt with the dead body had miscarried, + and it was essential to recover it. So much was clear; and if, by some + blest good fortune, it was still at the station, all might be well. If it + had been sent out, however, if it were already in the hands of some wrong + person, matters looked more ominous. People who receive unexplained + packages are usually keen to have them open; the example of Miss Hazeltine + (whom he cursed again) was there to remind him of the circumstance; and if + anyone had opened the water-butt—‘O Lord!’ cried Morris at the + thought, and carried his hand to his damp forehead. The private conception + of any breach of law is apt to be inspiriting, for the scheme (while yet + inchoate) wears dashing and attractive colours. Not so in the least that + part of the criminal’s later reflections which deal with the police. That + useful corps (as Morris now began to think) had scarce been kept + sufficiently in view when he embarked upon his enterprise. ‘I must play + devilish close,’ he reflected, and he was aware of an exquisite thrill of + fear in the region of the spine. + </p> + <p> + ‘Main line or loop?’ enquired the cabman, through the scuttle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Main line,’ replied Morris, and mentally decided that the man should have + his shilling after all. ‘It would be madness to attract attention,’ + thought he. ‘But what this thing will cost me, first and last, begins to + be a nightmare!’ + </p> + <p> + He passed through the booking-office and wandered disconsolately on the + platform. It was a breathing-space in the day’s traffic. There were few + people there, and these for the most part quiescent on the benches. Morris + seemed to attract no remark, which was a good thing; but, on the other + hand, he was making no progress in his quest. Something must be done, + something must be risked. Every passing instant only added to his dangers. + Summoning all his courage, he stopped a porter, and asked him if he + remembered receiving a barrel by the morning train. He was anxious to get + information, for the barrel belonged to a friend. ‘It is a matter of some + moment,’ he added, ‘for it contains specimens.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was not here this morning, sir,’ responded the porter, somewhat + reluctantly, ‘but I’ll ask Bill. Do you recollect, Bill, to have got a + barrel from Bournemouth this morning containing specimens?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know about specimens,’ replied Bill; ‘but the party as received + the barrel I mean raised a sight of trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s that?’ cried Morris, in the agitation of the moment pressing a + penny into the man’s hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see, sir, the barrel arrived at one-thirty. No one claimed it till + about three, when a small, sickly—looking gentleman (probably a + curate) came up, and sez he, “Have you got anything for Pitman?” or + “Wili’m Bent Pitman,” if I recollect right. “I don’t exactly know,” sez I, + “but I rather fancy that there barrel bears that name.” The little man + went up to the barrel, and seemed regularly all took aback when he saw the + address, and then he pitched into us for not having brought what he + wanted. “I don’t care a damn what you want,” sez I to him, “but if you are + Will’m Bent Pitman, there’s your barrel.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, and did he take it?’ cried the breathless Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ returned Bill, ‘it appears it was a packing-case he was + after. The packing-case came; that’s sure enough, because it was about the + biggest packing-case ever I clapped eyes on. And this Pitman he seemed a + good deal cut up, and he had the superintendent out, and they got hold of + the vanman—him as took the packing-case. Well, sir,’ continued Bill, + with a smile, ‘I never see a man in such a state. Everybody about that van + was mortal, bar the horses. Some gen’leman (as well as I could make out) + had given the vanman a sov.; and so that was where the trouble come in, + you see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what did he say?’ gasped Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know as he SAID much, sir,’ said Bill. ‘But he offered to fight + this Pitman for a pot of beer. He had lost his book, too, and the + receipts, and his men were all as mortal as himself. O, they were all + like’—and Bill paused for a simile—‘like lords! The + superintendent sacked them on the spot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, come, but that’s not so bad,’ said Morris, with a bursting sigh. ‘He + couldn’t tell where he took the packing-case, then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not he,’ said Bill, ‘nor yet nothink else.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what—what did Pitman do?’ asked Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, he went off with the barrel in a four-wheeler, very trembling like,’ + replied Bill. ‘I don’t believe he’s a gentleman as has good health.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, so the barrel’s gone,’ said Morris, half to himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘You may depend on that, sir,’ returned the porter. ‘But you had better + see the superintendent.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least; it’s of no account,’ said Morris. ‘It only contained + specimens.’ And he walked hastily away. + </p> + <p> + Ensconced once more in a hansom, he proceeded to reconsider his position. + Suppose (he thought), suppose he should accept defeat and declare his + uncle’s death at once? He should lose the tontine, and with that the last + hope of his seven thousand eight hundred pounds. But on the other hand, + since the shilling to the hansom cabman, he had begun to see that crime + was expensive in its course, and, since the loss of the water-butt, that + it was uncertain in its consequences. Quietly at first, and then with + growing heat, he reviewed the advantages of backing out. It involved a + loss; but (come to think of it) no such great loss after all; only that of + the tontine, which had been always a toss-up, which at bottom he had never + really expected. He reminded himself of that eagerly; he congratulated + himself upon his constant moderation. He had never really expected the + tontine; he had never even very definitely hoped to recover his seven + thousand eight hundred pounds; he had been hurried into the whole thing by + Michael’s obvious dishonesty. Yes, it would probably be better to draw + back from this high-flying venture, settle back on the leather business— + </p> + <p> + ‘Great God!’ cried Morris, bounding in the hansom like a Jack-in-a-box. ‘I + have not only not gained the tontine—I have lost the leather + business!’ + </p> + <p> + Such was the monstrous fact. He had no power to sign; he could not draw a + cheque for thirty shillings. Until he could produce legal evidence of his + uncle’s death, he was a penniless outcast—and as soon as he produced + it he had lost the tontine! There was no hesitation on the part of Morris; + to drop the tontine like a hot chestnut, to concentrate all his forces on + the leather business and the rest of his small but legitimate inheritance, + was the decision of a single instant. And the next, the full extent of his + calamity was suddenly disclosed to him. Declare his uncle’s death? He + couldn’t! Since the body was lost Joseph had (in a legal sense) become + immortal. + </p> + <p> + There was no created vehicle big enough to contain Morris and his woes. He + paid the hansom off and walked on he knew not whither. + </p> + <p> + ‘I seem to have gone into this business with too much precipitation,’ he + reflected, with a deadly sigh. ‘I fear it seems too ramified for a person + of my powers of mind.’ + </p> + <p> + And then a remark of his uncle’s flashed into his memory: If you want to + think clearly, put it all down on paper. ‘Well, the old boy knew a thing + or two,’ said Morris. ‘I will try; but I don’t believe the paper was ever + made that will clear my mind.’ + </p> + <p> + He entered a place of public entertainment, ordered bread and cheese, and + writing materials, and sat down before them heavily. He tried the pen. It + was an excellent pen, but what was he to write? ‘I have it,’ cried Morris. + ‘Robinson Crusoe and the double columns!’ He prepared his paper after that + classic model, and began as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bad. —— Good. + + 1. I have lost my uncle’s body. + + 1. But then Pitman has found it. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Stop a bit,’ said Morris. ‘I am letting the spirit of antithesis run away + with me. Let’s start again.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bad. —— Good. + + 1. I have lost my uncle’s body. + + 1. But then I no longer require to bury it. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 2. I have lost the tontine. + + 2.But I may still save that if Pitman disposes of the body, and + if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle’s + succession. + + 3. But not if Pitman gives the body up to the police. +</pre> + <p> + ‘O, but in that case I go to gaol; I had forgot that,’ thought Morris. + ‘Indeed, I don’t know that I had better dwell on that hypothesis at all; + it’s all very well to talk of facing the worst; but in a case of this kind + a man’s first duty is to his own nerve. Is there any answer to No. 3? Is + there any possible good side to such a beastly bungle? There must be, of + course, or where would be the use of this double-entry business? And—by + George, I have it!’ he exclaimed; ‘it’s exactly the same as the last!’ And + he hastily re-wrote the passage: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bad. —— Good. + + 3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle’s + succession. + + 3. But not if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. +</pre> + <p> + ‘This venal doctor seems quite a desideratum,’ he reflected. ‘I want him + first to give me a certificate that my uncle is dead, so that I may get + the leather business; and then that he’s alive—but here we are again + at the incompatible interests!’ And he returned to his tabulation: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bad. —— Good. + + 4. I have almost no money. + + 4. But there is plenty in the bank. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 5. Yes, but I can’t get the money in the bank. + + 5. But—well, that seems unhappily to be the case. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 6. I have left the bill for eight hundred pounds in Uncle + Joseph’s pocket. + + 6. But if Pitman is only a dishonest man, the presence of this + bill may lead him to keep the whole thing dark and throw the body + into the New Cut. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 7. Yes, but if Pitman is dishonest and finds the bill, he will + know who Joseph is, and he may blackmail me. + + 7. Yes, but if I am right about Uncle Masterman, I can blackmail + Michael. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 8. But I can’t blackmail Michael (which is, besides, a very + dangerous thing to do) until I find out. + + 8. Worse luck! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 9. The leather business will soon want money for current + expenses, and I have none to give. + + 9. But the leather business is a sinking ship. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 10. Yes, but it’s all the ship I have. + + 10. A fact. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 11. John will soon want money, and I have none to give. + + 11. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 12. And the venal doctor will want money down. + + 12. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 13. And if Pitman is dishonest and don’t send me to gaol, he will + want a fortune. + + 13. +</pre> + <p> + ‘O, this seems to be a very one-sided business,’ exclaimed Morris. + ‘There’s not so much in this method as I was led to think.’ He crumpled + the paper up and threw it down; and then, the next moment, picked it up + again and ran it over. ‘It seems it’s on the financial point that my + position is weakest,’ he reflected. ‘Is there positively no way of raising + the wind? In a vast city like this, and surrounded by all the resources of + civilization, it seems not to be conceived! Let us have no more + precipitation. Is there nothing I can sell? My collection of signet—’ + But at the thought of scattering these loved treasures the blood leaped + into Morris’s check. ‘I would rather die!’ he exclaimed, and, cramming his + hat upon his head, strode forth into the streets. + </p> + <p> + ‘I MUST raise funds,’ he thought. ‘My uncle being dead, the money in the + bank is mine, or would be mine but for the cursed injustice that has + pursued me ever since I was an orphan in a commercial academy. I know what + any other man would do; any other man in Christendom would forge; although + I don’t know why I call it forging, either, when Joseph’s dead, and the + funds are my own. When I think of that, when I think that my uncle is + really as dead as mutton, and that I can’t prove it, my gorge rises at the + injustice of the whole affair. I used to feel bitterly about that seven + thousand eight hundred pounds; it seems a trifle now! Dear me, why, the + day before yesterday I was comparatively happy.’ + </p> + <p> + And Morris stood on the sidewalk and heaved another sobbing sigh. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then there’s another thing,’ he resumed; ‘can I? Am I able? Why didn’t I + practise different handwritings while I was young? How a fellow regrets + those lost opportunities when he grows up! But there’s one comfort: it’s + not morally wrong; I can try it on with a clear conscience, and even if I + was found out, I wouldn’t greatly care—morally, I mean. And then, if + I succeed, and if Pitman is staunch, there’s nothing to do but find a + venal doctor; and that ought to be simple enough in a place like London. + By all accounts the town’s alive with them. It wouldn’t do, of course, to + advertise for a corrupt physician; that would be impolitic. No, I suppose + a fellow has simply to spot along the streets for a red lamp and herbs in + the window, and then you go in and—and—and put it to him + plainly; though it seems a delicate step.’ + </p> + <p> + He was near home now, after many devious wanderings, and turned up John + Street. As he thrust his latchkey in the lock, another mortifying + reflection struck him to the heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not even this house is mine till I can prove him dead,’ he snarled, and + slammed the door behind him so that the windows in the attic rattled. + </p> + <p> + Night had long fallen; long ago the lamps and the shop-fronts had begun to + glitter down the endless streets; the lobby was pitch—dark; and, as + the devil would have it, Morris barked his shins and sprawled all his + length over the pedestal of Hercules. The pain was sharp; his temper was + already thoroughly undermined; by a last misfortune his hand closed on the + hammer as he fell; and, in a spasm of childish irritation, he turned and + struck at the offending statue. There was a splintering crash. + </p> + <p> + ‘O Lord, what have I done next?’ wailed Morris; and he groped his way to + find a candle. ‘Yes,’ he reflected, as he stood with the light in his hand + and looked upon the mutilated leg, from which about a pound of muscle was + detached. ‘Yes, I have destroyed a genuine antique; I may be in for + thousands!’ And then there sprung up in his bosom a sort of angry hope. + ‘Let me see,’ he thought. ‘Julia’s got rid of—, there’s nothing to + connect me with that beast Forsyth; the men were all drunk, and (what’s + better) they’ve been all discharged. O, come, I think this is another case + of moral courage! I’ll deny all knowledge of the thing.’ + </p> + <p> + A moment more, and he stood again before the Hercules, his lips sternly + compressed, the coal-axe and the meat-cleaver under his arm. The next, he + had fallen upon the packing-case. This had been already seriously + undermined by the operations of Gideon; a few well-directed blows, and it + already quaked and gaped; yet a few more, and it fell about Morris in a + shower of boards followed by an avalanche of straw. + </p> + <p> + And now the leather-merchant could behold the nature of his task: and at + the first sight his spirit quailed. It was, indeed, no more ambitious a + task for De Lesseps, with all his men and horses, to attack the hills of + Panama, than for a single, slim young gentleman, with no previous + experience of labour in a quarry, to measure himself against that bloated + monster on his pedestal. And yet the pair were well encountered: on the + one side, bulk—on the other, genuine heroic fire. + </p> + <p> + ‘Down you shall come, you great big, ugly brute!’ cried Morris aloud, with + something of that passion which swept the Parisian mob against the walls + of the Bastille. ‘Down you shall come, this night. I’ll have none of you + in my lobby.’ + </p> + <p> + The face, from its indecent expression, had particularly animated the zeal + of our iconoclast; and it was against the face that he began his + operations. The great height of the demigod—for he stood a fathom + and half in his stocking-feet—offered a preliminary obstacle to this + attack. But here, in the first skirmish of the battle, intellect already + began to triumph over matter. By means of a pair of library steps, the + injured householder gained a posture of advantage; and, with great swipes + of the coal-axe, proceeded to decapitate the brute. + </p> + <p> + Two hours later, what had been the erect image of a gigantic coal-porter + turned miraculously white, was now no more than a medley of disjected + members; the quadragenarian torso prone against the pedestal; the + lascivious countenance leering down the kitchen stair; the legs, the arms, + the hands, and even the fingers, scattered broadcast on the lobby floor. + Half an hour more, and all the debris had been laboriously carted to the + kitchen; and Morris, with a gentle sentiment of triumph, looked round upon + the scene of his achievements. Yes, he could deny all knowledge of it now: + the lobby, beyond the fact that it was partly ruinous, betrayed no trace + of the passage of Hercules. But it was a weary Morris that crept up to + bed; his arms and shoulders ached, the palms of his hands burned from the + rough kisses of the coal-axe, and there was one smarting finger that stole + continually to his mouth. Sleep long delayed to visit the dilapidated + hero, and with the first peep of day it had again deserted him. + </p> + <p> + The morning, as though to accord with his disastrous fortunes, dawned + inclemently. An easterly gale was shouting in the streets; flaws of rain + angrily assailed the windows; and as Morris dressed, the draught from the + fireplace vividly played about his legs. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he could not help observing bitterly, ‘that with all I have to + bear, they might have given me decent weather.’ + </p> + <p> + There was no bread in the house, for Miss Hazeltine (like all women left + to themselves) had subsisted entirely upon cake. But some of this was + found, and (along with what the poets call a glass of fair, cold water) + made up a semblance of a morning meal, and then down he sat undauntedly to + his delicate task. + </p> + <p> + Nothing can be more interesting than the study of signatures, written (as + they are) before meals and after, during indigestion and intoxication; + written when the signer is trembling for the life of his child or has come + from winning the Derby, in his lawyer’s office, or under the bright eyes + of his sweetheart. To the vulgar, these seem never the same; but to the + expert, the bank clerk, or the lithographer, they are constant quantities, + and as recognizable as the North Star to the night-watch on deck. + </p> + <p> + To all this Morris was alive. In the theory of that graceful art in which + he was now embarking, our spirited leather-merchant was beyond all + reproach. But, happily for the investor, forgery is an affair of practice. + And as Morris sat surrounded by examples of his uncle’s signature and of + his own incompetence, insidious depression stole upon his spirits. From + time to time the wind wuthered in the chimney at his back; from time to + time there swept over Bloomsbury a squall so dark that he must rise and + light the gas; about him was the chill and the mean disorder of a house + out of commission—the floor bare, the sofa heaped with books and + accounts enveloped in a dirty table-cloth, the pens rusted, the paper + glazed with a thick film of dust; and yet these were but adminicles of + misery, and the true root of his depression lay round him on the table in + the shape of misbegotten forgeries. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s one of the strangest things I ever heard of,’ he complained. ‘It + almost seems as if it was a talent that I didn’t possess.’ He went once + more minutely through his proofs. ‘A clerk would simply gibe at them,’ + said he. ‘Well, there’s nothing else but tracing possible.’ + </p> + <p> + He waited till a squall had passed and there came a blink of scowling + daylight. Then he went to the window, and in the face of all John Street + traced his uncle’s signature. It was a poor thing at the best. ‘But it + must do,’ said he, as he stood gazing woefully on his handiwork. ‘He’s + dead, anyway.’ And he filled up the cheque for a couple of hundred and + sallied forth for the Anglo-Patagonian Bank. + </p> + <p> + There, at the desk at which he was accustomed to transact business, and + with as much indifference as he could assume, Morris presented the forged + cheque to the big, red-bearded Scots teller. The teller seemed to view it + with surprise; and as he turned it this way and that, and even scrutinized + the signature with a magnifying-glass, his surprise appeared to warm into + disfavour. Begging to be excused for a moment, he passed away into the + rearmost quarters of the bank; whence, after an appreciable interval, he + returned again in earnest talk with a superior, an oldish and a baldish, + but a very gentlemanly man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Morris Finsbury, I believe,’ said the gentlemanly man, fixing Morris + with a pair of double eye-glasses. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is my name,’ said Morris, quavering. ‘Is there anything wrong. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, the fact is, Mr Finsbury, you see we are rather surprised at + receiving this,’ said the other, flicking at the cheque. ‘There are no + effects.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No effects?’ cried Morris. ‘Why, I know myself there must be + eight-and-twenty hundred pounds, if there’s a penny.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Two seven six four, I think,’ replied the gentlemanly man; ‘but it was + drawn yesterday.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Drawn!’ cried Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘By your uncle himself, sir,’ continued the other. ‘Not only that, but we + discounted a bill for him for—let me see—how much was it for, + Mr Bell?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eight hundred, Mr Judkin,’ replied the teller. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bent Pitman!’ cried Morris, staggering back. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Mr Judkin. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s—it’s only an expletive,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope there’s nothing wrong, Mr Finsbury,’ said Mr Bell. + </p> + <p> + ‘All I can tell you,’ said Morris, with a harsh laugh,’ is that the whole + thing’s impossible. My uncle is at Bournemouth, unable to move.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really!’ cried Mr Bell, and he recovered the cheque from Mr Judkin. ‘But + this cheque is dated in London, and today,’ he observed. ‘How d’ye account + for that, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, that was a mistake,’ said Morris, and a deep tide of colour dyed his + face and neck. + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt, no doubt,’ said Mr Judkin, but he looked at his customer + enquiringly. + </p> + <p> + ‘And—and—’ resumed Morris, ‘even if there were no effects—this + is a very trifling sum to overdraw—our firm—the name of + Finsbury, is surely good enough for such a wretched sum as this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Mr Judkin; ‘and if you insist I will + take it into consideration; but I hardly think—in short, Mr + Finsbury, if there had been nothing else, the signature seems hardly all + that we could wish.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s of no consequence,’ replied Morris nervously. ‘I’ll get my uncle + to sign another. The fact is,’ he went on, with a bold stroke, ‘my uncle + is so far from well at present that he was unable to sign this cheque + without assistance, and I fear that my holding the pen for him may have + made the difference in the signature.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Judkin shot a keen glance into Morris’s face; and then turned and + looked at Mr Bell. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it seems as if we had been victimized by a swindler. + Pray tell Mr Finsbury we shall put detectives on at once. As for this + cheque of yours, I regret that, owing to the way it was signed, the bank + can hardly consider it—what shall I say?—businesslike,’ and he + returned the cheque across the counter. + </p> + <p> + Morris took it up mechanically; he was thinking of something very + different. + </p> + <p> + ‘In a—case of this kind,’ he began, ‘I believe the loss falls on us; + I mean upon my uncle and myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It does not, sir,’ replied Mr Bell; ‘the bank is responsible, and the + bank will either recover the money or refund it, you may depend on that.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris’s face fell; then it was visited by another gleam of hope. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said, ‘you leave this entirely in my hands. I’ll + sift the matter. I’ve an idea, at any rate; and detectives,’ he added + appealingly, ‘are so expensive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The bank would not hear of it,’ returned Mr Judkin. ‘The bank stands to + lose between three and four thousand pounds; it will spend as much more if + necessary. An undiscovered forger is a permanent danger. We shall clear it + up to the bottom, Mr Finsbury; set your mind at rest on that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I’ll stand the loss,’ said Morris boldly. ‘I order you to abandon + the search.’ He was determined that no enquiry should be made. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ returned Mr Judkin, ‘but we have nothing to do with + you in this matter, which is one between your uncle and ourselves. If he + should take this opinion, and will either come here himself or let me see + him in his sick-room—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite impossible,’ cried Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, you see,’ said Mr Judkin, ‘how my hands are tied. The whole + affair must go at once into the hands of the police.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris mechanically folded the cheque and restored it to his pocket—book. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good—morning,’ said he, and scrambled somehow out of the bank. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know what they suspect,’ he reflected; ‘I can’t make them out, + their whole behaviour is thoroughly unbusinesslike. But it doesn’t matter; + all’s up with everything. The money has been paid; the police are on the + scent; in two hours that idiot Pitman will be nabbed—and the whole + story of the dead body in the evening papers.’ + </p> + <p> + If he could have heard what passed in the bank after his departure he + would have been less alarmed, perhaps more mortified. + </p> + <p> + ‘That was a curious affair, Mr Bell,’ said Mr Judkin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir,’ said Mr Bell, ‘but I think we have given him a fright.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, we shall hear no more of Mr Morris Finsbury,’ returned the other; ‘it + was a first attempt, and the house have dealt with us so long that I was + anxious to deal gently. But I suppose, Mr Bell, there can be no mistake + about yesterday? It was old Mr Finsbury himself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There could be no possible doubt of that,’ said Mr Bell with a chuckle. + ‘He explained to me the principles of banking.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ said Mr Judkin. ‘The next time he calls ask him to step into + my room. It is only proper he should be warned.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. In Which William Dent Pitman takes Legal Advice + </h2> + <p> + Norfolk Street, King’s Road—jocularly known among Mr Pitman’s + lodgers as ‘Norfolk Island’—is neither a long, a handsome, nor a + pleasing thoroughfare. Dirty, undersized maids-of-all-work issue from it + in pursuit of beer, or linger on its sidewalk listening to the voice of + love. The cat’s-meat man passes twice a day. An occasional organ-grinder + wanders in and wanders out again, disgusted. In holiday-time the street is + the arena of the young bloods of the neighbourhood, and the householders + have an opportunity of studying the manly art of self-defence. And yet + Norfolk Street has one claim to be respectable, for it contains not a + single shop—unless you count the public-house at the corner, which + is really in the King’s Road. + </p> + <p> + The door of No. 7 bore a brass plate inscribed with the legend ‘W. D. + Pitman, Artist’. It was not a particularly clean brass plate, nor was No. + 7 itself a particularly inviting place of residence. And yet it had a + character of its own, such as may well quicken the pulse of the reader’s + curiosity. For here was the home of an artist—and a distinguished + artist too, highly distinguished by his ill-success—which had never + been made the subject of an article in the illustrated magazines. No + wood-engraver had ever reproduced ‘a corner in the back drawing-room’ or + ‘the studio mantelpiece’ of No. 7; no young lady author had ever commented + on ‘the unaffected simplicity’ with which Mr Pitman received her in the + midst of his ‘treasures’. It is an omission I would gladly supply, but our + business is only with the backward parts and ‘abject rear’ of this + aesthetic dwelling. + </p> + <p> + Here was a garden, boasting a dwarf fountain (that never played) in the + centre, a few grimy-looking flowers in pots, two or three newly planted + trees which the spring of Chelsea visited without noticeable consequence, + and two or three statues after the antique, representing satyrs and nymphs + in the worst possible style of sculptured art. On one side the garden was + overshadowed by a pair of crazy studios, usually hired out to the more + obscure and youthful practitioners of British art. Opposite these another + lofty out-building, somewhat more carefully finished, and boasting of a + communication with the house and a private door on the back lane, + enshrined the multifarious industry of Mr Pitman. All day, it is true, he + was engaged in the work of education at a seminary for young ladies; but + the evenings at least were his own, and these he would prolong far into + the night, now dashing off ‘A landscape with waterfall’ in oil, now a + volunteer bust (‘in marble’, as he would gently but proudly observe) of + some public character, now stooping his chisel to a mere ‘nymph’ for a + gasbracket on a stair, sir’, or a life-size ‘Infant Samuel’ for a + religious nursery. Mr Pitman had studied in Paris, and he had studied in + Rome, supplied with funds by a fond parent who went subsequently bankrupt + in consequence of a fall in corsets; and though he was never thought to + have the smallest modicum of talent, it was at one time supposed that he + had learned his business. Eighteen years of what is called ‘tuition’ had + relieved him of the dangerous knowledge. His artist lodgers would + sometimes reason with him; they would point out to him how impossible it + was to paint by gaslight, or to sculpture life-sized nymphs without a + model. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know that,’ he would reply. ‘No one in Norfolk Street knows it better; + and if I were rich I should certainly employ the best models in London; + but, being poor, I have taught myself to do without them. An occasional + model would only disturb my ideal conception of the figure, and be a + positive impediment in my career. As for painting by an artificial light,’ + he would continue, ‘that is simply a knack I have found it necessary to + acquire, my days being engrossed in the work of tuition.’ + </p> + <p> + At the moment when we must present him to our readers, Pitman was in his + studio alone, by the dying light of the October day. He sat (sure enough + with ‘unaffected simplicity’) in a Windsor chair, his low-crowned black + felt hat by his side; a dark, weak, harmless, pathetic little man, clad in + the hue of mourning, his coat longer than is usual with the laity, his + neck enclosed in a collar without a parting, his neckcloth pale in hue and + simply tied; the whole outward man, except for a pointed beard, + tentatively clerical. There was a thinning on the top of Pitman’s head, + there were silver hairs at Pitman’s temple. Poor gentleman, he was no + longer young; and years, and poverty, and humble ambition thwarted, make a + cheerless lot. + </p> + <p> + In front of him, in the corner by the door, there stood a portly barrel; + and let him turn them where he might, it was always to the barrel that his + eyes and his thoughts returned. + </p> + <p> + ‘Should I open it? Should I return it? Should I communicate with Mr + Sernitopolis at once?’ he wondered. ‘No,’ he concluded finally, ‘nothing + without Mr Finsbury’s advice.’ And he arose and produced a shabby leathern + desk. It opened without the formality of unlocking, and displayed the + thick cream-coloured notepaper on which Mr Pitman was in the habit of + communicating with the proprietors of schools and the parents of his + pupils. He placed the desk on the table by the window, and taking a saucer + of Indian ink from the chimney-piece, laboriously composed the following + letter: + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Mr Finsbury,’ it ran, ‘would it be presuming on your kindness if + I asked you to pay me a visit here this evening? It is in no trifling + matter that I invoke your valuable assistance, for need I say more than it + concerns the welfare of Mr Semitopolis’s statue of Hercules? I write you + in great agitation of mind; for I have made all enquiries, and greatly + fear that this work of ancient art has been mislaid. I labour besides + under another perplexity, not unconnected with the first. Pray excuse the + inelegance of this scrawl, and believe me yours in haste, William D. + Pitman.’ + </p> + <p> + Armed with this he set forth and rang the bell of No. 233 King’s Road, the + private residence of Michael Finsbury. He had met the lawyer at a time of + great public excitement in Chelsea; Michael, who had a sense of humour and + a great deal of careless kindness in his nature, followed the acquaintance + up, and, having come to laugh, remained to drop into a contemptuous kind + of friendship. By this time, which was four years after the first meeting, + Pitman was the lawyer’s dog. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the elderly housekeeper, who opened the door in person, ‘Mr + Michael’s not in yet. But ye’re looking terribly poorly, Mr Pitman. Take a + glass of sherry, sir, to cheer ye up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I thank you, ma’am,’ replied the artist. ‘It is very good in you, but + I scarcely feel in sufficient spirits for sherry. Just give Mr Finsbury + this note, and ask him to look round—to the door in the lane, you + will please tell him; I shall be in the studio all evening.’ + </p> + <p> + And he turned again into the street and walked slowly homeward. A + hairdresser’s window caught his attention, and he stared long and + earnestly at the proud, high—born, waxen lady in evening dress, who + circulated in the centre of the show. The artist woke in him, in spite of + his troubles. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is all very well to run down the men who make these things,’ he cried, + ‘but there’s a something—there’s a haughty, indefinable something + about that figure. It’s what I tried for in my “Empress Eugenie”,’ he + added, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + And he went home reflecting on the quality. ‘They don’t teach you that + direct appeal in Paris,’ he thought. ‘It’s British. Come, I am going to + sleep, I must wake up, I must aim higher—aim higher,’ cried the + little artist to himself. All through his tea and afterward, as he was + giving his eldest boy a lesson on the fiddle, his mind dwelt no longer on + his troubles, but he was rapt into the better land; and no sooner was he + at liberty than he hastened with positive exhilaration to his studio. + </p> + <p> + Not even the sight of the barrel could entirely cast him down. He flung + himself with rising zest into his work—a bust of Mr Gladstone from a + photograph; turned (with extraordinary success) the difficulty of the back + of the head, for which he had no documents beyond a hazy recollection of a + public meeting; delighted himself by his treatment of the collar; and was + only recalled to the cares of life by Michael Finsbury’s rattle at the + door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what’s wrong?’ said Michael, advancing to the grate, where, knowing + his friend’s delight in a bright fire, Mr Pitman had not spared the fuel. + ‘I suppose you have come to grief somehow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no expression strong enough,’ said the artist. ‘Mr Semitopolis’s + statue has not turned up, and I am afraid I shall be answerable for the + money; but I think nothing of that—what I fear, my dear Mr Finsbury, + what I fear—alas that I should have to say it! is exposure. The + Hercules was to be smuggled out of Italy; a thing positively wrong, a + thing of which a man of my principles and in my responsible position + should have taken (as I now see too late) no part whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This sounds like very serious work,’ said the lawyer. ‘It will require a + great deal of drink, Pitman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I took the liberty of—in short, of being prepared for you,’ replied + the artist, pointing to a kettle, a bottle of gin, a lemon, and glasses. + Michael mixed himself a grog, and offered the artist a cigar. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, thank you,’ said Pitman. ‘I used occasionally to be rather partial to + it, but the smell is so disagreeable about the clothes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ said the lawyer. ‘I am comfortable now. Unfold your tale.’ + </p> + <p> + At some length Pitman set forth his sorrows. He had gone today to + Waterloo, expecting to receive the colossal Hercules, and he had received + instead a barrel not big enough to hold Discobolus; yet the barrel was + addressed in the hand (with which he was perfectly acquainted) of his + Roman correspondent. What was stranger still, a case had arrived by the + same train, large enough and heavy enough to contain the Hercules; and + this case had been taken to an address now undiscoverable. ‘The vanman (I + regret to say it) had been drinking, and his language was such as I could + never bring myself to repeat. + </p> + <p> + He was at once discharged by the superintendent of the line, who behaved + most properly throughout, and is to make enquiries at Southampton. In the + meanwhile, what was I to do? I left my address and brought the barrel + home; but, remembering an old adage, I determined not to open it except in + the presence of my lawyer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that all?’ asked Michael. ‘I don’t see any cause to worry. The + Hercules has stuck upon the road. It will drop in tomorrow or the day + after; and as for the barrel, depend upon it, it’s a testimonial from one + of your young ladies, and probably contains oysters.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, don’t speak so loud!’ cried the little artist. ‘It would cost me my + place if I were heard to speak lightly of the young ladies; and besides, + why oysters from Italy? and why should they come to me addressed in Signor + Ricardi’s hand?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, let’s have a look at it,’ said Michael. ‘Let’s roll it forward to + the light.’ + </p> + <p> + The two men rolled the barrel from the corner, and stood it on end before + the fire. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s heavy enough to be oysters,’ remarked Michael judiciously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall we open it at once?’ enquired the artist, who had grown decidedly + cheerful under the combined effects of company and gin; and without + waiting for a reply, he began to strip as if for a prize-fight, tossed his + clerical collar in the wastepaper basket, hung his clerical coat upon a + nail, and with a chisel in one hand and a hammer in the other, struck the + first blow of the evening. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the style, William Dent’ cried Michael. ‘There’s fire for—your + money! It may be a romantic visit from one of the young ladies—a + sort of Cleopatra business. Have a care and don’t stave in Cleopatra’s + head.’ + </p> + <p> + But the sight of Pitman’s alacrity was infectious. The lawyer could sit + still no longer. Tossing his cigar into the fire, he snatched the + instrument from the unwilling hands of the artist, and fell to himself. + Soon the sweat stood in beads upon his large, fair brow; his stylish + trousers were defaced with iron rust, and the state of his chisel + testified to misdirected energies. + </p> + <p> + A cask is not an easy thing to open, even when you set about it in the + right way; when you set about it wrongly, the whole structure must be + resolved into its elements. Such was the course pursued alike by the + artist and the lawyer. Presently the last hoop had been removed—a + couple of smart blows tumbled the staves upon the ground—and what + had once been a barrel was no more than a confused heap of broken and + distorted boards. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these, a certain dismal something, swathed in blankets, + remained for an instant upright, and then toppled to one side and heavily + collapsed before the fire. Even as the thing subsided, an eye-glass + tingled to the floor and rolled toward the screaming Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold your tongue!’ said Michael. He dashed to the house door and locked + it; then, with a pale face and bitten lip, he drew near, pulled aside a + corner of the swathing blanket, and recoiled, shuddering. There was a long + silence in the studio. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now tell me,’ said Michael, in a low voice: ‘Had you any hand in it?’ and + he pointed to the body. + </p> + <p> + The little artist could only utter broken and disjointed sounds. + </p> + <p> + Michael poured some gin into a glass. ‘Drink that,’ he said. ‘Don’t be + afraid of me. I’m your friend through thick and thin.’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman put the liquor down untasted. + </p> + <p> + ‘I swear before God,’ he said, ‘this is another mystery to me. In my worst + fears I never dreamed of such a thing. I would not lay a finger on a + sucking infant.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all square,’ said Michael, with a sigh of huge relief. ‘I believe + you, old boy.’ And he shook the artist warmly by the hand. ‘I thought for + a moment,’ he added with rather a ghastly smile, ‘I thought for a moment + you might have made away with Mr Semitopolis.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It would make no difference if I had,’ groaned Pitman. ‘All is at an end + for me. There’s the writing on the wall.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To begin with,’ said Michael, ‘let’s get him out of sight; for to be + quite plain with you, Pitman, I don’t like your friend’s appearance.’ And + with that the lawyer shuddered. ‘Where can we put it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You might put it in the closet there—if you could bear to touch + it,’ answered the artist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Somebody has to do it, Pitman,’ returned the lawyer; ‘and it seems as if + it had to be me. You go over to the table, turn your back, and mix me a + grog; that’s a fair division of labour.’ + </p> + <p> + About ninety seconds later the closet-door was heard to shut. + </p> + <p> + ‘There,’ observed Michael, ‘that’s more homelike. You can turn now, my + pallid Pitman. Is this the grog?’ he ran on. ‘Heaven forgive you, it’s a + lemonade.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, O, Finsbury, what are we to do with it?’ walled the artist, laying a + clutching hand upon the lawyer’s arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do with it?’ repeated Michael. ‘Bury it in one of your flowerbeds, and + erect one of your own statues for a monument. I tell you we should look + devilish romantic shovelling out the sod by the moon’s pale ray. Here, put + some gin in this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg of you, Mr Finsbury, do not trifle with my misery,’ cried Pitman. + ‘You see before you a man who has been all his life—I do not + hesitate to say it—imminently respectable. Even in this solemn hour + I can lay my hand upon my heart without a blush. Except on the really + trifling point of the smuggling of the Hercules (and even of that I now + humbly repent), my life has been entirely fit for publication. I never + feared the light,’ cried the little man; ‘and now—now—!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cheer up, old boy,’ said Michael. ‘I assure you we should count this + little contretemps a trifle at the office; it’s the sort of thing that may + occur to any one; and if you’re perfectly sure you had no hand in it—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What language am I to find—’ began Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I’ll do that part of it,’ interrupted Michael, ‘you have no + experience.’ But the point is this: If—or rather since—you + know nothing of the crime, since the—the party in the closet—is + neither your father, nor your brother, nor your creditor, nor your + mother-in-law, nor what they call an injured husband—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, my dear sir!’ interjected Pitman, horrified. + </p> + <p> + ‘Since, in short,’ continued the lawyer, ‘you had no possible interest in + the crime, we have a perfectly free field before us and a safe game to + play. Indeed, the problem is really entertaining; it is one I have long + contemplated in the light of an A. B. case; here it is at last under my + hand in specie; and I mean to pull you through. Do you hear that?—I + mean to pull you through. Let me see: it’s a long time since I have had + what I call a genuine holiday; I’ll send an excuse tomorrow to the office. + We had best be lively,’ he added significantly; ‘for we must not spoil the + market for the other man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean?’ enquired Pitman. ‘What other man? The inspector of + police?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Damn the inspector of police!’ remarked his companion. ‘If you won’t take + the short cut and bury this in your back garden, we must find some one who + will bury it in his. We must place the affair, in short, in the hands of + some one with fewer scruples and more resources.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A private detective, perhaps?’ suggested Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘There are times when you fill me with pity,’ observed the lawyer. ‘By the + way, Pitman,’ he added in another key, ‘I have always regretted that you + have no piano in this den of yours. Even if you don’t play yourself, your + friends might like to entertain themselves with a little music while you + were mudding.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall get one at once if you like,’ said Pitman nervously, anxious to + please. ‘I play the fiddle a little as it is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know you do,’ said Michael; ‘but what’s the fiddle—above all as + you play it? What you want is polyphonic music. And I’ll tell you what it + is—since it’s too late for you to buy a piano I’ll give you mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said the artist blankly. ‘You will give me yours? I am sure + it’s very good in you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I’ll give you mine,’ continued Michael, ‘for the inspector of police + to play on while his men are digging up your back garden.’ Pitman stared + at him in pained amazement. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I’m not insane,’ Michael went on. ‘I’m playful, but quite coherent. + See here, Pitman: follow me one half minute. I mean to profit by the + refreshing fact that we are really and truly innocent; nothing but the + presence of the—you know what—connects us with the crime; once + let us get rid of it, no matter how, and there is no possible clue to + trace us by. Well, I give you my piano; we’ll bring it round this very + night. Tomorrow we rip the fittings out, deposit the—our friend—inside, + plump the whole on a cart, and carry it to the chambers of a young + gentleman whom I know by sight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whom do you know by sight?’ repeated Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what is more to the purpose,’ continued Michael, ‘whose chambers I + know better than he does himself. A friend of mine—I call him my + friend for brevity; he is now, I understand, in Demerara and (most likely) + in gaol—was the previous occupant. I defended him, and I got him off + too—all saved but honour; his assets were nil, but he gave me what + he had, poor gentleman, and along with the rest—the key of his + chambers. It’s there that I propose to leave the piano and, shall we say, + Cleopatra?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems very wild,’ said Pitman. ‘And what will become of the poor young + gentleman whom you know by sight?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It will do him good,’—said Michael cheerily. ‘Just what he wants to + steady him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, my dear sir, he might be involved in a charge of—a charge of + murder,’ gulped the artist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, he’ll be just where we are,’ returned the lawyer. ‘He’s innocent, + you see. What hangs people, my dear Pitman, is the unfortunate + circumstance of guilt.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But indeed, indeed,’ pleaded Pitman, ‘the whole scheme appears to me so + wild. Would it not be safer, after all, just to send for the police?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And make a scandal?’ enquired Michael. ‘“The Chelsea Mystery; alleged + innocence of Pitman”? How would that do at the Seminary?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It would imply my discharge,’ admitted the drawing—master. ‘I + cannot deny that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And besides,’ said Michael, ‘I am not going to embark in such a business + and have no fun for my money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O my dear sir, is that a proper spirit?’ cried Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I only said that to cheer you up,’ said the unabashed Michael. + ‘Nothing like a little judicious levity. But it’s quite needless to + discuss. If you mean to follow my advice, come on, and let us get the + piano at once. If you don’t, just drop me the word, and I’ll leave you to + deal with the whole thing according to your better judgement.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know perfectly well that I depend on you entirely,’ returned Pitman. + ‘But O, what a night is before me with that—horror in my studio! How + am I to think of it on my pillow?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you know, my piano will be there too,’ said Michael. ‘That’ll raise + the average.’ + </p> + <p> + An hour later a cart came up the lane, and the lawyer’s piano—a + momentous Broadwood grand—was deposited in Mr Pitman’s studio. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. In Which Michael Finsbury Enjoys a Holiday + </h2> + <p> + Punctually at eight o’clock next morning the lawyer rattled (according to + previous appointment) on the studio door. He found the artist sadly + altered for the worse—bleached, bloodshot, and chalky—a man + upon wires, the tail of his haggard eye still wandering to the closet. Nor + was the professor of drawing less inclined to wonder at his friend. + Michael was usually attired in the height of fashion, with a certain + mercantile brilliancy best described perhaps as stylish; nor could + anything be said against him, as a rule, but that he looked a trifle too + like a wedding guest to be quite a gentleman. Today he had fallen + altogether from these heights. He wore a flannel shirt of washed-out + shepherd’s tartan, and a suit of reddish tweeds, of the colour known to + tailors as ‘heather mixture’; his neckcloth was black, and tied loosely in + a sailor’s knot; a rusty ulster partly concealed these advantages; and his + feet were shod with rough walking boots. His hat was an old soft felt, + which he removed with a flourish as he entered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here I am, William Dent!’ he cried, and drawing from his pocket two + little wisps of reddish hair, he held them to his cheeks like sidewhiskers + and danced about the studio with the filmy graces of a ballet-girl. + </p> + <p> + Pitman laughed sadly. ‘I should never have known you,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor were you intended to,’ returned Michael, replacing his false whiskers + in his pocket. ‘Now we must overhaul you and your wardrobe, and disguise + you up to the nines.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Disguise!’ cried the artist. ‘Must I indeed disguise myself. Has it come + to that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear creature,’ returned his companion, ‘disguise is the spice of + life. What is life, passionately exclaimed a French philosopher, without + the pleasures of disguise? I don’t say it’s always good taste, and I know + it’s unprofessional; but what’s the odds, downhearted drawing-master? It + has to be. We have to leave a false impression on the minds of many + persons, and in particular on the mind of Mr Gideon Forsyth—the + young gentleman I know by sight—if he should have the bad taste to + be at home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If he be at home?’ faltered the artist. ‘That would be the end of all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Won’t matter a d—,’ returned Michael airily. ‘Let me see your + clothes, and I’ll make a new man of you in a jiffy.’ + </p> + <p> + In the bedroom, to which he was at once conducted, Michael examined + Pitman’s poor and scanty wardrobe with a humorous eye, picked out a short + jacket of black alpaca, and presently added to that a pair of summer + trousers which somehow took his fancy as incongruous. Then, with the + garments in his hand, he scrutinized the artist closely. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t like that clerical collar,’ he remarked. ‘Have you nothing else?’ + </p> + <p> + The professor of drawing pondered for a moment, and then brightened; ‘I + have a pair of low-necked shirts,’ he said, ‘that I used to wear in Paris + as a student. They are rather loud.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The very thing!’ ejaculated Michael. ‘You’ll look perfectly beastly. Here + are spats, too,’ he continued, drawing forth a pair of those offensive + little gaiters. ‘Must have spats! And now you jump into these, and whistle + a tune at the window for (say) three-quarters of an hour. After that you + can rejoin me on the field of glory.’ + </p> + <p> + So saying, Michael returned to the studio. It was the morning of the + easterly gale; the wind blew shrilly among the statues in the garden, and + drove the rain upon the skylight in the studio ceiling; and at about the + same moment of the time when Morris attacked the hundredth version of his + uncle’s signature in Bloomsbury, Michael, in Chelsea, began to rip the + wires out of the Broadwood grand. + </p> + <p> + Three-quarters of an hour later Pitman was admitted, to find the + closet-door standing open, the closet untenanted, and the piano discreetly + shut. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a remarkably heavy instrument,’ observed Michael, and turned to + consider his friend’s disguise. ‘You must shave off that beard of yours,’ + he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘My beard!’ cried Pitman. ‘I cannot shave my beard. I cannot tamper with + my appearance—my principals would object. They hold very strong + views as to the appearance of the professors—young ladies are + considered so romantic. My beard was regarded as quite a feature when I + went about the place. It was regarded,’ said the artist, with rising + colour, ‘it was regarded as unbecoming.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You can let it grow again,’ returned Michael, ‘and then you’ll be so + precious ugly that they’ll raise your salary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I don’t want to be ugly,’ cried the artist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Michael, who hated beards and was delighted to + destroy one. ‘Off with it like a man!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course, if you insist,’ said Pitman; and then he sighed, fetched some + hot water from the kitchen, and setting a glass upon his easel, first + clipped his beard with scissors and then shaved his chin. He could not + conceal from himself, as he regarded the result, that his last claims to + manhood had been sacrificed, but Michael seemed delighted. + </p> + <p> + ‘A new man, I declare!’ he cried. ‘When I give you the windowglass + spectacles I have in my pocket, you’ll be the beau-ideal of a French + commercial traveller.’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman did not reply, but continued to gaze disconsolately on his image in + the glass. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know,’ asked Michael, ‘what the Governor of South Carolina said to + the Governor of North Carolina? “It’s a long time between drinks,” + observed that powerful thinker; and if you will put your hand into the top + left-hand pocket of my ulster, I have an impression you will find a flask + of brandy. Thank you, Pitman,’ he added, as he filled out a glass for + each. ‘Now you will give me news of this.’ + </p> + <p> + The artist reached out his hand for the water-jug, but Michael arrested + the movement. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not if you went upon your knees!’ he cried. ‘This is the finest liqueur + brandy in Great Britain.’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman put his lips to it, set it down again, and sighed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I must say you’re the poorest companion for a holiday!’ cried + Michael. ‘If that’s all you know of brandy, you shall have no more of it; + and while I finish the flask, you may as well begin business. Come to + think of it,’ he broke off, ‘I have made an abominable error: you should + have ordered the cart before you were disguised. Why, Pitman, what the + devil’s the use of you? why couldn’t you have reminded me of that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never even knew there was a cart to be ordered,’ said the artist. ‘But + I can take off the disguise again,’ he suggested eagerly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You would find it rather a bother to put on your beard,’ observed the + lawyer. ‘No, it’s a false step; the sort of thing that hangs people,’ he + continued, with eminent cheerfulness, as he sipped his brandy; ‘and it + can’t be retraced now. Off to the mews with you, make all the + arrangements; they’re to take the piano from here, cart it to Victoria, + and dispatch it thence by rail to Cannon Street, to lie till called for in + the name of Fortune du Boisgobey.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t that rather an awkward name?’ pleaded Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Awkward?’ cried Michael scornfully. ‘It would hang us both! Brown is both + safer and easier to pronounce. Call it Brown.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish,’ said Pitman, ‘for my sake, I wish you wouldn’t talk so much of + hanging.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Talking about it’s nothing, my boy!’ returned Michael. ‘But take your hat + and be off, and mind and pay everything beforehand.’ + </p> + <p> + Left to himself, the lawyer turned his attention for some time exclusively + to the liqueur brandy, and his spirits, which had been pretty fair all + morning, now prodigiously rose. He proceeded to adjust his whiskers + finally before the glass. ‘Devilish rich,’ he remarked, as he contemplated + his reflection. ‘I look like a purser’s mate.’ And at that moment the + window-glass spectacles (which he had hitherto destined for Pitman) + flashed into his mind; he put them on, and fell in love with the effect. + ‘Just what I required,’ he said. ‘I wonder what I look like now? A + humorous novelist, I should think,’ and he began to practise divers + characters of walk, naming them to himself as—he proceeded. ‘Walk of + a humorous novelist—but that would require an umbrella. Walk of a + purser’s mate. Walk of an Australian colonist revisiting the scenes of + childhood. Walk of Sepoy colonel, ditto, ditto. And in the midst of the + Sepoy colonel (which was an excellent assumption, although inconsistent + with the style of his make-up), his eye lighted on the piano. This + instrument was made to lock both at the top and at the keyboard, but the + key of the latter had been mislaid. Michael opened it and ran his fingers + over the dumb keys. ‘Fine instrument—full, rich tone,’ he observed, + and he drew in a seat. + </p> + <p> + When Mr Pitman returned to the studio, he was appalled to observe his + guide, philosopher, and friend performing miracles of execution on the + silent grand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Heaven help me!’ thought the little man, ‘I fear he has been drinking! Mr + Finsbury,’ he said aloud; and Michael, without rising, turned upon him a + countenance somewhat flushed, encircled with the bush of the red whiskers, + and bestridden by the spectacles. ‘Capriccio in B-flat on the departure of + a friend,’ said he, continuing his noiseless evolutions. + </p> + <p> + Indignation awoke in the mind of Pitman. ‘Those spectacles were to be + mine,’ he cried. ‘They are an essential part of my disguise.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to wear them myself,’ replied Michael; and he added, with some + show of truth, ‘There would be a devil of a lot of suspicion aroused if we + both wore spectacles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, well,’ said the assenting Pitman, ‘I rather counted on them; but of + course, if you insist. And at any rate, here is the cart at the door.’ + </p> + <p> + While the men were at work, Michael concealed himself in the closet among + the debris of the barrel and the wires of the piano; and as soon as the + coast was clear the pair sallied forth by the lane, jumped into a hansom + in the King’s Road, and were driven rapidly toward town. It was still cold + and raw and boisterous; the rain beat strongly in their faces, but Michael + refused to have the glass let down; he had now suddenly donned the + character of cicerone, and pointed out and lucidly commented on the sights + of London, as they drove. ‘My dear fellow,’ he said, ‘you don’t seem to + know anything of your native city. Suppose we visited the Tower? No? Well, + perhaps it’s a trifle out of our way. But, anyway—Here, cabby, drive + round by Trafalgar Square!’ And on that historic battlefield he insisted + on drawing up, while he criticized the statues and gave the artist many + curious details (quite new to history) of the lives of the celebrated men + they represented. + </p> + <p> + It would be difficult to express what Pitman suffered in the cab: cold, + wet, terror in the capital degree, a grounded distrust of the commander + under whom he served, a sense of imprudency in the matter of the + low-necked shirt, a bitter sense of the decline and fall involved in the + deprivation of his beard, all these were among the ingredients of the + bowl. To reach the restaurant, for which they were deviously steering, was + the first relief. To hear Michael bespeak a private room was a second and + a still greater. Nor, as they mounted the stair under the guidance of an + unintelligible alien, did he fail to note with gratitude the fewness of + the persons present, or the still more cheering fact that the greater part + of these were exiles from the land of France. It was thus a blessed + thought that none of them would be connected with the Seminary; for even + the French professor, though admittedly a Papist, he could scarce imagine + frequenting so rakish an establishment. + </p> + <p> + The alien introduced them into a small bare room with a single table, a + sofa, and a dwarfish fire; and Michael called promptly for more coals and + a couple of brandies and sodas. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, no,’ said Pitman, ‘surely not—no more to drink.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know what you would be at,’ said Michael plaintively. ‘It’s + positively necessary to do something; and one shouldn’t smoke before meals. I thought that was understood. You seem to have no idea of hygiene.’ And + he compared his watch with the clock upon the chimney-piece. + </p> + <p> + Pitman fell into bitter musing; here he was, ridiculously shorn, absurdly + disguised, in the company of a drunken man in spectacles, and waiting for + a champagne luncheon in a restaurant painfully foreign. What would his + principals think, if they could see him? What if they knew his tragic and + deceitful errand? + </p> + <p> + From these reflections he was aroused by the entrance of the alien with + the brandies and sodas. Michael took one and bade the waiter pass the + other to his friend. + </p> + <p> + Pitman waved it from him with his hand. ‘Don’t let me lose all + self-respect,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Anything to oblige a friend,’ returned Michael. ‘But I’m not going to + drink alone. Here,’ he added to the waiter, ‘you take it.’ And, then, + touching glasses, ‘The health of Mr Gideon Forsyth,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Meestare Gidden Borsye,’ replied the waiter, and he tossed off the liquor + in four gulps. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have another?’ said Michael, with undisguised interest. ‘I never saw a + man drink faster. It restores one’s confidence in the human race. + </p> + <p> + But the waiter excused himself politely, and, assisted by some one from + without, began to bring in lunch. + </p> + <p> + Michael made an excellent meal, which he washed down with a bottle of + Heidsieck’s dry monopole. As for the artist, he was far too uneasy to eat, + and his companion flatly refused to let him share in the champagne unless + he did. + </p> + <p> + ‘One of us must stay sober,’ remarked the lawyer, ‘and I won’t give you + champagne on the strength of a leg of grouse. I have to be cautious,’ he + added confidentially. ‘One drunken man, excellent business—two + drunken men, all my eye.’ + </p> + <p> + On the production of coffee and departure of the waiter, Michael might + have been observed to make portentous efforts after gravity of mien. He + looked his friend in the face (one eye perhaps a trifle off), and + addressed him thickly but severely. + </p> + <p> + ‘Enough of this fooling,’ was his not inappropriate exordium. ‘To + business. Mark me closely. I am an Australian. My name is John Dickson, + though you mightn’t think it from my unassuming appearance. You will be + relieved to hear that I am rich, sir, very rich. You can’t go into this + sort of thing too thoroughly, Pitman; the whole secret is preparation, and + I can get up my biography from the beginning, and I could tell it you now, + only I have forgotten it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I’m stupid—’ began Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s it!’ cried Michael. ‘Very stupid; but rich too—richer than I + am. I thought you would enjoy it, Pitman, so I’ve arranged that you were + to be literally wallowing in wealth. But then, on the other hand, you’re + only an American, and a maker of india-rubber overshoes at that. And the + worst of it is—why should I conceal it from you?—the worst of + it is that you’re called Ezra Thomas. Now,’ said Michael, with a really + appalling seriousness of manner, ‘tell me who we are.’ + </p> + <p> + The unfortunate little man was cross-examined till he knew these facts by + heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘There!’ cried the lawyer. ‘Our plans are laid. Thoroughly consistent—that’s + the great thing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I don’t understand,’ objected Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, you’ll understand right enough when it comes to the point,’ said + Michael, rising. + </p> + <p> + ‘There doesn’t seem any story to it,’ said the artist. + </p> + <p> + ‘We can invent one as we go along,’ returned the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I can’t invent,’ protested Pitman. ‘I never could invent in all my + life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll find you’ll have to, my boy,’ was Michael’s easy comment, and he + began calling for the waiter, with whom he at once resumed a sparkling + conversation. + </p> + <p> + It was a downcast little man that followed him. ‘Of course he is very + clever, but can I trust him in such a state?’ he asked himself. And when + they were once more in a hansom, he took heart of grace. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you think,’ he faltered, ‘it would be wiser, considering all + things, to put this business off?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Put off till tomorrow what can be done today?’ cried Michael, with + indignation. ‘Never heard of such a thing! Cheer up, it’s all right, go in + and win—there’s a lion-hearted Pitman!’ + </p> + <p> + At Cannon Street they enquired for Mr Brown’s piano, which had duly + arrived, drove thence to a neighbouring mews, where they contracted for a + cart, and while that was being got ready, took shelter in the harness-room + beside the stove. Here the lawyer presently toppled against the wall and + fell into a gentle slumber; so that Pitman found himself launched on his + own resources in the midst of several staring loafers, such as love to + spend unprofitable days about a stable. ‘Rough day, sir,’ observed one. + ‘Do you go far?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, it’s a—rather a rough day,’ said the artist; and then, feeling + that he must change the conversation, ‘My friend is an Australian; he is + very impulsive,’ he added. + </p> + <p> + ‘An Australian?’ said another. ‘I’ve a brother myself in Melbourne. Does + your friend come from that way at all?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, not exactly,’ replied the artist, whose ideas of the geography of New + Holland were a little scattered. ‘He lives immensely far inland, and is + very rich.’ + </p> + <p> + The loafers gazed with great respect upon the slumbering colonist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ remarked the second speaker, ‘it’s a mighty big place, is + Australia. Do you come from thereaway too?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I do not,’ said Pitman. ‘I do not, and I don’t want to,’ he added + irritably. And then, feeling some diversion needful, he fell upon Michael + and shook him up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hullo,’ said the lawyer, ‘what’s wrong?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The cart is nearly ready,’ said Pitman sternly. ‘I will not allow you to + sleep.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right—no offence, old man,’ replied Michael, yawning. ‘A little + sleep never did anybody any harm; I feel comparatively sober now. But + what’s all the hurry?’ he added, looking round him glassily. ‘I don’t see + the cart, and I’ve forgotten where we left the piano.’ + </p> + <p> + What more the lawyer might have said, in the confidence of the moment, is + with Pitman a matter of tremulous conjecture to this day; but by the most + blessed circumstance the cart was then announced, and Michael must bend + the forces of his mind to the more difficult task of rising. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course you’ll drive,’ he remarked to his companion, as he clambered on + the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + ‘I drive!’ cried Pitman. ‘I never did such a thing in my life. I cannot + drive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ responded Michael with entire composure, ‘neither can I see. + But just as you like. Anything to oblige a friend.’ + </p> + <p> + A glimpse of the ostler’s darkening countenance decided Pitman. ‘All + right,’ he said desperately, ‘you drive. I’ll tell you where to go.’ + </p> + <p> + On Michael in the character of charioteer (since this is not intended to + be a novel of adventure) it would be superfluous to dwell at length. + Pitman, as he sat holding on and gasping counsels, sole witness of this + singular feat, knew not whether most to admire the driver’s valour or his + undeserved good fortune. But the latter at least prevailed, the cart + reached Cannon Street without disaster; and Mr Brown’s piano was speedily + and cleverly got on board. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ said the leading porter, smiling as he mentally reckoned up a + handful of loose silver, ‘that’s a mortal heavy piano.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the richness of the tone,’ returned Michael, as he drove away. + </p> + <p> + It was but a little distance in the rain, which now fell thick and quiet, + to the neighbourhood of Mr Gideon Forsyth’s chambers in the Temple. There, + in a deserted by-street, Michael drew up the horses and gave them in + charge to a blighted shoe-black; and the pair descending from the cart, + whereon they had figured so incongruously, set forth on foot for the + decisive scene of their adventure. For the first time Michael displayed a + shadow of uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are my whiskers right?’ he asked. ‘It would be the devil and all if I was + spotted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They are perfectly in their place,’ returned Pitman, with scant + attention. ‘But is my disguise equally effective? There is nothing more + likely than that I should meet some of my patrons.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, nobody could tell you without your beard,’ said Michael. ‘All you have + to do is to remember to speak slow; you speak through your nose already.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I only hope the young man won’t be at home,’ sighed Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I only hope he’ll be alone,’ returned the lawyer. ‘It will save a + precious sight of manoeuvring.’ + </p> + <p> + And sure enough, when they had knocked at the door, Gideon admitted them + in person to a room, warmed by a moderate fire, framed nearly to the roof + in works connected with the bench of British Themis, and offering, except + in one particular, eloquent testimony to the legal zeal of the proprietor. + The one particular was the chimney-piece, which displayed a varied + assortment of pipes, tobacco, cigar-boxes, and yellow-backed French + novels. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Forsyth, I believe?’ It was Michael who thus opened the engagement. + ‘We have come to trouble you with a piece of business. I fear it’s + scarcely professional—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid I ought to be instructed through a solicitor,’ replied + Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well, you shall name your own, and the whole affair can be put on a + more regular footing tomorrow,’ replied Michael, taking a chair and + motioning Pitman to do the same. ‘But you see we didn’t know any + solicitors; we did happen to know of you, and time presses.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I enquire, gentlemen,’ asked Gideon, ‘to whom it was I am indebted + for a recommendation?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may enquire,’ returned the lawyer, with a foolish laugh; ‘but I was + invited not to tell you—till the thing was done.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My uncle, no doubt,’ was the barrister’s conclusion. + </p> + <p> + ‘My name is John Dickson,’ continued Michael; ‘a pretty well-known name in + Ballarat; and my friend here is Mr Ezra Thomas, of the United States of + America, a wealthy manufacturer of india-rubber overshoes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop one moment till I make a note of that,’ said Gideon; any one might + have supposed he was an old practitioner. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind my smoking a cigar?’ asked Michael. He had + pulled himself together for the entrance; now again there began to settle + on his mind clouds of irresponsible humour and incipient slumber; and he + hoped (as so many have hoped in the like case) that a cigar would clear + him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, certainly,’ cried Gideon blandly. ‘Try one of mine; I can confidently + recommend them.’ And he handed the box to his client. + </p> + <p> + ‘In case I don’t make myself perfectly clear,’ observed the Australian, + ‘it’s perhaps best to tell you candidly that I’ve been lunching. It’s a + thing that may happen to any one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, certainly,’ replied the affable barrister. ‘But please be under no + sense of hurry. I can give you,’ he added, thoughtfully consulting his + watch—‘yes, I can give you the whole afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The business that brings me here,’ resumed the Australian with gusto, ‘is + devilish delicate, I can tell you. My friend Mr Thomas, being an American + of Portuguese extraction, unacquainted with our habits, and a wealthy + manufacturer of Broadwood pianos—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Broadwood pianos?’ cried Gideon, with some surprise. ‘Dear me, do I + understand Mr Thomas to be a member of the firm?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, pirated Broadwoods,’ returned Michael. ‘My friend’s the American + Broadwood.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I understood you to say,’ objected Gideon, ‘I certainly have it so in + my notes—that your friend was a manufacturer of india—rubber + overshoes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it’s confusing at first,’ said the Australian, with a beaming + smile. ‘But he—in short, he combines the two professions. And many + others besides—many, many, many others,’ repeated Mr Dickson, with + drunken solemnity. ‘Mr Thomas’s cotton-mills are one of the sights of + Tallahassee; Mr Thomas’s tobacco-mills are the pride of Richmond, Va.; in + short, he’s one of my oldest friends, Mr Forsyth, and I lay his case + before you with emotion.’ + </p> + <p> + The barrister looked at Mr Thomas and was agreeably prepossessed by his + open although nervous countenance, and the simplicity and timidity of his + manner. ‘What a people are these Americans!’ he thought. ‘Look at this + nervous, weedy, simple little bird in a lownecked shirt, and think of him + wielding and directing interests so extended and seemingly incongruous! + ‘But had we not better,’ he observed aloud, ‘had we not perhaps better + approach the facts?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Man of business, I perceive, sir!’ said the Australian. ‘Let’s approach + the facts. It’s a breach of promise case.’ + </p> + <p> + The unhappy artist was so unprepared for this view of his position that he + could scarce suppress a cry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me,’ said Gideon, ‘they are apt to be very troublesome. Tell me + everything about it,’ he added kindly; ‘if you require my assistance, + conceal nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You tell him,’ said Michael, feeling, apparently, that he had done his + share. ‘My friend will tell you all about it,’ he added to Gideon, with a + yawn. ‘Excuse my closing my eyes a moment; I’ve been sitting up with a + sick friend.’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman gazed blankly about the room; rage and despair seethed in his + innocent spirit; thoughts of flight, thoughts even of suicide, came and + went before him; and still the barrister patiently waited, and still the + artist groped in vain for any form of words, however insignificant. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a breach of promise case,’ he said at last, in a low voice. ‘I—I + am threatened with a breach of promise case.’ Here, in desperate quest of + inspiration, he made a clutch at his beard; his fingers closed upon the + unfamiliar smoothness of a shaven chin; and with that, hope and courage + (if such expressions could ever have been appropriate in the case of + Pitman) conjointly fled. He shook Michael roughly. ‘Wake up!’ he cried, + with genuine irritation in his tones. ‘I cannot do it, and you know I + can’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You must excuse my friend,’ said Michael; ‘he’s no hand as a narrator of + stirring incident. The case is simple,’ he went on. ‘My friend is a man of + very strong passions, and accustomed to a simple, patriarchal style of + life. You see the thing from here: unfortunate visit to Europe, followed + by unfortunate acquaintance with sham foreign count, who has a lovely + daughter. Mr Thomas was quite carried away; he proposed, he was accepted, + and he wrote—wrote in a style which I am sure he must regret today. + If these letters are produced in court, sir, Mr Thomas’s character is + gone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I to understand—’ began Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear sir,’ said the Australian emphatically, ‘it isn’t possible to + understand unless you saw them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is a painful circumstance,’ said Gideon; he glanced pityingly in the + direction of the culprit, and, observing on his countenance every mark of + confusion, pityingly withdrew his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘And that would be nothing,’ continued Mr Dickson sternly, ‘but I wish—I + wish from my heart, sir, I could say that Mr Thomas’s hands were clean. He + has no excuse; for he was engaged at the time—and is still engaged—to + the belle of Constantinople, Ga. My friend’s conduct was unworthy of the + brutes that perish.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ga.?’ repeated Gideon enquiringly. + </p> + <p> + ‘A contraction in current use,’ said Michael. ‘Ga. for Georgia, in The + same way as Co. for Company.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was aware it was sometimes so written,’ returned the barrister, ‘but + not that it was so pronounced.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fact, I assure you,’ said Michael. ‘You now see for yourself, sir, that + if this unhappy person is to be saved, some devilish sharp practice will + be needed. There’s money, and no desire to spare it. Mr Thomas could write + a cheque tomorrow for a hundred thousand. And, Mr Forsyth, there’s better + than money. The foreign count—Count Tarnow, he calls himself—was + formerly a tobacconist in Bayswater, and passed under the humble but + expressive name of Schmidt; his daughter—if she is his daughter—there’s + another point—make a note of that, Mr Forsyth—his daughter at + that time actually served in the shop—and she now proposes to marry + a man of the eminence of Mr Thomas! Now do you see our game? We know they + contemplate a move; and we wish to forestall ‘em. Down you go to Hampton + Court, where they live, and threaten, or bribe, or both, until you get the + letters; if you can’t, God help us, we must go to court and Thomas must be + exposed. I’ll be done with him for one,’ added the unchivalrous friend. + </p> + <p> + ‘There seem some elements of success,’ said Gideon. ‘Was Schmidt at all + known to the police?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We hope so,’ said Michael. ‘We have every ground to think so. Mark the + neighbourhood—Bayswater! Doesn’t Bayswater occur to you as very + suggestive?’ + </p> + <p> + For perhaps the sixth time during this remarkable interview, Gideon + wondered if he were not becoming light-headed. ‘I suppose it’s just + because he has been lunching,’ he thought; and then added aloud, ‘To what + figure may I go?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps five thousand would be enough for today,’ said Michael. ‘And now, + sir, do not let me detain you any longer; the afternoon wears on; there + are plenty of trains to Hampton Court; and I needn’t try to describe to + you the impatience of my friend. Here is a five-pound note for current + expenses; and here is the address.’ And Michael began to write, paused, + tore up the paper, and put the pieces in his pocket. ‘I will dictate,’ he + said, ‘my writing is so uncertain.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon took down the address, ‘Count Tarnow, Kurnaul Villa, Hampton + Court.’ Then he wrote something else on a sheet of paper. ‘You said you + had not chosen a solicitor,’ he said. ‘For a case of this sort, here is + the best man in London.’ And he handed the paper to Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘God bless me!’ ejaculated Michael, as he read his own address. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I daresay you have seen his name connected with some rather painful + cases,’ said Gideon. ‘But he is himself a perfectly honest man, and his + capacity is recognized. And now, gentlemen, it only remains for me to ask + where I shall communicate with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Langham, of course,’ returned Michael. ‘Till tonight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Till tonight,’ replied Gideon, smiling. ‘I suppose I may knock you up at + a late hour?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Any hour, any hour,’ cried the vanishing solicitor. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now there’s a young fellow with a head upon his shoulders,’ he said to + Pitman, as soon as they were in the street. + </p> + <p> + Pitman was indistinctly heard to murmur, ‘Perfect fool.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a bit of him,’ returned Michael. ‘He knows who’s the best solicitor + in London, and it’s not every man can say the same. But, I say, didn’t I + pitch it in hot?’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman returned no answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hullo!’ said the lawyer, pausing, ‘what’s wrong with the long-suffering + Pitman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You had no right to speak of me as you did,’ the artist broke out; ‘your + language was perfectly unjustifiable; you have wounded me deeply.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never said a word about you,’ replied Michael. ‘I spoke of Ezra Thomas; + and do please remember that there’s no such party.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s just as hard to bear,’ said the artist. + </p> + <p> + But by this time they had reached the corner of the by-street; and there + was the faithful shoeblack, standing by the horses’ heads with a splendid + assumption of dignity; and there was the piano, figuring forlorn upon the + cart, while the rain beat upon its unprotected sides and trickled down its + elegantly varnished legs. + </p> + <p> + The shoeblack was again put in requisition to bring five or six strong + fellows from the neighbouring public-house; and the last battle of the + campaign opened. It is probable that Mr Gideon Forsyth had not yet taken + his seat in the train for Hampton Court, before Michael opened the door of + the chambers, and the grunting porters deposited the Broadwood grand in + the middle of the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now,’ said the lawyer, after he had sent the men about their + business, ‘one more precaution. We must leave him the key of the piano, + and we must contrive that he shall find it. Let me see.’ And he built a + square tower of cigars upon the top of the instrument, and dropped the key + into the middle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor young man,’ said the artist, as they descended the stairs. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is in a devil of a position,’ assented Michael drily. ‘It’ll brace him + up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And that reminds me,’ observed the excellent Pitman, ‘that I fear I + displayed a most ungrateful temper. I had no right, I see, to resent + expressions, wounding as they were, which were in no sense directed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all right,’ cried Michael, getting on the cart. ‘Not a word more, + Pitman. Very proper feeling on your part; no man of self-respect can stand + by and hear his alias insulted.’ + </p> + <p> + The rain had now ceased, Michael was fairly sober, the body had been + disposed of, and the friends were reconciled. The return to the mews was + therefore (in comparison with previous stages of the day’s adventures) + quite a holiday outing; and when they had returned the cart and walked + forth again from the stable-yard, unchallenged, and even unsuspected, + Pitman drew a deep breath of joy. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘we can go home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pitman,’ said the lawyer, stopping short, ‘your recklessness fills me + with concern. What! we have been wet through the greater part of the day, + and you propose, in cold blood, to go home! No, sir—hot Scotch.’ + </p> + <p> + And taking his friend’s arm he led him sternly towards the nearest + public-house. Nor was Pitman (I regret to say) wholly unwilling. Now that + peace was restored and the body gone, a certain innocent skittishness + began to appear in the manners of the artist; and when he touched his + steaming glass to Michael’s, he giggled aloud like a venturesome + schoolgirl at a picnic. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. Glorious Conclusion of Michael Finsbury’s Holiday + </h2> + <p> + I know Michael Finsbury personally; my business—I know the + awkwardness of having such a man for a lawyer—still it’s an old + story now, and there is such a thing as gratitude, and, in short, my legal + business, although now (I am thankful to say) of quite a placid character, + remains entirely in Michael’s hands. But the trouble is I have no natural + talent for addresses; I learn one for every man—that is friendship’s + offering; and the friend who subsequently changes his residence is dead to + me, memory refusing to pursue him. Thus it comes about that, as I always + write to Michael at his office, I cannot swear to his number in the King’s + Road. Of course (like my neighbours), I have been to dinner there. Of late + years, since his accession to wealth, neglect of business, and election to + the club, these little festivals have become common. He picks up a few + fellows in the smoking-room—all men of Attic wit—myself, for + instance, if he has the luck to find me disengaged; a string of hansoms + may be observed (by Her Majesty) bowling gaily through St James’s Park; + and in a quarter of an hour the party surrounds one of the best appointed + boards in London. + </p> + <p> + But at the time of which we write the house in the King’s Road (let us + still continue to call it No. 233) was kept very quiet; when Michael + entertained guests it was at the halls of Nichol or Verrey that he would + convene them, and the door of his private residence remained closed + against his friends. The upper storey, which was sunny, was set apart for + his father; the drawing-room was never opened; the dining-room was the + scene of Michael’s life. It is in this pleasant apartment, sheltered from + the curiosity of King’s Road by wire blinds, and entirely surrounded by + the lawyer’s unrivalled library of poetry and criminal trials, that we + find him sitting down to his dinner after his holiday with Pitman. A spare + old lady, with very bright eyes and a mouth humorously compressed, waited + upon the lawyer’s needs; in every line of her countenance she betrayed the + fact that she was an old retainer; in every word that fell from her lips + she flaunted the glorious circumstance of a Scottish origin; and the fear + with which this powerful combination fills the boldest was obviously no + stranger to the bosom of our friend. The hot Scotch having somewhat warmed + up the embers of the Heidsieck. It was touching to observe the master’s + eagerness to pull himself together under the servant’s eye; and when he + remarked, ‘I think, Teena, I’ll take a brandy and soda,’ he spoke like a + man doubtful of his elocution, and not half certain of obedience. + </p> + <p> + ‘No such a thing, Mr Michael,’ was the prompt return. ‘Clar’t and water.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well, Teena, I daresay you know best,’ said the master. ‘Very + fatiguing day at the office, though.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What?’ said the retainer, ‘ye never were near the office!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O yes, I was though; I was repeatedly along Fleet Street,’ returned + Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pretty pliskies ye’ve been at this day!’ cried the old lady, with + humorous alacrity; and then, ‘Take care—don’t break my crystal!’ she + cried, as the lawyer came within an ace of knocking the glasses off the + table. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how is he keeping?’ asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, just the same, Mr Michael, just the way he’ll be till the end, worthy + man!’ was the reply. ‘But ye’ll not be the first that’s asked me that the + day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No?’ said the lawyer. ‘Who else?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, that’s a joke, too,’ said Teena grimly. ‘A friend of yours: Mr + Morris.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Morris! What was the little beggar wanting here?’ enquired Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wantin’? To see him,’ replied the housekeeper, completing her meaning by + a movement of the thumb toward the upper storey. ‘That’s by his way of it; + but I’ve an idee of my own. He tried to bribe me, Mr Michael. Bribe—me!’ + she repeated, with inimitable scorn. ‘That’s no’ kind of a young + gentleman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did he so?’ said Michael. ‘I bet he didn’t offer much.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No more he did,’ replied Teena; nor could any subsequent questioning + elicit from her the sum with which the thrifty leather merchant had + attempted to corrupt her. ‘But I sent him about his business,’ she said + gallantly. ‘He’ll not come here again in a hurry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He mustn’t see my father, you know; mind that!’ said Michael. ‘I’m not + going to have any public exhibition to a little beast like him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No fear of me lettin’ him,’ replied the trusty one. ‘But the joke is + this, Mr Michael—see, ye’re upsettin’ the sauce, that’s a clean + tablecloth—the best of the joke is that he thinks your father’s dead + and you’re keepin’ it dark.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael whistled. ‘Set a thief to catch a thief,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Exac’ly what I told him!’ cried the delighted dame. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll make him dance for that,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t ye get the law of him some way?’ suggested Teena truculently. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I don’t think I could, and I’m quite sure I don’t want to,’ replied + Michael. ‘But I say, Teena, I really don’t believe this claret’s + wholesome; it’s not a sound, reliable wine. Give us a brandy and soda, + there’s a good soul.’ Teena’s face became like adamant. ‘Well, then,’ said + the lawyer fretfully, ‘I won’t eat any more dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ye can please yourself about that, Mr Michael,’ said Teena, and began + composedly to take away. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do wish Teena wasn’t a faithful servant!’ sighed the lawyer, as he + issued into Kings’s Road. + </p> + <p> + The rain had ceased; the wind still blew, but only with a pleasant + freshness; the town, in the clear darkness of the night, glittered with + street-lamps and shone with glancing rain-pools. ‘Come, this is better,’ + thought the lawyer to himself, and he walked on eastward, lending a + pleased ear to the wheels and the million footfalls of the city. + </p> + <p> + Near the end of the King’s Road he remembered his brandy and soda, and + entered a flaunting public-house. A good many persons were present, a + waterman from a cab-stand, half a dozen of the chronically unemployed, a + gentleman (in one corner) trying to sell aesthetic photographs out of a + leather case to another and very youthful gentleman with a yellow goatee, + and a pair of lovers debating some fine shade (in the other). But the + centre-piece and great attraction was a little old man, in a black, + ready-made surtout, which was obviously a recent purchase. On the marble + table in front of him, beside a sandwich and a glass of beer, there lay a + battered forage cap. His hand fluttered abroad with oratorical gestures; + his voice, naturally shrill, was plainly tuned to the pitch of the lecture + room; and by arts, comparable to those of the Ancient Mariner, he was now + holding spellbound the barmaid, the waterman, and four of the unemployed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have examined all the theatres in London,’ he was saying; ‘and pacing + the principal entrances, I have ascertained them to be ridiculously + disproportionate to the requirements of their audiences. The doors opened + the wrong way—I forget at this moment which it is, but have a note + of it at home; they were frequently locked during the performance, and + when the auditorium was literally thronged with English people. You have + probably not had my opportunities of comparing distant lands; but I can + assure you this has been long ago recognized as a mark of aristocratic + government. Do you suppose, in a country really self-governed, such abuses + could exist? Your own intelligence, however uncultivated, tells you they + could not. Take Austria, a country even possibly more enslaved than + England. I have myself conversed with one of the survivors of the Ring + Theatre, and though his colloquial German was not very good, I succeeded + in gathering a pretty clear idea of his opinion of the case. But, what + will perhaps interest you still more, here is a cutting on the subject + from a Vienna newspaper, which I will now read to you, translating as I + go. You can see for yourselves; it is printed in the German character.’ + And he held the cutting out for verification, much as a conjuror passes a + trick orange along the front bench. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hullo, old gentleman! Is this you?’ said Michael, laying his hand upon + the orator’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The figure turned with a convulsion of alarm, and showed the countenance + of Mr Joseph Finsbury. ‘You, Michael!’ he cried. ‘There’s no one with you, + is there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ replied Michael, ordering a brandy and soda, ‘there’s nobody with + me; whom do you expect?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought of Morris or John,’ said the old gentleman, evidently greatly + relieved. + </p> + <p> + ‘What the devil would I be doing with Morris or John?’ cried the nephew. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is something in that,’ returned Joseph. ‘And I believe I can trust + you. I believe you will stand by me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hardly know what you mean,’ said the lawyer, ‘but if you are in need of + money I am flush.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not that, my dear boy,’ said the uncle, shaking him by the hand. + ‘I’ll tell you all about it afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ responded the nephew. ‘I stand treat, Uncle Joseph; what will + you have?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In that case,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘I’ll take another sandwich. I + daresay I surprise you,’ he went on, ‘with my presence in a public-house; + but the fact is, I act on a sound but little-known principle of my own—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, it’s better known than you suppose,’ said Michael sipping his brandy + and soda. ‘I always act on it myself when I want a drink.’ + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman, who was anxious to propitiate Michael, laughed a + cheerless laugh. ‘You have such a flow of spirits,’ said he, ‘I am sure I + often find it quite amusing. But regarding this principle of which I was + about to speak. It is that of accommodating one’s-self to the manners of + any land (however humble) in which our lot may be cast. Now, in France, + for instance, every one goes to a cafe for his meals; in America, to what + is called a “two-bit house”; in England the people resort to such an + institution as the present for refreshment. With sandwiches, tea, and an + occasional glass of bitter beer, a man can live luxuriously in London for + fourteen pounds twelve shillings per annum.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I know,’ returned Michael, ‘but that’s not including clothes, + washing, or boots. The whole thing, with cigars and occasional sprees, + costs me over seven hundred a year.’ + </p> + <p> + But this was Michael’s last interruption. He listened in good-humoured + silence to the remainder of his uncle’s lecture, which speedily branched + to political reform, thence to the theory of the weather-glass, with an + illustrative account of a bora in the Adriatic; thence again to the best + manner of teaching arithmetic to the deaf-and-dumb; and with that, the + sandwich being then no more, explicuit valde feliciter. A moment later the + pair issued forth on the King’s Road. + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael,’ said his uncle, ‘the reason that I am here is because I cannot + endure those nephews of mine. I find them intolerable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay you do,’ assented Michael, ‘I never could stand them for a + moment.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They wouldn’t let me speak,’ continued the old gentleman bitterly; ‘I + never was allowed to get a word in edgewise; I was shut up at once with + some impertinent remark. They kept me on short allowance of pencils, when + I wished to make notes of the most absorbing interest; the daily newspaper + was guarded from me like a young baby from a gorilla. Now, you know me, + Michael. I live for my calculations; I live for my manifold and + ever-changing views of life; pens and paper and the productions of the + popular press are to me as important as food and drink; and my life was + growing quite intolerable when, in the confusion of that fortunate railway + accident at Browndean, I made my escape. They must think me dead, and are + trying to deceive the world for the chance of the tontine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By the way, how do you stand for money?’ asked Michael kindly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pecuniarily speaking, I am rich,’ returned the old man with cheerfulness. + ‘I am living at present at the rate of one hundred a year, with unlimited + pens and paper; the British Museum at which to get books; and all the + newspapers I choose to read. But it’s extraordinary how little a man of + intellectual interest requires to bother with books in a progressive age. + The newspapers supply all the conclusions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Michael, ‘come and stay with me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael,’ said the old gentleman, ‘it’s very kind of you, but you + scarcely understand what a peculiar position I occupy. There are some + little financial complications; as a guardian, my efforts were not + altogether blessed; and not to put too fine a point upon the matter, I am + absolutely in the power of that vile fellow, Morris.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You should be disguised,’ cried Michael eagerly; ‘I will lend you a pair + of window-glass spectacles and some red side-whiskers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I had already canvassed that idea,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘but + feared to awaken remark in my unpretentious lodgings. The aristocracy, I + am well aware—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But see here,’ interrupted Michael, ‘how do you come to have any money at + all? Don’t make a stranger of me, Uncle Joseph; I know all about the + trust, and the hash you made of it, and the assignment you were forced to + make to Morris.’ + </p> + <p> + Joseph narrated his dealings with the bank. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, but I say, this won’t do,’ cried the lawyer. ‘You’ve put your foot in + it. You had no right to do what you did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The whole thing is mine, Michael,’ protested the old gentleman. ‘I + founded and nursed that business on principles entirely of my own.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all very fine,’ said the lawyer; ‘but you made an assignment, you + were forced to make it, too; even then your position was extremely shaky; + but now, my dear sir, it means the dock.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t possible,’ cried Joseph; ‘the law cannot be so unjust as that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the cream of the thing,’ interrupted Michael, with a sudden shout of + laughter, ‘the cream of the thing is this, that of course you’ve downed + the leather business! I must say, Uncle Joseph, you have strange ideas of + law, but I like your taste in humour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I see nothing to laugh at,’ observed Mr Finsbury tartly. + </p> + <p> + ‘And talking of that, has Morris any power to sign for the firm?’ asked + Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘No one but myself,’ replied Joseph. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor devil of a Morris! O, poor devil of a Morris!’ cried the lawyer in + delight. ‘And his keeping up the farce that you’re at home! O, Morris, the + Lord has delivered you into my hands! Let me see, Uncle Joseph, what do + you suppose the leather business worth?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was worth a hundred thousand,’ said Joseph bitterly, ‘when it was in + my hands. But then there came a Scotsman—it is supposed he had a + certain talent—it was entirely directed to bookkeeping—no + accountant in London could understand a word of any of his books; and then + there was Morris, who is perfectly incompetent. And now it is worth very + little. Morris tried to sell it last year; and Pogram and Jarris offered + only four thousand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall turn my attention to leather,’ said Michael with decision. + </p> + <p> + ‘You?’ asked Joseph. ‘I advise you not. There is nothing in the whole + field of commerce more surprising than the fluctuations of the leather + market. Its sensitiveness may be described as morbid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And now, Uncle Joseph, what have you done with all that money?’ asked the + lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Paid it into a bank and drew twenty pounds,’ answered Mr Finsbury + promptly. ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ said Michael. ‘Tomorrow I shall send down a clerk with a + cheque for a hundred, and he’ll draw out the original sum and return it to + the Anglo-Patagonian, with some sort of explanation which I will try to + invent for you. That will clear your feet, and as Morris can’t touch a + penny of it without forgery, it will do no harm to my little scheme.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what am I to do?’ asked Joseph; ‘I cannot live upon nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you hear?’ returned Michael. ‘I send you a cheque for a hundred; + which leaves you eighty to go along upon; and when that’s done, apply to + me again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would rather not be beholden to your bounty all the same,’ said Joseph, + biting at his white moustache. ‘I would rather live on my own money, since + I have it.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael grasped his arm. ‘Will nothing make you believe,’ he cried, ‘that + I am trying to save you from Dartmoor?’ + </p> + <p> + His earnestness staggered the old man. ‘I must turn my attention to law,’ + he said; ‘it will be a new field; for though, of course, I understand its + general principles, I have never really applied my mind to the details, + and this view of yours, for example, comes on me entirely by surprise. But + you may be right, and of course at my time of life—for I am no + longer young—any really long term of imprisonment would be highly + prejudicial. But, my dear nephew, I have no claim on you; you have no call + to support me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all right,’ said Michael; ‘I’ll probably get it out of the leather + business.’ + </p> + <p> + And having taken down the old gentleman’s address, Michael left him at the + corner of a street. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a wonderful old muddler!’ he reflected, ‘and what a singular thing + is life! I seem to be condemned to be the instrument of Providence. Let me + see; what have I done today? Disposed of a dead body, saved Pitman, saved + my Uncle Joseph, brightened up Forsyth, and drunk a devil of a lot of most + indifferent liquor. Let’s top off with a visit to my cousins, and be the + instrument of Providence in earnest. Tomorrow I can turn my attention to + leather; tonight I’ll just make it lively for ‘em in a friendly spirit.’ + </p> + <p> + About a quarter of an hour later, as the clocks were striking eleven, the + instrument of Providence descended from a hansom, and, bidding the driver + wait, rapped at the door of No. 16 John Street. + </p> + <p> + It was promptly opened by Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, it’s you, Michael,’ he said, carefully blocking up the narrow opening: + ‘it’s very late.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael without a word reached forth, grasped Morris warmly by the hand, + and gave it so extreme a squeeze that the sullen householder fell back. + Profiting by this movement, the lawyer obtained a footing in the lobby and + marched into the dining-room, with Morris at his heels. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where’s my Uncle Joseph?’ demanded Michael, sitting down in the most + comfortable chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s not been very well lately,’ replied Morris; ‘he’s staying at + Browndean; John is nursing him; and I am alone, as you see.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael smiled to himself. ‘I want to see him on particular business,’ he + said. + </p> + <p> + ‘You can’t expect to see my uncle when you won’t let me see your father,’ + returned Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fiddlestick,’ said Michael. ‘My father is my father; but Joseph is just + as much my uncle as he’s yours; and you have no right to sequestrate his + person.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do no such thing,’ said Morris doggedly. ‘He is not well, he is + dangerously ill and nobody can see him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what, then,’ said Michael. ‘I’ll make a clean breast of it. + I have come down like the opossum, Morris; I have come to compromise.’ + </p> + <p> + Poor Morris turned as pale as death, and then a flush of wrath against the + injustice of man’s destiny dyed his very temples. ‘What do you mean?’ he + cried, ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’ And when Michael had assured him of + his seriousness, ‘Well, then,’ he cried, with another deep flush, ‘I + won’t; so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oho!’ said Michael queerly. ‘You say your uncle is dangerously ill, and + you won’t compromise? There’s something very fishy about that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean?’ cried Morris hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + ‘I only say it’s fishy,’ returned Michael, ‘that is, pertaining to the + finny tribe.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean to insinuate anything?’ cried Morris stormily, trying the + high hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Insinuate?’ repeated Michael. ‘O, don’t let’s begin to use awkward + expressions! Let us drown our differences in a bottle, like two affable + kinsmen. The Two Affable Kinsmen, sometimes attributed to Shakespeare,’ he + added. + </p> + <p> + Morris’s mind was labouring like a mill. ‘Does he suspect? or is this + chance and stuff? Should I soap, or should I bully? Soap,’ he concluded. + ‘It gains time.’ ‘Well,’ said he aloud, and with rather a painful + affectation of heartiness, ‘it’s long since we have had an evening + together, Michael; and though my habits (as you know) are very temperate, + I may as well make an exception. Excuse me one moment till I fetch a + bottle of whisky from the cellar.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No whisky for me,’ said Michael; ‘a little of the old still champagne or + nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment Morris stood irresolute, for the wine was very valuable: the + next he had quitted the room without a word. His quick mind had perceived + his advantage; in thus dunning him for the cream of the cellar, Michael + was playing into his hand. ‘One bottle?’ he thought. ‘By George, I’ll give + him two! this is no moment for economy; and once the beast is drunk, it’s + strange if I don’t wring his secret out of him.’ + </p> + <p> + With two bottles, accordingly, he returned. Glasses were produced, and + Morris filled them with hospitable grace. + </p> + <p> + ‘I drink to you, cousin!’ he cried gaily. ‘Don’t spare the wine-cup in my + house.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael drank his glass deliberately, standing at the table; filled it + again, and returned to his chair, carrying the bottle along with him. + </p> + <p> + ‘The spoils of war!’ he said apologetically. ‘The weakest goes to the + wall. Science, Morris, science.’ Morris could think of no reply, and for + an appreciable interval silence reigned. But two glasses of the still + champagne produced a rapid change in Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s a want of vivacity about you, Morris,’ he observed. ‘You may be + deep; but I’ll be hanged if you’re vivacious!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What makes you think me deep?’ asked Morris with an air of pleased + simplicity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because you won’t compromise,’ said the lawyer. ‘You’re deep dog, Morris, + very deep dog, not t’ compromise—remarkable deep dog. And a very + good glass of wine; it’s the only respectable feature in the Finsbury + family, this wine; rarer thing than a title—much rarer. Now a man + with glass wine like this in cellar, I wonder why won’t compromise?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, YOU wouldn’t compromise before, you know,’ said the smiling Morris. + ‘Turn about is fair play.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder why <i>I</i> wouldn’ compromise? I wonder why YOU wouldn’?’ + enquired Michael. ‘I wonder why we each think the other wouldn’? ‘S quite + a remarrable—remarkable problem,’ he added, triumphing over oral + obstacles, not without obvious pride. ‘Wonder what we each think—don’t + you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you suppose to have been my reason?’ asked Morris adroitly. + </p> + <p> + Michael looked at him and winked. ‘That’s cool,’ said he. ‘Next thing, + you’ll ask me to help you out of the muddle. I know I’m emissary of + Providence, but not that kind! You get out of it yourself, like Aesop and + the other fellow. Must be dreadful muddle for young orphan o’ forty; + leather business and all!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure I don’t know what you mean,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not sure I know myself,’ said Michael. ‘This is exc’lent vintage, sir—exc’lent + vintage. Nothing against the tipple. Only thing: here’s a valuable uncle + disappeared. Now, what I want to know: where’s valuable uncle?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have told you: he is at Browndean,’ answered Morris, furtively wiping + his brow, for these repeated hints began to tell upon him cruelly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very easy say Brown—Browndee—no’ so easy after all!’ cried + Michael. ‘Easy say; anything’s easy say, when you can say it. What I don’ + like’s total disappearance of an uncle. Not businesslike.’ And he wagged + his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is all perfectly simple,’ returned Morris, with laborious calm. ‘There + is no mystery. He stays at Browndean, where he got a shake in the + accident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Michael, ‘got devil of a shake!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you say that?’ cried Morris sharply. + </p> + <p> + ‘Best possible authority. Told me so yourself,’ said the lawyer. ‘But if + you tell me contrary now, of course I’m bound to believe either the one + story or the other. Point is I’ve upset this bottle, still champagne’s + exc’lent thing carpet—point is, is valuable uncle dead—an’—bury?’ + </p> + <p> + Morris sprang from his seat. ‘What’s that you say?’ he gasped. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say it’s exc’lent thing carpet,’ replied Michael, rising. ‘Exc’lent + thing promote healthy action of the skin. Well, it’s all one, anyway. Give + my love to Uncle Champagne.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not going away?’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Awf’ly sorry, ole man. Got to sit up sick friend,’ said the wavering + Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘You shall not go till you have explained your hints,’ returned Morris + fiercely. ‘What do you mean? What brought you here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No offence, I trust,’ said the lawyer, turning round as he opened the + door; ‘only doing my duty as shemishery of Providence.’ + </p> + <p> + Groping his way to the front-door, he opened it with some difficulty, and + descended the steps to the hansom. The tired driver looked up as he + approached, and asked where he was to go next. + </p> + <p> + Michael observed that Morris had followed him to the steps; a brilliant + inspiration came to him. ‘Anything t’ give pain,’ he reflected. . . . + ‘Drive Shcotlan’ Yard,’ he added aloud, holding to the wheel to steady + himself; ‘there’s something devilish fishy, cabby, about those cousins. + Mush’ be cleared up! Drive Shcotlan’ Yard.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t mean that, sir,’ said the man, with the ready sympathy of the + lower orders for an intoxicated gentleman. ‘I had better take you home, + sir; you can go to Scotland Yard tomorrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it as friend or as perfessional man you advise me not to go Shcotlan’ + Yard t’night?’ enquired Michael. ‘All righ’, never min’ Shcotlan’ Yard, + drive Gaiety bar.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Gaiety bar is closed,’ said the man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then home,’ said Michael, with the same cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where to, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t remember, I’m sure,’ said Michael, entering the vehicle, ‘drive + Shcotlan’ Yard and ask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you’ll have a card,’ said the man, through the little aperture in the + top, ‘give me your card-case.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What imagi—imagination in a cabby!’ cried the lawyer, producing his + card-case, and handing it to the driver. + </p> + <p> + The man read it by the light of the lamp. ‘Mr Michael Finsbury, 233 King’s + Road, Chelsea. Is that it, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Right you are,’ cried Michael, ‘drive there if you can see way.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. Gideon Forsyth and the Broadwood Grand + </h2> + <p> + The reader has perhaps read that remarkable work, Who Put Back the Clock? + by E. H. B., which appeared for several days upon the railway bookstalls + and then vanished entirely from the face of the earth. Whether eating Time + makes the chief of his diet out of old editions; whether Providence has + passed a special enactment on behalf of authors; or whether these last + have taken the law into their own hand, bound themselves into a dark + conspiracy with a password, which I would die rather than reveal, and + night after night sally forth under some vigorous leader, such as Mr James + Payn or Mr Walter Besant, on their task of secret spoliation—certain + it is, at least, that the old editions pass, giving place to new. To the + proof, it is believed there are now only three copies extant of Who Put + Back the Clock? one in the British Museum, successfully concealed by a + wrong entry in the catalogue; another in one of the cellars (the cellar + where the music accumulates) of the Advocates’ Library at Edinburgh; and a + third, bound in morocco, in the possession of Gideon Forsyth. To account + for the very different fate attending this third exemplar, the readiest + theory is to suppose that Gideon admired the tale. How to explain that + admiration might appear (to those who have perused the work) more + difficult; but the weakness of a parent is extreme, and Gideon (and not + his uncle, whose initials he had humorously borrowed) was the author of + Who Put Back the Clock? He had never acknowledged it, or only to some + intimate friends while it was still in proof; after its appearance and + alarming failure, the modesty of the novelist had become more pressing, + and the secret was now likely to be better kept than that of the + authorship of Waverley. + </p> + <p> + A copy of the work (for the date of my tale is already yesterday) still + figured in dusty solitude in the bookstall at Waterloo; and Gideon, as he + passed with his ticket for Hampton Court, smiled contemptuously at the + creature of his thoughts. What an idle ambition was the author’s! How far + beneath him was the practice of that childish art! With his hand closing + on his first brief, he felt himself a man at last; and the muse who + presides over the police romance, a lady presumably of French extraction, + fled his neighbourhood, and returned to join the dance round the springs + of Helicon, among her Grecian sisters. + </p> + <p> + Robust, practical reflection still cheered the young barrister upon his + journey. Again and again he selected the little country-house in its islet + of great oaks, which he was to make his future home. Like a prudent + householder, he projected improvements as he passed; to one he added a + stable, to another a tennis-court, a third he supplied with a becoming + rustic boat-house. + </p> + <p> + ‘How little a while ago,’ he could not but reflect, ‘I was a careless + young dog with no thought but to be comfortable! I cared for nothing but + boating and detective novels. I would have passed an old-fashioned + country-house with large kitchen-garden, stabling, boat-house, and + spacious offices, without so much as a look, and certainly would have made + no enquiry as to the drains. How a man ripens with the years!’ + </p> + <p> + The intelligent reader will perceive the ravages of Miss Hazeltine. Gideon + had carried Julia straight to Mr Bloomfield’s house; and that gentleman, + having been led to understand she was the victim of oppression, had + noisily espoused her cause. He worked himself into a fine breathing heat; + in which, to a man of his temperament, action became needful. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know which is the worse,’ he cried, ‘the fraudulent old villain + or the unmanly young cub. I will write to the Pall Mall and expose them. + Nonsense, sir; they must be exposed! It’s a public duty. Did you not tell + me the fellow was a Tory? O, the uncle is a Radical lecturer, is he? No + doubt the uncle has been grossly wronged. But of course, as you say, that + makes a change; it becomes scarce so much a public duty.’ + </p> + <p> + And he sought and instantly found a fresh outlet for his alacrity. Miss + Hazeltine (he now perceived) must be kept out of the way; his houseboat + was lying ready—he had returned but a day or two before from his + usual cruise; there was no place like a houseboat for concealment; and + that very morning, in the teeth of the easterly gale, Mr and Mrs + Bloomfield and Miss Julia Hazeltine had started forth on their untimely + voyage. Gideon pled in vain to be allowed to join the party. ‘No, Gid,’ + said his uncle. ‘You will be watched; you must keep away from us.’ Nor had + the barrister ventured to contest this strange illusion; for he feared if + he rubbed off any of the romance, that Mr Bloomfield might weary of the + whole affair. And his discretion was rewarded; for the Squirradical, + laying a heavy hand upon his nephew’s shoulder, had added these notable + expressions: ‘I see what you are after, Gid. But if you’re going to get + the girl, you have to work, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + These pleasing sounds had cheered the barrister all day, as he sat reading + in chambers; they continued to form the ground-base of his manly musings + as he was whirled to Hampton Court; even when he landed at the station, + and began to pull himself together for his delicate interview, the voice + of Uncle Ned and the eyes of Julia were not forgotten. + </p> + <p> + But now it began to rain surprises: in all Hampton Court there was no + Kurnaul Villa, no Count Tarnow, and no count. This was strange; but, + viewed in the light of the incoherency of his instructions, not perhaps + inexplicable; Mr Dickson had been lunching, and he might have made some + fatal oversight in the address. What was the thoroughly prompt, manly, and + businesslike step? thought Gideon; and he answered himself at once: ‘A + telegram, very laconic.’ Speedily the wires were flashing the following + very important missive: ‘Dickson, Langham Hotel. Villa and persons both + unknown here, suppose erroneous address; follow self next train.—Forsyth.’ + And at the Langham Hotel, sure enough, with a brow expressive of dispatch + and intellectual effort, Gideon descended not long after from a smoking + hansom. + </p> + <p> + I do not suppose that Gideon will ever forget the Langham Hotel. No Count + Tarnow was one thing; no John Dickson and no Ezra Thomas, quite another. + How, why, and what next, danced in his bewildered brain; from every centre + of what we playfully call the human intellect incongruous messages were + telegraphed; and before the hubbub of dismay had quite subsided, the + barrister found himself driving furiously for his chambers. There was at + least a cave of refuge; it was at least a place to think in; and he + climbed the stair, put his key in the lock and opened the door, with some + approach to hope. + </p> + <p> + It was all dark within, for the night had some time fallen; but Gideon + knew his room, he knew where the matches stood on the end of the + chimney-piece; and he advanced boldly, and in so doing dashed himself + against a heavy body; where (slightly altering the expressions of the + song) no heavy body should have been. There had been nothing there when + Gideon went out; he had locked the door behind him, he had found it locked + on his return, no one could have entered, the furniture could not have + changed its own position. And yet undeniably there was a something there. + He thrust out his hands in the darkness. Yes, there was something, + something large, something smooth, something cold. + </p> + <p> + ‘Heaven forgive me!’ said Gideon, ‘it feels like a piano.’ + </p> + <p> + And the next moment he remembered the vestas in his waistcoat pocket and + had struck a light. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed a piano that met his doubtful gaze; a vast and costly + instrument, stained with the rains of the afternoon and defaced with + recent scratches. The light of the vesta was reflected from the varnished + sides, like a star in quiet water; and in the farther end of the room + the shadow of that strange visitor loomed bulkily and wavered on the wall. + </p> + <p> + Gideon let the match burn to his fingers, and the darkness closed once + more on his bewilderment. Then with trembling hands he lit the lamp and + drew near. Near or far, there was no doubt of the fact: the thing was a + piano. There, where by all the laws of God and man it was impossible that + it should be—there the thing impudently stood. Gideon threw open the + keyboard and struck a chord. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the room. + ‘Is there anything wrong with me?’ he thought, with a pang; and drawing in + a seat, obstinately persisted in his attempts to ravish silence, now with + sparkling arpeggios, now with a sonata of Beethoven’s which (in happier + days) he knew to be one of the loudest pieces of that powerful composer. + Still not a sound. He gave the Broadwood two great bangs with his clenched + first. All was still as the grave. The young barrister started to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am stark-staring mad,’ he cried aloud, ‘and no one knows it but myself. + God’s worst curse has fallen on me.’ + </p> + <p> + His fingers encountered his watch-chain; instantly he had plucked forth + his watch and held it to his ear. He could hear it ticking. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not deaf,’ he said aloud. ‘I am only insane. My mind has quitted me + for ever.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked uneasily about the room, and—gazed with lacklustre eyes at + the chair in which Mr Dickson had installed himself. The end of a cigar + lay near on the fender. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he thought, ‘I don’t believe that was a dream; but God knows my mind + is failing rapidly. I seem to be hungry, for instance; it’s probably + another hallucination. Still I might try. I shall have one more good meal; + I shall go to the Cafe Royal, and may possibly be removed from there + direct to the asylum.’ + </p> + <p> + He wondered with morbid interest, as he descended the stairs, how he would + first betray his terrible condition—would he attack a waiter? or eat + glass?—and when he had mounted into a cab, he bade the man drive to + Nichol’s, with a lurking fear that there was no such place. + </p> + <p> + The flaring, gassy entrance of the cafe speedily set his mind at rest; he + was cheered besides to recognize his favourite waiter; his orders appeared + to be coherent; the dinner, when it came, was quite a sensible meal, and + he ate it with enjoyment. ‘Upon my word,’ he reflected, ‘I am about + tempted to indulge a hope. Have I been hasty? Have I done what Robert + Skill would have done?’ Robert Skill (I need scarcely mention) was the + name of the principal character in Who Put Back the Clock? It had occurred + to the author as a brilliant and probable invention; to readers of a + critical turn, Robert appeared scarce upon a level with his surname; but + it is the difficulty of the police romance, that the reader is always a + man of such vastly greater ingenuity than the writer. In the eyes of his + creator, however, Robert Skill was a word to conjure with; the thought + braced and spurred him; what that brilliant creature would have done + Gideon would do also. This frame of mind is not uncommon; the distressed + general, the baited divine, the hesitating author, decide severally to do + what Napoleon, what St Paul, what Shakespeare would have done; and there + remains only the minor question, What is that? In Gideon’s case one thing + was clear: Skill was a man of singular decision, he would have taken some + step (whatever it was) at once; and the only step that Gideon could think + of was to return to his chambers. + </p> + <p> + This being achieved, all further inspiration failed him, and he stood + pitifully staring at the instrument of his confusion. To touch the keys + again was more than he durst venture on; whether they had maintained their + former silence, or responded with the tones of the last trump, it would + have equally dethroned his resolution. ‘It may be a practical jest,’ he + reflected, ‘though it seems elaborate and costly. And yet what else can it + be? It MUST be a practical jest.’ And just then his eye fell upon a + feature which seemed corroborative of that view: the pagoda of cigars + which Michael had erected ere he left the chambers. ‘Why that?’ reflected + Gideon. ‘It seems entirely irresponsible.’ And drawing near, he gingerly + demolished it. ‘A key,’ he thought. ‘Why that? And why so conspicuously + placed?’ He made the circuit of the instrument, and perceived the keyhole + at the back. ‘Aha! this is what the key is for,’ said he. ‘They wanted me + to look inside. Stranger and stranger.’ And with that he turned the key + and raised the lid. + </p> + <p> + In what antics of agony, in what fits of flighty resolution, in what + collapses of despair, Gideon consumed the night, it would be ungenerous to + enquire too closely. + </p> + <p> + That trill of tiny song with which the eaves-birds of London welcome the + approach of day found him limp and rumpled and bloodshot, and with a mind + still vacant of resource. He rose and looked forth unrejoicingly on + blinded windows, an empty street, and the grey daylight dotted with the + yellow lamps. There are mornings when the city seems to awake with a sick + headache; this was one of them; and still the twittering reveille of the + sparrows stirred in Gideon’s spirit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Day here,’ he thought, ‘and I still helpless! This must come to an end.’ + And he locked up the piano, put the key in his pocket, and set forth in + quest of coffee. As he went, his mind trudged for the hundredth time a + certain mill-road of terrors, misgivings, and regrets. To call in the + police, to give up the body, to cover London with handbills describing + John Dickson and Ezra Thomas, to fill the papers with paragraphs, + Mysterious Occurrence in the Temple—Mr Forsyth admitted to bail, + this was one course, an easy course, a safe course; but not, the more he + reflected on it, not a pleasant one. For, was it not to publish abroad a + number of singular facts about himself? A child ought to have seen through + the story of these adventurers, and he had gaped and swallowed it. A + barrister of the least self-respect should have refused to listen to + clients who came before him in a manner so irregular, and he had listened. + And O, if he had only listened; but he had gone upon their errand—he, + a barrister, uninstructed even by the shadow of a solicitor—upon an + errand fit only for a private detective; and alas!—and for the + hundredth time the blood surged to his brow—he had taken their + money! ‘No,’ said he, ‘the thing is as plain as St Paul’s. I shall be + dishonoured! I have smashed my career for a five-pound note.’ + </p> + <p> + Between the possibility of being hanged in all innocence, and the + certainty of a public and merited disgrace, no gentleman of spirit could + long hesitate. After three gulps of that hot, snuffy, and muddy beverage, + that passes on the streets of London for a decoction of the coffee berry, + Gideon’s mind was made up. He would do without the police. He must face + the other side of the dilemma, and be Robert Skill in earnest. What would + Robert Skill have done? How does a gentleman dispose of a dead body, + honestly come by? He remembered the inimitable story of the hunchback; + reviewed its course, and dismissed it for a worthless guide. It was + impossible to prop a corpse on the corner of Tottenham Court Road without + arousing fatal curiosity in the bosoms of the passers-by; as for lowering + it down a London chimney, the physical obstacles were insurmountable. To + get it on board a train and drop it out, or on the top of an omnibus and + drop it off, were equally out of the question. To get it on a yacht and + drop it overboard, was more conceivable; but for a man of moderate means + it seemed extravagant. The hire of the yacht was in itself a + consideration; the subsequent support of the whole crew (which seemed a + necessary consequence) was simply not to be thought of. His uncle and the + houseboat here occurred in very luminous colours to his mind. A musical + composer (say, of the name of Jimson) might very well suffer, like + Hogarth’s musician before him, from the disturbances of London. He might + very well be pressed for time to finish an opera—say the comic opera + Orange Pekoe—Orange Pekoe, music by Jimson—‘this young + maestro, one of the most promising of our recent English school’—vigorous + entrance of the drums, etc.—the whole character of Jimson and his + music arose in bulk before the mind of Gideon. What more likely than + Jimson’s arrival with a grand piano (say, at Padwick), and his residence + in a houseboat alone with the unfinished score of Orange Pekoe? His + subsequent disappearance, leaving nothing behind but an empty piano case, + it might be more difficult to account for. And yet even that was + susceptible of explanation. For, suppose Jimson had gone mad over a fugal + passage, and had thereupon destroyed the accomplice of his infamy, and + plunged into the welcome river? What end, on the whole, more probable for + a modern musician? + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove, I’ll do it,’ cried Gideon. ‘Jimson is the boy!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. The Maestro Jimson + </h2> + <p> + Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield having announced his intention to stay in the + neighbourhood of Maidenhead, what more probable than that the Maestro + Jimson should turn his mind toward Padwick? Near this pleasant riverside + village he remembered to have observed an ancient, weedy houseboat lying + moored beside a tuft of willows. It had stirred in him, in his careless + hours, as he pulled down the river under a more familiar name, a certain + sense of the romantic; and when the nice contrivance of his story was + already complete in his mind, he had come near pulling it all down again, + like an ungrateful clock, in order to introduce a chapter in which Richard + Skill (who was always being decoyed somewhere) should be decoyed on board + that lonely hulk by Lord Bellew and the American desperado Gin Sling. It + was fortunate he had not done so, he reflected, since the hulk was now + required for very different purposes. + </p> + <p> + Jimson, a man of inconspicuous costume, but insinuating manners, had + little difficulty in finding the hireling who had charge of the houseboat, + and still less in persuading him to resign his care. The rent was almost + nominal, the entry immediate, the key was exchanged against a suitable + advance in money, and Jimson returned to town by the afternoon train to + see about dispatching his piano. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will be down tomorrow,’ he had said reassuringly. ‘My opera is waited + for with such impatience, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + And, sure enough, about the hour of noon on the following day, Jimson + might have been observed ascending the riverside road that goes from + Padwick to Great Haverham, carrying in one hand a basket of provisions, + and under the other arm a leather case containing (it is to be + conjectured) the score of Orange Pekoe. It was October weather; the + stone-grey sky was full of larks, the leaden mirror of the Thames + brightened with autumnal foliage, and the fallen leaves of the chestnuts + chirped under the composer’s footing. There is no time of the year in + England more courageous; and Jimson, though he was not without his + troubles, whistled as he went. + </p> + <p> + A little above Padwick the river lies very solitary. On the opposite shore + the trees of a private park enclose the view, the chimneys of the mansion + just pricking forth above their clusters; on the near side the path is + bordered by willows. Close among these lay the houseboat, a thing so + soiled by the tears of the overhanging willows, so grown upon with + parasites, so decayed, so battered, so neglected, such a haunt of rats, so + advertised a storehouse of rheumatic agonies, that the heart of an + intending occupant might well recoil. A plank, by way of flying + drawbridge, joined it to the shore. And it was a dreary moment for Jimson + when he pulled this after him and found himself alone on this unwholesome + fortress. He could hear the rats scuttle and flop in the abhorred + interior; the key cried among the wards like a thing in pain; the + sitting-room was deep in dust, and smelt strong of bilge-water. It could + not be called a cheerful spot, even for a composer absorbed in beloved + toil; how much less for a young gentleman haunted by alarms and awaiting + the arrival of a corpse! + </p> + <p> + He sat down, cleared away a piece of the table, and attacked the cold + luncheon in his basket. In case of any subsequent inquiry into the fate of + Jimson, It was desirable he should be little seen: in other words, that he + should spend the day entirely in the house. To this end, and further to + corroborate his fable, he had brought in the leather case not only writing + materials, but a ream of large-size music paper, such as he considered + suitable for an ambitious character like Jimson’s. ‘And now to work,’ said + he, when he had satisfied his appetite. ‘We must leave traces of the + wretched man’s activity.’ And he wrote in bold characters: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ORANGE PEKOE. + Op. 17. + J. B. JIMSON. + Vocal and p. f. score. +</pre> + <p> + ‘I suppose they never do begin like this,’ reflected Gideon; ‘but then + it’s quite out of the question for me to tackle a full score, and Jimson + was so unconventional. A dedication would be found convincing, I believe. + “Dedicated to” (let me see) “to William Ewart Gladstone, by his obedient + servant the composer.” And now some music: I had better avoid the + overture; it seems to present difficulties. Let’s give an air for the + tenor: key—O, something modern!—seven sharps.’ And he made a + businesslike signature across the staves, and then paused and browsed for + a while on the handle of his pen. Melody, with no better inspiration than + a sheet of paper, is not usually found to spring unbidden in the mind of + the amateur; nor is the key of seven sharps a place of much repose to the + untried. He cast away that sheet. ‘It will help to build up the character + of Jimson,’ Gideon remarked, and again waited on the muse, in various keys + and on divers sheets of paper, but all with results so inconsiderable that + he stood aghast. ‘It’s very odd,’ thought he. ‘I seem to have less fancy + than I thought, or this is an off-day with me; yet Jimson must leave + something.’ And again he bent himself to the task. + </p> + <p> + Presently the penetrating chill of the houseboat began to attack the very + seat of life. He desisted from his unremunerative trial, and, to the + audible annoyance of the rats, walked briskly up and down the cabin. Still + he was cold. ‘This is all nonsense,’ said he. ‘I don’t care about the + risk, but I will not catch a catarrh. I must get out of this den.’ + </p> + <p> + He stepped on deck, and passing to the bow of his embarkation, looked for + the first time up the river. He started. Only a few hundred yards above + another houseboat lay moored among the willows. It was very + spick-and-span, an elegant canoe hung at the stern, the windows were + concealed by snowy curtains, a flag floated from a staff. The more Gideon + looked at it, the more there mingled with his disgust a sense of impotent + surprise. It was very like his uncle’s houseboat; it was exceedingly like—it + was identical. But for two circumstances, he could have sworn it was the + same. The first, that his uncle had gone to Maidenhead, might be explained + away by that flightiness of purpose which is so common a trait among the + more than usually manly. The second, however, was conclusive: it was not + in the least like Mr Bloomfield to display a banner on his floating + residence; and if he ever did, it would certainly be dyed in hues of + emblematical propriety. Now the Squirradical, like the vast majority of + the more manly, had drawn knowledge at the wells of Cambridge—he was + wooden spoon in the year 1850; and the flag upon the houseboat streamed on + the afternoon air with the colours of that seat of Toryism, that cradle of + Puseyism, that home of the inexact and the effete Oxford. Still it was + strangely like, thought Gideon. + </p> + <p> + And as he thus looked and thought, the door opened, and a young lady + stepped forth on deck. The barrister dropped and fled into his cabin—it + was Julia Hazeltine! Through the window he watched her draw in the canoe, + get on board of it, cast off, and come dropping downstream in his + direction. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, all is up now,’ said he, and he fell on a seat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-afternoon, miss,’ said a voice on the water. Gideon knew it for the + voice of his landlord. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-afternoon,’ replied Julia, ‘but I don’t know who you are; do I? O + yes, I do though. You are the nice man that gave us leave to sketch from + the old houseboat.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon’s heart leaped with fear. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s it,’ returned the man. ‘And what I wanted to say was as you + couldn’t do it any more. You see I’ve let it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let it!’ cried Julia. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let it for a month,’ said the man. ‘Seems strange, don’t it? Can’t see + what the party wants with it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems very romantic of him, I think,’ said Julia, ‘What sort of a + person is he?’ + </p> + <p> + Julia in her canoe, the landlord in his wherry, were close alongside, and + holding on by the gunwale of the houseboat; so that not a word was lost on + Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s a music-man,’ said the landlord, ‘or at least that’s what he told + me, miss; come down here to write an op’ra.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really!’ cried Julia, ‘I never heard of anything so delightful! Why, we + shall be able to slip down at night and hear him improvise! What is his + name?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Jimson,’ said the man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jimson?’ repeated Julia, and interrogated her memory in vain. But indeed + our rising school of English music boasts so many professors that we + rarely hear of one till he is made a baronet. ‘Are you sure you have it + right?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Made him spell it to me,’ replied the landlord. ‘J-I-M-S-O-N—Jimson; + and his op’ra’s called—some kind of tea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘SOME KIND OF TEA!’ cried the girl. ‘What a very singular name for an + opera! What can it be about?’ And Gideon heard her pretty laughter flow + abroad. ‘We must try to get acquainted with this Mr Jimson; I feel sure he + must be nice.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, miss, I’m afraid I must be going on. I’ve got to be at Haverham, + you see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, don’t let me keep you, you kind man!’ said Julia. ‘Good afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good afternoon to you, miss.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon sat in the cabin a prey to the most harrowing thoughts. Here he was + anchored to a rotting houseboat, soon to be anchored to it still more + emphatically by the presence of the corpse, and here was the country + buzzing about him, and young ladies already proposing pleasure parties to + surround his house at night. Well, that meant the gallows; and much he + cared for that. What troubled him now was Julia’s indescribable levity. + That girl would scrape acquaintance with anybody; she had no reserve, none + of the enamel of the lady. She was familiar with a brute like his + landlord; she took an immediate interest (which she lacked even the + delicacy to conceal) in a creature like Jimson! He could conceive her + asking Jimson to have tea with her! And it was for a girl like this that a + man like Gideon—Down, manly heart! + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by a sound that sent him whipping behind the door in a + trice. Miss Hazeltine had stepped on board the houseboat. Her sketch was + promising; judging from the stillness, she supposed Jimson not yet come; + and she had decided to seize occasion and complete the work of art. Down + she sat therefore in the bow, produced her block and water-colours, and + was soon singing over (what used to be called) the ladylike + accomplishment. Now and then indeed her song was interrupted, as she + searched in her memory for some of the odious little receipts by means of + which the game is practised—or used to be practised in the brave + days of old; they say the world, and those ornaments of the world, young + ladies, are become more sophisticated now; but Julia had probably studied + under Pitman, and she stood firm in the old ways. + </p> + <p> + Gideon, meanwhile, stood behind the door, afraid to move, afraid to + breathe, afraid to think of what must follow, racked by confinement and + borne to the ground with tedium. This particular phase, he felt with + gratitude, could not last for ever; whatever impended (even the gallows, + he bitterly and perhaps erroneously reflected) could not fail to be a + relief. To calculate cubes occurred to him as an ingenious and even + profitable refuge from distressing thoughts, and he threw his manhood into + that dreary exercise. + </p> + <p> + Thus, then, were these two young persons occupied—Gideon attacking + the perfect number with resolution; Julia vigorously stippling incongruous + colours on her block, when Providence dispatched into these waters a + steam-launch asthmatically panting up the Thames. All along the banks the + water swelled and fell, and the reeds rustled. The houseboat itself, that + ancient stationary creature, became suddenly imbued with life, and rolled + briskly at her moorings, like a sea-going ship when she begins to smell + the harbour bar. The wash had nearly died away, and the quick panting of + the launch sounded already faint and far off, when Gideon was startled by + a cry from Julia. Peering through the window, he beheld her staring + disconsolately downstream at the fast-vanishing canoe. The barrister + (whatever were his faults) displayed on this occasion a promptitude worthy + of his hero, Robert Skill; with one effort of his mind he foresaw what was + about to follow; with one movement of his body he dropped to the floor and + crawled under the table. + </p> + <p> + Julia, on her part, was not yet alive to her position. She saw she had + lost the canoe, and she looked forward with something less than avidity to + her next interview with Mr Bloomfield; but she had no idea that she was + imprisoned, for she knew of the plank bridge. + </p> + <p> + She made the circuit of the house, and found the door open and the bridge + withdrawn. It was plain, then, that Jimson must have come; plain, too, + that he must be on board. He must be a very shy man to have suffered this + invasion of his residence, and made no sign; and her courage rose higher + at the thought. He must come now, she must force him from his privacy, for + the plank was too heavy for her single strength; so she tapped upon the + open door. Then she tapped again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Jimson,’ she cried, ‘Mr Jimson! here, come!—you must come, you + know, sooner or later, for I can’t get off without you. O, don’t be so + exceedingly silly! O, please, come!’ + </p> + <p> + Still there was no reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘If he is here he must be mad,’ she thought, with a little fear. And the + next moment she remembered he had probably gone aboard like herself in a + boat. In that case she might as well see the houseboat, and she pushed + open the door and stepped in. Under the table, where he lay smothered with + dust, Gideon’s heart stood still. + </p> + <p> + There were the remains of Jimson’s lunch. ‘He likes rather nice things to + eat,’ she thought. ‘O, I am sure he is quite a delightful man. I wonder if + he is as good-looking as Mr Forsyth. Mrs Jimson—I don’t believe it + sounds as nice as Mrs Forsyth; but then “Gideon” is so really odious! And + here is some of his music too; this is delightful. Orange Pekoe—O, + that’s what he meant by some kind of tea.’ And she trilled with laughter. + ‘Adagio molto espressivo, sempre legato,’ she read next. (For the literary + part of a composer’s business Gideon was well equipped.) ‘How very strange + to have all these directions, and only three or four notes! O, here’s + another with some more. Andante patetico.’ And she began to glance over + the music. ‘O dear me,’ she thought, ‘he must be terribly modern! It all + seems discords to me. Let’s try the air. It is very strange, it seems + familiar.’ She began to sing it, and suddenly broke off with laughter. + ‘Why, it’s “Tommy make room for your Uncle!”’ she cried aloud, so that the + soul of Gideon was filled with bitterness. ‘Andante patetico, indeed! The + man must be a mere impostor.’ + </p> + <p> + And just at this moment there came a confused, scuffling sound from + underneath the table; a strange note, like that of a barn-door fowl, + ushered in a most explosive sneeze; the head of the sufferer was at the + same time brought smartly in contact with the boards above; and the sneeze + was followed by a hollow groan. + </p> + <p> + Julia fled to the door, and there, with the salutary instinct of the + brave, turned and faced the danger. There was no pursuit. The sounds + continued; below the table a crouching figure was indistinctly to be seen + jostled by the throes of a sneezing-fit; and that was all. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely,’ thought Julia, ‘this is most unusual behaviour. He cannot be a + man of the world!’ + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the dust of years had been disturbed by the young barrister’s + convulsions; and the sneezing-fit was succeeded by a passionate access of + coughing. + </p> + <p> + Julia began to feel a certain interest. ‘I am afraid you are really quite + ill,’ she said, drawing a little nearer. ‘Please don’t let me put you out, + and do not stay under that table, Mr Jimson. Indeed it cannot be good for + you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Jimson only answered by a distressing cough; and the next moment the + girl was on her knees, and their faces had almost knocked together under + the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, my gracious goodness!’ exclaimed Miss Hazeltine, and sprang to her + feet. ‘Mr Forsyth gone mad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not mad,’ said the gentleman ruefully, extricating himself from his + position. ‘Dearest. Miss Hazeltine, I vow to you upon my knees I am not + mad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are not!’ she cried, panting. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know,’ he said, ‘that to a superficial eye my conduct may appear + unconventional.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you are not mad, it was no conduct at all,’ cried the girl, with a + flash of colour, ‘and showed you did not care one penny for my feelings!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is the very devil and all. I know—I admit that,’ cried Gideon, + with a great effort of manly candour. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was abominable conduct!’ said Julia, with energy. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it must have shaken your esteem,’ said the barrister. ‘But, + dearest Miss Hazeltine, I beg of you to hear me out; my behaviour, strange + as it may seem, is not unsusceptible of explanation; and I positively + cannot and will not consent to continue to try to exist without—without + the esteem of one whom I admire—the moment is ill chosen, I am well + aware of that; but I repeat the expression—one whom I admire.’ + </p> + <p> + A touch of amusement appeared on Miss Hazeltine’s face. ‘Very well,’ said + she, ‘come out of this dreadfully cold place, and let us sit down on + deck.’ The barrister dolefully followed her. ‘Now,’ said she, making + herself comfortable against the end of the house, ‘go on. I will hear you + out.’ And then, seeing him stand before her with so much obvious disrelish + to the task, she was suddenly overcome with laughter. Julia’s laugh was a + thing to ravish lovers; she rolled her mirthful descant with the freedom + and the melody of a blackbird’s song upon the river, and repeated by the + echoes of the farther bank. It seemed a thing in its own place and a sound + native to the open air. There was only one creature who heard it without + joy, and that was her unfortunate admirer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he said, in a voice that tottered with annoyance, ‘I + speak as your sincere well-wisher, but this can only be called levity.’ + </p> + <p> + Julia made great eyes at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t withdraw the word,’ he said: ‘already the freedom with which I + heard you hobnobbing with a boatman gave me exquisite pain. Then there was + a want of reserve about Jimson—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But Jimson appears to be yourself,’ objected Julia. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am far from denying that,’ cried the barrister, ‘but you did not know + it at the time. What could Jimson be to you? Who was Jimson? Miss + Hazeltine, it cut me to the heart.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really this seems to me to be very silly,’ returned Julia, with severe + decision. ‘You have behaved in the most extraordinary manner; you pretend + you are able to explain your conduct, and instead of doing so you begin to + attack me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am well aware of that,’ replied Gideon. ‘I—I will make a clean + breast of it. When you know all the circumstances you will be able to + excuse me. + </p> + <p> + And sitting down beside her on the deck, he poured forth his miserable + history. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, Mr Forsyth,’ she cried, when he had done, ‘I am—so—sorry! + wish I hadn’t laughed at you—only you know you really were so + exceedingly funny. But I wish I hadn’t, and I wouldn’t either if I had + only known.’ And she gave him her hand. + </p> + <p> + Gideon kept it in his own. ‘You do not think the worse of me for this?’ he + asked tenderly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because you have been so silly and got into such dreadful trouble? you + poor boy, no!’ cried Julia; and, in the warmth of the moment, reached him + her other hand; ‘you may count on me,’ she added. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really?’ said Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really and really!’ replied the girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do then, and I will,’ cried the young man. ‘I admit the moment is not + well chosen; but I have no friends—to speak of.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No more have I,’ said Julia. ‘But don’t you think it’s perhaps time you + gave me back my hands?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘La ci darem la mano,’ said the barrister, ‘the merest moment more! I have + so few friends,’ he added. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought it was considered such a bad account of a young man to have no + friends,’ observed Julia. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, but I have crowds of FRIENDS!’ cried Gideon. ‘That’s not what I mean. + I feel the moment is ill chosen; but O, Julia, if you could only see + yourself!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Forsyth—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t call me by that beastly name!’ cried the youth. ‘Call me Gideon!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, never that,’ from Julia. ‘Besides, we have known each other such a + short time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all!’ protested Gideon. ‘We met at Bournemouth ever so long ago. I + never forgot you since. Say you never forgot me. Say you never forgot me, + and call me Gideon!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t this rather—a want of reserve about Jimson?’ enquired the + girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I know I am an ass,’ cried the barrister, ‘and I don’t care a + halfpenny! I know I’m an ass, and you may laugh at me to your heart’s + delight.’ And as Julia’s lips opened with a smile, he once more dropped + into music. ‘There’s the Land of Cherry Isle!’ he sang, courting her with + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s like an opera,’ said Julia, rather faintly. + </p> + <p> + ‘What should it be?’ said Gideon. ‘Am I not Jimson? It would be strange if + I did not serenade my love. O yes, I mean the word, my Julia; and I mean + to win you. I am in dreadful trouble, and I have not a penny of my own, + and I have cut the silliest figure; and yet I mean to win you, Julia. Look + at me, if you can, and tell me no!’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at him; and whatever her eyes may have told him, it is to be + supposed he took a pleasure in the message, for he read it a long while. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Uncle Ned will give us some money to go on upon in the meanwhile,’ he + said at last. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I call that cool!’ said a cheerful voice at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + Gideon and Julia sprang apart with wonderful alacrity; the latter annoyed + to observe that although they had never moved since they sat down, they + were now quite close together; both presenting faces of a very heightened + colour to the eyes of Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield. That gentleman, coming up + the river in his boat, had captured the truant canoe, and divining what + had happened, had thought to steal a march upon Miss Hazeltine at her + sketch. He had unexpectedly brought down two birds with one stone; and as + he looked upon the pair of flushed and breathless culprits, the pleasant + human instinct of the matchmaker softened his heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I call that cool,’ he repeated; ‘you seem to count very securely + upon Uncle Ned. But look here, Gid, I thought I had told you to keep + away?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To keep away from Maidenhead,’ replied Gid. ‘But how should I expect to + find you here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is something in that,’ Mr Bloomfield admitted. ‘You see I thought + it better that even you should be ignorant of my address; those rascals, + the Finsburys, would have wormed it out of you. And just to put them off + the scent I hoisted these abominable colours. But that is not all, Gid; + you promised me to work, and here I find you playing the fool at Padwick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, Mr Bloomfield, you must not be hard on Mr Forsyth,’ said Julia. + ‘Poor boy, he is in dreadful straits.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s this, Gid?’ enquired the uncle. ‘Have you been fighting? or is it + a bill?’ + </p> + <p> + These, in the opinion of the Squirradical, were the two misfortunes + incident to gentlemen; and indeed both were culled from his own career. He + had once put his name (as a matter of form) on a friend’s paper; it had + cost him a cool thousand; and the friend had gone about with the fear of + death upon him ever since, and never turned a corner without scouting in + front of him for Mr Bloomfield and the oaken staff. As for fighting, the + Squirradical was always on the brink of it; and once, when (in the + character of president of a Radical club) he had cleared out the hall of + his opponents, things had gone even further. Mr Holtum, the Conservative + candidate, who lay so long on the bed of sickness, was prepared to swear + to Mr Bloomfield. ‘I will swear to it in any court—it was the hand + of that brute that struck me down,’ he was reported to have said; and when + he was thought to be sinking, it was known that he had made an ante-mortem + statement in that sense. It was a cheerful day for the Squirradical when + Holtum was restored to his brewery. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s much worse than that,’ said Gideon; ‘a combination of circumstances + really providentially unjust—a—in fact, a syndicate of + murderers seem to have perceived my latent ability to rid them of the + traces of their crime. It’s a legal study after all, you see!’ And with + these words, Gideon, for the second time that day, began to describe the + adventures of the Broadwood Grand. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must write to The Times,’ cried Mr Bloomfield. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you want to get me disbarred?’ asked Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Disbarred! Come, it can’t be as bad as that,’ said his uncle. ‘It’s a + good, honest, Liberal Government that’s in, and they would certainly move + at my request. Thank God, the days of Tory jobbery are at an end.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It wouldn’t do, Uncle Ned,’ said Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you’re not mad enough,’ cried Mr Bloomfield, ‘to persist in trying to + dispose of it yourself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no other path open to me,’ said Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not common sense, and I will not hear of it,’ cried Mr Bloomfield. + ‘I command you, positively, Gid, to desist from this criminal + interference.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well, then, I hand it over to you,’ said Gideon, ‘and you can do + what you like with the dead body.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God forbid!’ ejaculated the president of the Radical Club, ‘I’ll have + nothing to do with it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you must allow me to do the best I can,’ returned his nephew. + ‘Believe me, I have a distinct talent for this sort of difficulty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We might forward it to that pest-house, the Conservative Club,’ observed + Mr Bloomfield. ‘It might damage them in the eyes of their constituents; + and it could be profitably worked up in the local journal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you see any political capital in the thing,’ said Gideon, ‘you may + have it for me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no, Gid—no, no, I thought you might. I will have no hand in the + thing. On reflection, it’s highly undesirable that either I or Miss + Hazeltine should linger here. We might be observed,’ said the president, + looking up and down the river; ‘and in my public position the consequences + would be painful for the party. And, at any rate, it’s dinner-time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What?’ cried Gideon, plunging for his watch. ‘And so it is! Great heaven, + the piano should have been here hours ago!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Bloomfield was clambering back into his boat; but at these words he + paused. + </p> + <p> + ‘I saw it arrive myself at the station; I hired a carrier man; he had a + round to make, but he was to be here by four at the latest,’ cried the + barrister. ‘No doubt the piano is open, and the body found.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You must fly at once,’ cried Mr Bloomfield, ‘it’s the only manly step.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But suppose it’s all right?’ wailed Gideon. ‘Suppose the piano comes, and + I am not here to receive it? I shall have hanged myself by my cowardice. + No, Uncle Ned, enquiries must be made in Padwick; I dare not go, of + course; but you may—you could hang about the police office, don’t + you see?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Gid—no, my dear nephew,’ said Mr Bloomfield, with the voice of + one on the rack. ‘I regard you with the most sacred affection; and I thank + God I am an Englishman—and all that. But not—not the police, + Gid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you desert me?’ said Gideon. ‘Say it plainly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Far from it! far from it!’ protested Mr Bloomfield. ‘I only propose + caution. Common sense, Gid, should always be an Englishman’s guide.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you let me speak?’ said Julia. ‘I think Gideon had better leave this + dreadful houseboat, and wait among the willows over there. If the piano + comes, then he could step out and take it in; and if the police come, he + could slip into our houseboat, and there needn’t be any more Jimson at + all. He could go to bed, and we could burn his clothes (couldn’t we?) in + the steam-launch; and then really it seems as if it would be all right. Mr + Bloomfield is so respectable, you know, and such a leading character, it + would be quite impossible even to fancy that he could be mixed up with + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This young lady has strong common sense,’ said the Squirradical. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I don’t think I’m at all a fool,’ said Julia, with conviction. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what if neither of them come?’ asked Gideon; ‘what shall I do then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why then,’ said she, ‘you had better go down to the village after dark; + and I can go with you, and then I am sure you could never be suspected; + and even if you were, I could tell them it was altogether a mistake.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not permit that—I will not suffer Miss Hazeltine to go,’ + cried Mr Bloomfield. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ asked Julia. + </p> + <p> + Mr Bloomfield had not the least desire to tell her why, for it was simply + a craven fear of being drawn himself into the imbroglio; but with the + usual tactics of a man who is ashamed of himself, he took the high hand. + ‘God forbid, my dear Miss Hazeltine, that I should dictate to a lady on + the question of propriety—’ he began. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, is that all?’ interrupted Julia. ‘Then we must go all three.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Caught!’ thought the Squirradical. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. Positively the Last Appearance of the Broadwood Grand + </h2> + <p> + England is supposed to be unmusical; but without dwelling on the patronage + extended to the organ-grinder, without seeking to found any argument on + the prevalence of the Jew’s trump, there is surely one instrument that may + be said to be national in the fullest acceptance of the word. The herdboy + in the broom, already musical in the days of Father Chaucer, startles (and + perhaps pains) the lark with this exiguous pipe; and in the hands of the + skilled bricklayer, + </p> + <p> + ‘The thing becomes a trumpet, whence he blows’ + </p> + <p> + (as a general rule) either ‘The British Grenadiers’ or ‘Cherry Ripe’. The + latter air is indeed the shibboleth and diploma piece of the penny + whistler; I hazard a guess it was originally composed for this instrument. + It is singular enough that a man should be able to gain a livelihood, or + even to tide over a period of unemployment, by the display of his + proficiency upon the penny whistle; still more so, that the professional + should almost invariably confine himself to ‘Cherry Ripe’. But indeed, + singularities surround the subject, thick like blackberries. Why, for + instance, should the pipe be called a penny whistle? I think no one ever + bought it for a penny. Why should the alternative name be tin whistle? I + am grossly deceived if it be made of tin. Lastly, in what deaf catacomb, + in what earless desert, does the beginner pass the excruciating interval + of his apprenticeship? We have all heard people learning the piano, the + fiddle, and the cornet; but the young of the penny whistler (like that of + the salmon) is occult from observation; he is never heard until + proficient; and providence (perhaps alarmed by the works of Mr Mallock) + defends human hearing from his first attempts upon the upper octave. + </p> + <p> + A really noteworthy thing was taking place in a green lane, not far from + Padwick. On the bench of a carrier’s cart there sat a tow-headed, lanky, + modest-looking youth; the reins were on his lap; the whip lay behind him + in the interior of the cart; the horse proceeded without guidance or + encouragement; the carrier (or the carrier’s man), rapt into a higher + sphere than that of his daily occupations, his looks dwelling on the + skies, devoted himself wholly to a brand-new D penny whistle, whence he + diffidently endeavoured to elicit that pleasing melody ‘The Ploughboy’. To + any observant person who should have chanced to saunter in that lane, the + hour would have been thrilling. ‘Here at last,’ he would have said, ‘is + the beginner.’ + </p> + <p> + The tow-headed youth (whose name was Harker) had just encored himself for + the nineteenth time, when he was struck into the extreme of confusion by + the discovery that he was not alone. + </p> + <p> + ‘There you have it!’ cried a manly voice from the side of the road. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s as good as I want to hear. Perhaps a leetle oilier in the run,’ + the voice suggested, with meditative gusto. ‘Give it us again.’ + </p> + <p> + Harker glanced, from the depths of his humiliation, at the speaker. He + beheld a powerful, sun-brown, clean-shaven fellow, about forty years of + age, striding beside the cart with a non-commissioned military bearing, + and (as he strode) spinning in the air a cane. The fellow’s clothes were + very bad, but he looked clean and self-reliant. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m only a beginner,’ gasped the blushing Harker, ‘I didn’t think anybody + could hear me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I like that!’ returned the other. ‘You’re a pretty old beginner. + Come, I’ll give you a lead myself. Give us a seat here beside you.’ + </p> + <p> + The next moment the military gentleman was perched on the cart, pipe in + hand. He gave the instrument a knowing rattle on the shaft, mouthed it, + appeared to commune for a moment with the muse, and dashed into ‘The girl + I left behind me’. He was a great, rather than a fine, performer; he + lacked the bird-like richness; he could scarce have extracted all the + honey out of ‘Cherry Ripe’; he did not fear—he even ostentatiously + displayed and seemed to revel in he shrillness of the instrument; but in + fire, speed, precision, evenness, and fluency; in linked agility of jimmy—a + technical expression, by your leave, answering to warblers on the bagpipe; + and perhaps, above all, in that inspiring side-glance of the eye, with + which he followed the effect and (as by a human appeal) eked out the + insufficiency of his performance: in these, the fellow stood without a + rival. Harker listened: ‘The girl I left behind me’ filled him with + despair; ‘The Soldier’s Joy’ carried him beyond jealousy into generous + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Turn about,’ said the military gentleman, offering the pipe. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, not after you!’ cried Harker; ‘you’re a professional.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said his companion; ‘an amatyure like yourself. That’s one style of + play, yours is the other, and I like it best. But I began when I was a + boy, you see, before my taste was formed. When you’re my age you’ll play + that thing like a cornet-a-piston. Give us that air again; how does it + go?’ and he affected to endeavour to recall ‘The Ploughboy’. + </p> + <p> + A timid, insane hope sprang in the breast of Harker. Was it possible? Was + there something in his playing? It had, indeed, seemed to him at times as + if he got a kind of a richness out of it. Was he a genius? Meantime the + military gentleman stumbled over the air. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the unhappy Harker, ‘that’s not quite it. It goes this way—just + to show you.’ + </p> + <p> + And, taking the pipe between his lips, he sealed his doom. When he had + played the air, and then a second time, and a third; when the military + gentleman had tried it once more, and once more failed; when it became + clear to Harker that he, the blushing debutant, was actually giving a + lesson to this full-grown flutist—and the flutist under his care was + not very brilliantly progressing—how am I to tell what floods of + glory brightened the autumnal countryside; how, unless the reader were an + amateur himself, describe the heights of idiotic vanity to which the + carrier climbed? One significant fact shall paint the situation: + thenceforth it was Harker who played, and the military gentleman listened + and approved. + </p> + <p> + As he listened, however, he did not forget the habit of soldierly + precaution, looking both behind and before. He looked behind and computed + the value of the carrier’s load, divining the contents of the brown-paper + parcels and the portly hamper, and briefly setting down the grand piano in + the brand-new piano-case as ‘difficult to get rid of’. He looked before, + and spied at the corner of the green lane a little country public-house + embowered in roses. ‘I’ll have a shy at it,’ concluded the military + gentleman, and roundly proposed a glass. ‘Well, I’m not a drinking man,’ + said Harker. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, now,’ cut in the other, ‘I’ll tell you who I am: I’m + Colour-Sergeant Brand of the Blankth. That’ll tell you if I’m a drinking + man or not.’ It might and it might not, thus a Greek chorus would have + intervened, and gone on to point out how very far it fell short of telling + why the sergeant was tramping a country lane in tatters; or even to argue + that he must have pretermitted some while ago his labours for the general + defence, and (in the interval) possibly turned his attention to oakum. But + there was no Greek chorus present; and the man of war went on to contend + that drinking was one thing and a friendly glass another. + </p> + <p> + In the Blue Lion, which was the name of the country public-house, + Colour-Sergeant Brand introduced his new friend, Mr Harker, to a number of + ingenious mixtures, calculated to prevent the approaches of intoxication. + These he explained to be ‘rekisite’ in the service, so that a + self-respecting officer should always appear upon parade in a condition + honourable to his corps. The most efficacious of these devices was to lace + a pint of mild ale with twopenceworth of London gin. I am pleased to hand + in this recipe to the discerning reader, who may find it useful even in + civil station; for its effect upon Mr Harker was revolutionary. He must be + helped on board his own waggon, where he proceeded to display a spirit + entirely given over to mirth and music, alternately hooting with laughter, + to which the sergeant hastened to bear chorus, and incoherently tootling + on the pipe. The man of war, meantime, unostentatiously possessed himself + of the reins. It was plain he had a taste for the secluded beauties of an + English landscape; for the cart, although it wandered under his guidance + for some time, was never observed to issue on the dusty highway, + journeying between hedge and ditch, and for the most part under + overhanging boughs. It was plain, besides, he had an eye to the true + interests of Mr Harker; for though the cart drew up more than once at the + doors of public-houses, it was only the sergeant who set foot to ground, + and, being equipped himself with a quart bottle, once more proceeded on + his rural drive. + </p> + <p> + To give any idea of the complexity of the sergeant’s course, a map of that + part of Middlesex would be required, and my publisher is averse from the + expense. Suffice it, that a little after the night had closed, the cart + was brought to a standstill in a woody road; where the sergeant lifted + from among the parcels, and tenderly deposited upon the wayside, the + inanimate form of Harker. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you come-to before daylight,’ thought the sergeant, ‘I shall be + surprised for one.’ + </p> + <p> + From the various pockets of the slumbering carrier he gently collected the + sum of seventeen shillings and eightpence sterling; and, getting once more + into the cart, drove thoughtfully away. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I was exactly sure of where I was, it would be a good job,’ he + reflected. ‘Anyway, here’s a corner.’ + </p> + <p> + He turned it, and found himself upon the riverside. A little above him the + lights of a houseboat shone cheerfully; and already close at hand, so + close that it was impossible to avoid their notice, three persons, a lady + and two gentlemen, were deliberately drawing near. The sergeant put his + trust in the convenient darkness of the night, and drove on to meet them. + One of the gentlemen, who was of a portly figure, walked in the midst of + the fairway, and presently held up a staff by way of signal. + </p> + <p> + ‘My man, have you seen anything of a carrier’s cart?’ he cried. + </p> + <p> + Dark as it was, it seemed to the sergeant as though the slimmer of the two + gentlemen had made a motion to prevent the other speaking, and (finding + himself too late) had skipped aside with some alacrity. At another season, + Sergeant Brand would have paid more attention to the fact; but he was then + immersed in the perils of his own predicament. + </p> + <p> + ‘A carrier’s cart?’ said he, with a perceptible uncertainty of voice. ‘No, + sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said the portly gentleman, and stood aside to let the sergeant pass. + The lady appeared to bend forward and study the cart with every mark of + sharpened curiosity, the slimmer gentleman still keeping in the rear. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder what the devil they would be at,’ thought Sergeant Brand; and, + looking fearfully back, he saw the trio standing together in the midst of + the way, like folk consulting. The bravest of military heroes are not + always equal to themselves as to their reputation; and fear, on some + singular provocation, will find a lodgment in the most unfamiliar bosom. + The word ‘detective’ might have been heard to gurgle in the sergeant’s + throat; and vigorously applying the whip, he fled up the riverside road to + Great Haverham, at the gallop of the carrier’s horse. The lights of the + houseboat flashed upon the flying waggon as it passed; the beat of hoofs + and the rattle of the vehicle gradually coalesced and died away; and + presently, to the trio on the riverside, silence had redescended. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the most extraordinary thing,’ cried the slimmer of the two + gentlemen, ‘but that’s the cart.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I know I saw a piano,’ said the girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, it’s the cart, certainly; and the extraordinary thing is, it’s not the + man,’ added the first. + </p> + <p> + ‘It must be the man, Gid, it must be,’ said the portly one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, why is he running away?’ asked Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘His horse bolted, I suppose,’ said the Squirradical. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense! I heard the whip going like a flail,’ said Gideon. ‘It simply + defies the human reason.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you,’ broke in the girl, ‘he came round that corner. Suppose we + went and—what do you call it in books?—followed his trail? + There may be a house there, or somebody who saw him, or something.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, suppose we did, for the fun of the thing,’ said Gideon. + </p> + <p> + The fun of the thing (it would appear) consisted in the extremely close + juxtaposition of himself and Miss Hazeltine. To Uncle Ned, who was + excluded from these simple pleasures, the excursion appeared hopeless from + the first; and when a fresh perspective of darkness opened up, dimly + contained between park palings on the one side and a hedge and ditch upon + the other, the whole without the smallest signal of human habitation, the + Squirradical drew up. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is a wild-goose chase,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + With the cessation of the footfalls, another sound smote upon their ears. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, what’s that?’ cried Julia. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t think,’ said Gideon. + </p> + <p> + The Squirradical had his stick presented like a sword. ‘Gid,’ he began, + ‘Gid, I—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O Mr Forsyth!’ cried the girl. ‘O don’t go forward, you don’t know what + it might be—it might be something perfectly horrid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be the devil itself,’ said Gideon, disengaging himself, ‘but I am + going to see it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be rash, Gid,’ cried his uncle. + </p> + <p> + The barrister drew near to the sound, which was certainly of a portentous + character. In quality it appeared to blend the strains of the cow, the + fog-horn, and the mosquito; and the startling manner of its enunciation + added incalculably to its terrors. A dark object, not unlike the human + form divine, appeared on the brink of the ditch. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a man,’ said Gideon, ‘it’s only a man; he seems to be asleep and + snoring. Hullo,’ he added, a moment after, ‘there must be something wrong + with him, he won’t waken.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon produced his vestas, struck one, and by its light recognized the + tow head of Harker. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is the man,’ said he, ‘as drunk as Belial. I see the whole story’; + and to his two companions, who had now ventured to rejoin him, he set + forth a theory of the divorce between the carrier and his cart, which was + not unlike the truth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Drunken brute!’ said Uncle Ned, ‘let’s get him to a pump and give him + what he deserves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all!’ said Gideon. ‘It is highly undesirable he should see us + together; and really, do you know, I am very much obliged to him, for this + is about the luckiest thing that could have possibly occurred. It seems to + me—Uncle Ned, I declare to heaven it seems to me—I’m clear of + it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Clear of what?’ asked the Squirradical. + </p> + <p> + ‘The whole affair!’ cried Gideon. ‘That man has been ass enough to steal + the cart and the dead body; what he hopes to do with it I neither know nor + care. My hands are free, Jimson ceases; down with Jimson. Shake hands with + me, Uncle Ned—Julia, darling girl, Julia, I—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Gideon, Gideon!’ said his uncle. ‘O, it’s all right, uncle, when we’re + going to be married so soon,’ said Gideon. ‘You know you said so yourself + in the houseboat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did I?’ said Uncle Ned; ‘I am certain I said no such thing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Appeal to him, tell him he did, get on his soft side,’ cried Gideon. + ‘He’s a real brick if you get on his soft side.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Mr Bloomfield,’ said Julia, ‘I know Gideon will be such a very good + boy, and he has promised me to do such a lot of law, and I will see that + he does too. And you know it is so very steadying to young men, everybody + admits that; though, of course, I know I have no money, Mr Bloomfield,’ + she added. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear young lady, as this rapscallion told you today on the boat, Uncle + Ned has plenty,’ said the Squirradical, ‘and I can never forget that you + have been shamefully defrauded. So as there’s nobody looking, you had + better give your Uncle Ned a kiss. There, you rogue,’ resumed Mr + Bloomfield, when the ceremony had been daintily performed, ‘this very + pretty young lady is yours, and a vast deal more than you deserve. But + now, let us get back to the houseboat, get up steam on the launch, and + away back to town.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the thing!’ cried Gideon; ‘and tomorrow there will be no + houseboat, and no Jimson, and no carrier’s cart, and no piano; and when + Harker awakes on the ditchside, he may tell himself the whole affair has + been a dream.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aha!’ said Uncle Ned, ‘but there’s another man who will have a different + awakening. That fellow in the cart will find he has been too clever by + half.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Uncle Ned and Julia,’ said Gideon, ‘I am as happy as the King of Tartary, + my heart is like a threepenny-bit, my heels are like feathers; I am out of + all my troubles, Julia’s hand is in mine. Is this a time for anything but + handsome sentiments? Why, there’s not room in me for anything that’s not + angelic! And when I think of that poor unhappy devil in the cart, I stand + here in the night and cry with a single heart God help him!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Amen,’ said Uncle Ned. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the Second + </h2> + <p> + In a really polite age of literature I would have scorned to cast my eye + again on the contortions of Morris. But the study is in the spirit of the + day; it presents, besides, features of a high, almost a repulsive, + morality; and if it should prove the means of preventing any respectable + and inexperienced gentleman from plunging light-heartedly into crime, even + political crime, this work will not have been penned in vain. + </p> + <p> + He rose on the morrow of his night with Michael, rose from the leaden + slumber of distress, to find his hand tremulous, his eyes closed with + rheum, his throat parched, and his digestion obviously paralysed. ‘Lord + knows it’s not from eating!’ Morris thought; and as he dressed he + reconsidered his position under several heads. Nothing will so well depict + the troubled seas in which he was now voyaging as a review of these + various anxieties. I have thrown them (for the reader’s convenience) into + a certain order; but in the mind of one poor human equal they whirled + together like the dust of hurricanes. With the same obliging + preoccupation, I have put a name to each of his distresses; and it will be + observed with pity that every individual item would have graced and + commended the cover of a railway novel. + </p> + <p> + Anxiety the First: Where is the Body? or, The Mystery of Bent Pitman. It + was now manifestly plain that Bent Pitman (as was to be looked for from + his ominous appellation) belonged to the darker order of the criminal + class. An honest man would not have cashed the bill; a humane man would + not have accepted in silence the tragic contents of the water-butt; a man, + who was not already up to the hilts in gore, would have lacked the means + of secretly disposing them. This process of reasoning left a horrid image + of the monster, Pitman. Doubtless he had long ago disposed of the body—dropping + it through a trapdoor in his back kitchen, Morris supposed, with some hazy + recollection of a picture in a penny dreadful; and doubtless the man now + lived in wanton splendour on the proceeds of the bill. So far, all was + peace. But with the profligate habits of a man like Bent Pitman (who was + no doubt a hunchback in the bargain), eight hundred pounds could be easily + melted in a week. When they were gone, what would he be likely to do next? + A hell-like voice in Morris’s own bosom gave the answer: ‘Blackmail me.’ + </p> + <p> + Anxiety the Second: The Fraud of the Tontine; or, Is my Uncle dead? This, + on which all Morris’s hopes depended, was yet a question. He had tried to + bully Teena; he had tried to bribe her; and nothing came of it. He had his + moral conviction still; but you cannot blackmail a sharp lawyer on a moral + conviction. And besides, since his interview with Michael, the idea wore a + less attractive countenance. Was Michael the man to be blackmailed? and + was Morris the man to do it? Grave considerations. ‘It’s not that I’m + afraid of him,’ Morris so far condescended to reassure himself; ‘but I + must be very certain of my ground, and the deuce of it is, I see no way. + How unlike is life to novels! I wouldn’t have even begun this business in + a novel, but what I’d have met a dark, slouching fellow in the Oxford + Road, who’d have become my accomplice, and known all about how to do it, + and probably broken into Michael’s house at night and found nothing but a + waxwork image; and then blackmailed or murdered me. But here, in real + life, I might walk the streets till I dropped dead, and none of the + criminal classes would look near me. Though, to be sure, there is always + Pitman,’ he added thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Anxiety the Third: The Cottage at Browndean; or, The Underpaid Accomplice. + For he had an accomplice, and that accomplice was blooming unseen in a + damp cottage in Hampshire with empty pockets. What could be done about + that? He really ought to have sent him something; if it was only a + post-office order for five bob, enough to prove that he was kept in mind, + enough to keep him in hope, beer, and tobacco. ‘But what would you have?’ + thought Morris; and ruefully poured into his hand a half-crown, a florin, + and eightpence in small change. For a man in Morris’s position, at war + with all society, and conducting, with the hand of inexperience, a widely + ramified intrigue, the sum was already a derision. John would have to be + doing; no mistake of that. ‘But then,’ asked the hell-like voice, ‘how + long is John likely to stand it?’ + </p> + <p> + Anxiety the Fourth: The Leather Business; or, The Shutters at Last: a Tale + of the City. On this head Morris had no news. He had not yet dared to + visit the family concern; yet he knew he must delay no longer, and if + anything had been wanted to sharpen this conviction, Michael’s references + of the night before rang ambiguously in his ear. Well and good. To visit + the city might be indispensable; but what was he to do when he was there? + He had no right to sign in his own name; and, with all the will in the + world, he seemed to lack the art of signing with his uncle’s. Under these + circumstances, Morris could do nothing to procrastinate the crash; and, + when it came, when prying eyes began to be applied to every joint of his + behaviour, two questions could not fail to be addressed, sooner or later, + to a speechless and perspiring insolvent. Where is Mr Joseph Finsbury? and + how about your visit to the bank? Questions, how easy to put!—ye + gods, how impossible to answer! The man to whom they should be addressed + went certainly to gaol, and—eh! what was this?—possibly to the + gallows. Morris was trying to shave when this idea struck him, and he laid + the razor down. Here (in Michael’s words) was the total disappearance of a + valuable uncle; here was a time of inexplicable conduct on the part of a + nephew who had been in bad blood with the old man any time these seven + years; what a chance for a judicial blunder! ‘But no,’ thought Morris, + ‘they cannot, they dare not, make it murder. Not that. But honestly, and + speaking as a man to a man, I don’t see any other crime in the calendar + (except arson) that I don’t seem somehow to have committed. And yet I’m a + perfectly respectable man, and wished nothing but my due. Law is a pretty + business.’ + </p> + <p> + With this conclusion firmly seated in his mind, Morris Finsbury descended + to the hall of the house in John Street, still half-shaven. There was a + letter in the box; he knew the handwriting: John at last! + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I think I might have been spared this,’ he said bitterly, and tore + it open. + </p> + <p> + Dear Morris [it ran], what the dickens do you mean by it? I’m in an awful + hole down here; I have to go on tick, and the parties on the spot don’t + cotton to the idea; they couldn’t, because it is so plain I’m in a stait + of Destitution. I’ve got no bedclothes, think of that, I must have coins, + the hole thing’s a Mockry, I wont stand it, nobody would. I would have + come away before, only I have no money for the railway fare. Don’t be a + lunatic, Morris, you don’t seem to understand my dredful situation. I have + to get the stamp on tick. A fact. + </p> + <p> + —Ever your affte. Brother, + </p> + <p> + J. FINSBURY + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t even spell!’ Morris reflected, as he crammed the letter in his + pocket, and left the house. ‘What can I do for him? I have to go to the + expense of a barber, I’m so shattered! How can I send anybody coins? It’s + hard lines, I daresay; but does he think I’m living on hot muffins? One + comfort,’ was his grim reflection, ‘he can’t cut and run—he’s got to + stay; he’s as helpless as the dead.’ And then he broke forth again: + ‘Complains, does he? and he’s never even heard of Bent Pitman! If he had + what I have on my mind, he might complain with a good grace.’ + </p> + <p> + But these were not honest arguments, or not wholly honest; there was a + struggle in the mind of Morris; he could not disguise from himself that + his brother John was miserably situated at Browndean, without news, + without money, without bedclothes, without society or any entertainment; + and by the time he had been shaved and picked a hasty breakfast at a + coffee tavern, Morris had arrived at a compromise. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor Johnny,’ he said to himself, ‘he’s in an awful box! I can’t send him + coins, but I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll send him the Pink Un—it’ll + cheer John up; and besides, it’ll do his credit good getting anything by + post.’ + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, on his way to the leather business, whither he proceeded + (according to his thrifty habit) on foot, Morris purchased and dispatched + a single copy of that enlivening periodical, to which (in a sudden pang of + remorse) he added at random the Athenaeum, the Revivalist, and the Penny + Pictorial Weekly. So there was John set up with literature, and Morris had + laid balm upon his conscience. + </p> + <p> + As if to reward him, he was received in his place of business with good + news. Orders were pouring in; there was a run on some of the back stock, + and the figure had gone up. Even the manager appeared elated. As for + Morris, who had almost forgotten the meaning of good news, he longed to + sob like a little child; he could have caught the manager (a pallid man + with startled eyebrows) to his bosom; he could have found it in his + generosity to give a cheque (for a small sum) to every clerk in the + counting-house. As he sat and opened his letters a chorus of airy + vocalists sang in his brain, to most exquisite music, ‘This whole concern + may be profitable yet, profitable yet, profitable yet.’ + </p> + <p> + To him, in this sunny moment of relief, enter a Mr Rodgerson, a creditor, + but not one who was expected to be pressing, for his connection with the + firm was old and regular. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, Finsbury,’ said he, not without embarrassment, ‘it’s of course only + fair to let you know—the fact is, money is a trifle tight—I + have some paper out—for that matter, every one’s complaining—and + in short—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It has never been our habit, Rodgerson,’ said Morris, turning pale. ‘But + give me time to turn round, and I’ll see what I can do; I daresay we can + let you have something to account.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, that’s just where is,’ replied Rodgerson. ‘I was tempted; I’ve let + the credit out of MY hands.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Out of your hands?’ repeated Morris. ‘That’s playing rather fast and + loose with us, Mr Rodgerson.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I got cent. for cent. for it,’ said the other, ‘on the nail, in a + certified cheque.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cent. for cent.!’ cried Morris. ‘Why, that’s something like thirty per + cent. bonus; a singular thing! Who’s the party?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t know the man,’ was the reply. ‘Name of Moss.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A Jew,’ Morris reflected, when his visitor was gone. And what could a Jew + want with a claim of—he verified the amount in the books—a + claim of three five eight, nineteen, ten, against the house of Finsbury? + And why should he pay cent. for cent.? The figure proved the loyalty of + Rodgerson—even Morris admitted that. But it proved unfortunately + something else—the eagerness of Moss. The claim must have been + wanted instantly, for that day, for that morning even. Why? The mystery of + Moss promised to be a fit pendant to the mystery of Pitman. ‘And just when + all was looking well too!’ cried Morris, smiting his hand upon the desk. + And almost at the same moment Mr Moss was announced. + </p> + <p> + Mr Moss was a radiant Hebrew, brutally handsome, and offensively polite. + He was acting, it appeared, for a third party; he understood nothing of + the circumstances; his client desired to have his position regularized; + but he would accept an antedated cheque—antedated by two months, if + Mr Finsbury chose. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I don’t understand this,’ said Morris. ‘What made you pay cent. per + cent. for it today?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Moss had no idea; only his orders. + </p> + <p> + ‘The whole thing is thoroughly irregular,’ said Morris. ‘It is not the + custom of the trade to settle at this time of the year. What are your + instructions if I refuse?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am to see Mr Joseph Finsbury, the head of the firm,’ said Mr Moss. ‘I + was directed to insist on that; it was implied you had no status here—the + expressions are not mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You cannot see Mr Joseph; he is unwell,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘In that case I was to place the matter in the hands of a lawyer. Let me + see,’ said Mr Moss, opening a pocket-book with, perhaps, suspicious care, + at the right place—‘Yes—of Mr Michael Finsbury. A relation, + perhaps? In that case, I presume, the matter will be pleasantly arranged.’ + </p> + <p> + To pass into the hands of Michael was too much for Morris. He struck his + colours. A cheque at two months was nothing, after all. In two months he + would probably be dead, or in a gaol at any rate. He bade the manager give + Mr Moss a chair and the paper. ‘I’m going over to get a cheque signed by + Mr Finsbury,’ said he, ‘who is lying ill at John Street.’ + </p> + <p> + A cab there and a cab back; here were inroads on his wretched capital! He + counted the cost; when he was done with Mr Moss he would be left with + twelvepence-halfpenny in the world. What was even worse, he had now been + forced to bring his uncle up to Bloomsbury. ‘No use for poor Johnny in + Hampshire now,’ he reflected. ‘And how the farce is to be kept up + completely passes me. At Browndean it was just possible; in Bloomsbury it + seems beyond human ingenuity—though I suppose it’s what Michael + does. But then he has accomplices—that Scotsman and the whole gang. + Ah, if I had accomplices!’ + </p> + <p> + Necessity is the mother of the arts. Under a spur so immediate, Morris + surprised himself by the neatness and dispatch of his new forgery, and + within three-fourths of an hour had handed it to Mr Moss. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very satisfactory,’ observed that gentleman, rising. ‘I was to + tell you it will not be presented, but you had better take care.’ + </p> + <p> + The room swam round Morris. ‘What—what’s that?’ he cried, grasping + the table. He was miserably conscious the next moment of his shrill tongue + and ashen face. ‘What do you mean—it will not be presented? Why am I + to take care? What is all this mummery?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no idea, Mr Finsbury,’ replied the smiling Hebrew. ‘It was a + message I was to deliver. The expressions were put into my mouth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is your client’s name?’ asked Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is a secret for the moment,’ answered Mr Moss. Morris bent toward + him. ‘It’s not the bank?’ he asked hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no authority to say more, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Mr Moss. ‘I will + wish you a good morning, if you please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wish me a good morning!’ thought Morris; and the next moment, seizing his + hat, he fled from his place of business like a madman. Three streets away + he stopped and groaned. ‘Lord! I should have borrowed from the manager!’ + he cried. ‘But it’s too late now; it would look dicky to go back; I’m + penniless—simply penniless—like the unemployed.’ + </p> + <p> + He went home and sat in the dismantled dining-room with his head in his + hands. Newton never thought harder than this victim of circumstances, and + yet no clearness came. ‘It may be a defect in my intelligence,’ he cried, + rising to his feet, ‘but I cannot see that I am fairly used. The bad luck + I’ve had is a thing to write to The Times about; it’s enough to breed a + revolution. And the plain English of the whole thing is that I must have + money at once. I’m done with all morality now; I’m long past that stage; + money I must have, and the only chance I see is Bent Pitman. Bent Pitman + is a criminal, and therefore his position’s weak. He must have some of + that eight hundred left; if he has I’ll force him to go shares; and even + if he hasn’t, I’ll tell him the tontine affair, and with a desperate man + like Pitman at my back, it’ll be strange if I don’t succeed.’ + </p> + <p> + Well and good. But how to lay hands upon Bent Pitman, except by + advertisement, was not so clear. And even so, in what terms to ask a + meeting? on what grounds? and where? Not at John Street, for it would + never do to let a man like Bent Pitman know your real address; nor yet at + Pitman’s house, some dreadful place in Holloway, with a trapdoor in the + back kitchen; a house which you might enter in a light summer overcoat and + varnished boots, to come forth again piecemeal in a market-basket. That + was the drawback of a really efficient accomplice, Morris felt, not + without a shudder. ‘I never dreamed I should come to actually covet such + society,’ he thought. And then a brilliant idea struck him. Waterloo + Station, a public place, yet at certain hours of the day a solitary; a + place, besides, the very name of which must knock upon the heart of + Pitman, and at once suggest a knowledge of the latest of his guilty + secrets. Morris took a piece of paper and sketched his advertisement. + </p> + <p> + WILLIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of + SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE on the far end of the main line departure + platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M., Sunday next. + </p> + <p> + Morris reperused this literary trifle with approbation. ‘Terse,’ he + reflected. ‘Something to his advantage is not strictly true; but it’s + taking and original, and a man is not on oath in an advertisement. All + that I require now is the ready cash for my own meals and for the + advertisement, and—no, I can’t lavish money upon John, but I’ll give + him some more papers. How to raise the wind?’ + </p> + <p> + He approached his cabinet of signets, and the collector suddenly revolted + in his blood. ‘I will not!’ he cried; ‘nothing shall induce me to massacre + my collection—rather theft!’ And dashing upstairs to the + drawing-room, he helped himself to a few of his uncle’s curiosities: a + pair of Turkish babooshes, a Smyrna fan, a water-cooler, a musket + guaranteed to have been seized from an Ephesian bandit, and a pocketful of + curious but incomplete seashells. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. William Bent Pitman Hears of Something to his Advantage + </h2> + <p> + On the morning of Sunday, William Dent Pitman rose at his usual hour, + although with something more than the usual reluctance. The day before (it + should be explained) an addition had been made to his family in the person + of a lodger. Michael Finsbury had acted sponsor in the business, and + guaranteed the weekly bill; on the other hand, no doubt with a spice of + his prevailing jocularity, he had drawn a depressing portrait of the + lodger’s character. Mr Pitman had been led to understand his guest was not + good company; he had approached the gentleman with fear, and had rejoiced + to find himself the entertainer of an angel. At tea he had been vastly + pleased; till hard on one in the morning he had sat entranced by eloquence + and progressively fortified with information in the studio; and now, as he + reviewed over his toilet the harmless pleasures of the evening, the future + smiled upon him with revived attractions. ‘Mr Finsbury is indeed an + acquisition,’ he remarked to himself; and as he entered the little + parlour, where the table was already laid for breakfast, the cordiality of + his greeting would have befitted an acquaintanceship already old. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am delighted to see you, sir’—these were his expressions—‘and + I trust you have slept well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Accustomed as I have been for so long to a life of almost perpetual + change,’ replied the guest, ‘the disturbance so often complained of by the + more sedentary, as attending their first night in (what is called) a new + bed, is a complaint from which I am entirely free.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am delighted to hear it,’ said the drawing-master warmly. ‘But I see I + have interrupted you over the paper.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Sunday paper is one of the features of the age,’ said Mr Finsbury. + ‘In America, I am told, it supersedes all other literature, the bone and + sinew of the nation finding their requirements catered for; hundreds of + columns will be occupied with interesting details of the world’s doings, + such as water-spouts, elopements, conflagrations, and public + entertainments; there is a corner for politics, ladies’ work, chess, + religion, and even literature; and a few spicy editorials serve to direct + the course of public thought. It is difficult to estimate the part played + by such enormous and miscellaneous repositories in the education of the + people. But this (though interesting in itself) partakes of the nature of + a digression; and what I was about to ask you was this: Are you yourself a + student of the daily press?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is not much in the papers to interest an artist,’ returned Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘In that case,’ resumed Joseph, ‘an advertisement which has appeared the + last two days in various journals, and reappears this morning, may + possibly have failed to catch your eye. The name, with a trifling + variation, bears a strong resemblance to your own. Ah, here it is. If you + please, I will read it to you: + </p> + <p> + WILIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of + SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at the far end of the main line departure + platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M. today. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that in print?’ cried Pitman. ‘Let me see it! Bent? It must be Dent! + SOMETHING TO MY ADVANTAGE? Mr Finsbury, excuse me offering a word of + caution; I am aware how strangely this must sound in your ears, but there + are domestic reasons why this little circumstance might perhaps be better + kept between ourselves. Mrs Pitman—my dear Sir, I assure you there + is nothing dishonourable in my secrecy; the reasons are domestic, merely + domestic; and I may set your conscience at rest when I assure you all the + circumstances are known to our common friend, your excellent nephew, Mr + Michael, who has not withdrawn from me his esteem.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A word is enough, Mr Pitman,’ said Joseph, with one of his Oriental + reverences. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, the drawing-master found Michael in bed and reading a + book, the picture of good-humour and repose. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hillo, Pitman,’ he said, laying down his book, ‘what brings you here at + this inclement hour? Ought to be in church, my boy!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have little thought of church today, Mr Finsbury,’ said the + drawing-master. ‘I am on the brink of something new, Sir.’ And he + presented the advertisement. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, what is this?’ cried Michael, sitting suddenly up. He studied it for + half a minute with a frown. ‘Pitman, I don’t care about this document a + particle,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will have to be attended to, however,’ said Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought you’d had enough of Waterloo,’ returned the lawyer. ‘Have you + started a morbid craving? You’ve never been yourself anyway since you lost + that beard. I believe now it was where you kept your senses.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Finsbury,’ said the drawing-master, ‘I have tried to reason this + matter out, and, with your permission, I should like to lay before you the + results.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fire away,’ said Michael; ‘but please, Pitman, remember it’s Sunday, and + let’s have no bad language.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There are three views open to us,’ began Pitman. ‘First this may be + connected with the barrel; second, it may be connected with Mr + Semitopolis’s statue; and third, it may be from my wife’s brother, who + went to Australia. In the first case, which is of course possible, I + confess the matter would be best allowed to drop.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The court is with you there, Brother Pitman,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘In the second,’ continued the other, ‘it is plainly my duty to leave no + stone unturned for the recovery of the lost antique.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear fellow, Semitopolis has come down like a trump; he has pocketed + the loss and left you the profit. What more would you have?’ enquired the + lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘I conceive, sir, under correction, that Mr Semitopolis’s generosity binds + me to even greater exertion,’ said the drawing-master. ‘The whole business + was unfortunate; it was—I need not disguise it from you—it was + illegal from the first: the more reason that I should try to behave like a + gentleman,’ concluded Pitman, flushing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have nothing to say to that,’ returned the lawyer. ‘I have sometimes + thought I should like to try to behave like a gentleman myself; only it’s + such a one-sided business, with the world and the legal profession as they + are.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, in the third,’ resumed the drawing-master, ‘if it’s Uncle Tim, of + course, our fortune’s made.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not Uncle Tim, though,’ said the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you observed that very remarkable expression: SOMETHING TO HIS + ADVANTAGE?’ enquired Pitman shrewdly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You innocent mutton,’ said Michael, ‘it’s the seediest commonplace in the + English language, and only proves the advertiser is an ass. Let me + demolish your house of cards for you at once. Would Uncle Tim make that + blunder in your name?—in itself, the blunder is delicious, a huge + improvement on the gross reality, and I mean to adopt it in the future; + but is it like Uncle Tim?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it’s not like him,’ Pitman admitted. ‘But his mind may have become + unhinged at Ballarat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you come to that, Pitman,’ said Michael, ‘the advertiser may be Queen + Victoria, fired with the desire to make a duke of you. I put it to + yourself if that’s probable; and yet it’s not against the laws of nature. + But we sit here to consider probabilities; and with your genteel + permission, I eliminate her Majesty and Uncle Tim on the threshold. To + proceed, we have your second idea, that this has some connection with the + statue. Possible; but in that case who is the advertiser? Not Ricardi, for + he knows your address; not the person who got the box, for he doesn’t know + your name. The vanman, I hear you suggest, in a lucid interval. He might + have got your name, and got it incorrectly, at the station; and he might + have failed to get your address. I grant the vanman. But a question: Do + you really wish to meet the vanman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should I not?’ asked Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘If he wants to meet you,’ replied Michael, ‘observe this: it is because + he has found his address-book, has been to the house that got the statue, + and-mark my words!—is moving at the instigation of the murderer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should be very sorry to think so,’ said Pitman; ‘but I still consider + it my duty to Mr Sernitopolis. . .’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pitman,’ interrupted Michael, ‘this will not do. Don’t seek to impose on + your legal adviser; don’t try to pass yourself off for the Duke of + Wellington, for that is not your line. Come, I wager a dinner I can read + your thoughts. You still believe it’s Uncle Tim.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Finsbury,’ said the drawing-master, colouring, ‘you are not a man in + narrow circumstances, and you have no family. Guendolen is growing up, a + very promising girl—she was confirmed this year; and I think you + will be able to enter into my feelings as a parent when I tell you she is + quite ignorant of dancing. The boys are at the board school, which is all + very well in its way; at least, I am the last man in the world to + criticize the institutions of my native land. But I had fondly hoped that + Harold might become a professional musician; and little Otho shows a quite + remarkable vocation for the Church. I am not exactly an ambitious man...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ interrupted Michael. ‘Be explicit; you think it’s Uncle + Tim?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It might be Uncle Tim,’ insisted Pitman, ‘and if it were, and I neglected + the occasion, how could I ever look my children in the face? I do not + refer to Mrs Pitman. . .’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, you never do,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘. . . but in the case of her own brother returning from Ballarat. . .’ + continued Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘. . . with his mind unhinged,’ put in the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘. . . returning from Ballarat with a large fortune, her impatience may be + more easily imagined than described,’ concluded Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ said Michael, ‘be it so. And what do you propose to do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to Waterloo,’ said Pitman, ‘in disguise.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All by your little self?’ enquired the lawyer. ‘Well, I hope you think it + safe. Mind and send me word from the police cells.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, Mr Finsbury, I had ventured to hope—perhaps you might be induced + to—to make one of us,’ faltered Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Disguise myself on Sunday?’ cried Michael. ‘How little you understand my + principles!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Finsbury, I have no means of showing you my gratitude; but let me ask + you one question,’ said Pitman. ‘If I were a very rich client, would you + not take the risk?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Diamond, Diamond, you know not what you do!’ cried Michael. ‘Why, man, do + you suppose I make a practice of cutting about London with my clients in + disguise? Do you suppose money would induce me to touch this business with + a stick? I give you my word of honour, it would not. But I own I have a + real curiosity to see how you conduct this interview—that tempts me; + it tempts me, Pitman, more than gold—it should be exquisitely rich.’ + And suddenly Michael laughed. ‘Well, Pitman,’ said he, ‘have all the truck + ready in the studio. I’ll go.’ + </p> + <p> + About twenty minutes after two, on this eventful day, the vast and gloomy + shed of Waterloo lay, like the temple of a dead religion, silent and + deserted. Here and there at one of the platforms, a train lay becalmed; + here and there a wandering footfall echoed; the cab-horses outside stamped + with startling reverberations on the stones; or from the neighbouring + wilderness of railway an engine snorted forth a whistle. The main-line + departure platform slumbered like the rest; the booking-hutches closed; + the backs of Mr Haggard’s novels, with which upon a weekday the bookstall + shines emblazoned, discreetly hidden behind dingy shutters; the rare + officials, undisguisedly somnambulant; and the customary loiterers, even + to the middle-aged woman with the ulster and the handbag, fled to more + congenial scenes. As in the inmost dells of some small tropic island the + throbbing of the ocean lingers, so here a faint pervading hum and + trepidation told in every corner of surrounding London. + </p> + <p> + At the hour already named, persons acquainted with John Dickson, of + Ballarat, and Ezra Thomas, of the United States of America, would have + been cheered to behold them enter through the booking-office. + </p> + <p> + ‘What names are we to take?’ enquired the latter, anxiously adjusting the + window-glass spectacles which he had been suffered on this occasion to + assume. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no choice for you, my boy,’ returned Michael. ‘Bent Pitman or + nothing. As for me, I think I look as if I might be called Appleby; + something agreeably old-world about Appleby—breathes of Devonshire + cider. Talking of which, suppose you wet your whistle? the interview is + likely to be trying.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I’ll wait till afterwards,’ returned Pitman; ‘on the whole, I + think I’ll wait till the thing’s over. I don’t know if it strikes you as + it does me; but the place seems deserted and silent, Mr Finsbury, and + filled with very singular echoes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Kind of Jack-in-the-box feeling?’ enquired Michael, ‘as if all these + empty trains might be filled with policemen waiting for a signal? and Sir + Charles Warren perched among the girders with a silver whistle to his + lips? It’s guilt, Pitman.’ + </p> + <p> + In this uneasy frame of mind they walked nearly the whole length of the + departure platform, and at the western extremity became aware of a slender + figure standing back against a pillar. The figure was plainly sunk into a + deep abstraction; he was not aware of their approach, but gazed far abroad + over the sunlit station. Michael stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘Holloa!’ said he, ‘can that be your advertiser? If so, I’m done with it.’ + And then, on second thoughts: ‘Not so, either,’ he resumed more + cheerfully. ‘Here, turn your back a moment. So. Give me the specs.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you agreed I was to have them,’ protested Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, but that man knows me,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does he? what’s his name?’ cried Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, he took me into his confidence,’ returned the lawyer. ‘But I may say + one thing: if he’s your advertiser (and he may be, for he seems to have + been seized with criminal lunacy) you can go ahead with a clear + conscience, for I hold him in the hollow of my hand.’ + </p> + <p> + The change effected, and Pitman comforted with this good news, the pair + drew near to Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you looking for Mr William Bent Pitman?’ enquired the drawing-master. + ‘I am he.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris raised his head. He saw before him, in the speaker, a person of + almost indescribable insignificance, in white spats and a shirt cut + indecently low. A little behind, a second and more burly figure offered + little to criticism, except ulster, whiskers, spectacles, and deerstalker + hat. Since he had decided to call up devils from the underworld of London, + Morris had pondered deeply on the probabilities of their appearance. His + first emotion, like that of Charoba when she beheld the sea, was one of + disappointment; his second did more justice to the case. Never before had + he seen a couple dressed like these; he had struck a new stratum. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must speak with you alone,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘You need not mind Mr Appleby,’ returned Pitman. ‘He knows all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All? Do you know what I am here to speak of?’ enquired Morris—. + ‘The barrel.’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman turned pale, but it was with manly indignation. ‘You are the man!’ + he cried. ‘You very wicked person.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I to speak before him?’ asked Morris, disregarding these severe + expressions. + </p> + <p> + ‘He has been present throughout,’ said Pitman. ‘He opened the barrel; your + guilty secret is already known to him, as well as to your Maker and + myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then,’ said Morris, ‘what have you done with the money?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know nothing about any money,’ said Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘You needn’t try that on,’ said Morris. ‘I have tracked you down; you came + to the station sacrilegiously disguised as a clergyman, procured my + barrel, opened it, rifled the body, and cashed the bill. I have been to + the bank, I tell you! I have followed you step by step, and your denials + are childish and absurd.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, come, Morris, keep your temper,’ said Mr Appleby. + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael!’ cried Morris, ‘Michael here too!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Here too,’ echoed the lawyer; ‘here and everywhere, my good fellow; every + step you take is counted; trained detectives follow you like your shadow; + they report to me every three-quarters of an hour; no expense is spared.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris’s face took on a hue of dirty grey. ‘Well, I don’t care; I have the + less reserve to keep,’ he cried. ‘That man cashed my bill; it’s a theft, + and I want the money back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think I would lie to you, Morris?’ asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said his cousin. ‘I want my money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was I alone who touched the body,’ began Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘You? Michael!’ cried Morris, starting back. ‘Then why haven’t you + declared the death?’ ‘What the devil do you mean?’ asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I mad? or are you?’ cried Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think it must be Pitman,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + The three men stared at each other, wild-eyed. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is dreadful,’ said Morris, ‘dreadful. I do not understand one word + that is addressed to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I give you my word of honour, no more do I,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘And in God’s name, why whiskers?’ cried Morris, pointing in a ghastly + manner at his cousin. ‘Does my brain reel? How whiskers?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, that’s a matter of detail,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + There was another silence, during which Morris appeared to himself to be + shot in a trapeze as high as St Paul’s, and as low as Baker Street + Station. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us recapitulate,’ said Michael, ‘unless it’s really a dream, in which + case I wish Teena would call me for breakfast. My friend Pitman, here, + received a barrel which, it now appears, was meant for you. The barrel + contained the body of a man. How or why you killed him...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never laid a hand on him,’ protested Morris. ‘This is what I have + dreaded all along. But think, Michael! I’m not that kind of man; with all + my faults, I wouldn’t touch a hair of anybody’s head, and it was all dead + loss to me. He got killed in that vile accident.’ + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Michael was seized by mirth so prolonged and excessive that his + companions supposed beyond a doubt his reason had deserted him. Again and + again he struggled to compose himself, and again and again laughter + overwhelmed him like a tide. In all this maddening interview there had + been no more spectral feature than this of Michael’s merriment; and Pitman + and Morris, drawn together by the common fear, exchanged glances of + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + ‘Morris,’ gasped the lawyer, when he was at last able to articulate, ‘hold + on, I see it all now. I can make it clear in one word. Here’s the key: I + NEVER GUESSED IT WAS UNCLE JOSEPH TILL THIS MOMENT.’ + </p> + <p> + This remark produced an instant lightening of the tension for Morris. For + Pitman it quenched the last ray of hope and daylight. Uncle Joseph, whom + he had left an hour ago in Norfolk Street, pasting newspaper cuttings?—it?—the + dead body?—then who was he, Pitman? and was this Waterloo Station or + Colney Hatch? + </p> + <p> + ‘To be sure!’ cried Morris; ‘it was badly smashed, I know. How stupid not + to think of that! Why, then, all’s clear; and, my dear Michael, I’ll tell + you what—we’re saved, both saved. You get the tontine—I don’t + grudge it you the least—and I get the leather business, which is + really beginning to look up. Declare the death at once, don’t mind me in + the smallest, don’t consider me; declare the death, and we’re all right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, but I can’t declare it,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not?’ cried Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t produce the corpus, Morris. I’ve lost it,’ said the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop a bit,’ ejaculated the leather merchant. ‘How is this? It’s not + possible. I lost it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I’ve lost it too, my son,’ said Michael, with extreme serenity. + ‘Not recognizing it, you see, and suspecting something irregular in its + origin, I got rid of—what shall we say?—got rid of the + proceeds at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You got rid of the body? What made you do that?’ walled Morris. ‘But you + can get it again? You know where it is?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish I did, Morris, and you may believe me there, for it would be a + small sum in my pocket; but the fact is, I don’t,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good Lord,’ said Morris, addressing heaven and earth, ‘good Lord, I’ve + lost the leather business!’ + </p> + <p> + Michael was once more shaken with laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you laugh, you fool?’ cried his cousin, ‘you lose more than I. + You’ve bungled it worse than even I did. If you had a spark of feeling, + you would be shaking in your boots with vexation. But I’ll tell you one + thing—I’ll have that eight hundred pound—I’ll have that and go + to Swan River—that’s mine, anyway, and your friend must have forged + to cash it. Give me the eight hundred, here, upon this platform, or I go + straight to Scotland Yard and turn the whole disreputable story inside + out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Morris,’ said Michael, laying his hand upon his shoulder, ‘hear reason. + It wasn’t us, it was the other man. We never even searched the body.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The other man?’ repeated Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, the other man. We palmed Uncle Joseph off upon another man,’ said + Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘You what? You palmed him off? That’s surely a singular expression,’ said + Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, palmed him off for a piano,’ said Michael with perfect simplicity. + ‘Remarkably full, rich tone,’ he added. + </p> + <p> + Morris carried his hand to his brow and looked at it; it was wet with + sweat. ‘Fever,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it was a Broadwood grand,’ said Michael. ‘Pitman here will tell you + if it was genuine or not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh? O! O yes, I believe it was a genuine Broadwood; I have played upon it + several times myself,’ said Pitman. ‘The three-letter E was broken.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t say anything more about pianos,’ said Morris, with a strong + shudder; ‘I’m not the man I used to be! This—this other man—let’s + come to him, if I can only manage to follow. Who is he? Where can I get + hold of him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, that’s the rub,’ said Michael. ‘He’s been in possession of the + desired article, let me see—since Wednesday, about four o’clock, and + is now, I should imagine, on his way to the isles of Javan and Gadire.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael,’ said Morris pleadingly, ‘I am in a very weak state, and I beg + your consideration for a kinsman. Say it slowly again, and be sure you are + correct. When did he get it?’ + </p> + <p> + Michael repeated his statement. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, that’s the worst thing yet,’ said Morris, drawing in his breath. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is?’ asked the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Even the dates are sheer nonsense,’ said the leather merchant. + </p> + <p> + ‘The bill was cashed on Tuesday. There’s not a gleam of reason in the + whole transaction.’ + </p> + <p> + A young gentleman, who had passed the trio and suddenly started and turned + back, at this moment laid a heavy hand on Michael’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘Aha! so this is Mr Dickson?’ said he. + </p> + <p> + The trump of judgement could scarce have rung with a more dreadful note in + the ears of Pitman and the lawyer. To Morris this erroneous name seemed a + legitimate enough continuation of the nightmare in which he had so long + been wandering. And when Michael, with his brand-new bushy whiskers, broke + from the grasp of the stranger and turned to run, and the weird little + shaven creature in the low-necked shirt followed his example with a + bird-like screech, and the stranger (finding the rest of his prey escape + him) pounced with a rude grasp on Morris himself, that gentleman’s frame + of mind might be very nearly expressed in the colloquial phrase: ‘I told + you so!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have one of the gang,’ said Gideon Forsyth. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not understand,’ said Morris dully. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I will make you understand,’ returned Gideon grimly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will be a good friend to me if you can make me understand anything,’ + cried Morris, with a sudden energy of conviction. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know you personally, do I?’ continued Gideon, examining his + unresisting prisoner. ‘Never mind, I know your friends. They are your + friends, are they not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not understand you,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘You had possibly something to do with a piano?’ suggested Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘A piano!’ cried Morris, convulsively clasping Gideon by the arm. ‘Then + you’re the other man! Where is it? Where is the body? And did you cash the + draft?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where is the body? This is very strange,’ mused Gideon. ‘Do you want the + body?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Want it?’ cried Morris. ‘My whole fortune depends upon it! I lost it. + Where is it? Take me to it? + </p> + <p> + ‘O, you want it, do you? And the other man, Dickson—does he want + it?’ enquired Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who do you mean by Dickson? O, Michael Finsbury! Why, of course he does! + He lost it too. If he had it, he’d have won the tontine tomorrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael Finsbury! Not the solicitor?’ cried Gideon. ‘Yes, the solicitor,’ + said Morris. ‘But where is the body?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then that is why he sent the brief! What is Mr Finsbury’s private + address?’ asked Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘233 King’s Road. What brief? Where are you going? Where is the body?’ + cried Morris, clinging to Gideon’s arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have lost it myself,’ returned Gideon, and ran out of the station. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. The Return of the Great Vance + </h2> + <p> + Morris returned from Waterloo in a frame of mind that baffles description. + He was a modest man; he had never conceived an overweening notion of his + own powers; he knew himself unfit to write a book, turn a table + napkin-ring, entertain a Christmas party with legerdemain—grapple + (in short) any of those conspicuous accomplishments that are usually + classed under the head of genius. He knew—he admitted—his + parts to be pedestrian, but he had considered them (until quite lately) + fully equal to the demands of life. And today he owned himself defeated: + life had the upper hand; if there had been any means of flight or place to + flee to, if the world had been so ordered that a man could leave it like a + place of entertainment, Morris would have instantly resigned all further + claim on its rewards and pleasures, and, with inexpressible contentment, + ceased to be. As it was, one aim shone before him: he could get home. Even + as the sick dog crawls under the sofa, Morris could shut the door of John + Street and be alone. + </p> + <p> + The dusk was falling when he drew near this place of refuge; and the first + thing that met his eyes was the figure of a man upon the step, alternately + plucking at the bell-handle and pounding on the panels. The man had no + hat, his clothes were hideous with filth, he had the air of a hop-picker. + Yet Morris knew him; it was John. + </p> + <p> + The first impulse of flight was succeeded, in the elder brother’s bosom, + by the empty quiescence of despair. ‘What does it matter now?’ he thought, + and drawing forth his latchkey ascended the steps. + </p> + <p> + John turned about; his face was ghastly with weariness and dirt and fury; + and as he recognized the head of his family, he drew in a long rasping + breath, and his eyes glittered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Open that door,’ he said, standing back. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to,’ said Morris, and added mentally, ‘He looks like murder!’ + </p> + <p> + The brothers passed into the hall, the door closed behind them; and + suddenly John seized Morris by the shoulders and shook him as a terrier + shakes a rat. ‘You mangy little cad,’ he said, ‘I’d serve you right to + smash your skull!’ And shook him again, so that his teeth rattled and his + head smote upon the wall. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be violent, Johnny,’ said Morris. ‘It can’t do any good now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shut your mouth,’ said John, ‘your time’s come to listen.’ + </p> + <p> + He strode into the dining-room, fell into the easy-chair, and taking off + one of his burst walking-shoes, nursed for a while his foot like one in + agony. ‘I’m lame for life,’ he said. ‘What is there for dinner?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing, Johnny,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing? What do you mean by that?’ enquired the Great Vance. ‘Don’t set + up your chat to me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean simply nothing,’ said his brother. ‘I have nothing to eat, and + nothing to buy it with. I’ve only had a cup of tea and a sandwich all this + day myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only a sandwich?’ sneered Vance. ‘I suppose YOU’RE going to complain + next. But you had better take care: I’ve had all I mean to take; and I can + tell you what it is, I mean to dine and to dine well. Take your signets + and sell them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t today,’ objected Morris; ‘it’s Sunday.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you I’m going to dine!’ cried the younger brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘But if it’s not possible, Johnny?’ pleaded the other. + </p> + <p> + ‘You nincompoop!’ cried Vance. ‘Ain’t we householders? Don’t they know us + at that hotel where Uncle Parker used to come. Be off with you; and if you + ain’t back in half an hour, and if the dinner ain’t good, first I’ll lick + you till you don’t want to breathe, and then I’ll go straight to the + police and blow the gaff. Do you understand that, Morris Finsbury? Because + if you do, you had better jump.’ + </p> + <p> + The idea smiled even upon the wretched Morris, who was sick with famine. + He sped upon his errand, and returned to find John still nursing his foot + in the armchair. + </p> + <p> + ‘What would you like to drink, Johnny?’ he enquired soothingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fizz,’ said John. ‘Some of the poppy stuff from the end bin; a bottle of + the old port that Michael liked, to follow; and see and don’t shake the + port. And look here, light the fire—and the gas, and draw down the + blinds; it’s cold and it’s getting dark. And then you can lay the cloth. + And, I say—here, you! bring me down some clothes.’ + </p> + <p> + The room looked comparatively habitable by the time the dinner came; and + the dinner itself was good: strong gravy soup, fillets of sole, mutton + chops and tomato sauce, roast beef done rare with roast potatoes, cabinet + pudding, a piece of Chester cheese, and some early celery: a meal + uncompromisingly British, but supporting. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank God!’ said John, his nostrils sniffing wide, surprised by joy into + the unwonted formality of grace. ‘Now I’m going to take this chair with my + back to the fire—there’s been a strong frost these two last nights, + and I can’t get it out of my bones; the celery will be just the ticket—I’m + going to sit here, and you are going to stand there, Morris Finsbury, and + play butler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Johnny, I’m so hungry myself,’ pleaded Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘You can have what I leave,’ said Vance. ‘You’re just beginning to pay + your score, my daisy; I owe you one-pound-ten; don’t you rouse the British + lion!’ There was something indescribably menacing in the face and voice of + the Great Vance as he uttered these words, at which the soul of Morris + withered. ‘There!’ resumed the feaster, ‘give us a glass of the fizz to + start with. Gravy soup! And I thought I didn’t like gravy soup! Do you + know how I got here?’ he asked, with another explosion of wrath. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Johnny; how could I?’ said the obsequious Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I walked on my ten toes!’ cried John; ‘tramped the whole way from + Browndean; and begged! I would like to see you beg. It’s not so easy as + you might suppose. I played it on being a shipwrecked mariner from Blyth; + I don’t know where Blyth is, do you? but I thought it sounded natural. I + begged from a little beast of a schoolboy, and he forked out a bit of + twine, and asked me to make a clove hitch; I did, too, I know I did, but + he said it wasn’t, he said it was a granny’s knot, and I was a + what-d’ye-call-’em, and he would give me in charge. Then I begged from a + naval officer—he never bothered me with knots, but he only gave me a + tract; there’s a nice account of the British navy!—and then from a + widow woman that sold lollipops, and I got a hunch of bread from her. + Another party I fell in with said you could generally always get bread; + and the thing to do was to break a plateglass window and get into gaol; + seemed rather a brilliant scheme. Pass the beef.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why didn’t you stay at Browndean?’ Morris ventured to enquire. + </p> + <p> + ‘Skittles!’ said John. ‘On what? The Pink Un and a measly religious paper? + I had to leave Browndean; I had to, I tell you. I got tick at a public, + and set up to be the Great Vance; so would you, if you were leading such a + beastly existence! And a card stood me a lot of ale and stuff, and we got + swipey, talking about music-halls and the piles of tin I got for singing; + and then they got me on to sing “Around her splendid form I weaved the + magic circle,” and then he said I couldn’t be Vance, and I stuck to it + like grim death I was. It was rot of me to sing, of course, but I thought + I could brazen it out with a set of yokels. It settled my hash at the + public,’ said John, with a sigh. ‘And then the last thing was the + carpenter—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Our landlord?’ enquired Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the party,’ said John. ‘He came nosing about the place, and then + wanted to know where the water-butt was, and the bedclothes. I told him to + go to the devil; so would you too, when there was no possible thing to + say! And then he said I had pawned them, and did I know it was felony? + Then I made a pretty neat stroke. I remembered he was deaf, and talked a + whole lot of rot, very politely, just so low he couldn’t hear a word. “I + don’t hear you,” says he. “I know you don’t, my buck, and I don’t mean you + to,” says I, smiling away like a haberdasher. “I’m hard of hearing,” he + roars. “I’d be in a pretty hot corner if you weren’t,” says I, making + signs as if I was explaining everything. It was tip-top as long as it + lasted. “Well,” he said, “I’m deaf, worse luck, but I bet the constable + can hear you.” And off he started one way, and I the other. They got a + spirit-lamp and the Pink Un, and that old religious paper, and another + periodical you sent me. I think you must have been drunk—it had a + name like one of those spots that Uncle Joseph used to hold forth at, and + it was all full of the most awful swipes about poetry and the use of the + globes. It was the kind of thing that nobody could read out of a lunatic + asylum. The Athaeneum, that was the name! Golly, what a paper!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Athenaeum, you mean,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care what you call it,’ said John, ‘so as I don’t require to take + it in! There, I feel better. Now I’m going to sit by the fire in the + easy-chair; pass me the cheese, and the celery, and the bottle of port—no, + a champagne glass, it holds more. And now you can pitch in; there’s some + of the fish left and a chop, and some fizz. Ah,’ sighed the refreshed + pedestrian, ‘Michael was right about that port; there’s old and vatted for + you! Michael’s a man I like; he’s clever and reads books, and the + Athaeneum, and all that; but he’s not dreary to meet, he don’t talk + Athaeneum like the other parties; why, the most of them would throw a + blight over a skittle alley! Talking of Michael, I ain’t bored myself to + put the question, because of course I knew it from the first. You’ve made + a hash of it, eh?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael made a hash of it,’ said Morris, flushing dark. + </p> + <p> + ‘What have we got to do with that?’ enquired John. + </p> + <p> + ‘He has lost the body, that’s what we have to do with it,’ cried Morris. + ‘He has lost the body, and the death can’t be established.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold on,’ said John. ‘I thought you didn’t want to?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, we’re far past that,’ said his brother. ‘It’s not the tontine now, + it’s the leather business, Johnny; it’s the clothes upon our back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stow the slow music,’ said John, ‘and tell your story from beginning to + end.’ Morris did as he was bid. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, now, what did I tell you?’ cried the Great Vance, when the other + had done. ‘But I know one thing: I’m not going to be humbugged out of my + property.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like to know what you mean to do,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you that,’ responded John with extreme decision. ‘I’m going to + put my interests in the hands of the smartest lawyer in London; and + whether you go to quod or not is a matter of indifference to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, Johnny, we’re in the same boat!’ expostulated Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are we?’ cried his brother. ‘I bet we’re not! Have I committed forgery? + have I lied about Uncle Joseph? have I put idiotic advertisements in the + comic papers? have I smashed other people’s statues? I like your cheek, + Morris Finsbury. No, I’ve let you run my affairs too long; now they shall + go to Michael. I like Michael, anyway; and it’s time I understood my + situation.’ + </p> + <p> + At this moment the brethren were interrupted by a ring at the bell, and + Morris, going timorously to the door, received from the hands of a + commissionaire a letter addressed in the hand of Michael. Its contents ran + as follows: + </p> + <p> + MORRIS FINSBURY, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of SOMETHING + TO HIS ADVANTAGE at my office, in Chancery Lane, at 10 A.M. tomorrow. + </p> + <p> + MICHAEL FINSBURY + </p> + <p> + So utter was Morris’s subjection that he did not wait to be asked, but + handed the note to John as soon as he had glanced at it himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the way to write a letter,’ cried John. ‘Nobody but Michael could + have written that.’ + </p> + <p> + And Morris did not even claim the credit of priority. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. Final Adjustment of the Leather Business + </h2> + <p> + Finsbury brothers were ushered, at ten the next morning, into a large + apartment in Michael’s office; the Great Vance, somewhat restored from + yesterday’s exhaustion, but with one foot in a slipper; Morris, not + positively damaged, but a man ten years older than he who had left + Bournemouth eight days before, his face ploughed full of anxious wrinkles, + his dark hair liberally grizzled at the temples. + </p> + <p> + Three persons were seated at a table to receive them: Michael in the + midst, Gideon Forsyth on his right hand, on his left an ancient gentleman + with spectacles and silver hair. ‘By Jingo, it’s Uncle Joe!’ cried John. + </p> + <p> + But Morris approached his uncle with a pale countenance and glittering + eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what you did!’ he cried. ‘You absconded!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morning, Morris Finsbury,’ returned Joseph, with no less asperity; + ‘you are looking seriously ill.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No use making trouble now,’ remarked Michael. ‘Look the facts in the + face. Your uncle, as you see, was not so much as shaken in the accident; a + man of your humane disposition ought to be delighted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, if that’s so,’ Morris broke forth, ‘how about the body? You don’t + mean to insinuate that thing I schemed and sweated for, and colported with + my own hands, was the body of a total stranger?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O no, we can’t go as far as that,’ said Michael soothingly; ‘you may have + met him at the club.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris fell into a chair. ‘I would have found it out if it had come to the + house,’ he complained. ‘And why didn’t it? why did it go to Pitman? what + right had Pitman to open it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you come to that, Morris, what have you done with the colossal + Hercules?’ asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘He went through it with the meat-axe,’ said John. ‘It’s all in spillikins + in the back garden.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, there’s one thing,’ snapped Morris; ‘there’s my uncle again, my + fraudulent trustee. He’s mine, anyway. And the tontine too. I claim the + tontine; I claim it now. I believe Uncle Masterman’s dead.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I must put a stop to this nonsense,’ said Michael, ‘and that for ever. + You say too near the truth. In one sense your uncle is dead, and has been + so long; but not in the sense of the tontine, which it is even on the + cards he may yet live to win. Uncle Joseph saw him this morning; he will + tell you he still lives, but his mind is in abeyance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He did not know me,’ said Joseph; to do him justice, not without emotion. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you’re out again there, Morris,’ said John. ‘My eye! what a fool + you’ve made of yourself!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And that was why you wouldn’t compromise,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘As for the absurd position in which you and Uncle Joseph have been making + yourselves an exhibition,’ resumed Michael, ‘it is more than time it came + to an end. I have prepared a proper discharge in full, which you shall + sign as a preliminary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What?’ cried Morris, ‘and lose my seven thousand eight hundred pounds, + and the leather business, and the contingent interest, and get nothing? + Thank you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s like you to feel gratitude, Morris,’ began Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I know it’s no good appealing to you, you sneering devil!’ cried + Morris. ‘But there’s a stranger present, I can’t think why, and I appeal + to him. I was robbed of that money when I was an orphan, a mere child, at + a commercial academy. Since then, I’ve never had a wish but to get back my + own. You may hear a lot of stuff about me; and there’s no doubt at times I + have been ill-advised. But it’s the pathos of my situation; that’s what I + want to show you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Morris,’ interrupted Michael, ‘I do wish you would let me add one point, + for I think it will affect your judgement. It’s pathetic too since that’s + your taste in literature.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what is it?’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s only the name of one of the persons who’s to witness your signature, + Morris,’ replied Michael. ‘His name’s Moss, my dear.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. ‘I might have been sure it was you!’ cried + Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll sign, won’t you?’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ cried Morris. ‘You’re compounding a + felony.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well, then, we won’t compound it, Morris,’ returned Michael. ‘See + how little I understood the sterling integrity of your character! I + thought you would prefer it so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, Michael,’ said John, ‘this is all very fine and large; but how + about me? Morris is gone up, I see that; but I’m not. And I was robbed, + too, mind you; and just as much an orphan, and at the blessed same academy + as himself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Johnny,’ said Michael, ‘don’t you think you’d better leave it to me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m your man,’ said John. ‘You wouldn’t deceive a poor orphan, I’ll take + my oath. Morris, you sign that document, or I’ll start in and astonish + your weak mind.’ + </p> + <p> + With a sudden alacrity, Morris proffered his willingness. Clerks were + brought in, the discharge was executed, and there was Joseph a free man + once more. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now,’ said Michael, ‘hear what I propose to do. Here, John and + Morris, is the leather business made over to the pair of you in + partnership. I have valued it at the lowest possible figure, Pogram and + Jarris’s. And here is a cheque for the balance of your fortune. Now, you + see, Morris, you start fresh from the commercial academy; and, as you said + yourself the leather business was looking up, I suppose you’ll probably + marry before long. Here’s your marriage present—from a Mr Moss.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris bounded on his cheque with a crimsoned countenance. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t understand the performance,’ remarked John. ‘It seems too good to + be true.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s simply a readjustment,’ Michael explained. ‘I take up Uncle Joseph’s + liabilities; and if he gets the tontine, it’s to be mine; if my father + gets it, it’s mine anyway, you see. So that I’m rather advantageously + placed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Morris, my unconverted friend, you’ve got left,’ was John’s comment. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now, Mr Forsyth,’ resumed Michael, turning to his silent guest, ‘here + are all the criminals before you, except Pitman. I really didn’t like to + interrupt his scholastic career; but you can have him arrested at the + seminary—I know his hours. Here we are then; we’re not pretty to + look at: what do you propose to do with us?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing in the world, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Gideon. ‘I seem to + understand that this gentleman’—-indicating Morris—‘is the + fons et origo of the trouble; and, from what I gather, he has already paid + through the nose. And really, to be quite frank, I do not see who is to + gain by any scandal; not me, at least. And besides, I have to thank you + for that brief.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael blushed. ‘It was the least I could do to let you have some + business,’ he said. ‘But there’s one thing more. I don’t want you to + misjudge poor Pitman, who is the most harmless being upon earth. I wish + you would dine with me tonight, and see the creature on his native heath—say + at Verrey’s?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no engagement, Mr Finsbury,’ replied Gideon. ‘I shall be + delighted. But subject to your judgement, can we do nothing for the man in + the cart? I have qualms of conscience.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing but sympathize,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1585 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/1585.txt b/1585.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4f1496 --- /dev/null +++ b/1585.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7005 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wrong Box, by +Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wrong Box + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + +Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #1585] +[Last updated: September 19, 2011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WRONG BOX *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + + + + + +THE WRONG BOX + +By Robert Louis Stevenson And Lloyd Osbourne + + + + +PREFACE + +'Nothing like a little judicious levity,' says Michael Finsbury in the +text: nor can any better excuse be found for the volume in the reader's +hand. The authors can but add that one of them is old enough to be +ashamed of himself, and the other young enough to learn better. + +R. L. S. L. O. + + + + +CHAPTER I. In Which Morris Suspects + +How very little does the amateur, dwelling at home at ease, comprehend +the labours and perils of the author, and, when he smilingly skims the +surface of a work of fiction, how little does he consider the hours +of toil, consultation of authorities, researches in the Bodleian, +correspondence with learned and illegible Germans--in one word, the vast +scaffolding that was first built up and then knocked down, to while away +an hour for him in a railway train! Thus I might begin this tale with +a biography of Tonti--birthplace, parentage, genius probably inherited +from his mother, remarkable instance of precocity, etc--and a complete +treatise on the system to which he bequeathed his name. The material +is all beside me in a pigeon-hole, but I scorn to appear vainglorious. +Tonti is dead, and I never saw anyone who even pretended to regret him; +and, as for the tontine system, a word will suffice for all the purposes +of this unvarnished narrative. + +A number of sprightly youths (the more the merrier) put up a certain sum +of money, which is then funded in a pool under trustees; coming on for +a century later, the proceeds are fluttered for a moment in the face of +the last survivor, who is probably deaf, so that he cannot even hear of +his success--and who is certainly dying, so that he might just as well +have lost. The peculiar poetry and even humour of the scheme is now +apparent, since it is one by which nobody concerned can possibly profit; +but its fine, sportsmanlike character endeared it to our grandparents. + +When Joseph Finsbury and his brother Masterman were little lads +in white-frilled trousers, their father--a well-to-do merchant +in Cheapside--caused them to join a small but rich tontine of +seven-and-thirty lives. A thousand pounds was the entrance fee; and +Joseph Finsbury can remember to this day the visit to the lawyer's, +where the members of the tontine--all children like himself--were +assembled together, and sat in turn in the big office chair, and signed +their names with the assistance of a kind old gentleman in spectacles +and Wellington boots. He remembers playing with the children afterwards +on the lawn at the back of the lawyer's house, and a battle-royal that +he had with a brother tontiner who had kicked his shins. The sound of +war called forth the lawyer from where he was dispensing cake and +wine to the assembled parents in the office, and the combatants were +separated, and Joseph's spirit (for he was the smaller of the two) +commended by the gentleman in the Wellington boots, who vowed he had +been just such another at the same age. Joseph wondered to himself if +he had worn at that time little Wellingtons and a little bald head, +and when, in bed at night, he grew tired of telling himself stories +of sea-fights, he used to dress himself up as the old gentleman, and +entertain other little boys and girls with cake and wine. + +In the year 1840 the thirty-seven were all alive; in 1850 their number +had decreased by six; in 1856 and 1857 business was more lively, for the +Crimea and the Mutiny carried off no less than nine. There remained +in 1870 but five of the original members, and at the date of my story, +including the two Finsburys, but three. + +By this time Masterman was in his seventy-third year; he had long +complained of the effects of age, had long since retired from business, +and now lived in absolute seclusion under the roof of his son Michael, +the well-known solicitor. Joseph, on the other hand, was still up and +about, and still presented but a semi-venerable figure on the streets +in which he loved to wander. This was the more to be deplored because +Masterman had led (even to the least particular) a model British life. +Industry, regularity, respectability, and a preference for the four per +cents are understood to be the very foundations of a green old age. All +these Masterman had eminently displayed, and here he was, ab agendo, at +seventy-three; while Joseph, barely two years younger, and in the most +excellent preservation, had disgraced himself through life by idleness +and eccentricity. Embarked in the leather trade, he had early wearied +of business, for which he was supposed to have small parts. A taste for +general information, not promptly checked, had soon begun to sap his +manhood. There is no passion more debilitating to the mind, unless, +perhaps, it be that itch of public speaking which it not infrequently +accompanies or begets. The two were conjoined in the case of Joseph; the +acute stage of this double malady, that in which the patient delivers +gratuitous lectures, soon declared itself with severity, and not many +years had passed over his head before he would have travelled thirty +miles to address an infant school. He was no student; his reading was +confined to elementary textbooks and the daily papers; he did not even +fly as high as cyclopedias; life, he would say, was his volume. His +lectures were not meant, he would declare, for college professors; they +were addressed direct to 'the great heart of the people', and the +heart of the people must certainly be sounder than its head, for his +lucubrations were received with favour. That entitled 'How to Live +Cheerfully on Forty Pounds a Year', created a sensation among the +unemployed. 'Education: Its Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability', +gained him the respect of the shallow-minded. As for his celebrated +essay on 'Life Insurance Regarded in its Relation to the Masses', read +before the Working Men's Mutual Improvement Society, Isle of Dogs, it +was received with a 'literal ovation' by an unintelligent audience of +both sexes, and so marked was the effect that he was next year elected +honorary president of the institution, an office of less than +no emolument--since the holder was expected to come down with a +donation--but one which highly satisfied his self-esteem. + +While Joseph was thus building himself up a reputation among the more +cultivated portion of the ignorant, his domestic life was suddenly +overwhelmed by orphans. The death of his younger brother Jacob saddled +him with the charge of two boys, Morris and John; and in the course of +the same year his family was still further swelled by the addition of a +little girl, the daughter of John Henry Hazeltine, Esq., a gentleman +of small property and fewer friends. He had met Joseph only once, at a +lecture-hall in Holloway; but from that formative experience he returned +home to make a new will, and consign his daughter and her fortune to the +lecturer. Joseph had a kindly disposition; and yet it was not without +reluctance that he accepted this new responsibility, advertised for a +nurse, and purchased a second-hand perambulator. Morris and John he made +more readily welcome; not so much because of the tie of consanguinity +as because the leather business (in which he hastened to invest their +fortune of thirty thousand pounds) had recently exhibited inexplicable +symptoms of decline. A young but capable Scot was chosen as manager to +the enterprise, and the cares of business never again afflicted Joseph +Finsbury. Leaving his charges in the hands of the capable Scot (who was +married), he began his extensive travels on the Continent and in Asia +Minor. + +With a polyglot Testament in one hand and a phrase-book in the other, +he groped his way among the speakers of eleven European languages. +The first of these guides is hardly applicable to the purposes of the +philosophic traveller, and even the second is designed more expressly +for the tourist than for the expert in life. But he pressed interpreters +into his service--whenever he could get their services for nothing--and +by one means and another filled many notebooks with the results of his +researches. + +In these wanderings he spent several years, and only returned to England +when the increasing age of his charges needed his attention. The two +lads had been placed in a good but economical school, where they had +received a sound commercial education; which was somewhat awkward, as +the leather business was by no means in a state to court enquiry. In +fact, when Joseph went over his accounts preparatory to surrendering his +trust, he was dismayed to discover that his brother's fortune had not +increased by his stewardship; even by making over to his two wards +every penny he had in the world, there would still be a deficit of seven +thousand eight hundred pounds. When these facts were communicated to the +two brothers in the presence of a lawyer, Morris Finsbury threatened +his uncle with all the terrors of the law, and was only prevented from +taking extreme steps by the advice of the professional man. 'You cannot +get blood from a stone,' observed the lawyer. + +And Morris saw the point and came to terms with his uncle. On the one +side, Joseph gave up all that he possessed, and assigned to his +nephew his contingent interest in the tontine, already quite a hopeful +speculation. On the other, Morris agreed to harbour his uncle and Miss +Hazeltine (who had come to grief with the rest), and to pay to each +of them one pound a month as pocket-money. The allowance was amply +sufficient for the old man; it scarce appears how Miss Hazeltine +contrived to dress upon it; but she did, and, what is more, she never +complained. She was, indeed, sincerely attached to her incompetent +guardian. He had never been unkind; his age spoke for him loudly; there +was something appealing in his whole-souled quest of knowledge and +innocent delight in the smallest mark of admiration; and, though the +lawyer had warned her she was being sacrificed, Julia had refused to add +to the perplexities of Uncle Joseph. + +In a large, dreary house in John Street, Bloomsbury, these four dwelt +together; a family in appearance, in reality a financial association. +Julia and Uncle Joseph were, of course, slaves; John, a gentle man with +a taste for the banjo, the music-hall, the Gaiety bar, and the sporting +papers, must have been anywhere a secondary figure; and the cares +and delights of empire devolved entirely upon Morris. That these are +inextricably intermixed is one of the commonplaces with which the bland +essayist consoles the incompetent and the obscure, but in the case of +Morris the bitter must have largely outweighed the sweet. He grudged no +trouble to himself, he spared none to others; he called the servants +in the morning, he served out the stores with his own hand, he took +soundings of the sherry, he numbered the remainder biscuits; painful +scenes took place over the weekly bills, and the cook was frequently +impeached, and the tradespeople came and hectored with him in the back +parlour upon a question of three farthings. The superficial might have +deemed him a miser; in his own eyes he was simply a man who had been +defrauded; the world owed him seven thousand eight hundred pounds, and +he intended that the world should pay. + +But it was in his dealings with Joseph that Morris's character +particularly shone. His uncle was a rather gambling stock in which he +had invested heavily; and he spared no pains in nursing the security. +The old man was seen monthly by a physician, whether he was well or ill. +His diet, his raiment, his occasional outings, now to Brighton, now to +Bournemouth, were doled out to him like pap to infants. In bad weather +he must keep the house. In good weather, by half-past nine, he must +be ready in the hall; Morris would see that he had gloves and that his +shoes were sound; and the pair would start for the leather business +arm in arm. The way there was probably dreary enough, for there was no +pretence of friendly feeling; Morris had never ceased to upbraid +his guardian with his defalcation and to lament the burthen of Miss +Hazeltine; and Joseph, though he was a mild enough soul, regarded his +nephew with something very near akin to hatred. But the way there +was nothing to the journey back; for the mere sight of the place of +business, as well as every detail of its transactions, was enough to +poison life for any Finsbury. + +Joseph's name was still over the door; it was he who still signed the +cheques; but this was only policy on the part of Morris, and designed +to discourage other members of the tontine. In reality the business was +entirely his; and he found it an inheritance of sorrows. He tried to +sell it, and the offers he received were quite derisory. He tried to +extend it, and it was only the liabilities he succeeded in extending; to +restrict it, and it was only the profits he managed to restrict. Nobody +had ever made money out of that concern except the capable Scot, who +retired (after his discharge) to the neighbourhood of Banff and built a +castle with his profits. The memory of this fallacious Caledonian Morris +would revile daily, as he sat in the private office opening his mail, +with old Joseph at another table, sullenly awaiting orders, or savagely +affixing signatures to he knew not what. And when the man of the heather +pushed cynicism so far as to send him the announcement of his second +marriage (to Davida, eldest daughter of the Revd. Alexander McCraw), it +was really supposed that Morris would have had a fit. + +Business hours, in the Finsbury leather trade, had been cut to the +quick; even Morris's strong sense of duty to himself was not strong +enough to dally within those walls and under the shadow of that +bankruptcy; and presently the manager and the clerks would draw a long +breath, and compose themselves for another day of procrastination. Raw +Haste, on the authority of my Lord Tennyson, is half-sister to Delay; +but the Business Habits are certainly her uncles. Meanwhile, the leather +merchant would lead his living investment back to John Street like a +puppy dog; and, having there immured him in the hall, would depart for +the day on the quest of seal rings, the only passion of his life. Joseph +had more than the vanity of man, he had that of lecturers. He owned he +was in fault, although more sinned against (by the capable Scot) than +sinning; but had he steeped his hands in gore, he would still not +deserve to be thus dragged at the chariot-wheels of a young man, to sit +a captive in the halls of his own leather business, to be entertained +with mortifying comments on his whole career--to have his costume +examined, his collar pulled up, the presence of his mittens verified, +and to be taken out and brought home in custody, like an infant with +a nurse. At the thought of it his soul would swell with venom, and he +would make haste to hang up his hat and coat and the detested mittens, +and slink upstairs to Julia and his notebooks. The drawing-room at least +was sacred from Morris; it belonged to the old man and the young girl; +it was there that she made her dresses; it was there that he inked +his spectacles over the registration of disconnected facts and the +calculation of insignificant statistics. + +Here he would sometimes lament his connection with the tontine. 'If it +were not for that,' he cried one afternoon, 'he would not care to keep +me. I might be a free man, Julia. And I could so easily support myself +by giving lectures.' + +'To be sure you could,' said she; 'and I think it one of the meanest +things he ever did to deprive you of that amusement. There were those +nice people at the Isle of Cats (wasn't it?) who wrote and asked you so +very kindly to give them an address. I did think he might have let you +go to the Isle of Cats.' + +'He is a man of no intelligence,' cried Joseph. 'He lives here literally +surrounded by the absorbing spectacle of life, and for all the good +it does him, he might just as well be in his coffin. Think of his +opportunities! The heart of any other young man would burn within him +at the chance. The amount of information that I have it in my power +to convey, if he would only listen, is a thing that beggars language, +Julia.' + +'Whatever you do, my dear, you mustn't excite yourself,' said Julia; +'for you know, if you look at all ill, the doctor will be sent for.' + +'That is very true,' returned the old man humbly, 'I will compose myself +with a little study.' He thumbed his gallery of notebooks. 'I wonder,' +he said, 'I wonder (since I see your hands are occupied) whether it +might not interest you--' + +'Why, of course it would,' cried Julia. 'Read me one of your nice +stories, there's a dear.' + +He had the volume down and his spectacles upon his nose instanter, as +though to forestall some possible retractation. 'What I propose to read +to you,' said he, skimming through the pages, 'is the notes of a highly +important conversation with a Dutch courier of the name of David Abbas, +which is the Latin for abbot. Its results are well worth the money +it cost me, for, as Abbas at first appeared somewhat impatient, I was +induced to (what is, I believe, singularly called) stand him drink. It +runs only to about five-and-twenty pages. Yes, here it is.' He cleared +his throat, and began to read. + +Mr Finsbury (according to his own report) contributed about four hundred +and ninety-nine five-hundredths of the interview, and elicited from +Abbas literally nothing. It was dull for Julia, who did not require to +listen; for the Dutch courier, who had to answer, it must have been +a perfect nightmare. It would seem as if he had consoled himself by +frequent appliances to the bottle; it would even seem that (toward the +end) he had ceased to depend on Joseph's frugal generosity and called +for the flagon on his own account. The effect, at least, of some +mellowing influence was visible in the record: Abbas became suddenly a +willing witness; he began to volunteer disclosures; and Julia had just +looked up from her seam with something like a smile, when Morris burst +into the house, eagerly calling for his uncle, and the next instant +plunged into the room, waving in the air the evening paper. + +It was indeed with great news that he came charged. The demise was +announced of Lieutenant-General Sir Glasgow Biggar, KCSI, KCMG, etc., +and the prize of the tontine now lay between the Finsbury brothers. Here +was Morris's opportunity at last. The brothers had never, it is true, +been cordial. When word came that Joseph was in Asia Minor, Masterman +had expressed himself with irritation. 'I call it simply indecent,' he +had said. 'Mark my words--we shall hear of him next at the North Pole.' +And these bitter expressions had been reported to the traveller on his +return. What was worse, Masterman had refused to attend the lecture on +'Education: Its Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability', although +invited to the platform. Since then the brothers had not met. On the +other hand, they never had openly quarrelled; Joseph (by Morris's +orders) was prepared to waive the advantage of his juniority; Masterman +had enjoyed all through life the reputation of a man neither greedy nor +unfair. Here, then, were all the elements of compromise assembled; +and Morris, suddenly beholding his seven thousand eight hundred pounds +restored to him, and himself dismissed from the vicissitudes of the +leather trade, hastened the next morning to the office of his cousin +Michael. + +Michael was something of a public character. Launched upon the law at a +very early age, and quite without protectors, he had become a trafficker +in shady affairs. He was known to be the man for a lost cause; it was +known he could extract testimony from a stone, and interest from a +gold-mine; and his office was besieged in consequence by all that +numerous class of persons who have still some reputation to lose, and +find themselves upon the point of losing it; by those who have +made undesirable acquaintances, who have mislaid a compromising +correspondence, or who are blackmailed by their own butlers. In +private life Michael was a man of pleasure; but it was thought his dire +experience at the office had gone far to sober him, and it was known +that (in the matter of investments) he preferred the solid to the +brilliant. What was yet more to the purpose, he had been all his life a +consistent scoffer at the Finsbury tontine. + +It was therefore with little fear for the result that Morris presented +himself before his cousin, and proceeded feverishly to set forth his +scheme. For near upon a quarter of an hour the lawyer suffered him to +dwell upon its manifest advantages uninterrupted. Then Michael rose from +his seat, and, ringing for his clerk, uttered a single clause: 'It won't +do, Morris.' + +It was in vain that the leather merchant pleaded and reasoned, and +returned day after day to plead and reason. It was in vain that he +offered a bonus of one thousand, of two thousand, of three thousand +pounds; in vain that he offered, in Joseph's name, to be content with +only one-third of the pool. Still there came the same answer: 'It won't +do.' + +'I can't see the bottom of this,' he said at last. 'You answer none of +my arguments; you haven't a word to say. For my part, I believe it's +malice.' + +The lawyer smiled at him benignly. 'You may believe one thing,' said he. +'Whatever else I do, I am not going to gratify any of your curiosity. +You see I am a trifle more communicative today, because this is our last +interview upon the subject.' + +'Our last interview!' cried Morris. + +'The stirrup-cup, dear boy,' returned Michael. 'I can't have my business +hours encroached upon. And, by the by, have you no business of your own? +Are there no convulsions in the leather trade?' + +'I believe it to be malice,' repeated Morris doggedly. 'You always hated +and despised me from a boy.' + +'No, no--not hated,' returned Michael soothingly. 'I rather like you +than otherwise; there's such a permanent surprise about you, you look so +dark and attractive from a distance. Do you know that to the naked +eye you look romantic?--like what they call a man with a history? And +indeed, from all that I can hear, the history of the leather trade is +full of incident.' + +'Yes,' said Morris, disregarding these remarks, 'it's no use coming +here. I shall see your father.' + +'O no, you won't,' said Michael. 'Nobody shall see my father.' + +'I should like to know why,' cried his cousin. + +'I never make any secret of that,' replied the lawyer. 'He is too ill.' + +'If he is as ill as you say,' cried the other, 'the more reason for +accepting my proposal. I will see him.' + +'Will you?' said Michael, and he rose and rang for his clerk. + +It was now time, according to Sir Faraday Bond, the medical baronet +whose name is so familiar at the foot of bulletins, that Joseph (the +poor Golden Goose) should be removed into the purer air of Bournemouth; +and for that uncharted wilderness of villas the family now shook off +the dust of Bloomsbury; Julia delighted, because at Bournemouth she +sometimes made acquaintances; John in despair, for he was a man of city +tastes; Joseph indifferent where he was, so long as there was pen and +ink and daily papers, and he could avoid martyrdom at the office; Morris +himself, perhaps, not displeased to pretermit these visits to the city, +and have a quiet time for thought. He was prepared for any sacrifice; +all he desired was to get his money again and clear his feet of leather; +and it would be strange, since he was so modest in his desires, and the +pool amounted to upward of a hundred and sixteen thousand pounds--it +would be strange indeed if he could find no way of influencing Michael. +'If I could only guess his reason,' he repeated to himself; and by day, +as he walked in Branksome Woods, and by night, as he turned upon his +bed, and at meal-times, when he forgot to eat, and in the bathing +machine, when he forgot to dress himself, that problem was constantly +before him: Why had Michael refused? + +At last, one night, he burst into his brother's room and woke him. + +'What's all this?' asked John. + +'Julia leaves this place tomorrow,' replied Morris. 'She must go up to +town and get the house ready, and find servants. We shall all follow in +three days.' + +'Oh, brayvo!' cried John. 'But why?' + +'I've found it out, John,' returned his brother gently. + +'It? What?' enquired John. + +'Why Michael won't compromise,' said Morris. 'It's because he can't. +It's because Masterman's dead, and he's keeping it dark.' + +'Golly!' cried the impressionable John. 'But what's the use? Why does he +do it, anyway?' + +'To defraud us of the tontine,' said his brother. + +'He couldn't; you have to have a doctor's certificate,' objected John. + +'Did you never hear of venal doctors?' enquired Morris. 'They're as +common as blackberries: you can pick 'em up for three-pound-ten a head.' + +'I wouldn't do it under fifty if I were a sawbones,' ejaculated John. + +'And then Michael,' continued Morris, 'is in the very thick of it. All +his clients have come to grief; his whole business is rotten eggs. If +any man could arrange it, he could; and depend upon it, he has his plan +all straight; and depend upon it, it's a good one, for he's clever, and +be damned to him! But I'm clever too; and I'm desperate. I lost seven +thousand eight hundred pounds when I was an orphan at school.' + +'O, don't be tedious,' interrupted John. 'You've lost far more already +trying to get it back.' + + + +CHAPTER II. In Which Morris takes Action + +Some days later, accordingly, the three males of this depressing family +might have been observed (by a reader of G. P. R. James) taking their +departure from the East Station of Bournemouth. The weather was raw +and changeable, and Joseph was arrayed in consequence according to the +principles of Sir Faraday Bond, a man no less strict (as is well known) +on costume than on diet. There are few polite invalids who have not +lived, or tried to live, by that punctilious physician's orders. 'Avoid +tea, madam,' the reader has doubtless heard him say, 'avoid tea, fried +liver, antimonial wine, and bakers' bread. Retire nightly at 10.45; +and clothe yourself (if you please) throughout in hygienic flannel. +Externally, the fur of the marten is indicated. Do not forget to +procure a pair of health boots at Messrs Dail and Crumbie's.' And he has +probably called you back, even after you have paid your fee, to add +with stentorian emphasis: 'I had forgotten one caution: avoid kippered +sturgeon as you would the very devil.' The unfortunate Joseph was cut to +the pattern of Sir Faraday in every button; he was shod with the health +boot; his suit was of genuine ventilating cloth; his shirt of hygienic +flannel, a somewhat dingy fabric; and he was draped to the knees in +the inevitable greatcoat of marten's fur. The very railway porters at +Bournemouth (which was a favourite station of the doctor's) marked the +old gentleman for a creature of Sir Faraday. There was but one evidence +of personal taste, a vizarded forage cap; from this form of headpiece, +since he had fled from a dying jackal on the plains of Ephesus, and +weathered a bora in the Adriatic, nothing could divorce our traveller. + +The three Finsburys mounted into their compartment, and fell immediately +to quarrelling, a step unseemly in itself and (in this case) highly +unfortunate for Morris. Had he lingered a moment longer by the window, +this tale need never have been written. For he might then have observed +(as the porters did not fail to do) the arrival of a second passenger in +the uniform of Sir Faraday Bond. But he had other matters on hand, which +he judged (God knows how erroneously) to be more important. + +'I never heard of such a thing,' he cried, resuming a discussion which +had scarcely ceased all morning. 'The bill is not yours; it is mine.' + +'It is payable to me,' returned the old gentleman, with an air of bitter +obstinacy. 'I will do what I please with my own property.' + +The bill was one for eight hundred pounds, which had been given him at +breakfast to endorse, and which he had simply pocketed. + +'Hear him, Johnny!' cried Morris. 'His property! the very clothes upon +his back belong to me.' + +'Let him alone,' said John. 'I am sick of both of you.' + +'That is no way to speak of your uncle, sir,' cried Joseph. 'I will not +endure this disrespect. You are a pair of exceedingly forward, impudent, +and ignorant young men, and I have quite made up my mind to put an end +to the whole business.'. + +'O skittles!' said the graceful John. + +But Morris was not so easy in his mind. This unusual act of +insubordination had already troubled him; and these mutinous words now +sounded ominously in his ears. He looked at the old gentleman uneasily. +Upon one occasion, many years before, when Joseph was delivering a +lecture, the audience had revolted in a body; finding their entertainer +somewhat dry, they had taken the question of amusement into their own +hands; and the lecturer (along with the board schoolmaster, the Baptist +clergyman, and a working-man's candidate, who made up his bodyguard) was +ultimately driven from the scene. Morris had not been present on that +fatal day; if he had, he would have recognized a certain fighting +glitter in his uncle's eye, and a certain chewing movement of his lips, +as old acquaintances. But even to the inexpert these symptoms breathed +of something dangerous. + +'Well, well,' said Morris. 'I have no wish to bother you further till we +get to London.' + +Joseph did not so much as look at him in answer; with tremulous hands +he produced a copy of the British Mechanic, and ostentatiously buried +himself in its perusal. + +'I wonder what can make him so cantankerous?' reflected the nephew. 'I +don't like the look of it at all.' And he dubiously scratched his nose. + +The train travelled forth into the world, bearing along with it the +customary freight of obliterated voyagers, and along with these old +Joseph, affecting immersion in his paper, and John slumbering over +the columns of the Pink Un, and Morris revolving in his mind a dozen +grudges, and suspicions, and alarms. It passed Christchurch by the sea, +Herne with its pinewoods, Ringwood on its mazy river. A little behind +time, but not much for the South-Western, it drew up at the platform of +a station, in the midst of the New Forest, the real name of which (in +case the railway company 'might have the law of me') I shall veil under +the alias of Browndean. + +Many passengers put their heads to the window, and among the rest an old +gentleman on whom I willingly dwell, for I am nearly done with him now, +and (in the whole course of the present narrative) I am not in the least +likely to meet another character so decent. His name is immaterial, not +so his habits. He had passed his life wandering in a tweed suit on the +continent of Europe; and years of Galignani's Messenger having at length +undermined his eyesight, he suddenly remembered the rivers of Assyria +and came to London to consult an oculist. From the oculist to the +dentist, and from both to the physician, the step appears inevitable; +presently he was in the hands of Sir Faraday, robed in ventilating cloth +and sent to Bournemouth; and to that domineering baronet (who was his +only friend upon his native soil) he was now returning to report. The +case of these tweedsuited wanderers is unique. We have all seen them +entering the table d'hote (at Spezzia, or Grdtz, or Venice) with a +genteel melancholy and a faint appearance of having been to India and +not succeeded. In the offices of many hundred hotels they are known by +name; and yet, if the whole of this wandering cohort were to disappear +tomorrow, their absence would be wholly unremarked. How much more, if +only one--say this one in the ventilating cloth--should vanish! He had +paid his bills at Bournemouth; his worldly effects were all in the van +in two portmanteaux, and these after the proper interval would be +sold as unclaimed baggage to a Jew; Sir Faraday's butler would be a +half-crown poorer at the year's end, and the hotelkeepers of Europe +about the same date would be mourning a small but quite observable +decline in profits. And that would be literally all. Perhaps the old +gentleman thought something of the sort, for he looked melancholy enough +as he pulled his bare, grey head back into the carriage, and the train +smoked under the bridge, and forth, with ever quickening speed, across +the mingled heaths and woods of the New Forest. + +Not many hundred yards beyond Browndean, however, a sudden jarring of +brakes set everybody's teeth on edge, and there was a brutal stoppage. +Morris Finsbury was aware of a confused uproar of voices, and sprang to +the window. Women were screaming, men were tumbling from the windows on +the track, the guard was crying to them to stay where they were; at the +same time the train began to gather way and move very slowly backward +toward Browndean; and the next moment--, all these various sounds were +blotted out in the apocalyptic whistle and the thundering onslaught of +the down express. + +The actual collision Morris did not hear. Perhaps he fainted. He had a +wild dream of having seen the carriage double up and fall to pieces +like a pantomime trick; and sure enough, when he came to himself, he was +lying on the bare earth and under the open sky. His head ached savagely; +he carried his hand to his brow, and was not surprised to see it red +with blood. The air was filled with an intolerable, throbbing roar, +which he expected to find die away with the return of consciousness; and +instead of that it seemed but to swell the louder and to pierce the more +cruelly through his ears. It was a raging, bellowing thunder, like a +boiler-riveting factory. + +And now curiosity began to stir, and he sat up and looked about him. The +track at this point ran in a sharp curve about a wooded hillock; all +of the near side was heaped with the wreckage of the Bournemouth train; +that of the express was mostly hidden by the trees; and just at the +turn, under clouds of vomiting steam and piled about with cairns of +living coal, lay what remained of the two engines, one upon the other. +On the heathy margin of the line were many people running to and fro, +and crying aloud as they ran, and many others lying motionless like +sleeping tramps. + +Morris suddenly drew an inference. 'There has been an accident' thought +he, and was elated at his perspicacity. Almost at the same time his eye +lighted on John, who lay close by as white as paper. 'Poor old John! +poor old cove!' he thought, the schoolboy expression popping forth from +some forgotten treasury, and he took his brother's hand in his with +childish tenderness. It was perhaps the touch that recalled him; +at least John opened his eyes, sat suddenly up, and after several +ineffectual movements of his lips, 'What's the row?' said he, in a +phantom voice. + +The din of that devil's smithy still thundered in their ears. 'Let us +get away from that,' Morris cried, and pointed to the vomit of steam +that still spouted from the broken engines. And the pair helped each +other up, and stood and quaked and wavered and stared about them at the +scene of death. + +Just then they were approached by a party of men who had already +organized themselves for the purposes of rescue. + +'Are you hurt?' cried one of these, a young fellow with the sweat +streaming down his pallid face, and who, by the way he was treated, was +evidently the doctor. + +Morris shook his head, and the young man, nodding grimly, handed him a +bottle of some spirit. + +'Take a drink of that,' he said; 'your friend looks as if he needed it +badly. We want every man we can get,' he added; 'there's terrible work +before us, and nobody should shirk. If you can do no more, you can carry +a stretcher.' + +The doctor was hardly gone before Morris, under the spur of the dram, +awoke to the full possession of his wits. + +'My God!' he cried. 'Uncle Joseph!' + +'Yes,' said John, 'where can he be? He can't be far off. I hope the old +party isn't damaged.' + +'Come and help me to look,' said Morris, with a snap of savage +determination strangely foreign to his ordinary bearing; and then, for +one moment, he broke forth. 'If he's dead!' he cried, and shook his fist +at heaven. + +To and fro the brothers hurried, staring in the faces of the wounded, +or turning the dead upon their backs. They must have thus examined forty +people, and still there was no word of Uncle Joseph. But now the course +of their search brought them near the centre of the collision, where the +boilers were still blowing off steam with a deafening clamour. It was +a part of the field not yet gleaned by the rescuing party. The ground, +especially on the margin of the wood, was full of inequalities--here +a pit, there a hillock surmounted with a bush of furze. It was a place +where many bodies might lie concealed, and they beat it like pointers +after game. Suddenly Morris, who was leading, paused and reached forth +his index with a tragic gesture. John followed the direction of his +brother's hand. + +In the bottom of a sandy hole lay something that had once been human. +The face had suffered severely, and it was unrecognizable; but that was +not required. The snowy hair, the coat of marten, the ventilating cloth, +the hygienic flannel--everything down to the health boots from Messrs +Dail and Crumbie's, identified the body as that of Uncle Joseph. Only +the forage cap must have been lost in the convulsion, for the dead man +was bareheaded. + +'The poor old beggar!' said John, with a touch of natural feeling; 'I +would give ten pounds if we hadn't chivvied him in the train!' + +But there was no sentiment in the face of Morris as he gazed upon the +dead. Gnawing his nails, with introverted eyes, his brow marked with +the stamp of tragic indignation and tragic intellectual effort, he stood +there silent. Here was a last injustice; he had been robbed while he was +an orphan at school, he had been lashed to a decadent leather business, +he had been saddled with Miss Hazeltine, his cousin had been defrauding +him of the tontine, and he had borne all this, we might almost say, with +dignity, and now they had gone and killed his uncle! + +'Here!' he said suddenly, 'take his heels, we must get him into the +woods. I'm not going to have anybody find this.' + +'O, fudge!' said John, 'where's the use?' + +'Do what I tell you,' spirted Morris, as he took the corpse by the +shoulders. 'Am I to carry him myself?' + +They were close upon the borders of the wood; in ten or twelve paces +they were under cover; and a little further back, in a sandy clearing of +the trees, they laid their burthen down, and stood and looked at it with +loathing. + +'What do you mean to do?' whispered John. + +'Bury him, to be sure,' responded Morris, and he opened his pocket-knife +and began feverishly to dig. + +'You'll never make a hand of it with that,' objected the other. + +'If you won't help me, you cowardly shirk,' screamed Morris, 'you can go +to the devil!' + +'It's the childishest folly,' said John; 'but no man shall call me a +coward,' and he began to help his brother grudgingly. + +The soil was sandy and light, but matted with the roots of the +surrounding firs. Gorse tore their hands; and as they baled the sand +from the grave, it was often discoloured with their blood. An hour +passed of unremitting energy upon the part of Morris, of lukewarm help +on that of John; and still the trench was barely nine inches in depth. +Into this the body was rudely flung: sand was piled upon it, and then +more sand must be dug, and gorse had to be cut to pile on that; and +still from one end of the sordid mound a pair of feet projected and +caught the light upon their patent-leather toes. But by this time the +nerves of both were shaken; even Morris had enough of his grisly task; +and they skulked off like animals into the thickest of the neighbouring +covert. + +'It's the best that we can do,' said Morris, sitting down. + +'And now,' said John, 'perhaps you'll have the politeness to tell me +what it's all about.' + +'Upon my word,' cried Morris, 'if you do not understand for yourself, I +almost despair of telling you.' + +'O, of course it's some rot about the tontine,' returned the other. 'But +it's the merest nonsense. We've lost it, and there's an end.' + +'I tell you,' said Morris, 'Uncle Masterman is dead. I know it, there's +a voice that tells me so.' + +'Well, and so is Uncle Joseph,' said John. + +'He's not dead, unless I choose,' returned Morris. + +'And come to that,' cried John, 'if you're right, and Uncle Masterman's +been dead ever so long, all we have to do is to tell the truth and +expose Michael.' + +'You seem to think Michael is a fool,' sneered Morris. 'Can't you +understand he's been preparing this fraud for years? He has the whole +thing ready: the nurse, the doctor, the undertaker, all bought, the +certificate all ready but the date! Let him get wind of this business, +and you mark my words, Uncle Masterman will die in two days and be +buried in a week. But see here, Johnny; what Michael can do, I can do. +If he plays a game of bluff, so can I. If his father is to live for +ever, by God, so shall my uncle!' + +'It's illegal, ain't it?' said John. + +'A man must have SOME moral courage,' replied Morris with dignity. + +'And then suppose you're wrong? Suppose Uncle Masterman's alive and +kicking?' + +'Well, even then,' responded the plotter, 'we are no worse off than we +were before; in fact, we're better. Uncle Masterman must die some day; +as long as Uncle Joseph was alive, he might have died any day; but we're +out of all that trouble now: there's no sort of limit to the game that I +propose--it can be kept up till Kingdom Come.' + +'If I could only see how you meant to set about it' sighed John. 'But +you know, Morris, you always were such a bungler.' + +'I'd like to know what I ever bungled,' cried Morris; 'I have the best +collection of signet rings in London.' + +'Well, you know, there's the leather business,' suggested the other. +'That's considered rather a hash.' + +It was a mark of singular self-control in Morris that he suffered this +to pass unchallenged, and even unresented. + +'About the business in hand,' said he, 'once we can get him up to +Bloomsbury, there's no sort of trouble. We bury him in the cellar, which +seems made for it; and then all I have to do is to start out and find a +venal doctor.' + +'Why can't we leave him where he is?' asked John. + +'Because we know nothing about the country,' retorted Morris. 'This wood +may be a regular lovers' walk. Turn your mind to the real difficulty. +How are we to get him up to Bloomsbury?' + +Various schemes were mooted and rejected. The railway station at +Browndean was, of course, out of the question, for it would now be a +centre of curiosity and gossip, and (of all things) they would be +least able to dispatch a dead body without remark. John feebly proposed +getting an ale-cask and sending it as beer, but the objections to this +course were so overwhelming that Morris scorned to answer. The purchase +of a packing-case seemed equally hopeless, for why should two gentlemen +without baggage of any kind require a packing-case? They would be more +likely to require clean linen. + +'We are working on wrong lines,' cried Morris at last. 'The thing must +be gone about more carefully. Suppose now,' he added excitedly, speaking +by fits and starts, as if he were thinking aloud, 'suppose we rent +a cottage by the month. A householder can buy a packing-case without +remark. Then suppose we clear the people out today, get the packing-case +tonight, and tomorrow I hire a carriage or a cart that we could +drive ourselves--and take the box, or whatever we get, to Ringwood or +Lyndhurst or somewhere; we could label it "specimens", don't you see? +Johnny, I believe I've hit the nail at last.' + +'Well, it sounds more feasible,' admitted John. + +'Of course we must take assumed names,' continued Morris. 'It would +never do to keep our own. What do you say to "Masterman" itself? It +sounds quiet and dignified.' + +'I will NOT take the name of Masterman,' returned his brother; 'you may, +if you like. I shall call myself Vance--the Great Vance; positively the +last six nights. There's some go in a name like that.' + +'Vance?' cried Morris. 'Do you think we are playing a pantomime for our +amusement? There was never anybody named Vance who wasn't a music-hall +singer.' + +'That's the beauty of it,' returned John; 'it gives you some standing at +once. You may call yourself Fortescue till all's blue, and nobody cares; +but to be Vance gives a man a natural nobility.' + +'But there's lots of other theatrical names,' cried Morris. 'Leybourne, +Irving, Brough, Toole--' + +'Devil a one will I take!' returned his brother. 'I am going to have my +little lark out of this as well as you.' + +'Very well,' said Morris, who perceived that John was determined to +carry his point, 'I shall be Robert Vance.' + +'And I shall be George Vance,' cried John, 'the only original George +Vance! Rally round the only original!' + +Repairing as well as they were able the disorder of their clothes, the +Finsbury brothers returned to Browndean by a circuitous route in quest +of luncheon and a suitable cottage. It is not always easy to drop at +a moment's notice on a furnished residence in a retired locality; but +fortune presently introduced our adventurers to a deaf carpenter, a man +rich in cottages of the required description, and unaffectedly eager to +supply their wants. The second place they visited, standing, as it did, +about a mile and a half from any neighbours, caused them to exchange a +glance of hope. On a nearer view, the place was not without depressing +features. It stood in a marshy-looking hollow of a heath; tall trees +obscured its windows; the thatch visibly rotted on the rafters; and the +walls were stained with splashes of unwholesome green. The rooms were +small, the ceilings low, the furniture merely nominal; a strange chill +and a haunting smell of damp pervaded the kitchen; and the bedroom +boasted only of one bed. + +Morris, with a view to cheapening the place, remarked on this defect. + +'Well,' returned the man; 'if you can't sleep two abed, you'd better +take a villa residence.' + +'And then,' pursued Morris, 'there's no water. How do you get your +water?' + +'We fill THAT from the spring,' replied the carpenter, pointing to a big +barrel that stood beside the door. 'The spring ain't so VERY far off, +after all, and it's easy brought in buckets. There's a bucket there.' + +Morris nudged his brother as they examined the water-butt. It was +new, and very solidly constructed for its office. If anything had been +wanting to decide them, this eminently practical barrel would have +turned the scale. A bargain was promptly struck, the month's rent was +paid upon the nail, and about an hour later the Finsbury brothers might +have been observed returning to the blighted cottage, having along with +them the key, which was the symbol of their tenancy, a spirit-lamp, with +which they fondly told themselves they would be able to cook, a pork pie +of suitable dimensions, and a quart of the worst whisky in Hampshire. +Nor was this all they had effected; already (under the plea that they +were landscape-painters) they had hired for dawn on the morrow a light +but solid two-wheeled cart; so that when they entered in their new +character, they were able to tell themselves that the back of the +business was already broken. + +John proceeded to get tea; while Morris, foraging about the house, was +presently delighted by discovering the lid of the water-butt upon the +kitchen shelf. Here, then, was the packing-case complete; in the absence +of straw, the blankets (which he himself, at least, had not the smallest +intention of using for their present purpose) would exactly take the +place of packing; and Morris, as the difficulties began to vanish from +his path, rose almost to the brink of exultation. There was, however, +one difficulty not yet faced, one upon which his whole scheme depended. +Would John consent to remain alone in the cottage? He had not yet dared +to put the question. + +It was with high good-humour that the pair sat down to the deal table, +and proceeded to fall-to on the pork pie. Morris retailed the discovery +of the lid, and the Great Vance was pleased to applaud by beating on the +table with his fork in true music-hall style. + +'That's the dodge,' he cried. 'I always said a water-butt was what you +wanted for this business.' + +'Of course,' said Morris, thinking this a favourable opportunity to +prepare his brother, 'of course you must stay on in this place till I +give the word; I'll give out that uncle is resting in the New Forest. It +would not do for both of us to appear in London; we could never conceal +the absence of the old man.' + +John's jaw dropped. + +'O, come!' he cried. 'You can stay in this hole yourself. I won't.' + +The colour came into Morris's cheeks. He saw that he must win his +brother at any cost. + +'You must please remember, Johnny,' he said, 'the amount of the tontine. +If I succeed, we shall have each fifty thousand to place to our bank +account; ay, and nearer sixty.' + +'But if you fail,' returned John, 'what then? What'll be the colour of +our bank account in that case?' + +'I will pay all expenses,' said Morris, with an inward struggle; 'you +shall lose nothing.' + +'Well,' said John, with a laugh, 'if the ex-s are yours, and +half-profits mine, I don't mind remaining here for a couple of days.' + +'A couple of days!' cried Morris, who was beginning to get angry and +controlled himself with difficulty; 'why, you would do more to win five +pounds on a horse-race!' + +'Perhaps I would,' returned the Great Vance; 'it's the artistic +temperament.' + +'This is monstrous!' burst out Morris. 'I take all risks; I pay all +expenses; I divide profits; and you won't take the slightest pains to +help me. It's not decent; it's not honest; it's not even kind.' + +'But suppose,' objected John, who was considerably impressed by his +brother's vehemence, 'suppose that Uncle Masterman is alive after all, +and lives ten years longer; must I rot here all that time?' + +'Of course not,' responded Morris, in a more conciliatory tone; 'I only +ask a month at the outside; and if Uncle Masterman is not dead by that +time you can go abroad.' + +'Go abroad?' repeated John eagerly. 'Why shouldn't I go at once? Tell +'em that Joseph and I are seeing life in Paris.' + +'Nonsense,' said Morris. + +'Well, but look here,' said John; 'it's this house, it's such a pig-sty, +it's so dreary and damp. You said yourself that it was damp.' + +'Only to the carpenter,' Morris distinguished, 'and that was to reduce +the rent. But really, you know, now we're in it, I've seen worse.' + +'And what am I to do?' complained the victim. 'How can I entertain a +friend?' + +'My dear Johnny, if you don't think the tontine worth a little trouble, +say so, and I'll give the business up.' + +'You're dead certain of the figures, I suppose?' asked John. +'Well'--with a deep sigh--'send me the Pink Un and all the comic papers +regularly. I'll face the music.' + +As afternoon drew on, the cottage breathed more thrillingly of its +native marsh; a creeping chill inhabited its chambers; the fire smoked, +and a shower of rain, coming up from the channel on a slant of wind, +tingled on the window-panes. At intervals, when the gloom deepened +toward despair, Morris would produce the whisky-bottle, and at first +John welcomed the diversion--not for long. It has been said this spirit +was the worst in Hampshire; only those acquainted with the county can +appreciate the force of that superlative; and at length even the Great +Vance (who was no connoisseur) waved the decoction from his lips. The +approach of dusk, feebly combated with a single tallow candle, added +a touch of tragedy; and John suddenly stopped whistling through his +fingers--an art to the practice of which he had been reduced--and +bitterly lamented his concessions. + +'I can't stay here a month,' he cried. 'No one could. The thing's +nonsense, Morris. The parties that lived in the Bastille would rise +against a place like this.' + +With an admirable affectation of indifference, Morris proposed a game +of pitch-and-toss. To what will not the diplomatist condescend! It was +John's favourite game; indeed his only game--he had found all the rest +too intellectual--and he played it with equal skill and good fortune. To +Morris himself, on the other hand, the whole business was detestable; +he was a bad pitcher, he had no luck in tossing, and he was one who +suffered torments when he lost. But John was in a dangerous humour, and +his brother was prepared for any sacrifice. + +By seven o'clock, Morris, with incredible agony, had lost a couple of +half-crowns. Even with the tontine before his eyes, this was as much as +he could bear; and, remarking that he would take his revenge some other +time, he proposed a bit of supper and a grog. + +Before they had made an end of this refreshment it was time to be at +work. A bucket of water for present necessities was withdrawn from the +water-butt, which was then emptied and rolled before the kitchen fire to +dry; and the two brothers set forth on their adventure under a starless +heaven. + + + +CHAPTER III. The Lecturer at Large + +Whether mankind is really partial to happiness is an open question. +Not a month passes by but some cherished son runs off into the merchant +service, or some valued husband decamps to Texas with a lady help; +clergymen have fled from their parishioners; and even judges have been +known to retire. To an open mind, it will appear (upon the whole) less +strange that Joseph Finsbury should have been led to entertain ideas of +escape. His lot (I think we may say) was not a happy one. My friend, Mr +Morris, with whom I travel up twice or thrice a week from Snaresbrook +Park, is certainly a gentleman whom I esteem; but he was scarce a model +nephew. As for John, he is of course an excellent fellow; but if he was +the only link that bound one to a home, I think the most of us would +vote for foreign travel. In the case of Joseph, John (if he were a link +at all) was not the only one; endearing bonds had long enchained the old +gentleman to Bloomsbury; and by these expressions I do not in the least +refer to Julia Hazeltine (of whom, however, he was fond enough), but to +that collection of manuscript notebooks in which his life lay buried. +That he should ever have made up his mind to separate himself from these +collections, and go forth upon the world with no other resources than +his memory supplied, is a circumstance highly pathetic in itself, and +but little creditable to the wisdom of his nephews. + +The design, or at least the temptation, was already some months old; and +when a bill for eight hundred pounds, payable to himself, was suddenly +placed in Joseph's hand, it brought matters to an issue. He retained +that bill, which, to one of his frugality, meant wealth; and he promised +himself to disappear among the crowds at Waterloo, or (if that should +prove impossible) to slink out of the house in the course of the +evening and melt like a dream into the millions of London. By a peculiar +interposition of Providence and railway mismanagement he had not so long +to wait. + +He was one of the first to come to himself and scramble to his feet +after the Browndean catastrophe, and he had no sooner remarked his +prostrate nephews than he understood his opportunity and fled. A man of +upwards of seventy, who has just met with a railway accident, and who is +cumbered besides with the full uniform of Sir Faraday Bond, is not +very likely to flee far, but the wood was close at hand and offered the +fugitive at least a temporary covert. Hither, then, the old gentleman +skipped with extraordinary expedition, and, being somewhat winded and +a good deal shaken, here he lay down in a convenient grove and was +presently overwhelmed by slumber. The way of fate is often highly +entertaining to the looker-on, and it is certainly a pleasant +circumstance, that while Morris and John were delving in the sand to +conceal the body of a total stranger, their uncle lay in dreamless sleep +a few hundred yards deeper in the wood. + +He was awakened by the jolly note of a bugle from the neighbouring high +road, where a char-a-banc was bowling by with some belated tourists. The +sound cheered his old heart, it directed his steps into the bargain, and +soon he was on the highway, looking east and west from under his vizor, +and doubtfully revolving what he ought to do. A deliberate sound of +wheels arose in the distance, and then a cart was seen approaching, well +filled with parcels, driven by a good-natured looking man on a double +bench, and displaying on a board the legend, 'I Chandler, carrier'. In +the infamously prosaic mind of Mr Finsbury, certain streaks of poetry +survived and were still efficient; they had carried him to Asia Minor +as a giddy youth of forty, and now, in the first hours of his recovered +freedom, they suggested to him the idea of continuing his flight in Mr +Chandler's cart. It would be cheap; properly broached, it might even +cost nothing, and, after years of mittens and hygienic flannel, his +heart leaped out to meet the notion of exposure. + +Mr Chandler was perhaps a little puzzled to find so old a gentleman, so +strangely clothed, and begging for a lift on so retired a roadside. +But he was a good-natured man, glad to do a service, and so he took the +stranger up; and he had his own idea of civility, and so he asked no +questions. Silence, in fact, was quite good enough for Mr Chandler; +but the cart had scarcely begun to move forward ere he found himself +involved in a one-sided conversation. + +'I can see,' began Mr Finsbury, 'by the mixture of parcels and boxes +that are contained in your cart, each marked with its individual label, +and by the good Flemish mare you drive, that you occupy the post of +carrier in that great English system of transport which, with all its +defects, is the pride of our country.' + +'Yes, sir,' returned Mr Chandler vaguely, for he hardly knew what to +reply; 'them parcels posts has done us carriers a world of harm.' + +'I am not a prejudiced man,' continued Joseph Finsbury. 'As a young +man I travelled much. Nothing was too small or too obscure for me to +acquire. At sea I studied seamanship, learned the complicated knots +employed by mariners, and acquired the technical terms. At Naples, +I would learn the art of making macaroni; at Nice, the principles of +making candied fruit. I never went to the opera without first buying the +book of the piece, and making myself acquainted with the principal airs +by picking them out on the piano with one finger.' + +'You must have seen a deal, sir,' remarked the carrier, touching up his +horse; 'I wish I could have had your advantages.' + +'Do you know how often the word whip occurs in the Old Testament?' +continued the old gentleman. 'One hundred and (if I remember exactly) +forty-seven times.' + +'Do it indeed, sir?' said Mr Chandler. 'I never should have thought it.' + +'The Bible contains three million five hundred and one thousand two +hundred and forty-nine letters. Of verses I believe there are upward of +eighteen thousand. There have been many editions of the Bible; Wycliff +was the first to introduce it into England about the year 1300. The +"Paragraph Bible", as it is called, is a well-known edition, and is so +called because it is divided into paragraphs. The "Breeches Bible" is +another well-known instance, and gets its name either because it was +printed by one Breeches, or because the place of publication bore that +name.' + +The carrier remarked drily that he thought that was only natural, and +turned his attention to the more congenial task of passing a cart of +hay; it was a matter of some difficulty, for the road was narrow, and +there was a ditch on either hand. + +'I perceive,' began Mr Finsbury, when they had successfully passed the +cart, 'that you hold your reins with one hand; you should employ two.' + +'Well, I like that!' cried the carrier contemptuously. 'Why?' + +'You do not understand,' continued Mr Finsbury. 'What I tell you is a +scientific fact, and reposes on the theory of the lever, a branch of +mechanics. There are some very interesting little shilling books upon +the field of study, which I should think a man in your station would +take a pleasure to read. But I am afraid you have not cultivated the art +of observation; at least we have now driven together for some time, and +I cannot remember that you have contributed a single fact. This is a +very false principle, my good man. For instance, I do not know if you +observed that (as you passed the hay-cart man) you took your left?' + +'Of course I did,' cried the carrier, who was now getting belligerent; +'he'd have the law on me if I hadn't.' + +'In France, now,' resumed the old man, 'and also, I believe, in the + +United States of America, you would have taken the right.' + +'I would not,' cried Mr Chandler indignantly. 'I would have taken the +left.' + +'I observe again,' continued Mr Finsbury, scorning to reply, 'that you +mend the dilapidated parts of your harness with string. I have always +protested against this carelessness and slovenliness of the English +poor. In an essay that I once read before an appreciative audience--' + +'It ain't string,' said the carrier sullenly, 'it's pack-thread.' + +'I have always protested,' resumed the old man, 'that in their private +and domestic life, as well as in their labouring career, the lower +classes of this country are improvident, thriftless, and extravagant. A +stitch in time--' + +'Who the devil ARE the lower classes?' cried the carrier. 'You are the +lower classes yourself! If I thought you were a blooming aristocrat, I +shouldn't have given you a lift.' + +The words were uttered with undisguised ill-feeling; it was plain the +pair were not congenial, and further conversation, even to one of Mr +Finsbury's pathetic loquacity, was out of the question. With an angry +gesture, he pulled down the brim of the forage-cap over his eyes, +and, producing a notebook and a blue pencil from one of his innermost +pockets, soon became absorbed in calculations. + +On his part the carrier fell to whistling with fresh zest; and if (now +and again) he glanced at the companion of his drive, it was with mingled +feelings of triumph and alarm--triumph because he had succeeded in +arresting that prodigy of speech, and alarm lest (by any accident) it +should begin again. Even the shower, which presently overtook and passed +them, was endured by both in silence; and it was still in silence that +they drove at length into Southampton. + +Dusk had fallen; the shop windows glimmered forth into the streets of +the old seaport; in private houses lights were kindled for the evening +meal; and Mr Finsbury began to think complacently of his night's +lodging. He put his papers by, cleared his throat, and looked doubtfully +at Mr Chandler. + +'Will you be civil enough,' said he, 'to recommend me to an inn?' Mr +Chandler pondered for a moment. + +'Well,' he said at last, 'I wonder how about the "Tregonwell Arms".' + +'The "Tregonwell Arms" will do very well,' returned the old man, 'if +it's clean and cheap, and the people civil.' + +'I wasn't thinking so much of you,' returned Mr Chandler thoughtfully. +'I was thinking of my friend Watts as keeps the 'ouse; he's a friend of +mine, you see, and he helped me through my trouble last year. And I was +thinking, would it be fair-like on Watts to saddle him with an old party +like you, who might be the death of him with general information. Would +it be fair to the 'ouse?' enquired Mr Chandler, with an air of candid +appeal. + +'Mark me,' cried the old gentleman with spirit. 'It was kind in you to +bring me here for nothing, but it gives you no right to address me +in such terms. Here's a shilling for your trouble; and, if you do +not choose to set me down at the "Tregonwell Arms", I can find it for +myself.' + +Chandler was surprised and a little startled; muttering something +apologetic, he returned the shilling, drove in silence through several +intricate lanes and small streets, drew up at length before the bright +windows of an inn, and called loudly for Mr Watts. + +'Is that you, Jem?' cried a hearty voice from the stableyard. 'Come in +and warm yourself.' + +'I only stopped here,' Mr Chandler explained, 'to let down an old gent +that wants food and lodging. Mind, I warn you agin him; he's worse nor a +temperance lecturer.' + +Mr Finsbury dismounted with difficulty, for he was cramped with his long +drive, and the shaking he had received in the accident. The friendly Mr +Watts, in spite of the carter's scarcely agreeable introduction, treated +the old gentleman with the utmost courtesy, and led him into the back +parlour, where there was a big fire burning in the grate. Presently a +table was spread in the same room, and he was invited to seat himself +before a stewed fowl--somewhat the worse for having seen service +before--and a big pewter mug of ale from the tap. + +He rose from supper a giant refreshed; and, changing his seat to one +nearer the fire, began to examine the other guests with an eye to the +delights of oratory. There were near a dozen present, all men, and (as +Joseph exulted to perceive) all working men. Often already had he seen +cause to bless that appetite for disconnected fact and rotatory argument +which is so marked a character of the mechanic. But even an audience of +working men has to be courted, and there was no man more deeply versed +in the necessary arts than Joseph Finsbury. He placed his glasses on his +nose, drew from his pocket a bundle of papers, and spread them before +him on a table. He crumpled them, he smoothed them out; now he skimmed +them over, apparently well pleased with their contents; now, with +tapping pencil and contracted brows, he seemed maturely to consider some +particular statement. A stealthy glance about the room assured him of +the success of his manoeuvres; all eyes were turned on the performer, +mouths were open, pipes hung suspended; the birds were charmed. At the +same moment the entrance of Mr Watts afforded him an opportunity. + +'I observe,' said he, addressing the landlord, but taking at the same +time the whole room into his confidence with an encouraging look, 'I +observe that some of these gentlemen are looking with curiosity in +my direction; and certainly it is unusual to see anyone immersed in +literary and scientific labours in the public apartment of an inn. I +have here some calculations I made this morning upon the cost of living +in this and other countries--a subject, I need scarcely say, highly +interesting to the working classes. I have calculated a scale of living +for incomes of eighty, one hundred and sixty, two hundred, and two +hundred and forty pounds a year. I must confess that the income of +eighty pounds has somewhat baffled me, and the others are not so exact +as I could wish; for the price of washing varies largely in foreign +countries, and the different cokes, coals and firewoods fluctuate +surprisingly. I will read my researches, and I hope you won't scruple to +point out to me any little errors that I may have committed either from +oversight or ignorance. I will begin, gentlemen, with the income of +eighty pounds a year.' + +Whereupon the old gentleman, with less compassion than he would have had +for brute beasts, delivered himself of all his tedious calculations. +As he occasionally gave nine versions of a single income, placing +the imaginary person in London, Paris, Bagdad, Spitzbergen, +Bassorah, Heligoland, the Scilly Islands, Brighton, Cincinnati, and +Nijni-Novgorod, with an appropriate outfit for each locality, it is no +wonder that his hearers look back on that evening as the most tiresome +they ever spent. + +Long before Mr Finsbury had reached Nijni-Novgorod with the income of +one hundred and sixty pounds, the company had dwindled and faded away to +a few old topers and the bored but affable Watts. There was a constant +stream of customers from the outer world, but so soon as they were +served they drank their liquor quickly and departed with the utmost +celerity for the next public-house. + +By the time the young man with two hundred a year was vegetating in the +Scilly Islands, Mr Watts was left alone with the economist; and that +imaginary person had scarce commenced life at Brighton before the last +of his pursuers desisted from the chase. + +Mr Finsbury slept soundly after the manifold fatigues of the day. He +rose late, and, after a good breakfast, ordered the bill. Then it was +that he made a discovery which has been made by many others, both before +and since: that it is one thing to order your bill, and another to +discharge it. The items were moderate and (what does not always follow) +the total small; but, after the most sedulous review of all his pockets, +one and nine pence halfpenny appeared to be the total of the old +gentleman's available assets. He asked to see Mr Watts. + +'Here is a bill on London for eight hundred pounds,' said Mr Finsbury, +as that worthy appeared. 'I am afraid, unless you choose to discount it +yourself, it may detain me a day or two till I can get it cashed.' + +Mr Watts looked at the bill, turned it over, and dogs-eared it with his +fingers. 'It will keep you a day or two?' he said, repeating the old +man's words. 'You have no other money with you?' + +'Some trifling change,' responded Joseph. 'Nothing to speak of.' + +'Then you can send it me; I should be pleased to trust you.' + +'To tell the truth,' answered the old gentleman, 'I am more than half +inclined to stay; I am in need of funds.' + +'If a loan of ten shillings would help you, it is at your service,' +responded Watts, with eagerness. + +'No, I think I would rather stay,' said the old man, 'and get my bill +discounted.' + +'You shall not stay in my house,' cried Mr Watts. 'This is the last time +you shall have a bed at the "Tregonwell Arms".' + +'I insist upon remaining,' replied Mr Finsbury, with spirit; 'I remain +by Act of Parliament; turn me out if you dare.' + +'Then pay your bill,' said Mr Watts. + +'Take that,' cried the old man, tossing him the negotiable bill. + +'It is not legal tender,' replied Mr Watts. 'You must leave my house at +once.' + +'You cannot appreciate the contempt I feel for you, Mr Watts,' said the +old gentleman, resigning himself to circumstances. 'But you shall feel +it in one way: I refuse to pay my bill.' + +'I don't care for your bill,' responded Mr Watts. 'What I want is your +absence.' + +'That you shall have!' said the old gentleman, and, taking up his +forage cap as he spoke, he crammed it on his head. 'Perhaps you are +too insolent,' he added, 'to inform me of the time of the next London +train?' + +'It leaves in three-quarters of an hour,' returned the innkeeper with +alacrity. 'You can easily catch it.' + +Joseph's position was one of considerable weakness. On the one hand, it +would have been well to avoid the direct line of railway, since it was +there he might expect his nephews to lie in wait for his recapture; on +the other, it was highly desirable, it was even strictly needful, to get +the bill discounted ere it should be stopped. To London, therefore, he +decided to proceed on the first train; and there remained but one point +to be considered, how to pay his fare. + +Joseph's nails were never clean; he ate almost entirely with his knife. +I doubt if you could say he had the manners of a gentleman; but he had +better than that, a touch of genuine dignity. Was it from his stay in +Asia Minor? Was it from a strain in the Finsbury blood sometimes +alluded to by customers? At least, when he presented himself before the +station-master, his salaam was truly Oriental, palm-trees appeared to +crowd about the little office, and the simoom or the bulbul--but I leave +this image to persons better acquainted with the East. His appearance, +besides, was highly in his favour; the uniform of Sir Faraday, however +inconvenient and conspicuous, was, at least, a costume in which no +swindler could have hoped to prosper; and the exhibition of a valuable +watch and a bill for eight hundred pounds completed what deportment had +begun. A quarter of an hour later, when the train came up, Mr Finsbury +was introduced to the guard and installed in a first-class compartment, +the station-master smilingly assuming all responsibility. + +As the old gentleman sat waiting the moment of departure, he was the +witness of an incident strangely connected with the fortunes of his +house. A packing-case of cyclopean bulk was borne along the platform +by some dozen of tottering porters, and ultimately, to the delight of a +considerable crowd, hoisted on board the van. It is often the cheering +task of the historian to direct attention to the designs and (if it may +be reverently said) the artifices of Providence. In the luggage van, as +Joseph was borne out of the station of Southampton East upon his way +to London, the egg of his romance lay (so to speak) unhatched. The +huge packing-case was directed to lie at Waterloo till called for, and +addressed to one 'William Dent Pitman'; and the very next article, +a goodly barrel jammed into the corner of the van, bore the +superscription, 'M. Finsbury, 16 John Street, Bloomsbury. Carriage +paid.' + +In this juxtaposition, the train of powder was prepared; and there was +now wanting only an idle hand to fire it off. + + + +CHAPTER IV. The Magistrate in the Luggage Van + +The city of Winchester is famed for a cathedral, a bishop--but he was +unfortunately killed some years ago while riding--a public school, a +considerable assortment of the military, and the deliberate passage of +the trains of the London and South-Western line. These and many +similar associations would have doubtless crowded on the mind of Joseph +Finsbury; but his spirit had at that time flitted from the railway +compartment to a heaven of populous lecture-halls and endless oratory. +His body, in the meanwhile, lay doubled on the cushions, the forage-cap +rakishly tilted back after the fashion of those that lie in wait for +nursery-maids, the poor old face quiescent, one arm clutching to his +heart Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper. + +To him, thus unconscious, enter and exeunt again a pair of voyagers. +These two had saved the train and no more. A tandem urged to its last +speed, an act of something closely bordering on brigandage at the ticket +office, and a spasm of running, had brought them on the platform just +as the engine uttered its departing snort. There was but one carriage +easily within their reach; and they had sprung into it, and the leader +and elder already had his feet upon the floor, when he observed Mr +Finsbury. + +'Good God!' he cried. 'Uncle Joseph! This'll never do.' + +And he backed out, almost upsetting his companion, and once more closed +the door upon the sleeping patriarch. + +The next moment the pair had jumped into the baggage van. + +'What's the row about your Uncle Joseph?' enquired the younger +traveller, mopping his brow. 'Does he object to smoking?' + +'I don't know that there's anything the row with him,' returned the +other. 'He's by no means the first comer, my Uncle Joseph, I can tell +you! Very respectable old gentleman; interested in leather; been to Asia +Minor; no family, no assets--and a tongue, my dear Wickham, sharper than +a serpent's tooth.' + +'Cantankerous old party, eh?' suggested Wickham. + +'Not in the least,' cried the other; 'only a man with a solid talent +for being a bore; rather cheery I dare say, on a desert island, but on +a railway journey insupportable. You should hear him on Tonti, the ass +that started tontines. He's incredible on Tonti.' + +'By Jove!' cried Wickham, 'then you're one of these Finsbury tontine +fellows. I hadn't a guess of that.' + +'Ah!' said the other, 'do you know that old boy in the carriage is worth +a hundred thousand pounds to me? There he was asleep, and nobody there +but you! But I spared him, because I'm a Conservative in politics.' + +Mr Wickham, pleased to be in a luggage van, was flitting to and fro like +a gentlemanly butterfly. + +'By Jingo!' he cried, 'here's something for you! "M. Finsbury, 16 John +Street, Bloomsbury, London." M. stands for Michael, you sly dog; you +keep two establishments, do you?' + +'O, that's Morris,' responded Michael from the other end of the van, +where he had found a comfortable seat upon some sacks. 'He's a little +cousin of mine. I like him myself, because he's afraid of me. He's +one of the ornaments of Bloomsbury, and has a collection of some +kind--birds' eggs or something that's supposed to be curious. I bet it's +nothing to my clients!' + +'What a lark it would be to play billy with the labels!' chuckled Mr +Wickham. 'By George, here's a tack-hammer! We might send all these +things skipping about the premises like what's-his-name!' + +At this moment, the guard, surprised by the sound of voices, opened the +door of his little cabin. + +'You had best step in here, gentlemen,' said he, when he had heard their +story. + +'Won't you come, Wickham?' asked Michael. + +'Catch me--I want to travel in a van,' replied the youth. + +And so the door of communication was closed; and for the rest of the run +Mr Wickham was left alone over his diversions on the one side, and on +the other Michael and the guard were closeted together in familiar talk. + +'I can get you a compartment here, sir,' observed the official, as the +train began to slacken speed before Bishopstoke station. 'You had best +get out at my door, and I can bring your friend.' + +Mr Wickham, whom we left (as the reader has shrewdly suspected) +beginning to 'play billy' with the labels in the van, was a young +gentleman of much wealth, a pleasing but sandy exterior, and a highly +vacant mind. Not many months before, he had contrived to get himself +blackmailed by the family of a Wallachian Hospodar, resident for +political reasons in the gay city of Paris. A common friend (to whom he +had confided his distress) recommended him to Michael; and the lawyer +was no sooner in possession of the facts than he instantly assumed +the offensive, fell on the flank of the Wallachian forces, and, in the +inside of three days, had the satisfaction to behold them routed and +fleeing for the Danube. It is no business of ours to follow them on +this retreat, over which the police were so obliging as to preside +paternally. Thus relieved from what he loved to refer to as the +Bulgarian Atrocity, Mr Wickham returned to London with the most +unbounded and embarrassing gratitude and admiration for his saviour. +These sentiments were not repaid either in kind or degree; indeed, +Michael was a trifle ashamed of his new client's friendship; it had +taken many invitations to get him to Winchester and Wickham Manor; but +he had gone at last, and was now returning. It has been remarked by some +judicious thinker (possibly J. F. Smith) that Providence despises to +employ no instrument, however humble; and it is now plain to the dullest +that both Mr Wickham and the Wallachian Hospodar were liquid lead and +wedges in the hand of Destiny. + +Smitten with the desire to shine in Michael's eyes and show himself a +person of original humour and resources, the young gentleman (who was a +magistrate, more by token, in his native county) was no sooner alone in +the van than he fell upon the labels with all the zeal of a reformer; +and, when he rejoined the lawyer at Bishopstoke, his face was flushed +with his exertions, and his cigar, which he had suffered to go out was +almost bitten in two. + +'By George, but this has been a lark!' he cried. 'I've sent the +wrong thing to everybody in England. These cousins of yours have a +packing-case as big as a house. I've muddled the whole business up to +that extent, Finsbury, that if it were to get out it's my belief we +should get lynched.' + +It was useless to be serious with Mr Wickham. 'Take care,' said +Michael. 'I am getting tired of your perpetual scrapes; my reputation is +beginning to suffer.' + +'Your reputation will be all gone before you finish with me,' replied +his companion with a grin. 'Clap it in the bill, my boy. "For total loss +of reputation, six and eightpence." But,' continued Mr Wickham with more +seriousness, 'could I be bowled out of the Commission for this +little jest? I know it's small, but I like to be a JP. Speaking as a +professional man, do you think there's any risk?' + +'What does it matter?' responded Michael, 'they'll chuck you out sooner +or later. Somehow you don't give the effect of being a good magistrate.' + +'I only wish I was a solicitor,' retorted his companion, 'instead of a +poor devil of a country gentleman. Suppose we start one of those tontine +affairs ourselves; I to pay five hundred a year, and you to guarantee me +against every misfortune except illness or marriage.' + +'It strikes me,' remarked the lawyer with a meditative laugh, as he +lighted a cigar, 'it strikes me that you must be a cursed nuisance in +this world of ours.' + +'Do you really think so, Finsbury?' responded the magistrate, leaning +back in his cushions, delighted with the compliment. 'Yes, I suppose +I am a nuisance. But, mind you, I have a stake in the country: don't +forget that, dear boy.' + + + +CHAPTER V. Mr Gideon Forsyth and the Gigantic Box + +It has been mentioned that at Bournemouth Julia sometimes made +acquaintances; it is true she had but a glimpse of them before the +doors of John Street closed again upon its captives, but the glimpse +was sometimes exhilarating, and the consequent regret was tempered +with hope. Among those whom she had thus met a year before was a young +barrister of the name of Gideon Forsyth. + +About three o'clock of the eventful day when the magistrate tampered +with the labels, a somewhat moody and distempered ramble had carried +Mr Forsyth to the corner of John Street; and about the same moment Miss +Hazeltine was called to the door of No. 16 by a thundering double knock. + +Mr Gideon Forsyth was a happy enough young man; he would have been +happier if he had had more money and less uncle. One hundred and +twenty pounds a year was all his store; but his uncle, Mr Edward Hugh +Bloomfield, supplemented this with a handsome allowance and a great +deal of advice, couched in language that would probably have been judged +intemperate on board a pirate ship. Mr Bloomfield was indeed a figure +quite peculiar to the days of Mr Gladstone; what we may call (for the +lack of an accepted expression) a Squirradical. Having acquired years +without experience, he carried into the Radical side of politics those +noisy, after-dinner-table passions, which we are more accustomed to +connect with Toryism in its severe and senile aspects. To the opinions +of Mr Bradlaugh, in fact, he added the temper and the sympathies of that +extinct animal, the Squire; he admired pugilism, he carried a formidable +oaken staff, he was a reverent churchman, and it was hard to know which +would have more volcanically stirred his choler--a person who should +have defended the established church, or one who should have neglected +to attend its celebrations. He had besides some levelling catchwords, +justly dreaded in the family circle; and when he could not go so far +as to declare a step un-English, he might still (and with hardly less +effect) denounce it as unpractical. It was under the ban of this lesser +excommunication that Gideon had fallen. His views on the study of law +had been pronounced unpractical; and it had been intimated to him, in +a vociferous interview punctuated with the oaken staff, that he must +either take a new start and get a brief or two, or prepare to live on +his own money. + +No wonder if Gideon was moody. He had not the slightest wish to modify +his present habits; but he would not stand on that, since the recall of +Mr Bloomfield's allowance would revolutionize them still more radically. +He had not the least desire to acquaint himself with law; he had looked +into it already, and it seemed not to repay attention; but upon this +also he was ready to give way. In fact, he would go as far as he could +to meet the views of his uncle, the Squirradical. But there was one part +of the programme that appeared independent of his will. How to get +a brief? there was the question. And there was another and a worse. +Suppose he got one, should he prove the better man? + +Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd. A garishly illuminated van +was backed against the kerb; from its open stern, half resting on the +street, half supported by some glistening athletes, the end of the +largest packing-case in the county of Middlesex might have been seen +protruding; while, on the steps of the house, the burly person of +the driver and the slim figure of a young girl stood as upon a stage, +disputing. + +'It is not for us,' the girl was saying. 'I beg you to take it away; it +couldn't get into the house, even if you managed to get it out of the +van.' + +'I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M. Finsbury can arrange +with the Vestry as he likes,' said the vanman. + +'But I am not M. Finsbury,' expostulated the girl. + +'It doesn't matter who you are,' said the vanman. + +'You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,' said Gideon, putting +out his hand. + +Julia gave a little cry of pleasure. 'O, Mr Forsyth,' she cried, 'I am +so glad to see you; we must get this horrid thing, which can only have +come here by mistake, into the house. The man says we'll have to take +off the door, or knock two of our windows into one, or be fined by +the Vestry or Custom House or something for leaving our parcels on the +pavement.' + +The men by this time had successfully removed the box from the van, had +plumped it down on the pavement, and now stood leaning against it, or +gazing at the door of No. 16, in visible physical distress and mental +embarrassment. The windows of the whole street had filled, as if by +magic, with interested and entertained spectators. + +With as thoughtful and scientific an expression as he could assume, +Gideon measured the doorway with his cane, while Julia entered his +observations in a drawing-book. He then measured the box, and, upon +comparing his data, found that there was just enough space for it to +enter. Next, throwing off his coat and waistcoat, he assisted the men to +take the door from its hinges. And lastly, all bystanders being pressed +into the service, the packing-case mounted the steps upon some +fifteen pairs of wavering legs--scraped, loudly grinding, through the +doorway--and was deposited at length, with a formidable convulsion, in +the far end of the lobby, which it almost blocked. The artisans of this +victory smiled upon each other as the dust subsided. It was true they +had smashed a bust of Apollo and ploughed the wall into deep ruts; but, +at least, they were no longer one of the public spectacles of London. + +'Well, sir,' said the vanman, 'I never see such a job.' + +Gideon eloquently expressed his concurrence in this sentiment by +pressing a couple of sovereigns in the man's hand. + +'Make it three, sir, and I'll stand Sam to everybody here!' cried the +latter, and, this having been done, the whole body of volunteer porters +swarmed into the van, which drove off in the direction of the nearest +reliable public-house. Gideon closed the door on their departure, and +turned to Julia; their eyes met; the most uncontrollable mirth seized +upon them both, and they made the house ring with their laughter. Then +curiosity awoke in Julia's mind, and she went and examined the box, and +more especially the label. + +'This is the strangest thing that ever happened,' she said, with another +burst of laughter. 'It is certainly Morris's handwriting, and I had a +letter from him only this morning, telling me to expect a barrel. Is +there a barrel coming too, do you think, Mr Forsyth?' + +"'Statuary with Care, Fragile,'" read Gideon aloud from the painted +warning on the box. 'Then you were told nothing about this?' + +'No,' responded Julia. 'O, Mr Forsyth, don't you think we might take a +peep at it?' + +'Yes, indeed,' cried Gideon. 'Just let me have a hammer.' + +'Come down, and I'll show you where it is,' cried Julia. 'The shelf is +too high for me to reach'; and, opening the door of the kitchen stair, +she bade Gideon follow her. They found both the hammer and a chisel; +but Gideon was surprised to see no sign of a servant. He also discovered +that Miss Hazeltine had a very pretty little foot and ankle; and the +discovery embarrassed him so much that he was glad to fall at once upon +the packing-case. + +He worked hard and earnestly, and dealt his blows with the precision +of a blacksmith; Julia the while standing silently by his side, and +regarding rather the workman than the work. He was a handsome fellow; +she told herself she had never seen such beautiful arms. And suddenly, +as though he had overheard these thoughts, Gideon turned and smiled to +her. She, too, smiled and coloured; and the double change became her +so prettily that Gideon forgot to turn away his eyes, and, swinging the +hammer with a will, discharged a smashing blow on his own knuckles. With +admirable presence of mind he crushed down an oath and substituted the +harmless comment, 'Butter fingers!' But the pain was sharp, his nerve +was shaken, and after an abortive trial he found he must desist from +further operations. + +In a moment Julia was off to the pantry; in a moment she was back again +with a basin of water and a sponge, and had begun to bathe his wounded +hand. + +'I am dreadfully sorry!' said Gideon apologetically. 'If I had had +any manners I should have opened the box first and smashed my hand +afterward. It feels much better,' he added. 'I assure you it does.' + +'And now I think you are well enough to direct operations,' said she. +'Tell me what to do, and I'll be your workman.' + +'A very pretty workman,' said Gideon, rather forgetting himself. +She turned and looked at him, with a suspicion of a frown; and +the indiscreet young man was glad to direct her attention to the +packing-case. The bulk of the work had been accomplished; and presently +Julia had burst through the last barrier and disclosed a zone of straw. +in a moment they were kneeling side by side, engaged like haymakers; the +next they were rewarded with a glimpse of something white and polished; +and the next again laid bare an unmistakable marble leg. + +'He is surely a very athletic person,' said Julia. + +'I never saw anything like it,' responded Gideon. 'His muscles stand out +like penny rolls.' + +Another leg was soon disclosed, and then what seemed to be a third. This +resolved itself, however, into a knotted club resting upon a pedestal. + +'It is a Hercules,' cried Gideon; 'I might have guessed that from his +calf. I'm supposed to be rather partial to statuary, but when it comes +to Hercules, the police should interfere. I should say,' he added, +glancing with disaffection at the swollen leg, 'that this was about the +biggest and the worst in Europe. What in heaven's name can have induced +him to come here?' + +'I suppose nobody else would have a gift of him,' said Julia. 'And for +that matter, I think we could have done without the monster very well.' + +'O, don't say that,' returned Gideon. 'This has been one of the most +amusing experiences of my life.' + +'I don't think you'll forget it very soon,' said Julia. 'Your hand will +remind you.' + +'Well, I suppose I must be going,' said Gideon reluctantly. 'No,' +pleaded Julia. 'Why should you? Stay and have tea with me.' + +'If I thought you really wished me to stay,' said Gideon, looking at his +hat, 'of course I should only be too delighted.' + +'What a silly person you must take me for!' returned the girl. 'Why, of +course I do; and, besides, I want some cakes for tea, and I've nobody to +send. Here is the latchkey.' + +Gideon put on his hat with alacrity, and casting one look at Miss +Hazeltine, and another at the legs of Hercules, threw open the door and +departed on his errand. + +He returned with a large bag of the choicest and most tempting of cakes +and tartlets, and found Julia in the act of spreading a small tea-table +in the lobby. + +'The rooms are all in such a state,' she cried, 'that I thought we +should be more cosy and comfortable in our own lobby, and under our own +vine and statuary.' + +'Ever so much better,' cried Gideon delightedly. + +'O what adorable cream tarts!' said Julia, opening the bag, 'and the +dearest little cherry tartlets, with all the cherries spilled out into +the cream!' + +'Yes,' said Gideon, concealing his dismay, 'I knew they would mix +beautifully; the woman behind the counter told me so.' + +'Now,' said Julia, as they began their little festival, 'I am going +to show you Morris's letter; read it aloud, please; perhaps there's +something I have missed.' + +Gideon took the letter, and spreading it out on his knee, read as +follows: + + +DEAR JULIA, I write you from Browndean, where we are stopping over for +a few days. Uncle was much shaken in that dreadful accident, of which, +I dare say, you have seen the account. Tomorrow I leave him here with +John, and come up alone; but before that, you will have received a +barrel CONTAINING SPECIMENS FOR A FRIEND. Do not open it on any account, +but leave it in the lobby till I come. + +Yours in haste, + +M. FINSBURY. + +P.S.--Be sure and leave the barrel in the lobby. + + +'No,' said Gideon, 'there seems to be nothing about the monument,' +and he nodded, as he spoke, at the marble legs. 'Miss Hazeltine,' he +continued, 'would you mind me asking a few questions?' + +'Certainly not,' replied Julia; 'and if you can make me understand why +Morris has sent a statue of Hercules instead of a barrel containing +specimens for a friend, I shall be grateful till my dying day. And what +are specimens for a friend?' + +'I haven't a guess,' said Gideon. 'Specimens are usually bits of stone, +but rather smaller than our friend the monument. Still, that is not the +point. Are you quite alone in this big house?' + +'Yes, I am at present,' returned Julia. 'I came up before them to +prepare the house, and get another servant. But I couldn't get one I +liked.' + +'Then you are utterly alone,' said Gideon in amazement. 'Are you not +afraid?' + +'No,' responded Julia stoutly. 'I don't see why I should be more afraid +than you would be; I am weaker, of course, but when I found I must sleep +alone in the house I bought a revolver wonderfully cheap, and made the +man show me how to use it.' + +'And how do you use it?' demanded Gideon, much amused at her courage. + +'Why,' said she, with a smile, 'you pull the little trigger thing on +top, and then pointing it very low, for it springs up as you fire, you +pull the underneath little trigger thing, and it goes off as well as if +a man had done it.' + +'And how often have you used it?' asked Gideon. + +'O, I have not used it yet,' said the determined young lady; 'but I +know how, and that makes me wonderfully courageous, especially when I +barricade my door with a chest of drawers.' + +'I'm awfully glad they are coming back soon,' said Gideon. 'This +business strikes me as excessively unsafe; if it goes on much longer, +I could provide you with a maiden aunt of mine, or my landlady if you +preferred.' + +'Lend me an aunt!' cried Julia. 'O, what generosity! I begin to think it +must have been you that sent the Hercules.' + +'Believe me,' cried the young man, 'I admire you too much to send you +such an infamous work of art..' + +Julia was beginning to reply, when they were both startled by a knocking +at the door. + +'O, Mr Forsyth!' + +'Don't be afraid, my dear girl,' said Gideon, laying his hand tenderly +on her arm. + +'I know it's the police,' she whispered. 'They are coming to complain +about the statue.' + +The knock was repeated. It was louder than before, and more impatient. + +'It's Morris,' cried Julia, in a startled voice, and she ran to the door +and opened it. + +It was indeed Morris that stood before them; not the Morris of ordinary +days, but a wild-looking fellow, pale and haggard, with bloodshot eyes, +and a two-days' beard upon his chin. + +'The barrel!' he cried. 'Where's the barrel that came this morning?' +And he stared about the lobby, his eyes, as they fell upon the legs of +Hercules, literally goggling in his head. 'What is that?' he screamed. +'What is that waxwork? Speak, you fool! What is that? And where's the +barrel--the water-butt?' + +'No barrel came, Morris,' responded Julia coldly. 'This is the only +thing that has arrived.' + +'This!' shrieked the miserable man. 'I never heard of it!' + +'It came addressed in your hand,' replied Julia; 'we had nearly to pull +the house down to get it in, that is all that I can tell you.' + +Morris gazed at her in utter bewilderment. He passed his hand over his +forehead; he leaned against the wall like a man about to faint. Then his +tongue was loosed, and he overwhelmed the girl with torrents of abuse. +Such fire, such directness, such a choice of ungentlemanly language, +none had ever before suspected Morris to possess; and the girl trembled +and shrank before his fury. + +'You shall not speak to Miss Hazeltine in that way,' said Gideon +sternly. 'It is what I will not suffer.' + +'I shall speak to the girl as I like,' returned Morris, with a fresh +outburst of anger. 'I'll speak to the hussy as she deserves.' + +'Not a word more, sir, not one word,' cried Gideon. 'Miss Hazeltine,' he +continued, addressing the young girl, 'you cannot stay a moment longer +in the same house with this unmanly fellow. Here is my arm; let me take +you where you will be secure from insult.' + +'Mr Forsyth,' returned Julia, 'you are right; I cannot stay here longer, +and I am sure I trust myself to an honourable gentleman.' + +Pale and resolute, Gideon offered her his arm, and the pair descended +the steps, followed by Morris clamouring for the latchkey. + +Julia had scarcely handed the key to Morris before an empty hansom drove +smartly into John Street. It was hailed by both men, and as the cabman +drew up his restive horse, Morris made a dash into the vehicle. + +'Sixpence above fare,' he cried recklessly. 'Waterloo Station for your +life. Sixpence for yourself!' + +'Make it a shilling, guv'ner,' said the man, with a grin; 'the other +parties were first.' + +'A shilling then,' cried Morris, with the inward reflection that he +would reconsider it at Waterloo. The man whipped up his horse, and the +hansom vanished from John Street. + + + +CHAPTER VI. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the First + +As the hansom span through the streets of London, Morris sought to +rally the forces of his mind. The water-butt with the dead body had +miscarried, and it was essential to recover it. So much was clear; and +if, by some blest good fortune, it was still at the station, all might +be well. If it had been sent out, however, if it were already in the +hands of some wrong person, matters looked more ominous. People who +receive unexplained packages are usually keen to have them open; the +example of Miss Hazeltine (whom he cursed again) was there to remind him +of the circumstance; and if anyone had opened the water-butt--'O Lord!' +cried Morris at the thought, and carried his hand to his damp forehead. +The private conception of any breach of law is apt to be inspiriting, +for the scheme (while yet inchoate) wears dashing and attractive +colours. Not so in the least that part of the criminal's later +reflections which deal with the police. That useful corps (as Morris +now began to think) had scarce been kept sufficiently in view when +he embarked upon his enterprise. 'I must play devilish close,' he +reflected, and he was aware of an exquisite thrill of fear in the region +of the spine. + +'Main line or loop?' enquired the cabman, through the scuttle. + +'Main line,' replied Morris, and mentally decided that the man should +have his shilling after all. 'It would be madness to attract attention,' +thought he. 'But what this thing will cost me, first and last, begins to +be a nightmare!' + +He passed through the booking-office and wandered disconsolately on the +platform. It was a breathing-space in the day's traffic. There were +few people there, and these for the most part quiescent on the benches. +Morris seemed to attract no remark, which was a good thing; but, on the +other hand, he was making no progress in his quest. Something must be +done, something must be risked. Every passing instant only added to his +dangers. Summoning all his courage, he stopped a porter, and asked him +if he remembered receiving a barrel by the morning train. He was anxious +to get information, for the barrel belonged to a friend. 'It is a matter +of some moment,' he added, 'for it contains specimens.' + +'I was not here this morning, sir,' responded the porter, somewhat +reluctantly, 'but I'll ask Bill. Do you recollect, Bill, to have got a +barrel from Bournemouth this morning containing specimens?' + +'I don't know about specimens,' replied Bill; 'but the party as received +the barrel I mean raised a sight of trouble.' + +'What's that?' cried Morris, in the agitation of the moment pressing a +penny into the man's hand. + +'You see, sir, the barrel arrived at one-thirty. No one claimed it till +about three, when a small, sickly--looking gentleman (probably a curate) +came up, and sez he, "Have you got anything for Pitman?" or "Wili'm Bent +Pitman," if I recollect right. "I don't exactly know," sez I, "but I +rather fancy that there barrel bears that name." The little man went +up to the barrel, and seemed regularly all took aback when he saw the +address, and then he pitched into us for not having brought what he +wanted. "I don't care a damn what you want," sez I to him, "but if you +are Will'm Bent Pitman, there's your barrel."' + +'Well, and did he take it?' cried the breathless Morris. + +'Well, sir,' returned Bill, 'it appears it was a packing-case he was +after. The packing-case came; that's sure enough, because it was about +the biggest packing-case ever I clapped eyes on. And this Pitman he +seemed a good deal cut up, and he had the superintendent out, and +they got hold of the vanman--him as took the packing-case. Well, sir,' +continued Bill, with a smile, 'I never see a man in such a state. +Everybody about that van was mortal, bar the horses. Some gen'leman (as +well as I could make out) had given the vanman a sov.; and so that was +where the trouble come in, you see.' + +'But what did he say?' gasped Morris. + +'I don't know as he SAID much, sir,' said Bill. 'But he offered to +fight this Pitman for a pot of beer. He had lost his book, too, and the +receipts, and his men were all as mortal as himself. O, they were all +like'--and Bill paused for a simile--'like lords! The superintendent +sacked them on the spot.' + +'O, come, but that's not so bad,' said Morris, with a bursting sigh. 'He +couldn't tell where he took the packing-case, then?' + +'Not he,' said Bill, 'nor yet nothink else.' + +'And what--what did Pitman do?' asked Morris. + +'O, he went off with the barrel in a four-wheeler, very trembling like,' +replied Bill. 'I don't believe he's a gentleman as has good health.' + +'Well, so the barrel's gone,' said Morris, half to himself. + +'You may depend on that, sir,' returned the porter. 'But you had better +see the superintendent.' + +'Not in the least; it's of no account,' said Morris. 'It only contained +specimens.' And he walked hastily away. + +Ensconced once more in a hansom, he proceeded to reconsider his +position. Suppose (he thought), suppose he should accept defeat and +declare his uncle's death at once? He should lose the tontine, and with +that the last hope of his seven thousand eight hundred pounds. But on +the other hand, since the shilling to the hansom cabman, he had begun to +see that crime was expensive in its course, and, since the loss of the +water-butt, that it was uncertain in its consequences. Quietly at first, +and then with growing heat, he reviewed the advantages of backing out. +It involved a loss; but (come to think of it) no such great loss after +all; only that of the tontine, which had been always a toss-up, which +at bottom he had never really expected. He reminded himself of that +eagerly; he congratulated himself upon his constant moderation. He had +never really expected the tontine; he had never even very definitely +hoped to recover his seven thousand eight hundred pounds; he had been +hurried into the whole thing by Michael's obvious dishonesty. Yes, it +would probably be better to draw back from this high-flying venture, +settle back on the leather business-- + +'Great God!' cried Morris, bounding in the hansom like a Jack-in-a-box. +'I have not only not gained the tontine--I have lost the leather +business!' + +Such was the monstrous fact. He had no power to sign; he could not draw +a cheque for thirty shillings. Until he could produce legal evidence +of his uncle's death, he was a penniless outcast--and as soon as he +produced it he had lost the tontine! There was no hesitation on the part +of Morris; to drop the tontine like a hot chestnut, to concentrate +all his forces on the leather business and the rest of his small but +legitimate inheritance, was the decision of a single instant. And the +next, the full extent of his calamity was suddenly disclosed to him. +Declare his uncle's death? He couldn't! Since the body was lost Joseph +had (in a legal sense) become immortal. + +There was no created vehicle big enough to contain Morris and his woes. +He paid the hansom off and walked on he knew not whither. + +'I seem to have gone into this business with too much precipitation,' +he reflected, with a deadly sigh. 'I fear it seems too ramified for a +person of my powers of mind.' + +And then a remark of his uncle's flashed into his memory: If you want to +think clearly, put it all down on paper. 'Well, the old boy knew a thing +or two,' said Morris. 'I will try; but I don't believe the paper was +ever made that will clear my mind.' + +He entered a place of public entertainment, ordered bread and cheese, +and writing materials, and sat down before them heavily. He tried the +pen. It was an excellent pen, but what was he to write? 'I have it,' +cried Morris. 'Robinson Crusoe and the double columns!' He prepared his +paper after that classic model, and began as follows: + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 1. I have lost my uncle's body. + + 1. But then Pitman has found it. + +'Stop a bit,' said Morris. 'I am letting the spirit of antithesis run +away with me. Let's start again.' + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 1. I have lost my uncle's body. + + 1. But then I no longer require to bury it. + + + 2. I have lost the tontine. + + 2.But I may still save that if Pitman disposes of the body, and + if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. + + + 3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle's + succession. + + 3. But not if Pitman gives the body up to the police. + +'O, but in that case I go to gaol; I had forgot that,' thought Morris. +'Indeed, I don't know that I had better dwell on that hypothesis at all; +it's all very well to talk of facing the worst; but in a case of this +kind a man's first duty is to his own nerve. Is there any answer to No. +3? Is there any possible good side to such a beastly bungle? There must +be, of course, or where would be the use of this double-entry business? +And--by George, I have it!' he exclaimed; 'it's exactly the same as the +last!' And he hastily re-wrote the passage: + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle's + succession. + + 3. But not if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. + +'This venal doctor seems quite a desideratum,' he reflected. 'I want him +first to give me a certificate that my uncle is dead, so that I may get +the leather business; and then that he's alive--but here we are again at +the incompatible interests!' And he returned to his tabulation: + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 4. I have almost no money. + + 4. But there is plenty in the bank. + + + 5. Yes, but I can't get the money in the bank. + + 5. But--well, that seems unhappily to be the case. + + + 6. I have left the bill for eight hundred pounds in Uncle + Joseph's pocket. + + 6. But if Pitman is only a dishonest man, the presence of this + bill may lead him to keep the whole thing dark and throw the body + into the New Cut. + + + 7. Yes, but if Pitman is dishonest and finds the bill, he will + know who Joseph is, and he may blackmail me. + + 7. Yes, but if I am right about Uncle Masterman, I can blackmail + Michael. + + + 8. But I can't blackmail Michael (which is, besides, a very + dangerous thing to do) until I find out. + + 8. Worse luck! + + + 9. The leather business will soon want money for current + expenses, and I have none to give. + + 9. But the leather business is a sinking ship. + + + 10. Yes, but it's all the ship I have. + + 10. A fact. + + + 11. John will soon want money, and I have none to give. + + 11. + + + 12. And the venal doctor will want money down. + + 12. + + + 13. And if Pitman is dishonest and don't send me to gaol, he will + want a fortune. + + 13. + +'O, this seems to be a very one-sided business,' exclaimed Morris. +'There's not so much in this method as I was led to think.' He crumpled +the paper up and threw it down; and then, the next moment, picked it +up again and ran it over. 'It seems it's on the financial point that +my position is weakest,' he reflected. 'Is there positively no way of +raising the wind? In a vast city like this, and surrounded by all the +resources of civilization, it seems not to be conceived! Let us have +no more precipitation. Is there nothing I can sell? My collection of +signet--' But at the thought of scattering these loved treasures the +blood leaped into Morris's check. 'I would rather die!' he exclaimed, +and, cramming his hat upon his head, strode forth into the streets. + +'I MUST raise funds,' he thought. 'My uncle being dead, the money in +the bank is mine, or would be mine but for the cursed injustice that has +pursued me ever since I was an orphan in a commercial academy. I know +what any other man would do; any other man in Christendom would forge; +although I don't know why I call it forging, either, when Joseph's dead, +and the funds are my own. When I think of that, when I think that my +uncle is really as dead as mutton, and that I can't prove it, my gorge +rises at the injustice of the whole affair. I used to feel bitterly +about that seven thousand eight hundred pounds; it seems a trifle now! +Dear me, why, the day before yesterday I was comparatively happy.' + +And Morris stood on the sidewalk and heaved another sobbing sigh. + +'Then there's another thing,' he resumed; 'can I? Am I able? Why didn't +I practise different handwritings while I was young? How a fellow +regrets those lost opportunities when he grows up! But there's +one comfort: it's not morally wrong; I can try it on with a +clear conscience, and even if I was found out, I wouldn't greatly +care--morally, I mean. And then, if I succeed, and if Pitman is staunch, +there's nothing to do but find a venal doctor; and that ought to be +simple enough in a place like London. By all accounts the town's +alive with them. It wouldn't do, of course, to advertise for a corrupt +physician; that would be impolitic. No, I suppose a fellow has simply to +spot along the streets for a red lamp and herbs in the window, and +then you go in and--and--and put it to him plainly; though it seems a +delicate step.' + +He was near home now, after many devious wanderings, and turned up +John Street. As he thrust his latchkey in the lock, another mortifying +reflection struck him to the heart. + +'Not even this house is mine till I can prove him dead,' he snarled, and +slammed the door behind him so that the windows in the attic rattled. + +Night had long fallen; long ago the lamps and the shop-fronts had begun +to glitter down the endless streets; the lobby was pitch--dark; and, as +the devil would have it, Morris barked his shins and sprawled all his +length over the pedestal of Hercules. The pain was sharp; his temper was +already thoroughly undermined; by a last misfortune his hand closed on +the hammer as he fell; and, in a spasm of childish irritation, he turned +and struck at the offending statue. There was a splintering crash. + +'O Lord, what have I done next?' wailed Morris; and he groped his way +to find a candle. 'Yes,' he reflected, as he stood with the light in +his hand and looked upon the mutilated leg, from which about a pound of +muscle was detached. 'Yes, I have destroyed a genuine antique; I may be +in for thousands!' And then there sprung up in his bosom a sort of angry +hope. 'Let me see,' he thought. 'Julia's got rid of--, there's nothing +to connect me with that beast Forsyth; the men were all drunk, and +(what's better) they've been all discharged. O, come, I think this is +another case of moral courage! I'll deny all knowledge of the thing.' + +A moment more, and he stood again before the Hercules, his lips sternly +compressed, the coal-axe and the meat-cleaver under his arm. The next, +he had fallen upon the packing-case. This had been already seriously +undermined by the operations of Gideon; a few well-directed blows, and +it already quaked and gaped; yet a few more, and it fell about Morris in +a shower of boards followed by an avalanche of straw. + +And now the leather-merchant could behold the nature of his task: and at +the first sight his spirit quailed. It was, indeed, no more ambitious a +task for De Lesseps, with all his men and horses, to attack the hills +of Panama, than for a single, slim young gentleman, with no previous +experience of labour in a quarry, to measure himself against that +bloated monster on his pedestal. And yet the pair were well encountered: +on the one side, bulk--on the other, genuine heroic fire. + +'Down you shall come, you great big, ugly brute!' cried Morris aloud, +with something of that passion which swept the Parisian mob against the +walls of the Bastille. 'Down you shall come, this night. I'll have none +of you in my lobby.' + +The face, from its indecent expression, had particularly animated the +zeal of our iconoclast; and it was against the face that he began his +operations. The great height of the demigod--for he stood a fathom +and half in his stocking-feet--offered a preliminary obstacle to this +attack. But here, in the first skirmish of the battle, intellect already +began to triumph over matter. By means of a pair of library steps, +the injured householder gained a posture of advantage; and, with great +swipes of the coal-axe, proceeded to decapitate the brute. + +Two hours later, what had been the erect image of a gigantic coal-porter +turned miraculously white, was now no more than a medley of disjected +members; the quadragenarian torso prone against the pedestal; the +lascivious countenance leering down the kitchen stair; the legs, the +arms, the hands, and even the fingers, scattered broadcast on the lobby +floor. Half an hour more, and all the debris had been laboriously carted +to the kitchen; and Morris, with a gentle sentiment of triumph, looked +round upon the scene of his achievements. Yes, he could deny all +knowledge of it now: the lobby, beyond the fact that it was partly +ruinous, betrayed no trace of the passage of Hercules. But it was a +weary Morris that crept up to bed; his arms and shoulders ached, the +palms of his hands burned from the rough kisses of the coal-axe, and +there was one smarting finger that stole continually to his mouth. Sleep +long delayed to visit the dilapidated hero, and with the first peep of +day it had again deserted him. + +The morning, as though to accord with his disastrous fortunes, dawned +inclemently. An easterly gale was shouting in the streets; flaws of rain +angrily assailed the windows; and as Morris dressed, the draught from +the fireplace vividly played about his legs. + +'I think,' he could not help observing bitterly, 'that with all I have +to bear, they might have given me decent weather.' + +There was no bread in the house, for Miss Hazeltine (like all women left +to themselves) had subsisted entirely upon cake. But some of this was +found, and (along with what the poets call a glass of fair, cold water) +made up a semblance of a morning meal, and then down he sat undauntedly +to his delicate task. + +Nothing can be more interesting than the study of signatures, +written (as they are) before meals and after, during indigestion and +intoxication; written when the signer is trembling for the life of his +child or has come from winning the Derby, in his lawyer's office, or +under the bright eyes of his sweetheart. To the vulgar, these seem never +the same; but to the expert, the bank clerk, or the lithographer, they +are constant quantities, and as recognizable as the North Star to the +night-watch on deck. + +To all this Morris was alive. In the theory of that graceful art in +which he was now embarking, our spirited leather-merchant was beyond +all reproach. But, happily for the investor, forgery is an affair +of practice. And as Morris sat surrounded by examples of his uncle's +signature and of his own incompetence, insidious depression stole upon +his spirits. From time to time the wind wuthered in the chimney at his +back; from time to time there swept over Bloomsbury a squall so dark +that he must rise and light the gas; about him was the chill and the +mean disorder of a house out of commission--the floor bare, the sofa +heaped with books and accounts enveloped in a dirty table-cloth, the +pens rusted, the paper glazed with a thick film of dust; and yet these +were but adminicles of misery, and the true root of his depression lay +round him on the table in the shape of misbegotten forgeries. + +'It's one of the strangest things I ever heard of,' he complained. 'It +almost seems as if it was a talent that I didn't possess.' He went once +more minutely through his proofs. 'A clerk would simply gibe at them,' +said he. 'Well, there's nothing else but tracing possible.' + +He waited till a squall had passed and there came a blink of scowling +daylight. Then he went to the window, and in the face of all John Street +traced his uncle's signature. It was a poor thing at the best. 'But it +must do,' said he, as he stood gazing woefully on his handiwork. 'He's +dead, anyway.' And he filled up the cheque for a couple of hundred and +sallied forth for the Anglo-Patagonian Bank. + +There, at the desk at which he was accustomed to transact business, +and with as much indifference as he could assume, Morris presented the +forged cheque to the big, red-bearded Scots teller. The teller seemed to +view it with surprise; and as he turned it this way and that, and even +scrutinized the signature with a magnifying-glass, his surprise appeared +to warm into disfavour. Begging to be excused for a moment, he +passed away into the rearmost quarters of the bank; whence, after an +appreciable interval, he returned again in earnest talk with a superior, +an oldish and a baldish, but a very gentlemanly man. + +'Mr Morris Finsbury, I believe,' said the gentlemanly man, fixing Morris +with a pair of double eye-glasses. + +'That is my name,' said Morris, quavering. 'Is there anything wrong. + +'Well, the fact is, Mr Finsbury, you see we are rather surprised at +receiving this,' said the other, flicking at the cheque. 'There are no +effects.' + +'No effects?' cried Morris. 'Why, I know myself there must be +eight-and-twenty hundred pounds, if there's a penny.' + +'Two seven six four, I think,' replied the gentlemanly man; 'but it was +drawn yesterday.' + +'Drawn!' cried Morris. + +'By your uncle himself, sir,' continued the other. 'Not only that, but +we discounted a bill for him for--let me see--how much was it for, Mr +Bell?' + +'Eight hundred, Mr Judkin,' replied the teller. + +'Bent Pitman!' cried Morris, staggering back. + +'I beg your pardon,' said Mr Judkin. + +'It's--it's only an expletive,' said Morris. + +'I hope there's nothing wrong, Mr Finsbury,' said Mr Bell. + +'All I can tell you,' said Morris, with a harsh laugh,' is that the +whole thing's impossible. My uncle is at Bournemouth, unable to move.' + +'Really!' cried Mr Bell, and he recovered the cheque from Mr Judkin. +'But this cheque is dated in London, and today,' he observed. 'How d'ye +account for that, sir?' + +'O, that was a mistake,' said Morris, and a deep tide of colour dyed his +face and neck. + +'No doubt, no doubt,' said Mr Judkin, but he looked at his customer +enquiringly. + +'And--and--' resumed Morris, 'even if there were no effects--this is a +very trifling sum to overdraw--our firm--the name of Finsbury, is surely +good enough for such a wretched sum as this.' + +'No doubt, Mr Finsbury,' returned Mr Judkin; 'and if you insist I will +take it into consideration; but I hardly think--in short, Mr Finsbury, +if there had been nothing else, the signature seems hardly all that we +could wish.' + +'That's of no consequence,' replied Morris nervously. 'I'll get my uncle +to sign another. The fact is,' he went on, with a bold stroke, 'my uncle +is so far from well at present that he was unable to sign this cheque +without assistance, and I fear that my holding the pen for him may have +made the difference in the signature.' + +Mr Judkin shot a keen glance into Morris's face; and then turned and +looked at Mr Bell. + +'Well,' he said, 'it seems as if we had been victimized by a swindler. +Pray tell Mr Finsbury we shall put detectives on at once. As for this +cheque of yours, I regret that, owing to the way it was signed, the +bank can hardly consider it--what shall I say?--businesslike,' and he +returned the cheque across the counter. + +Morris took it up mechanically; he was thinking of something very +different. + +'In a--case of this kind,' he began, 'I believe the loss falls on us; I +mean upon my uncle and myself.' + +'It does not, sir,' replied Mr Bell; 'the bank is responsible, and +the bank will either recover the money or refund it, you may depend on +that.' + +Morris's face fell; then it was visited by another gleam of hope. + +'I'll tell you what,' he said, 'you leave this entirely in my hands. +I'll sift the matter. I've an idea, at any rate; and detectives,' he +added appealingly, 'are so expensive.' + +'The bank would not hear of it,' returned Mr Judkin. 'The bank stands to +lose between three and four thousand pounds; it will spend as much more +if necessary. An undiscovered forger is a permanent danger. We shall +clear it up to the bottom, Mr Finsbury; set your mind at rest on that.' + +'Then I'll stand the loss,' said Morris boldly. 'I order you to abandon +the search.' He was determined that no enquiry should be made. + +'I beg your pardon,' returned Mr Judkin, 'but we have nothing to do with +you in this matter, which is one between your uncle and ourselves. If +he should take this opinion, and will either come here himself or let me +see him in his sick-room--' + +'Quite impossible,' cried Morris. + +'Well, then, you see,' said Mr Judkin, 'how my hands are tied. The whole +affair must go at once into the hands of the police.' + +Morris mechanically folded the cheque and restored it to his +pocket--book. + +'Good--morning,' said he, and scrambled somehow out of the bank. + +'I don't know what they suspect,' he reflected; 'I can't make them +out, their whole behaviour is thoroughly unbusinesslike. But it doesn't +matter; all's up with everything. The money has been paid; the police +are on the scent; in two hours that idiot Pitman will be nabbed--and the +whole story of the dead body in the evening papers.' + +If he could have heard what passed in the bank after his departure he +would have been less alarmed, perhaps more mortified. + +'That was a curious affair, Mr Bell,' said Mr Judkin. + +'Yes, sir,' said Mr Bell, 'but I think we have given him a fright.' + +'O, we shall hear no more of Mr Morris Finsbury,' returned the other; +'it was a first attempt, and the house have dealt with us so long that +I was anxious to deal gently. But I suppose, Mr Bell, there can be no +mistake about yesterday? It was old Mr Finsbury himself?' + +'There could be no possible doubt of that,' said Mr Bell with a chuckle. +'He explained to me the principles of banking.' + +'Well, well,' said Mr Judkin. 'The next time he calls ask him to step +into my room. It is only proper he should be warned.' + + + +CHAPTER VII. In Which William Dent Pitman takes Legal Advice + +Norfolk Street, King's Road--jocularly known among Mr Pitman's lodgers +as 'Norfolk Island'--is neither a long, a handsome, nor a pleasing +thoroughfare. Dirty, undersized maids-of-all-work issue from it in +pursuit of beer, or linger on its sidewalk listening to the voice of +love. The cat's-meat man passes twice a day. An occasional organ-grinder +wanders in and wanders out again, disgusted. In holiday-time the +street is the arena of the young bloods of the neighbourhood, and +the householders have an opportunity of studying the manly art of +self-defence. And yet Norfolk Street has one claim to be respectable, +for it contains not a single shop--unless you count the public-house at +the corner, which is really in the King's Road. + +The door of No. 7 bore a brass plate inscribed with the legend 'W. D. +Pitman, Artist'. It was not a particularly clean brass plate, nor was +No. 7 itself a particularly inviting place of residence. And yet it +had a character of its own, such as may well quicken the pulse of +the reader's curiosity. For here was the home of an artist--and a +distinguished artist too, highly distinguished by his ill-success--which +had never been made the subject of an article in the illustrated +magazines. No wood-engraver had ever reproduced 'a corner in the back +drawing-room' or 'the studio mantelpiece' of No. 7; no young lady author +had ever commented on 'the unaffected simplicity' with which Mr Pitman +received her in the midst of his 'treasures'. It is an omission I would +gladly supply, but our business is only with the backward parts and +'abject rear' of this aesthetic dwelling. + +Here was a garden, boasting a dwarf fountain (that never played) in the +centre, a few grimy-looking flowers in pots, two or three newly +planted trees which the spring of Chelsea visited without noticeable +consequence, and two or three statues after the antique, representing +satyrs and nymphs in the worst possible style of sculptured art. On one +side the garden was overshadowed by a pair of crazy studios, usually +hired out to the more obscure and youthful practitioners of British +art. Opposite these another lofty out-building, somewhat more carefully +finished, and boasting of a communication with the house and a private +door on the back lane, enshrined the multifarious industry of Mr Pitman. +All day, it is true, he was engaged in the work of education at a +seminary for young ladies; but the evenings at least were his own, and +these he would prolong far into the night, now dashing off 'A landscape +with waterfall' in oil, now a volunteer bust ('in marble', as he would +gently but proudly observe) of some public character, now stooping +his chisel to a mere 'nymph' for a gasbracket on a stair, sir', or a +life-size 'Infant Samuel' for a religious nursery. Mr Pitman had studied +in Paris, and he had studied in Rome, supplied with funds by a fond +parent who went subsequently bankrupt in consequence of a fall in +corsets; and though he was never thought to have the smallest modicum +of talent, it was at one time supposed that he had learned his business. +Eighteen years of what is called 'tuition' had relieved him of the +dangerous knowledge. His artist lodgers would sometimes reason with him; +they would point out to him how impossible it was to paint by gaslight, +or to sculpture life-sized nymphs without a model. + +'I know that,' he would reply. 'No one in Norfolk Street knows it +better; and if I were rich I should certainly employ the best models +in London; but, being poor, I have taught myself to do without them. An +occasional model would only disturb my ideal conception of the figure, +and be a positive impediment in my career. As for painting by an +artificial light,' he would continue, 'that is simply a knack I have +found it necessary to acquire, my days being engrossed in the work of +tuition.' + +At the moment when we must present him to our readers, Pitman was in his +studio alone, by the dying light of the October day. He sat (sure enough +with 'unaffected simplicity') in a Windsor chair, his low-crowned black +felt hat by his side; a dark, weak, harmless, pathetic little man, clad +in the hue of mourning, his coat longer than is usual with the laity, +his neck enclosed in a collar without a parting, his neckcloth pale in +hue and simply tied; the whole outward man, except for a pointed beard, +tentatively clerical. There was a thinning on the top of Pitman's head, +there were silver hairs at Pitman's temple. Poor gentleman, he was no +longer young; and years, and poverty, and humble ambition thwarted, make +a cheerless lot. + +In front of him, in the corner by the door, there stood a portly barrel; +and let him turn them where he might, it was always to the barrel that +his eyes and his thoughts returned. + +'Should I open it? Should I return it? Should I communicate with Mr +Sernitopolis at once?' he wondered. 'No,' he concluded finally, 'nothing +without Mr Finsbury's advice.' And he arose and produced a shabby +leathern desk. It opened without the formality of unlocking, and +displayed the thick cream-coloured notepaper on which Mr Pitman was +in the habit of communicating with the proprietors of schools and the +parents of his pupils. He placed the desk on the table by the window, +and taking a saucer of Indian ink from the chimney-piece, laboriously +composed the following letter: + +'My dear Mr Finsbury,' it ran, 'would it be presuming on your kindness +if I asked you to pay me a visit here this evening? It is in no trifling +matter that I invoke your valuable assistance, for need I say more than +it concerns the welfare of Mr Semitopolis's statue of Hercules? I write +you in great agitation of mind; for I have made all enquiries, and +greatly fear that this work of ancient art has been mislaid. I labour +besides under another perplexity, not unconnected with the first. Pray +excuse the inelegance of this scrawl, and believe me yours in haste, +William D. Pitman.' + +Armed with this he set forth and rang the bell of No. 233 King's Road, +the private residence of Michael Finsbury. He had met the lawyer at a +time of great public excitement in Chelsea; Michael, who had a sense of +humour and a great deal of careless kindness in his nature, followed +the acquaintance up, and, having come to laugh, remained to drop into +a contemptuous kind of friendship. By this time, which was four years +after the first meeting, Pitman was the lawyer's dog. + +'No,' said the elderly housekeeper, who opened the door in person, 'Mr +Michael's not in yet. But ye're looking terribly poorly, Mr Pitman. Take +a glass of sherry, sir, to cheer ye up.' + +'No, I thank you, ma'am,' replied the artist. 'It is very good in you, +but I scarcely feel in sufficient spirits for sherry. Just give Mr +Finsbury this note, and ask him to look round--to the door in the lane, +you will please tell him; I shall be in the studio all evening.' + +And he turned again into the street and walked slowly homeward. A +hairdresser's window caught his attention, and he stared long and +earnestly at the proud, high--born, waxen lady in evening dress, who +circulated in the centre of the show. The artist woke in him, in spite +of his troubles. + +'It is all very well to run down the men who make these things,' +he cried, 'but there's a something--there's a haughty, indefinable +something about that figure. It's what I tried for in my "Empress +Eugenie",' he added, with a sigh. + +And he went home reflecting on the quality. 'They don't teach you that +direct appeal in Paris,' he thought. 'It's British. Come, I am going to +sleep, I must wake up, I must aim higher--aim higher,' cried the little +artist to himself. All through his tea and afterward, as he was giving +his eldest boy a lesson on the fiddle, his mind dwelt no longer on his +troubles, but he was rapt into the better land; and no sooner was he at +liberty than he hastened with positive exhilaration to his studio. + +Not even the sight of the barrel could entirely cast him down. He flung +himself with rising zest into his work--a bust of Mr Gladstone from a +photograph; turned (with extraordinary success) the difficulty of +the back of the head, for which he had no documents beyond a hazy +recollection of a public meeting; delighted himself by his treatment +of the collar; and was only recalled to the cares of life by Michael +Finsbury's rattle at the door. + +'Well, what's wrong?' said Michael, advancing to the grate, where, +knowing his friend's delight in a bright fire, Mr Pitman had not spared +the fuel. 'I suppose you have come to grief somehow.' + +'There is no expression strong enough,' said the artist. 'Mr +Semitopolis's statue has not turned up, and I am afraid I shall be +answerable for the money; but I think nothing of that--what I fear, my +dear Mr Finsbury, what I fear--alas that I should have to say it! +is exposure. The Hercules was to be smuggled out of Italy; a thing +positively wrong, a thing of which a man of my principles and in my +responsible position should have taken (as I now see too late) no part +whatever.' + +'This sounds like very serious work,' said the lawyer. 'It will require +a great deal of drink, Pitman.' + +'I took the liberty of--in short, of being prepared for you,' replied +the artist, pointing to a kettle, a bottle of gin, a lemon, and glasses. +Michael mixed himself a grog, and offered the artist a cigar. + +'No, thank you,' said Pitman. 'I used occasionally to be rather partial +to it, but the smell is so disagreeable about the clothes.' + +'All right,' said the lawyer. 'I am comfortable now. Unfold your tale.' + +At some length Pitman set forth his sorrows. He had gone today to +Waterloo, expecting to receive the colossal Hercules, and he had +received instead a barrel not big enough to hold Discobolus; yet +the barrel was addressed in the hand (with which he was perfectly +acquainted) of his Roman correspondent. What was stranger still, a case +had arrived by the same train, large enough and heavy enough to +contain the Hercules; and this case had been taken to an address now +undiscoverable. 'The vanman (I regret to say it) had been drinking, and +his language was such as I could never bring myself to repeat. + +He was at once discharged by the superintendent of the line, who behaved +most properly throughout, and is to make enquiries at Southampton. +In the meanwhile, what was I to do? I left my address and brought the +barrel home; but, remembering an old adage, I determined not to open it +except in the presence of my lawyer.' + +'Is that all?' asked Michael. 'I don't see any cause to worry. The +Hercules has stuck upon the road. It will drop in tomorrow or the day +after; and as for the barrel, depend upon it, it's a testimonial from +one of your young ladies, and probably contains oysters.' + +'O, don't speak so loud!' cried the little artist. 'It would cost me my +place if I were heard to speak lightly of the young ladies; and besides, +why oysters from Italy? and why should they come to me addressed in +Signor Ricardi's hand?' + +'Well, let's have a look at it,' said Michael. 'Let's roll it forward to +the light.' + +The two men rolled the barrel from the corner, and stood it on end +before the fire. + +'It's heavy enough to be oysters,' remarked Michael judiciously. + +'Shall we open it at once?' enquired the artist, who had grown decidedly +cheerful under the combined effects of company and gin; and without +waiting for a reply, he began to strip as if for a prize-fight, tossed +his clerical collar in the wastepaper basket, hung his clerical coat +upon a nail, and with a chisel in one hand and a hammer in the other, +struck the first blow of the evening. + +'That's the style, William Dent' cried Michael. 'There's fire for--your +money! It may be a romantic visit from one of the young ladies--a sort +of Cleopatra business. Have a care and don't stave in Cleopatra's head.' + +But the sight of Pitman's alacrity was infectious. The lawyer could +sit still no longer. Tossing his cigar into the fire, he snatched the +instrument from the unwilling hands of the artist, and fell to himself. +Soon the sweat stood in beads upon his large, fair brow; his stylish +trousers were defaced with iron rust, and the state of his chisel +testified to misdirected energies. + +A cask is not an easy thing to open, even when you set about it in the +right way; when you set about it wrongly, the whole structure must be +resolved into its elements. Such was the course pursued alike by the +artist and the lawyer. Presently the last hoop had been removed--a +couple of smart blows tumbled the staves upon the ground--and what +had once been a barrel was no more than a confused heap of broken and +distorted boards. + +In the midst of these, a certain dismal something, swathed in blankets, +remained for an instant upright, and then toppled to one side and +heavily collapsed before the fire. Even as the thing subsided, an +eye-glass tingled to the floor and rolled toward the screaming Pitman. + +'Hold your tongue!' said Michael. He dashed to the house door and locked +it; then, with a pale face and bitten lip, he drew near, pulled aside +a corner of the swathing blanket, and recoiled, shuddering. There was a +long silence in the studio. + +'Now tell me,' said Michael, in a low voice: 'Had you any hand in it?' +and he pointed to the body. + +The little artist could only utter broken and disjointed sounds. + +Michael poured some gin into a glass. 'Drink that,' he said. 'Don't be +afraid of me. I'm your friend through thick and thin.' + +Pitman put the liquor down untasted. + +'I swear before God,' he said, 'this is another mystery to me. In my +worst fears I never dreamed of such a thing. I would not lay a finger on +a sucking infant.' + +'That's all square,' said Michael, with a sigh of huge relief. 'I +believe you, old boy.' And he shook the artist warmly by the hand. 'I +thought for a moment,' he added with rather a ghastly smile, 'I thought +for a moment you might have made away with Mr Semitopolis.' + +'It would make no difference if I had,' groaned Pitman. 'All is at an +end for me. There's the writing on the wall.' + +'To begin with,' said Michael, 'let's get him out of sight; for to be +quite plain with you, Pitman, I don't like your friend's appearance.' +And with that the lawyer shuddered. 'Where can we put it?' + +'You might put it in the closet there--if you could bear to touch it,' +answered the artist. + +'Somebody has to do it, Pitman,' returned the lawyer; 'and it seems as +if it had to be me. You go over to the table, turn your back, and mix me +a grog; that's a fair division of labour.' + +About ninety seconds later the closet-door was heard to shut. + +'There,' observed Michael, 'that's more homelike. You can turn now, my +pallid Pitman. Is this the grog?' he ran on. 'Heaven forgive you, it's a +lemonade.' + +'But, O, Finsbury, what are we to do with it?' walled the artist, laying +a clutching hand upon the lawyer's arm. + +'Do with it?' repeated Michael. 'Bury it in one of your flowerbeds, and +erect one of your own statues for a monument. I tell you we should look +devilish romantic shovelling out the sod by the moon's pale ray. Here, +put some gin in this.' + +'I beg of you, Mr Finsbury, do not trifle with my misery,' cried Pitman. +'You see before you a man who has been all his life--I do not hesitate +to say it--imminently respectable. Even in this solemn hour I can lay my +hand upon my heart without a blush. Except on the really trifling point +of the smuggling of the Hercules (and even of that I now humbly repent), +my life has been entirely fit for publication. I never feared the +light,' cried the little man; 'and now--now--!' + +'Cheer up, old boy,' said Michael. 'I assure you we should count this +little contretemps a trifle at the office; it's the sort of thing that +may occur to any one; and if you're perfectly sure you had no hand in +it--' + +'What language am I to find--' began Pitman. + +'O, I'll do that part of it,' interrupted Michael, 'you have no +experience.' But the point is this: If--or rather since--you know +nothing of the crime, since the--the party in the closet--is +neither your father, nor your brother, nor your creditor, nor your +mother-in-law, nor what they call an injured husband--' + +'O, my dear sir!' interjected Pitman, horrified. + +'Since, in short,' continued the lawyer, 'you had no possible interest +in the crime, we have a perfectly free field before us and a safe game +to play. Indeed, the problem is really entertaining; it is one I have +long contemplated in the light of an A. B. case; here it is at last +under my hand in specie; and I mean to pull you through. Do you hear +that?--I mean to pull you through. Let me see: it's a long time since I +have had what I call a genuine holiday; I'll send an excuse tomorrow to +the office. We had best be lively,' he added significantly; 'for we must +not spoil the market for the other man.' + +'What do you mean?' enquired Pitman. 'What other man? The inspector of +police?' + +'Damn the inspector of police!' remarked his companion. 'If you won't +take the short cut and bury this in your back garden, we must find some +one who will bury it in his. We must place the affair, in short, in the +hands of some one with fewer scruples and more resources.' + +'A private detective, perhaps?' suggested Pitman. + +'There are times when you fill me with pity,' observed the lawyer. 'By +the way, Pitman,' he added in another key, 'I have always regretted that +you have no piano in this den of yours. Even if you don't play yourself, +your friends might like to entertain themselves with a little music +while you were mudding.' + +'I shall get one at once if you like,' said Pitman nervously, anxious to +please. 'I play the fiddle a little as it is.' + +'I know you do,' said Michael; 'but what's the fiddle--above all as you +play it? What you want is polyphonic music. And I'll tell you what it +is--since it's too late for you to buy a piano I'll give you mine.' + +'Thank you,' said the artist blankly. 'You will give me yours? I am sure +it's very good in you.' + +'Yes, I'll give you mine,' continued Michael, 'for the inspector of +police to play on while his men are digging up your back garden.' Pitman +stared at him in pained amazement. + +'No, I'm not insane,' Michael went on. 'I'm playful, but quite coherent. +See here, Pitman: follow me one half minute. I mean to profit by the +refreshing fact that we are really and truly innocent; nothing but the +presence of the--you know what--connects us with the crime; once let us +get rid of it, no matter how, and there is no possible clue to trace +us by. Well, I give you my piano; we'll bring it round this very night. +Tomorrow we rip the fittings out, deposit the--our friend--inside, plump +the whole on a cart, and carry it to the chambers of a young gentleman +whom I know by sight.' + +'Whom do you know by sight?' repeated Pitman. + +'And what is more to the purpose,' continued Michael, 'whose chambers I +know better than he does himself. A friend of mine--I call him my friend +for brevity; he is now, I understand, in Demerara and (most likely) +in gaol--was the previous occupant. I defended him, and I got him off +too--all saved but honour; his assets were nil, but he gave me what he +had, poor gentleman, and along with the rest--the key of his chambers. +It's there that I propose to leave the piano and, shall we say, +Cleopatra?' + +'It seems very wild,' said Pitman. 'And what will become of the poor +young gentleman whom you know by sight?' + +'It will do him good,'--said Michael cheerily. 'Just what he wants to +steady him.' + +'But, my dear sir, he might be involved in a charge of--a charge of +murder,' gulped the artist. + +'Well, he'll be just where we are,' returned the lawyer. 'He's +innocent, you see. What hangs people, my dear Pitman, is the unfortunate +circumstance of guilt.' + +'But indeed, indeed,' pleaded Pitman, 'the whole scheme appears to me so +wild. Would it not be safer, after all, just to send for the police?' + +'And make a scandal?' enquired Michael. '"The Chelsea Mystery; alleged +innocence of Pitman"? How would that do at the Seminary?' + +'It would imply my discharge,' admitted the drawing--master. 'I cannot +deny that.' + +'And besides,' said Michael, 'I am not going to embark in such a +business and have no fun for my money.' + +'O my dear sir, is that a proper spirit?' cried Pitman. + +'O, I only said that to cheer you up,' said the unabashed Michael. +'Nothing like a little judicious levity. But it's quite needless to +discuss. If you mean to follow my advice, come on, and let us get the +piano at once. If you don't, just drop me the word, and I'll leave you +to deal with the whole thing according to your better judgement.' + +'You know perfectly well that I depend on you entirely,' returned +Pitman. 'But O, what a night is before me with that--horror in my +studio! How am I to think of it on my pillow?' + +'Well, you know, my piano will be there too,' said Michael. 'That'll +raise the average.' + +An hour later a cart came up the lane, and the lawyer's piano--a +momentous Broadwood grand--was deposited in Mr Pitman's studio. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. In Which Michael Finsbury Enjoys a Holiday + +Punctually at eight o'clock next morning the lawyer rattled (according +to previous appointment) on the studio door. He found the artist sadly +altered for the worse--bleached, bloodshot, and chalky--a man upon +wires, the tail of his haggard eye still wandering to the closet. Nor +was the professor of drawing less inclined to wonder at his friend. +Michael was usually attired in the height of fashion, with a certain +mercantile brilliancy best described perhaps as stylish; nor could +anything be said against him, as a rule, but that he looked a trifle +too like a wedding guest to be quite a gentleman. Today he had fallen +altogether from these heights. He wore a flannel shirt of washed-out +shepherd's tartan, and a suit of reddish tweeds, of the colour known to +tailors as 'heather mixture'; his neckcloth was black, and tied loosely +in a sailor's knot; a rusty ulster partly concealed these advantages; +and his feet were shod with rough walking boots. His hat was an old soft +felt, which he removed with a flourish as he entered. + +'Here I am, William Dent!' he cried, and drawing from his pocket +two little wisps of reddish hair, he held them to his cheeks like +sidewhiskers and danced about the studio with the filmy graces of a +ballet-girl. + +Pitman laughed sadly. 'I should never have known you,' said he. + +'Nor were you intended to,' returned Michael, replacing his false +whiskers in his pocket. 'Now we must overhaul you and your wardrobe, and +disguise you up to the nines.' + +'Disguise!' cried the artist. 'Must I indeed disguise myself. Has it +come to that?' + +'My dear creature,' returned his companion, 'disguise is the spice of +life. What is life, passionately exclaimed a French philosopher, without +the pleasures of disguise? I don't say it's always good taste, and +I know it's unprofessional; but what's the odds, downhearted +drawing-master? It has to be. We have to leave a false impression on +the minds of many persons, and in particular on the mind of Mr Gideon +Forsyth--the young gentleman I know by sight--if he should have the bad +taste to be at home.' + +'If he be at home?' faltered the artist. 'That would be the end of all.' + +'Won't matter a d--,' returned Michael airily. 'Let me see your clothes, +and I'll make a new man of you in a jiffy.' + +In the bedroom, to which he was at once conducted, Michael examined +Pitman's poor and scanty wardrobe with a humorous eye, picked out a +short jacket of black alpaca, and presently added to that a pair of +summer trousers which somehow took his fancy as incongruous. Then, with +the garments in his hand, he scrutinized the artist closely. + +'I don't like that clerical collar,' he remarked. 'Have you nothing +else?' + +The professor of drawing pondered for a moment, and then brightened; +'I have a pair of low-necked shirts,' he said, 'that I used to wear in +Paris as a student. They are rather loud.' + +'The very thing!' ejaculated Michael. 'You'll look perfectly beastly. +Here are spats, too,' he continued, drawing forth a pair of those +offensive little gaiters. 'Must have spats! And now you jump into these, +and whistle a tune at the window for (say) three-quarters of an hour. +After that you can rejoin me on the field of glory.' + +So saying, Michael returned to the studio. It was the morning of the +easterly gale; the wind blew shrilly among the statues in the garden, +and drove the rain upon the skylight in the studio ceiling; and at about +the same moment of the time when Morris attacked the hundredth version +of his uncle's signature in Bloomsbury, Michael, in Chelsea, began to +rip the wires out of the Broadwood grand. + +Three-quarters of an hour later Pitman was admitted, to find the +closet-door standing open, the closet untenanted, and the piano +discreetly shut. + +'It's a remarkably heavy instrument,' observed Michael, and turned +to consider his friend's disguise. 'You must shave off that beard of +yours,' he said. + +'My beard!' cried Pitman. 'I cannot shave my beard. I cannot tamper with +my appearance--my principals would object. They hold very strong views +as to the appearance of the professors--young ladies are considered so +romantic. My beard was regarded as quite a feature when I went about the +place. It was regarded,' said the artist, with rising colour, 'it was +regarded as unbecoming.' + +'You can let it grow again,' returned Michael, 'and then you'll be so +precious ugly that they'll raise your salary.' + +'But I don't want to be ugly,' cried the artist. + +'Don't be an ass,' said Michael, who hated beards and was delighted to +destroy one. 'Off with it like a man!' + +'Of course, if you insist,' said Pitman; and then he sighed, fetched +some hot water from the kitchen, and setting a glass upon his easel, +first clipped his beard with scissors and then shaved his chin. He +could not conceal from himself, as he regarded the result, that his last +claims to manhood had been sacrificed, but Michael seemed delighted. + +'A new man, I declare!' he cried. 'When I give you the windowglass +spectacles I have in my pocket, you'll be the beau-ideal of a French +commercial traveller.' + +Pitman did not reply, but continued to gaze disconsolately on his image +in the glass. + +'Do you know,' asked Michael, 'what the Governor of South Carolina said +to the Governor of North Carolina? "It's a long time between drinks," +observed that powerful thinker; and if you will put your hand into the +top left-hand pocket of my ulster, I have an impression you will find a +flask of brandy. Thank you, Pitman,' he added, as he filled out a glass +for each. 'Now you will give me news of this.' + +The artist reached out his hand for the water-jug, but Michael arrested +the movement. + +'Not if you went upon your knees!' he cried. 'This is the finest liqueur +brandy in Great Britain.' + +Pitman put his lips to it, set it down again, and sighed. + +'Well, I must say you're the poorest companion for a holiday!' cried +Michael. 'If that's all you know of brandy, you shall have no more of +it; and while I finish the flask, you may as well begin business. Come +to think of it,' he broke off, 'I have made an abominable error: you +should have ordered the cart before you were disguised. Why, Pitman, +what the devil's the use of you? why couldn't you have reminded me of +that?' + +'I never even knew there was a cart to be ordered,' said the artist. +'But I can take off the disguise again,' he suggested eagerly. + +'You would find it rather a bother to put on your beard,' observed the +lawyer. 'No, it's a false step; the sort of thing that hangs people,' he +continued, with eminent cheerfulness, as he sipped his brandy; 'and +it can't be retraced now. Off to the mews with you, make all the +arrangements; they're to take the piano from here, cart it to Victoria, +and dispatch it thence by rail to Cannon Street, to lie till called for +in the name of Fortune du Boisgobey.' + +'Isn't that rather an awkward name?' pleaded Pitman. + +'Awkward?' cried Michael scornfully. 'It would hang us both! Brown is +both safer and easier to pronounce. Call it Brown.' + +'I wish,' said Pitman, 'for my sake, I wish you wouldn't talk so much of +hanging.' + +'Talking about it's nothing, my boy!' returned Michael. 'But take your +hat and be off, and mind and pay everything beforehand.' + +Left to himself, the lawyer turned his attention for some time +exclusively to the liqueur brandy, and his spirits, which had been +pretty fair all morning, now prodigiously rose. He proceeded to adjust +his whiskers finally before the glass. 'Devilish rich,' he remarked, as +he contemplated his reflection. 'I look like a purser's mate.' And at +that moment the window-glass spectacles (which he had hitherto destined +for Pitman) flashed into his mind; he put them on, and fell in love with +the effect. 'Just what I required,' he said. 'I wonder what I look like +now? A humorous novelist, I should think,' and he began to practise +divers characters of walk, naming them to himself as--he proceeded. +'Walk of a humorous novelist--but that would require an umbrella. Walk +of a purser's mate. Walk of an Australian colonist revisiting the scenes +of childhood. Walk of Sepoy colonel, ditto, ditto. And in the midst +of the Sepoy colonel (which was an excellent assumption, although +inconsistent with the style of his make-up), his eye lighted on the +piano. This instrument was made to lock both at the top and at the +keyboard, but the key of the latter had been mislaid. Michael opened +it and ran his fingers over the dumb keys. 'Fine instrument--full, rich +tone,' he observed, and he drew in a seat. + +When Mr Pitman returned to the studio, he was appalled to observe his +guide, philosopher, and friend performing miracles of execution on the +silent grand. + +'Heaven help me!' thought the little man, 'I fear he has been drinking! +Mr Finsbury,' he said aloud; and Michael, without rising, turned upon +him a countenance somewhat flushed, encircled with the bush of the red +whiskers, and bestridden by the spectacles. 'Capriccio in B-flat on the +departure of a friend,' said he, continuing his noiseless evolutions. + +Indignation awoke in the mind of Pitman. 'Those spectacles were to be +mine,' he cried. 'They are an essential part of my disguise.' + +'I am going to wear them myself,' replied Michael; and he added, with +some show of truth, 'There would be a devil of a lot of suspicion +aroused if we both wore spectacles.' + +'O, well,' said the assenting Pitman, 'I rather counted on them; but of +course, if you insist. And at any rate, here is the cart at the door.' + +While the men were at work, Michael concealed himself in the closet +among the debris of the barrel and the wires of the piano; and as soon +as the coast was clear the pair sallied forth by the lane, jumped into +a hansom in the King's Road, and were driven rapidly toward town. It +was still cold and raw and boisterous; the rain beat strongly in their +faces, but Michael refused to have the glass let down; he had now +suddenly donned the character of cicerone, and pointed out and lucidly +commented on the sights of London, as they drove. 'My dear fellow,' he +said, 'you don't seem to know anything of your native city. Suppose we +visited the Tower? No? Well, perhaps it's a trifle out of our way. +But, anyway--Here, cabby, drive round by Trafalgar Square!' And on that +historic battlefield he insisted on drawing up, while he criticized the +statues and gave the artist many curious details (quite new to history) +of the lives of the celebrated men they represented. + +It would be difficult to express what Pitman suffered in the cab: cold, +wet, terror in the capital degree, a grounded distrust of the commander +under whom he served, a sense of imprudency in the matter of the +low-necked shirt, a bitter sense of the decline and fall involved in the +deprivation of his beard, all these were among the ingredients of the +bowl. To reach the restaurant, for which they were deviously steering, +was the first relief. To hear Michael bespeak a private room was a +second and a still greater. Nor, as they mounted the stair under the +guidance of an unintelligible alien, did he fail to note with gratitude +the fewness of the persons present, or the still more cheering fact that +the greater part of these were exiles from the land of France. It was +thus a blessed thought that none of them would be connected with the +Seminary; for even the French professor, though admittedly a Papist, he +could scarce imagine frequenting so rakish an establishment. + +The alien introduced them into a small bare room with a single table, +a sofa, and a dwarfish fire; and Michael called promptly for more coals +and a couple of brandies and sodas. + +'O, no,' said Pitman, 'surely not--no more to drink.' + +'I don't know what you would be at,' said Michael plaintively. 'It's +positively necessary to do something; and one shouldn't smoke before +meals. I thought that was understood. You seem to have no idea +of hygiene.' And he compared his watch with the clock upon the +chimney-piece. + +Pitman fell into bitter musing; here he was, ridiculously shorn, +absurdly disguised, in the company of a drunken man in spectacles, and +waiting for a champagne luncheon in a restaurant painfully foreign. What +would his principals think, if they could see him? What if they knew his +tragic and deceitful errand? + +From these reflections he was aroused by the entrance of the alien with +the brandies and sodas. Michael took one and bade the waiter pass the +other to his friend. + +Pitman waved it from him with his hand. 'Don't let me lose all +self-respect,' he said. + +'Anything to oblige a friend,' returned Michael. 'But I'm not going to +drink alone. Here,' he added to the waiter, 'you take it.' And, then, +touching glasses, 'The health of Mr Gideon Forsyth,' said he. + +'Meestare Gidden Borsye,' replied the waiter, and he tossed off the +liquor in four gulps. + +'Have another?' said Michael, with undisguised interest. 'I never saw a +man drink faster. It restores one's confidence in the human race. + +But the waiter excused himself politely, and, assisted by some one from +without, began to bring in lunch. + +Michael made an excellent meal, which he washed down with a bottle of +Heidsieck's dry monopole. As for the artist, he was far too uneasy to +eat, and his companion flatly refused to let him share in the champagne +unless he did. + +'One of us must stay sober,' remarked the lawyer, 'and I won't give you +champagne on the strength of a leg of grouse. I have to be cautious,' he +added confidentially. 'One drunken man, excellent business--two drunken +men, all my eye.' + +On the production of coffee and departure of the waiter, Michael might +have been observed to make portentous efforts after gravity of mien. +He looked his friend in the face (one eye perhaps a trifle off), and +addressed him thickly but severely. + +'Enough of this fooling,' was his not inappropriate exordium. 'To +business. Mark me closely. I am an Australian. My name is John Dickson, +though you mightn't think it from my unassuming appearance. You will be +relieved to hear that I am rich, sir, very rich. You can't go into this +sort of thing too thoroughly, Pitman; the whole secret is preparation, +and I can get up my biography from the beginning, and I could tell it +you now, only I have forgotten it.' + +'Perhaps I'm stupid--' began Pitman. + +'That's it!' cried Michael. 'Very stupid; but rich too--richer than I +am. I thought you would enjoy it, Pitman, so I've arranged that you were +to be literally wallowing in wealth. But then, on the other hand, you're +only an American, and a maker of india-rubber overshoes at that. And the +worst of it is--why should I conceal it from you?--the worst of it +is that you're called Ezra Thomas. Now,' said Michael, with a really +appalling seriousness of manner, 'tell me who we are.' + +The unfortunate little man was cross-examined till he knew these facts +by heart. + +'There!' cried the lawyer. 'Our plans are laid. Thoroughly +consistent--that's the great thing.' + +'But I don't understand,' objected Pitman. + +'O, you'll understand right enough when it comes to the point,' said +Michael, rising. + +'There doesn't seem any story to it,' said the artist. + +'We can invent one as we go along,' returned the lawyer. + +'But I can't invent,' protested Pitman. 'I never could invent in all my +life.' + +'You'll find you'll have to, my boy,' was Michael's easy comment, and he +began calling for the waiter, with whom he at once resumed a sparkling +conversation. + +It was a downcast little man that followed him. 'Of course he is very +clever, but can I trust him in such a state?' he asked himself. And when +they were once more in a hansom, he took heart of grace. + +'Don't you think,' he faltered, 'it would be wiser, considering all +things, to put this business off?' + +'Put off till tomorrow what can be done today?' cried Michael, with +indignation. 'Never heard of such a thing! Cheer up, it's all right, go +in and win--there's a lion-hearted Pitman!' + +At Cannon Street they enquired for Mr Brown's piano, which had duly +arrived, drove thence to a neighbouring mews, where they contracted +for a cart, and while that was being got ready, took shelter in the +harness-room beside the stove. Here the lawyer presently toppled against +the wall and fell into a gentle slumber; so that Pitman found himself +launched on his own resources in the midst of several staring loafers, +such as love to spend unprofitable days about a stable. 'Rough day, +sir,' observed one. 'Do you go far?' + +'Yes, it's a--rather a rough day,' said the artist; and then, feeling +that he must change the conversation, 'My friend is an Australian; he is +very impulsive,' he added. + +'An Australian?' said another. 'I've a brother myself in Melbourne. Does +your friend come from that way at all?' + +'No, not exactly,' replied the artist, whose ideas of the geography of +New Holland were a little scattered. 'He lives immensely far inland, and +is very rich.' + +The loafers gazed with great respect upon the slumbering colonist. + +'Well,' remarked the second speaker, 'it's a mighty big place, is +Australia. Do you come from thereaway too?' + +'No, I do not,' said Pitman. 'I do not, and I don't want to,' he added +irritably. And then, feeling some diversion needful, he fell upon +Michael and shook him up. + +'Hullo,' said the lawyer, 'what's wrong?' + +'The cart is nearly ready,' said Pitman sternly. 'I will not allow you +to sleep.' + +'All right--no offence, old man,' replied Michael, yawning. 'A little +sleep never did anybody any harm; I feel comparatively sober now. But +what's all the hurry?' he added, looking round him glassily. 'I don't +see the cart, and I've forgotten where we left the piano.' + +What more the lawyer might have said, in the confidence of the moment, +is with Pitman a matter of tremulous conjecture to this day; but by the +most blessed circumstance the cart was then announced, and Michael must +bend the forces of his mind to the more difficult task of rising. + +'Of course you'll drive,' he remarked to his companion, as he clambered +on the vehicle. + +'I drive!' cried Pitman. 'I never did such a thing in my life. I cannot +drive.' + +'Very well,' responded Michael with entire composure, 'neither can I +see. But just as you like. Anything to oblige a friend.' + +A glimpse of the ostler's darkening countenance decided Pitman. 'All +right,' he said desperately, 'you drive. I'll tell you where to go.' + +On Michael in the character of charioteer (since this is not intended +to be a novel of adventure) it would be superfluous to dwell at length. +Pitman, as he sat holding on and gasping counsels, sole witness of this +singular feat, knew not whether most to admire the driver's valour or +his undeserved good fortune. But the latter at least prevailed, the +cart reached Cannon Street without disaster; and Mr Brown's piano was +speedily and cleverly got on board. + +'Well, sir,' said the leading porter, smiling as he mentally reckoned up +a handful of loose silver, 'that's a mortal heavy piano.' + +'It's the richness of the tone,' returned Michael, as he drove away. + +It was but a little distance in the rain, which now fell thick and +quiet, to the neighbourhood of Mr Gideon Forsyth's chambers in the +Temple. There, in a deserted by-street, Michael drew up the horses and +gave them in charge to a blighted shoe-black; and the pair descending +from the cart, whereon they had figured so incongruously, set forth +on foot for the decisive scene of their adventure. For the first time +Michael displayed a shadow of uneasiness. + +'Are my whiskers right?' he asked. 'It would be the devil and all if I +was spotted.' + +'They are perfectly in their place,' returned Pitman, with scant +attention. 'But is my disguise equally effective? There is nothing more +likely than that I should meet some of my patrons.' + +'O, nobody could tell you without your beard,' said Michael. 'All you +have to do is to remember to speak slow; you speak through your nose +already.' + +'I only hope the young man won't be at home,' sighed Pitman. + +'And I only hope he'll be alone,' returned the lawyer. 'It will save a +precious sight of manoeuvring.' + +And sure enough, when they had knocked at the door, Gideon admitted them +in person to a room, warmed by a moderate fire, framed nearly to the +roof in works connected with the bench of British Themis, and offering, +except in one particular, eloquent testimony to the legal zeal of the +proprietor. The one particular was the chimney-piece, which displayed +a varied assortment of pipes, tobacco, cigar-boxes, and yellow-backed +French novels. + +'Mr Forsyth, I believe?' It was Michael who thus opened the engagement. +'We have come to trouble you with a piece of business. I fear it's +scarcely professional--' + +'I am afraid I ought to be instructed through a solicitor,' replied +Gideon. + +'Well, well, you shall name your own, and the whole affair can be put +on a more regular footing tomorrow,' replied Michael, taking a chair +and motioning Pitman to do the same. 'But you see we didn't know any +solicitors; we did happen to know of you, and time presses.' + +'May I enquire, gentlemen,' asked Gideon, 'to whom it was I am indebted +for a recommendation?' + +'You may enquire,' returned the lawyer, with a foolish laugh; 'but I was +invited not to tell you--till the thing was done.' + +'My uncle, no doubt,' was the barrister's conclusion. + +'My name is John Dickson,' continued Michael; 'a pretty well-known name +in Ballarat; and my friend here is Mr Ezra Thomas, of the United States +of America, a wealthy manufacturer of india-rubber overshoes.' + +'Stop one moment till I make a note of that,' said Gideon; any one might +have supposed he was an old practitioner. + +'Perhaps you wouldn't mind my smoking a cigar?' asked Michael. He had +pulled himself together for the entrance; now again there began to +settle on his mind clouds of irresponsible humour and incipient slumber; +and he hoped (as so many have hoped in the like case) that a cigar would +clear him. + +'Oh, certainly,' cried Gideon blandly. 'Try one of mine; I can +confidently recommend them.' And he handed the box to his client. + +'In case I don't make myself perfectly clear,' observed the Australian, +'it's perhaps best to tell you candidly that I've been lunching. It's a +thing that may happen to any one.' + +'O, certainly,' replied the affable barrister. 'But please be under no +sense of hurry. I can give you,' he added, thoughtfully consulting his +watch--'yes, I can give you the whole afternoon.' + +'The business that brings me here,' resumed the Australian with gusto, +'is devilish delicate, I can tell you. My friend Mr Thomas, being an +American of Portuguese extraction, unacquainted with our habits, and a +wealthy manufacturer of Broadwood pianos--' + +'Broadwood pianos?' cried Gideon, with some surprise. 'Dear me, do I +understand Mr Thomas to be a member of the firm?' + +'O, pirated Broadwoods,' returned Michael. 'My friend's the American +Broadwood.' + +'But I understood you to say,' objected Gideon, 'I certainly have it +so in my notes--that your friend was a manufacturer of india--rubber +overshoes.' + +'I know it's confusing at first,' said the Australian, with a beaming +smile. 'But he--in short, he combines the two professions. And many +others besides--many, many, many others,' repeated Mr Dickson, with +drunken solemnity. 'Mr Thomas's cotton-mills are one of the sights of +Tallahassee; Mr Thomas's tobacco-mills are the pride of Richmond, Va.; +in short, he's one of my oldest friends, Mr Forsyth, and I lay his case +before you with emotion.' + +The barrister looked at Mr Thomas and was agreeably prepossessed by his +open although nervous countenance, and the simplicity and timidity of +his manner. 'What a people are these Americans!' he thought. 'Look at +this nervous, weedy, simple little bird in a lownecked shirt, and +think of him wielding and directing interests so extended and seemingly +incongruous! 'But had we not better,' he observed aloud, 'had we not +perhaps better approach the facts?' + +'Man of business, I perceive, sir!' said the Australian. 'Let's approach +the facts. It's a breach of promise case.' + +The unhappy artist was so unprepared for this view of his position that +he could scarce suppress a cry. + +'Dear me,' said Gideon, 'they are apt to be very troublesome. Tell me +everything about it,' he added kindly; 'if you require my assistance, +conceal nothing.' + +'You tell him,' said Michael, feeling, apparently, that he had done his +share. 'My friend will tell you all about it,' he added to Gideon, with +a yawn. 'Excuse my closing my eyes a moment; I've been sitting up with a +sick friend.' + +Pitman gazed blankly about the room; rage and despair seethed in his +innocent spirit; thoughts of flight, thoughts even of suicide, came and +went before him; and still the barrister patiently waited, and still the +artist groped in vain for any form of words, however insignificant. + +'It's a breach of promise case,' he said at last, in a low voice. 'I--I +am threatened with a breach of promise case.' Here, in desperate quest +of inspiration, he made a clutch at his beard; his fingers closed upon +the unfamiliar smoothness of a shaven chin; and with that, hope and +courage (if such expressions could ever have been appropriate in the +case of Pitman) conjointly fled. He shook Michael roughly. 'Wake up!' +he cried, with genuine irritation in his tones. 'I cannot do it, and you +know I can't.' + +'You must excuse my friend,' said Michael; 'he's no hand as a narrator +of stirring incident. The case is simple,' he went on. 'My friend is +a man of very strong passions, and accustomed to a simple, patriarchal +style of life. You see the thing from here: unfortunate visit to Europe, +followed by unfortunate acquaintance with sham foreign count, who has a +lovely daughter. Mr Thomas was quite carried away; he proposed, he was +accepted, and he wrote--wrote in a style which I am sure he must +regret today. If these letters are produced in court, sir, Mr Thomas's +character is gone.' + +'Am I to understand--' began Gideon. + +'My dear sir,' said the Australian emphatically, 'it isn't possible to +understand unless you saw them.' + +'That is a painful circumstance,' said Gideon; he glanced pityingly in +the direction of the culprit, and, observing on his countenance every +mark of confusion, pityingly withdrew his eyes. + +'And that would be nothing,' continued Mr Dickson sternly, 'but I +wish--I wish from my heart, sir, I could say that Mr Thomas's hands were +clean. He has no excuse; for he was engaged at the time--and is still +engaged--to the belle of Constantinople, Ga. My friend's conduct was +unworthy of the brutes that perish.' + +'Ga.?' repeated Gideon enquiringly. + +'A contraction in current use,' said Michael. 'Ga. for Georgia, in The +same way as Co. for Company.' + +'I was aware it was sometimes so written,' returned the barrister, 'but +not that it was so pronounced.' + +'Fact, I assure you,' said Michael. 'You now see for yourself, sir, that +if this unhappy person is to be saved, some devilish sharp practice will +be needed. There's money, and no desire to spare it. Mr Thomas could +write a cheque tomorrow for a hundred thousand. And, Mr Forsyth, +there's better than money. The foreign count--Count Tarnow, he calls +himself--was formerly a tobacconist in Bayswater, and passed under +the humble but expressive name of Schmidt; his daughter--if she is his +daughter--there's another point--make a note of that, Mr Forsyth--his +daughter at that time actually served in the shop--and she now proposes +to marry a man of the eminence of Mr Thomas! Now do you see our game? We +know they contemplate a move; and we wish to forestall 'em. Down you +go to Hampton Court, where they live, and threaten, or bribe, or both, +until you get the letters; if you can't, God help us, we must go to +court and Thomas must be exposed. I'll be done with him for one,' added +the unchivalrous friend. + +'There seem some elements of success,' said Gideon. 'Was Schmidt at all +known to the police?' + +'We hope so,' said Michael. 'We have every ground to think so. Mark +the neighbourhood--Bayswater! Doesn't Bayswater occur to you as very +suggestive?' + +For perhaps the sixth time during this remarkable interview, Gideon +wondered if he were not becoming light-headed. 'I suppose it's just +because he has been lunching,' he thought; and then added aloud, 'To +what figure may I go?' + +'Perhaps five thousand would be enough for today,' said Michael. 'And +now, sir, do not let me detain you any longer; the afternoon wears +on; there are plenty of trains to Hampton Court; and I needn't try to +describe to you the impatience of my friend. Here is a five-pound note +for current expenses; and here is the address.' And Michael began to +write, paused, tore up the paper, and put the pieces in his pocket. 'I +will dictate,' he said, 'my writing is so uncertain.' + +Gideon took down the address, 'Count Tarnow, Kurnaul Villa, Hampton +Court.' Then he wrote something else on a sheet of paper. 'You said you +had not chosen a solicitor,' he said. 'For a case of this sort, here is +the best man in London.' And he handed the paper to Michael. + +'God bless me!' ejaculated Michael, as he read his own address. + +'O, I daresay you have seen his name connected with some rather painful +cases,' said Gideon. 'But he is himself a perfectly honest man, and his +capacity is recognized. And now, gentlemen, it only remains for me to +ask where I shall communicate with you.' + +'The Langham, of course,' returned Michael. 'Till tonight.' + +'Till tonight,' replied Gideon, smiling. 'I suppose I may knock you up +at a late hour?' + +'Any hour, any hour,' cried the vanishing solicitor. + +'Now there's a young fellow with a head upon his shoulders,' he said to +Pitman, as soon as they were in the street. + +Pitman was indistinctly heard to murmur, 'Perfect fool.' + +'Not a bit of him,' returned Michael. 'He knows who's the best solicitor +in London, and it's not every man can say the same. But, I say, didn't I +pitch it in hot?' + +Pitman returned no answer. + +'Hullo!' said the lawyer, pausing, 'what's wrong with the long-suffering +Pitman?' + +'You had no right to speak of me as you did,' the artist broke out; +'your language was perfectly unjustifiable; you have wounded me deeply.' + +'I never said a word about you,' replied Michael. 'I spoke of Ezra +Thomas; and do please remember that there's no such party.' + +'It's just as hard to bear,' said the artist. + +But by this time they had reached the corner of the by-street; and +there was the faithful shoeblack, standing by the horses' heads with +a splendid assumption of dignity; and there was the piano, figuring +forlorn upon the cart, while the rain beat upon its unprotected sides +and trickled down its elegantly varnished legs. + +The shoeblack was again put in requisition to bring five or six strong +fellows from the neighbouring public-house; and the last battle of the +campaign opened. It is probable that Mr Gideon Forsyth had not yet taken +his seat in the train for Hampton Court, before Michael opened the door +of the chambers, and the grunting porters deposited the Broadwood grand +in the middle of the floor. + +'And now,' said the lawyer, after he had sent the men about their +business, 'one more precaution. We must leave him the key of the piano, +and we must contrive that he shall find it. Let me see.' And he built a +square tower of cigars upon the top of the instrument, and dropped the +key into the middle. + +'Poor young man,' said the artist, as they descended the stairs. + +'He is in a devil of a position,' assented Michael drily. 'It'll brace +him up.' + +'And that reminds me,' observed the excellent Pitman, 'that I fear I +displayed a most ungrateful temper. I had no right, I see, to resent +expressions, wounding as they were, which were in no sense directed.' + +'That's all right,' cried Michael, getting on the cart. 'Not a word +more, Pitman. Very proper feeling on your part; no man of self-respect +can stand by and hear his alias insulted.' + +The rain had now ceased, Michael was fairly sober, the body had been +disposed of, and the friends were reconciled. The return to the mews was +therefore (in comparison with previous stages of the day's adventures) +quite a holiday outing; and when they had returned the cart and walked +forth again from the stable-yard, unchallenged, and even unsuspected, +Pitman drew a deep breath of joy. 'And now,' he said, 'we can go home.' + +'Pitman,' said the lawyer, stopping short, 'your recklessness fills me +with concern. What! we have been wet through the greater part of the +day, and you propose, in cold blood, to go home! No, sir--hot Scotch.' + +And taking his friend's arm he led him sternly towards the nearest +public-house. Nor was Pitman (I regret to say) wholly unwilling. +Now that peace was restored and the body gone, a certain innocent +skittishness began to appear in the manners of the artist; and when +he touched his steaming glass to Michael's, he giggled aloud like a +venturesome schoolgirl at a picnic. + + + +CHAPTER IX. Glorious Conclusion of Michael Finsbury's Holiday + +I know Michael Finsbury personally; my business--I know the awkwardness +of having such a man for a lawyer--still it's an old story now, and +there is such a thing as gratitude, and, in short, my legal business, +although now (I am thankful to say) of quite a placid character, remains +entirely in Michael's hands. But the trouble is I have no natural talent +for addresses; I learn one for every man--that is friendship's offering; +and the friend who subsequently changes his residence is dead to me, +memory refusing to pursue him. Thus it comes about that, as I always +write to Michael at his office, I cannot swear to his number in the +King's Road. Of course (like my neighbours), I have been to dinner +there. Of late years, since his accession to wealth, neglect of +business, and election to the club, these little festivals have become +common. He picks up a few fellows in the smoking-room--all men of Attic +wit--myself, for instance, if he has the luck to find me disengaged; a +string of hansoms may be observed (by Her Majesty) bowling gaily through +St James's Park; and in a quarter of an hour the party surrounds one of +the best appointed boards in London. + +But at the time of which we write the house in the King's Road (let us +still continue to call it No. 233) was kept very quiet; when Michael +entertained guests it was at the halls of Nichol or Verrey that he would +convene them, and the door of his private residence remained closed +against his friends. The upper storey, which was sunny, was set apart +for his father; the drawing-room was never opened; the dining-room was +the scene of Michael's life. It is in this pleasant apartment, +sheltered from the curiosity of King's Road by wire blinds, and entirely +surrounded by the lawyer's unrivalled library of poetry and criminal +trials, that we find him sitting down to his dinner after his holiday +with Pitman. A spare old lady, with very bright eyes and a mouth +humorously compressed, waited upon the lawyer's needs; in every line of +her countenance she betrayed the fact that she was an old retainer; +in every word that fell from her lips she flaunted the glorious +circumstance of a Scottish origin; and the fear with which this powerful +combination fills the boldest was obviously no stranger to the bosom of +our friend. The hot Scotch having somewhat warmed up the embers of the +Heidsieck. It was touching to observe the master's eagerness to pull +himself together under the servant's eye; and when he remarked, 'I +think, Teena, I'll take a brandy and soda,' he spoke like a man doubtful +of his elocution, and not half certain of obedience. + +'No such a thing, Mr Michael,' was the prompt return. 'Clar't and +water.' + +'Well, well, Teena, I daresay you know best,' said the master. 'Very +fatiguing day at the office, though.' + +'What?' said the retainer, 'ye never were near the office!' + +'O yes, I was though; I was repeatedly along Fleet Street,' returned +Michael. + +'Pretty pliskies ye've been at this day!' cried the old lady, with +humorous alacrity; and then, 'Take care--don't break my crystal!' she +cried, as the lawyer came within an ace of knocking the glasses off the +table. + +'And how is he keeping?' asked Michael. + +'O, just the same, Mr Michael, just the way he'll be till the end, +worthy man!' was the reply. 'But ye'll not be the first that's asked me +that the day.' + +'No?' said the lawyer. 'Who else?' + +'Ay, that's a joke, too,' said Teena grimly. 'A friend of yours: Mr +Morris.' + +'Morris! What was the little beggar wanting here?' enquired Michael. + +'Wantin'? To see him,' replied the housekeeper, completing her meaning +by a movement of the thumb toward the upper storey. 'That's by his way +of it; but I've an idee of my own. He tried to bribe me, Mr Michael. +Bribe--me!' she repeated, with inimitable scorn. 'That's no' kind of a +young gentleman.' + +'Did he so?' said Michael. 'I bet he didn't offer much.' + +'No more he did,' replied Teena; nor could any subsequent questioning +elicit from her the sum with which the thrifty leather merchant had +attempted to corrupt her. 'But I sent him about his business,' she said +gallantly. 'He'll not come here again in a hurry.' + +'He mustn't see my father, you know; mind that!' said Michael. 'I'm not +going to have any public exhibition to a little beast like him.' + +'No fear of me lettin' him,' replied the trusty one. 'But the joke +is this, Mr Michael--see, ye're upsettin' the sauce, that's a clean +tablecloth--the best of the joke is that he thinks your father's dead +and you're keepin' it dark.' + +Michael whistled. 'Set a thief to catch a thief,' said he. + +'Exac'ly what I told him!' cried the delighted dame. + +'I'll make him dance for that,' said Michael. + +'Couldn't ye get the law of him some way?' suggested Teena truculently. + +'No, I don't think I could, and I'm quite sure I don't want to,' +replied Michael. 'But I say, Teena, I really don't believe this claret's +wholesome; it's not a sound, reliable wine. Give us a brandy and soda, +there's a good soul.' Teena's face became like adamant. 'Well, then,' +said the lawyer fretfully, 'I won't eat any more dinner.' + +'Ye can please yourself about that, Mr Michael,' said Teena, and began +composedly to take away. + +'I do wish Teena wasn't a faithful servant!' sighed the lawyer, as he +issued into Kings's Road. + +The rain had ceased; the wind still blew, but only with a pleasant +freshness; the town, in the clear darkness of the night, glittered with +street-lamps and shone with glancing rain-pools. 'Come, this is better,' +thought the lawyer to himself, and he walked on eastward, lending a +pleased ear to the wheels and the million footfalls of the city. + +Near the end of the King's Road he remembered his brandy and soda, and +entered a flaunting public-house. A good many persons were present, a +waterman from a cab-stand, half a dozen of the chronically unemployed, a +gentleman (in one corner) trying to sell aesthetic photographs out of +a leather case to another and very youthful gentleman with a yellow +goatee, and a pair of lovers debating some fine shade (in the other). +But the centre-piece and great attraction was a little old man, in a +black, ready-made surtout, which was obviously a recent purchase. On +the marble table in front of him, beside a sandwich and a glass of +beer, there lay a battered forage cap. His hand fluttered abroad with +oratorical gestures; his voice, naturally shrill, was plainly tuned to +the pitch of the lecture room; and by arts, comparable to those of +the Ancient Mariner, he was now holding spellbound the barmaid, the +waterman, and four of the unemployed. + +'I have examined all the theatres in London,' he was saying; 'and pacing +the principal entrances, I have ascertained them to be ridiculously +disproportionate to the requirements of their audiences. The doors +opened the wrong way--I forget at this moment which it is, but have a +note of it at home; they were frequently locked during the performance, +and when the auditorium was literally thronged with English people. You +have probably not had my opportunities of comparing distant lands; but +I can assure you this has been long ago recognized as a mark +of aristocratic government. Do you suppose, in a country really +self-governed, such abuses could exist? Your own intelligence, however +uncultivated, tells you they could not. Take Austria, a country even +possibly more enslaved than England. I have myself conversed with one of +the survivors of the Ring Theatre, and though his colloquial German +was not very good, I succeeded in gathering a pretty clear idea of his +opinion of the case. But, what will perhaps interest you still more, +here is a cutting on the subject from a Vienna newspaper, which I will +now read to you, translating as I go. You can see for yourselves; it +is printed in the German character.' And he held the cutting out for +verification, much as a conjuror passes a trick orange along the front +bench. + +'Hullo, old gentleman! Is this you?' said Michael, laying his hand upon +the orator's shoulder. + +The figure turned with a convulsion of alarm, and showed the countenance +of Mr Joseph Finsbury. 'You, Michael!' he cried. 'There's no one with +you, is there?' + +'No,' replied Michael, ordering a brandy and soda, 'there's nobody with +me; whom do you expect?' + +'I thought of Morris or John,' said the old gentleman, evidently greatly +relieved. + +'What the devil would I be doing with Morris or John?' cried the nephew. + +'There is something in that,' returned Joseph. 'And I believe I can +trust you. I believe you will stand by me.' + +'I hardly know what you mean,' said the lawyer, 'but if you are in need +of money I am flush.' + +'It's not that, my dear boy,' said the uncle, shaking him by the hand. +'I'll tell you all about it afterwards.' + +'All right,' responded the nephew. 'I stand treat, Uncle Joseph; what +will you have?' + +'In that case,' replied the old gentleman, 'I'll take another +sandwich. I daresay I surprise you,' he went on, 'with my presence in +a public-house; but the fact is, I act on a sound but little-known +principle of my own--' + +'O, it's better known than you suppose,' said Michael sipping his brandy +and soda. 'I always act on it myself when I want a drink.' + +The old gentleman, who was anxious to propitiate Michael, laughed a +cheerless laugh. 'You have such a flow of spirits,' said he, 'I am sure +I often find it quite amusing. But regarding this principle of which +I was about to speak. It is that of accommodating one's-self to the +manners of any land (however humble) in which our lot may be cast. Now, +in France, for instance, every one goes to a cafe for his meals; in +America, to what is called a "two-bit house"; in England the people +resort to such an institution as the present for refreshment. With +sandwiches, tea, and an occasional glass of bitter beer, a man can live +luxuriously in London for fourteen pounds twelve shillings per annum.' + +'Yes, I know,' returned Michael, 'but that's not including clothes, +washing, or boots. The whole thing, with cigars and occasional sprees, +costs me over seven hundred a year.' + +But this was Michael's last interruption. He listened in good-humoured +silence to the remainder of his uncle's lecture, which speedily branched +to political reform, thence to the theory of the weather-glass, with an +illustrative account of a bora in the Adriatic; thence again to the best +manner of teaching arithmetic to the deaf-and-dumb; and with that, the +sandwich being then no more, explicuit valde feliciter. A moment later +the pair issued forth on the King's Road. + +'Michael,' said his uncle, 'the reason that I am here is because I +cannot endure those nephews of mine. I find them intolerable.' + +'I daresay you do,' assented Michael, 'I never could stand them for a +moment.' + +'They wouldn't let me speak,' continued the old gentleman bitterly; 'I +never was allowed to get a word in edgewise; I was shut up at once with +some impertinent remark. They kept me on short allowance of pencils, +when I wished to make notes of the most absorbing interest; the daily +newspaper was guarded from me like a young baby from a gorilla. Now, you +know me, Michael. I live for my calculations; I live for my manifold and +ever-changing views of life; pens and paper and the productions of the +popular press are to me as important as food and drink; and my life +was growing quite intolerable when, in the confusion of that fortunate +railway accident at Browndean, I made my escape. They must think +me dead, and are trying to deceive the world for the chance of the +tontine.' + +'By the way, how do you stand for money?' asked Michael kindly. + +'Pecuniarily speaking, I am rich,' returned the old man with +cheerfulness. 'I am living at present at the rate of one hundred a year, +with unlimited pens and paper; the British Museum at which to get books; +and all the newspapers I choose to read. But it's extraordinary how +little a man of intellectual interest requires to bother with books in a +progressive age. The newspapers supply all the conclusions.' + +'I'll tell you what,' said Michael, 'come and stay with me.' + +'Michael,' said the old gentleman, 'it's very kind of you, but you +scarcely understand what a peculiar position I occupy. There are some +little financial complications; as a guardian, my efforts were not +altogether blessed; and not to put too fine a point upon the matter, I +am absolutely in the power of that vile fellow, Morris.' + +'You should be disguised,' cried Michael eagerly; 'I will lend you a +pair of window-glass spectacles and some red side-whiskers.' + +'I had already canvassed that idea,' replied the old gentleman, 'but +feared to awaken remark in my unpretentious lodgings. The aristocracy, I +am well aware--' + +'But see here,' interrupted Michael, 'how do you come to have any money +at all? Don't make a stranger of me, Uncle Joseph; I know all about the +trust, and the hash you made of it, and the assignment you were forced +to make to Morris.' + +Joseph narrated his dealings with the bank. + +'O, but I say, this won't do,' cried the lawyer. 'You've put your foot +in it. You had no right to do what you did.' + +'The whole thing is mine, Michael,' protested the old gentleman. 'I +founded and nursed that business on principles entirely of my own.' + +'That's all very fine,' said the lawyer; 'but you made an assignment, +you were forced to make it, too; even then your position was extremely +shaky; but now, my dear sir, it means the dock.' + +'It isn't possible,' cried Joseph; 'the law cannot be so unjust as +that?' + +'And the cream of the thing,' interrupted Michael, with a sudden shout +of laughter, 'the cream of the thing is this, that of course you've +downed the leather business! I must say, Uncle Joseph, you have strange +ideas of law, but I like your taste in humour.' + +'I see nothing to laugh at,' observed Mr Finsbury tartly. + +'And talking of that, has Morris any power to sign for the firm?' asked +Michael. + +'No one but myself,' replied Joseph. + +'Poor devil of a Morris! O, poor devil of a Morris!' cried the lawyer in +delight. 'And his keeping up the farce that you're at home! O, Morris, +the Lord has delivered you into my hands! Let me see, Uncle Joseph, what +do you suppose the leather business worth?' + +'It was worth a hundred thousand,' said Joseph bitterly, 'when it was +in my hands. But then there came a Scotsman--it is supposed he had a +certain talent--it was entirely directed to bookkeeping--no accountant +in London could understand a word of any of his books; and then there +was Morris, who is perfectly incompetent. And now it is worth very +little. Morris tried to sell it last year; and Pogram and Jarris offered +only four thousand.' + +'I shall turn my attention to leather,' said Michael with decision. + +'You?' asked Joseph. 'I advise you not. There is nothing in the whole +field of commerce more surprising than the fluctuations of the leather +market. Its sensitiveness may be described as morbid.' + +'And now, Uncle Joseph, what have you done with all that money?' asked +the lawyer. + +'Paid it into a bank and drew twenty pounds,' answered Mr Finsbury +promptly. 'Why?' + +'Very well,' said Michael. 'Tomorrow I shall send down a clerk with a +cheque for a hundred, and he'll draw out the original sum and return it +to the Anglo-Patagonian, with some sort of explanation which I will try +to invent for you. That will clear your feet, and as Morris can't touch +a penny of it without forgery, it will do no harm to my little scheme.' + +'But what am I to do?' asked Joseph; 'I cannot live upon nothing.' + +'Don't you hear?' returned Michael. 'I send you a cheque for a hundred; +which leaves you eighty to go along upon; and when that's done, apply to +me again.' + +'I would rather not be beholden to your bounty all the same,' said +Joseph, biting at his white moustache. 'I would rather live on my own +money, since I have it.' + +Michael grasped his arm. 'Will nothing make you believe,' he cried, +'that I am trying to save you from Dartmoor?' + +His earnestness staggered the old man. 'I must turn my attention +to law,' he said; 'it will be a new field; for though, of course, I +understand its general principles, I have never really applied my +mind to the details, and this view of yours, for example, comes on me +entirely by surprise. But you may be right, and of course at my time +of life--for I am no longer young--any really long term of imprisonment +would be highly prejudicial. But, my dear nephew, I have no claim on +you; you have no call to support me.' + +'That's all right,' said Michael; 'I'll probably get it out of the +leather business.' + +And having taken down the old gentleman's address, Michael left him at +the corner of a street. + +'What a wonderful old muddler!' he reflected, 'and what a singular thing +is life! I seem to be condemned to be the instrument of Providence. Let +me see; what have I done today? Disposed of a dead body, saved Pitman, +saved my Uncle Joseph, brightened up Forsyth, and drunk a devil of a lot +of most indifferent liquor. Let's top off with a visit to my cousins, +and be the instrument of Providence in earnest. Tomorrow I can turn +my attention to leather; tonight I'll just make it lively for 'em in a +friendly spirit.' + +About a quarter of an hour later, as the clocks were striking eleven, +the instrument of Providence descended from a hansom, and, bidding the +driver wait, rapped at the door of No. 16 John Street. + +It was promptly opened by Morris. + +'O, it's you, Michael,' he said, carefully blocking up the narrow +opening: 'it's very late.' + +Michael without a word reached forth, grasped Morris warmly by the hand, +and gave it so extreme a squeeze that the sullen householder fell back. +Profiting by this movement, the lawyer obtained a footing in the lobby +and marched into the dining-room, with Morris at his heels. + +'Where's my Uncle Joseph?' demanded Michael, sitting down in the most +comfortable chair. + +'He's not been very well lately,' replied Morris; 'he's staying at +Browndean; John is nursing him; and I am alone, as you see.' + +Michael smiled to himself. 'I want to see him on particular business,' +he said. + +'You can't expect to see my uncle when you won't let me see your +father,' returned Morris. + +'Fiddlestick,' said Michael. 'My father is my father; but Joseph is just +as much my uncle as he's yours; and you have no right to sequestrate his +person.' + +'I do no such thing,' said Morris doggedly. 'He is not well, he is +dangerously ill and nobody can see him.' + +'I'll tell you what, then,' said Michael. 'I'll make a clean breast +of it. I have come down like the opossum, Morris; I have come to +compromise.' + +Poor Morris turned as pale as death, and then a flush of wrath against +the injustice of man's destiny dyed his very temples. 'What do you +mean?' he cried, 'I don't believe a word of it.' And when Michael had +assured him of his seriousness, 'Well, then,' he cried, with another +deep flush, 'I won't; so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.' + +'Oho!' said Michael queerly. 'You say your uncle is dangerously ill, and +you won't compromise? There's something very fishy about that.' + +'What do you mean?' cried Morris hoarsely. + +'I only say it's fishy,' returned Michael, 'that is, pertaining to the +finny tribe.' + +'Do you mean to insinuate anything?' cried Morris stormily, trying the +high hand. + +'Insinuate?' repeated Michael. 'O, don't let's begin to use awkward +expressions! Let us drown our differences in a bottle, like two affable +kinsmen. The Two Affable Kinsmen, sometimes attributed to Shakespeare,' +he added. + +Morris's mind was labouring like a mill. 'Does he suspect? or is this +chance and stuff? Should I soap, or should I bully? Soap,' he concluded. +'It gains time.' 'Well,' said he aloud, and with rather a painful +affectation of heartiness, 'it's long since we have had an evening +together, Michael; and though my habits (as you know) are very +temperate, I may as well make an exception. Excuse me one moment till I +fetch a bottle of whisky from the cellar.' + +'No whisky for me,' said Michael; 'a little of the old still champagne +or nothing.' + +For a moment Morris stood irresolute, for the wine was very valuable: +the next he had quitted the room without a word. His quick mind had +perceived his advantage; in thus dunning him for the cream of the +cellar, Michael was playing into his hand. 'One bottle?' he thought. 'By +George, I'll give him two! this is no moment for economy; and once the +beast is drunk, it's strange if I don't wring his secret out of him.' + +With two bottles, accordingly, he returned. Glasses were produced, and +Morris filled them with hospitable grace. + +'I drink to you, cousin!' he cried gaily. 'Don't spare the wine-cup in +my house.' + +Michael drank his glass deliberately, standing at the table; filled it +again, and returned to his chair, carrying the bottle along with him. + +'The spoils of war!' he said apologetically. 'The weakest goes to the +wall. Science, Morris, science.' Morris could think of no reply, and for +an appreciable interval silence reigned. But two glasses of the still +champagne produced a rapid change in Michael. + +'There's a want of vivacity about you, Morris,' he observed. 'You may be +deep; but I'll be hanged if you're vivacious!' + +'What makes you think me deep?' asked Morris with an air of pleased +simplicity. + +'Because you won't compromise,' said the lawyer. 'You're deep dog, +Morris, very deep dog, not t' compromise--remarkable deep dog. And +a very good glass of wine; it's the only respectable feature in the +Finsbury family, this wine; rarer thing than a title--much rarer. Now a +man with glass wine like this in cellar, I wonder why won't compromise?' + +'Well, YOU wouldn't compromise before, you know,' said the smiling +Morris. 'Turn about is fair play.' + +'I wonder why _I_ wouldn' compromise? I wonder why YOU wouldn'?' +enquired Michael. 'I wonder why we each think the other wouldn'? 'S +quite a remarrable--remarkable problem,' he added, triumphing over oral +obstacles, not without obvious pride. 'Wonder what we each think--don't +you?' + +'What do you suppose to have been my reason?' asked Morris adroitly. + +Michael looked at him and winked. 'That's cool,' said he. 'Next thing, +you'll ask me to help you out of the muddle. I know I'm emissary of +Providence, but not that kind! You get out of it yourself, like Aesop +and the other fellow. Must be dreadful muddle for young orphan o' forty; +leather business and all!' + +'I am sure I don't know what you mean,' said Morris. + +'Not sure I know myself,' said Michael. 'This is exc'lent vintage, +sir--exc'lent vintage. Nothing against the tipple. Only thing: here's a +valuable uncle disappeared. Now, what I want to know: where's valuable +uncle?' + +'I have told you: he is at Browndean,' answered Morris, furtively wiping +his brow, for these repeated hints began to tell upon him cruelly. + +'Very easy say Brown--Browndee--no' so easy after all!' cried Michael. +'Easy say; anything's easy say, when you can say it. What I don' like's +total disappearance of an uncle. Not businesslike.' And he wagged his +head. + +'It is all perfectly simple,' returned Morris, with laborious calm. +'There is no mystery. He stays at Browndean, where he got a shake in the +accident.' + +'Ah!' said Michael, 'got devil of a shake!' + +'Why do you say that?' cried Morris sharply. + +'Best possible authority. Told me so yourself,' said the lawyer. 'But if +you tell me contrary now, of course I'm bound to believe either the one +story or the other. Point is I've upset this bottle, still champagne's +exc'lent thing carpet--point is, is valuable uncle dead--an'--bury?' + +Morris sprang from his seat. 'What's that you say?' he gasped. + +'I say it's exc'lent thing carpet,' replied Michael, rising. 'Exc'lent +thing promote healthy action of the skin. Well, it's all one, anyway. +Give my love to Uncle Champagne.' + +'You're not going away?' said Morris. + +'Awf'ly sorry, ole man. Got to sit up sick friend,' said the wavering +Michael. + +'You shall not go till you have explained your hints,' returned Morris +fiercely. 'What do you mean? What brought you here?' + +'No offence, I trust,' said the lawyer, turning round as he opened the +door; 'only doing my duty as shemishery of Providence.' + +Groping his way to the front-door, he opened it with some difficulty, +and descended the steps to the hansom. The tired driver looked up as he +approached, and asked where he was to go next. + +Michael observed that Morris had followed him to the steps; a brilliant +inspiration came to him. 'Anything t' give pain,' he reflected. . . . +'Drive Shcotlan' Yard,' he added aloud, holding to the wheel to steady +himself; 'there's something devilish fishy, cabby, about those cousins. +Mush' be cleared up! Drive Shcotlan' Yard.' + +'You don't mean that, sir,' said the man, with the ready sympathy of the +lower orders for an intoxicated gentleman. 'I had better take you home, +sir; you can go to Scotland Yard tomorrow.' + +'Is it as friend or as perfessional man you advise me not to go +Shcotlan' Yard t'night?' enquired Michael. 'All righ', never min' +Shcotlan' Yard, drive Gaiety bar.' + +'The Gaiety bar is closed,' said the man. + +'Then home,' said Michael, with the same cheerfulness. + +'Where to, sir?' + +'I don't remember, I'm sure,' said Michael, entering the vehicle, 'drive +Shcotlan' Yard and ask.' + +'But you'll have a card,' said the man, through the little aperture in +the top, 'give me your card-case.' + +'What imagi--imagination in a cabby!' cried the lawyer, producing his +card-case, and handing it to the driver. + +The man read it by the light of the lamp. 'Mr Michael Finsbury, 233 +King's Road, Chelsea. Is that it, sir?' + +'Right you are,' cried Michael, 'drive there if you can see way.' + + + +CHAPTER X. Gideon Forsyth and the Broadwood Grand + +The reader has perhaps read that remarkable work, Who Put Back the +Clock? by E. H. B., which appeared for several days upon the railway +bookstalls and then vanished entirely from the face of the earth. +Whether eating Time makes the chief of his diet out of old editions; +whether Providence has passed a special enactment on behalf of authors; +or whether these last have taken the law into their own hand, bound +themselves into a dark conspiracy with a password, which I would +die rather than reveal, and night after night sally forth under some +vigorous leader, such as Mr James Payn or Mr Walter Besant, on their +task of secret spoliation--certain it is, at least, that the old +editions pass, giving place to new. To the proof, it is believed there +are now only three copies extant of Who Put Back the Clock? one in +the British Museum, successfully concealed by a wrong entry in the +catalogue; another in one of the cellars (the cellar where the music +accumulates) of the Advocates' Library at Edinburgh; and a third, bound +in morocco, in the possession of Gideon Forsyth. To account for the very +different fate attending this third exemplar, the readiest theory is +to suppose that Gideon admired the tale. How to explain that admiration +might appear (to those who have perused the work) more difficult; but +the weakness of a parent is extreme, and Gideon (and not his uncle, +whose initials he had humorously borrowed) was the author of Who Put +Back the Clock? He had never acknowledged it, or only to some intimate +friends while it was still in proof; after its appearance and alarming +failure, the modesty of the novelist had become more pressing, and the +secret was now likely to be better kept than that of the authorship of +Waverley. + +A copy of the work (for the date of my tale is already yesterday) still +figured in dusty solitude in the bookstall at Waterloo; and Gideon, as +he passed with his ticket for Hampton Court, smiled contemptuously at +the creature of his thoughts. What an idle ambition was the author's! +How far beneath him was the practice of that childish art! With his hand +closing on his first brief, he felt himself a man at last; and the +muse who presides over the police romance, a lady presumably of French +extraction, fled his neighbourhood, and returned to join the dance round +the springs of Helicon, among her Grecian sisters. + +Robust, practical reflection still cheered the young barrister upon his +journey. Again and again he selected the little country-house in its +islet of great oaks, which he was to make his future home. Like a +prudent householder, he projected improvements as he passed; to one he +added a stable, to another a tennis-court, a third he supplied with a +becoming rustic boat-house. + +'How little a while ago,' he could not but reflect, 'I was a careless +young dog with no thought but to be comfortable! I cared for nothing +but boating and detective novels. I would have passed an old-fashioned +country-house with large kitchen-garden, stabling, boat-house, and +spacious offices, without so much as a look, and certainly would have +made no enquiry as to the drains. How a man ripens with the years!' + +The intelligent reader will perceive the ravages of Miss Hazeltine. +Gideon had carried Julia straight to Mr Bloomfield's house; and +that gentleman, having been led to understand she was the victim of +oppression, had noisily espoused her cause. He worked himself into +a fine breathing heat; in which, to a man of his temperament, action +became needful. + +'I do not know which is the worse,' he cried, 'the fraudulent old +villain or the unmanly young cub. I will write to the Pall Mall and +expose them. Nonsense, sir; they must be exposed! It's a public duty. +Did you not tell me the fellow was a Tory? O, the uncle is a Radical +lecturer, is he? No doubt the uncle has been grossly wronged. But of +course, as you say, that makes a change; it becomes scarce so much a +public duty.' + +And he sought and instantly found a fresh outlet for his alacrity. Miss +Hazeltine (he now perceived) must be kept out of the way; his houseboat +was lying ready--he had returned but a day or two before from his usual +cruise; there was no place like a houseboat for concealment; and that +very morning, in the teeth of the easterly gale, Mr and Mrs Bloomfield +and Miss Julia Hazeltine had started forth on their untimely voyage. +Gideon pled in vain to be allowed to join the party. 'No, Gid,' said his +uncle. 'You will be watched; you must keep away from us.' Nor had the +barrister ventured to contest this strange illusion; for he feared if +he rubbed off any of the romance, that Mr Bloomfield might weary of the +whole affair. And his discretion was rewarded; for the Squirradical, +laying a heavy hand upon his nephew's shoulder, had added these notable +expressions: 'I see what you are after, Gid. But if you're going to get +the girl, you have to work, sir.' + +These pleasing sounds had cheered the barrister all day, as he sat +reading in chambers; they continued to form the ground-base of his manly +musings as he was whirled to Hampton Court; even when he landed at the +station, and began to pull himself together for his delicate interview, +the voice of Uncle Ned and the eyes of Julia were not forgotten. + +But now it began to rain surprises: in all Hampton Court there was no +Kurnaul Villa, no Count Tarnow, and no count. This was strange; but, +viewed in the light of the incoherency of his instructions, not perhaps +inexplicable; Mr Dickson had been lunching, and he might have made some +fatal oversight in the address. What was the thoroughly prompt, manly, +and businesslike step? thought Gideon; and he answered himself at +once: 'A telegram, very laconic.' Speedily the wires were flashing the +following very important missive: 'Dickson, Langham Hotel. Villa and +persons both unknown here, suppose erroneous address; follow self next +train.--Forsyth.' And at the Langham Hotel, sure enough, with a brow +expressive of dispatch and intellectual effort, Gideon descended not +long after from a smoking hansom. + +I do not suppose that Gideon will ever forget the Langham Hotel. No +Count Tarnow was one thing; no John Dickson and no Ezra Thomas, quite +another. How, why, and what next, danced in his bewildered brain; from +every centre of what we playfully call the human intellect incongruous +messages were telegraphed; and before the hubbub of dismay had quite +subsided, the barrister found himself driving furiously for his +chambers. There was at least a cave of refuge; it was at least a place +to think in; and he climbed the stair, put his key in the lock and +opened the door, with some approach to hope. + +It was all dark within, for the night had some time fallen; but Gideon +knew his room, he knew where the matches stood on the end of the +chimney-piece; and he advanced boldly, and in so doing dashed himself +against a heavy body; where (slightly altering the expressions of the +song) no heavy body should have been. There had been nothing there when +Gideon went out; he had locked the door behind him, he had found it +locked on his return, no one could have entered, the furniture could not +have changed its own position. And yet undeniably there was a something +there. He thrust out his hands in the darkness. Yes, there was +something, something large, something smooth, something cold. + +'Heaven forgive me!' said Gideon, 'it feels like a piano.' + +And the next moment he remembered the vestas in his waistcoat pocket and +had struck a light. + +It was indeed a piano that met his doubtful gaze; a vast and costly +instrument, stained with the rains of the afternoon and defaced +with recent scratches. The light of the vesta was reflected from the +varnished sides, like a staice in quiet water; and in the farther end of +the room the shadow of that strange visitor loomed bulkily and wavered +on the wall. + +Gideon let the match burn to his fingers, and the darkness closed once +more on his bewilderment. Then with trembling hands he lit the lamp and +drew near. Near or far, there was no doubt of the fact: the thing was +a piano. There, where by all the laws of God and man it was impossible +that it should be--there the thing impudently stood. Gideon threw open +the keyboard and struck a chord. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the +room. 'Is there anything wrong with me?' he thought, with a pang; and +drawing in a seat, obstinately persisted in his attempts to ravish +silence, now with sparkling arpeggios, now with a sonata of Beethoven's +which (in happier days) he knew to be one of the loudest pieces of that +powerful composer. Still not a sound. He gave the Broadwood two great +bangs with his clenched first. All was still as the grave. The young +barrister started to his feet. + +'I am stark-staring mad,' he cried aloud, 'and no one knows it but +myself. God's worst curse has fallen on me.' + +His fingers encountered his watch-chain; instantly he had plucked forth +his watch and held it to his ear. He could hear it ticking. + +'I am not deaf,' he said aloud. 'I am only insane. My mind has quitted +me for ever.' + +He looked uneasily about the room, and--gazed with lacklustre eyes at +the chair in which Mr Dickson had installed himself. The end of a cigar +lay near on the fender. + +'No,' he thought, 'I don't believe that was a dream; but God knows +my mind is failing rapidly. I seem to be hungry, for instance; it's +probably another hallucination. Still I might try. I shall have one more +good meal; I shall go to the Cafe Royal, and may possibly be removed +from there direct to the asylum.' + +He wondered with morbid interest, as he descended the stairs, how he +would first betray his terrible condition--would he attack a waiter? or +eat glass?--and when he had mounted into a cab, he bade the man drive to +Nichol's, with a lurking fear that there was no such place. + +The flaring, gassy entrance of the cafe speedily set his mind at rest; +he was cheered besides to recognize his favourite waiter; his orders +appeared to be coherent; the dinner, when it came, was quite a sensible +meal, and he ate it with enjoyment. 'Upon my word,' he reflected, 'I +am about tempted to indulge a hope. Have I been hasty? Have I done what +Robert Skill would have done?' Robert Skill (I need scarcely mention) +was the name of the principal character in Who Put Back the Clock? It +had occurred to the author as a brilliant and probable invention; to +readers of a critical turn, Robert appeared scarce upon a level with his +surname; but it is the difficulty of the police romance, that the reader +is always a man of such vastly greater ingenuity than the writer. In the +eyes of his creator, however, Robert Skill was a word to conjure with; +the thought braced and spurred him; what that brilliant creature would +have done Gideon would do also. This frame of mind is not uncommon; the +distressed general, the baited divine, the hesitating author, decide +severally to do what Napoleon, what St Paul, what Shakespeare would +have done; and there remains only the minor question, What is that? In +Gideon's case one thing was clear: Skill was a man of singular decision, +he would have taken some step (whatever it was) at once; and the only +step that Gideon could think of was to return to his chambers. + +This being achieved, all further inspiration failed him, and he stood +pitifully staring at the instrument of his confusion. To touch the keys +again was more than he durst venture on; whether they had maintained +their former silence, or responded with the tones of the last trump, +it would have equally dethroned his resolution. 'It may be a practical +jest,' he reflected, 'though it seems elaborate and costly. And yet what +else can it be? It MUST be a practical jest.' And just then his eye fell +upon a feature which seemed corroborative of that view: the pagoda of +cigars which Michael had erected ere he left the chambers. 'Why that?' +reflected Gideon. 'It seems entirely irresponsible.' And drawing near, +he gingerly demolished it. 'A key,' he thought. 'Why that? And why +so conspicuously placed?' He made the circuit of the instrument, and +perceived the keyhole at the back. 'Aha! this is what the key is for,' +said he. 'They wanted me to look inside. Stranger and stranger.' And +with that he turned the key and raised the lid. + +In what antics of agony, in what fits of flighty resolution, in what +collapses of despair, Gideon consumed the night, it would be ungenerous +to enquire too closely. + +That trill of tiny song with which the eaves-birds of London welcome +the approach of day found him limp and rumpled and bloodshot, and with a +mind still vacant of resource. He rose and looked forth unrejoicingly on +blinded windows, an empty street, and the grey daylight dotted with the +yellow lamps. There are mornings when the city seems to awake with a +sick headache; this was one of them; and still the twittering reveille +of the sparrows stirred in Gideon's spirit. + +'Day here,' he thought, 'and I still helpless! This must come to an +end.' And he locked up the piano, put the key in his pocket, and set +forth in quest of coffee. As he went, his mind trudged for the hundredth +time a certain mill-road of terrors, misgivings, and regrets. To call +in the police, to give up the body, to cover London with handbills +describing John Dickson and Ezra Thomas, to fill the papers with +paragraphs, Mysterious Occurrence in the Temple--Mr Forsyth admitted to +bail, this was one course, an easy course, a safe course; but not, the +more he reflected on it, not a pleasant one. For, was it not to publish +abroad a number of singular facts about himself? A child ought to +have seen through the story of these adventurers, and he had gaped and +swallowed it. A barrister of the least self-respect should have refused +to listen to clients who came before him in a manner so irregular, and +he had listened. And O, if he had only listened; but he had gone upon +their errand--he, a barrister, uninstructed even by the shadow of +a solicitor--upon an errand fit only for a private detective; and +alas!--and for the hundredth time the blood surged to his brow--he had +taken their money! 'No,' said he, 'the thing is as plain as St Paul's. I +shall be dishonoured! I have smashed my career for a five-pound note.' + +Between the possibility of being hanged in all innocence, and the +certainty of a public and merited disgrace, no gentleman of spirit +could long hesitate. After three gulps of that hot, snuffy, and muddy +beverage, that passes on the streets of London for a decoction of the +coffee berry, Gideon's mind was made up. He would do without the police. +He must face the other side of the dilemma, and be Robert Skill in +earnest. What would Robert Skill have done? How does a gentleman dispose +of a dead body, honestly come by? He remembered the inimitable story +of the hunchback; reviewed its course, and dismissed it for a worthless +guide. It was impossible to prop a corpse on the corner of Tottenham +Court Road without arousing fatal curiosity in the bosoms of the +passers-by; as for lowering it down a London chimney, the physical +obstacles were insurmountable. To get it on board a train and drop it +out, or on the top of an omnibus and drop it off, were equally out +of the question. To get it on a yacht and drop it overboard, was more +conceivable; but for a man of moderate means it seemed extravagant. The +hire of the yacht was in itself a consideration; the subsequent support +of the whole crew (which seemed a necessary consequence) was simply +not to be thought of. His uncle and the houseboat here occurred in very +luminous colours to his mind. A musical composer (say, of the name of +Jimson) might very well suffer, like Hogarth's musician before him, from +the disturbances of London. He might very well be pressed for time to +finish an opera--say the comic opera Orange Pekoe--Orange Pekoe, music +by Jimson--'this young maestro, one of the most promising of our +recent English school'--vigorous entrance of the drums, etc.--the whole +character of Jimson and his music arose in bulk before the mind of +Gideon. What more likely than Jimson's arrival with a grand piano (say, +at Padwick), and his residence in a houseboat alone with the unfinished +score of Orange Pekoe? His subsequent disappearance, leaving nothing +behind but an empty piano case, it might be more difficult to account +for. And yet even that was susceptible of explanation. For, suppose +Jimson had gone mad over a fugal passage, and had thereupon destroyed +the accomplice of his infamy, and plunged into the welcome river? What +end, on the whole, more probable for a modern musician? + +'By Jove, I'll do it,' cried Gideon. 'Jimson is the boy!' + + + +CHAPTER XI. The Maestro Jimson + +Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield having announced his intention to stay in the +neighbourhood of Maidenhead, what more probable than that the Maestro +Jimson should turn his mind toward Padwick? Near this pleasant riverside +village he remembered to have observed an ancient, weedy houseboat lying +moored beside a tuft of willows. It had stirred in him, in his careless +hours, as he pulled down the river under a more familiar name, a certain +sense of the romantic; and when the nice contrivance of his story was +already complete in his mind, he had come near pulling it all down +again, like an ungrateful clock, in order to introduce a chapter in +which Richard Skill (who was always being decoyed somewhere) should +be decoyed on board that lonely hulk by Lord Bellew and the American +desperado Gin Sling. It was fortunate he had not done so, he reflected, +since the hulk was now required for very different purposes. + +Jimson, a man of inconspicuous costume, but insinuating manners, +had little difficulty in finding the hireling who had charge of the +houseboat, and still less in persuading him to resign his care. The rent +was almost nominal, the entry immediate, the key was exchanged against a +suitable advance in money, and Jimson returned to town by the afternoon +train to see about dispatching his piano. + +'I will be down tomorrow,' he had said reassuringly. 'My opera is waited +for with such impatience, you know.' + +And, sure enough, about the hour of noon on the following day, Jimson +might have been observed ascending the riverside road that goes from +Padwick to Great Haverham, carrying in one hand a basket of provisions, +and under the other arm a leather case containing (it is to be +conjectured) the score of Orange Pekoe. It was October weather; the +stone-grey sky was full of larks, the leaden mirror of the Thames +brightened with autumnal foliage, and the fallen leaves of the chestnuts +chirped under the composer's footing. There is no time of the year +in England more courageous; and Jimson, though he was not without his +troubles, whistled as he went. + +A little above Padwick the river lies very solitary. On the opposite +shore the trees of a private park enclose the view, the chimneys of the +mansion just pricking forth above their clusters; on the near side the +path is bordered by willows. Close among these lay the houseboat, a +thing so soiled by the tears of the overhanging willows, so grown upon +with parasites, so decayed, so battered, so neglected, such a haunt of +rats, so advertised a storehouse of rheumatic agonies, that the heart +of an intending occupant might well recoil. A plank, by way of flying +drawbridge, joined it to the shore. And it was a dreary moment for +Jimson when he pulled this after him and found himself alone on this +unwholesome fortress. He could hear the rats scuttle and flop in the +abhorred interior; the key cried among the wards like a thing in pain; +the sitting-room was deep in dust, and smelt strong of bilge-water. It +could not be called a cheerful spot, even for a composer absorbed in +beloved toil; how much less for a young gentleman haunted by alarms and +awaiting the arrival of a corpse! + +He sat down, cleared away a piece of the table, and attacked the cold +luncheon in his basket. In case of any subsequent inquiry into the fate +of Jimson, It was desirable he should be little seen: in other words, +that he should spend the day entirely in the house. To this end, and +further to corroborate his fable, he had brought in the leather case not +only writing materials, but a ream of large-size music paper, such as he +considered suitable for an ambitious character like Jimson's. 'And now +to work,' said he, when he had satisfied his appetite. 'We must leave +traces of the wretched man's activity.' And he wrote in bold characters: + + ORANGE PEKOE. + Op. 17. + J. B. JIMSON. + Vocal and p. f. score. + +'I suppose they never do begin like this,' reflected Gideon; 'but then +it's quite out of the question for me to tackle a full score, and +Jimson was so unconventional. A dedication would be found convincing, I +believe. "Dedicated to" (let me see) "to William Ewart Gladstone, by his +obedient servant the composer." And now some music: I had better avoid +the overture; it seems to present difficulties. Let's give an air for +the tenor: key--O, something modern!--seven sharps.' And he made a +businesslike signature across the staves, and then paused and browsed +for a while on the handle of his pen. Melody, with no better inspiration +than a sheet of paper, is not usually found to spring unbidden in the +mind of the amateur; nor is the key of seven sharps a place of much +repose to the untried. He cast away that sheet. 'It will help to build +up the character of Jimson,' Gideon remarked, and again waited on +the muse, in various keys and on divers sheets of paper, but all with +results so inconsiderable that he stood aghast. 'It's very odd,' thought +he. 'I seem to have less fancy than I thought, or this is an off-day +with me; yet Jimson must leave something.' And again he bent himself to +the task. + +Presently the penetrating chill of the houseboat began to attack the +very seat of life. He desisted from his unremunerative trial, and, to +the audible annoyance of the rats, walked briskly up and down the cabin. +Still he was cold. 'This is all nonsense,' said he. 'I don't care about +the risk, but I will not catch a catarrh. I must get out of this den.' + +He stepped on deck, and passing to the bow of his embarkation, looked +for the first time up the river. He started. Only a few hundred yards +above another houseboat lay moored among the willows. It was very +spick-and-span, an elegant canoe hung at the stern, the windows were +concealed by snowy curtains, a flag floated from a staff. The more +Gideon looked at it, the more there mingled with his disgust a sense +of impotent surprise. It was very like his uncle's houseboat; it was +exceedingly like--it was identical. But for two circumstances, he +could have sworn it was the same. The first, that his uncle had gone to +Maidenhead, might be explained away by that flightiness of purpose which +is so common a trait among the more than usually manly. The second, +however, was conclusive: it was not in the least like Mr Bloomfield to +display a banner on his floating residence; and if he ever did, it +would certainly be dyed in hues of emblematical propriety. Now the +Squirradical, like the vast majority of the more manly, had drawn +knowledge at the wells of Cambridge--he was wooden spoon in the year +1850; and the flag upon the houseboat streamed on the afternoon air with +the colours of that seat of Toryism, that cradle of Puseyism, that +home of the inexact and the effete Oxford. Still it was strangely like, +thought Gideon. + +And as he thus looked and thought, the door opened, and a young lady +stepped forth on deck. The barrister dropped and fled into his cabin--it +was Julia Hazeltine! Through the window he watched her draw in the +canoe, get on board of it, cast off, and come dropping downstream in his +direction. + +'Well, all is up now,' said he, and he fell on a seat. + +'Good-afternoon, miss,' said a voice on the water. Gideon knew it for +the voice of his landlord. + +'Good-afternoon,' replied Julia, 'but I don't know who you are; do I? O +yes, I do though. You are the nice man that gave us leave to sketch from +the old houseboat.' + +Gideon's heart leaped with fear. + +'That's it,' returned the man. 'And what I wanted to say was as you +couldn't do it any more. You see I've let it.' + +'Let it!' cried Julia. + +'Let it for a month,' said the man. 'Seems strange, don't it? Can't see +what the party wants with it?' + +'It seems very romantic of him, I think,' said Julia, 'What sort of a +person is he?' + +Julia in her canoe, the landlord in his wherry, were close alongside, +and holding on by the gunwale of the houseboat; so that not a word was +lost on Gideon. + +'He's a music-man,' said the landlord, 'or at least that's what he told +me, miss; come down here to write an op'ra.' + +'Really!' cried Julia, 'I never heard of anything so delightful! Why, we +shall be able to slip down at night and hear him improvise! What is his +name?' + +'Jimson,' said the man. + +'Jimson?' repeated Julia, and interrogated her memory in vain. But +indeed our rising school of English music boasts so many professors that +we rarely hear of one till he is made a baronet. 'Are you sure you have +it right?' + +'Made him spell it to me,' replied the landlord. 'J-I-M-S-O-N--Jimson; +and his op'ra's called--some kind of tea.' + +'SOME KIND OF TEA!' cried the girl. 'What a very singular name for an +opera! What can it be about?' And Gideon heard her pretty laughter flow +abroad. 'We must try to get acquainted with this Mr Jimson; I feel sure +he must be nice.' + +'Well, miss, I'm afraid I must be going on. I've got to be at Haverham, +you see.' + +'O, don't let me keep you, you kind man!' said Julia. 'Good afternoon.' + +'Good afternoon to you, miss.' + +Gideon sat in the cabin a prey to the most harrowing thoughts. Here he +was anchored to a rotting houseboat, soon to be anchored to it still +more emphatically by the presence of the corpse, and here was the +country buzzing about him, and young ladies already proposing pleasure +parties to surround his house at night. Well, that meant the gallows; +and much he cared for that. What troubled him now was Julia's +indescribable levity. That girl would scrape acquaintance with anybody; +she had no reserve, none of the enamel of the lady. She was familiar +with a brute like his landlord; she took an immediate interest (which +she lacked even the delicacy to conceal) in a creature like Jimson! He +could conceive her asking Jimson to have tea with her! And it was for a +girl like this that a man like Gideon--Down, manly heart! + +He was interrupted by a sound that sent him whipping behind the door in +a trice. Miss Hazeltine had stepped on board the houseboat. Her sketch +was promising; judging from the stillness, she supposed Jimson not yet +come; and she had decided to seize occasion and complete the work +of art. Down she sat therefore in the bow, produced her block and +water-colours, and was soon singing over (what used to be called) the +ladylike accomplishment. Now and then indeed her song was interrupted, +as she searched in her memory for some of the odious little receipts +by means of which the game is practised--or used to be practised in the +brave days of old; they say the world, and those ornaments of the world, +young ladies, are become more sophisticated now; but Julia had probably +studied under Pitman, and she stood firm in the old ways. + +Gideon, meanwhile, stood behind the door, afraid to move, afraid to +breathe, afraid to think of what must follow, racked by confinement and +borne to the ground with tedium. This particular phase, he felt with +gratitude, could not last for ever; whatever impended (even the gallows, +he bitterly and perhaps erroneously reflected) could not fail to be +a relief. To calculate cubes occurred to him as an ingenious and even +profitable refuge from distressing thoughts, and he threw his manhood +into that dreary exercise. + +Thus, then, were these two young persons occupied--Gideon attacking the +perfect number with resolution; Julia vigorously stippling incongruous +colours on her block, when Providence dispatched into these waters a +steam-launch asthmatically panting up the Thames. All along the banks +the water swelled and fell, and the reeds rustled. The houseboat itself, +that ancient stationary creature, became suddenly imbued with life, and +rolled briskly at her moorings, like a sea-going ship when she begins +to smell the harbour bar. The wash had nearly died away, and the quick +panting of the launch sounded already faint and far off, when Gideon was +startled by a cry from Julia. Peering through the window, he beheld +her staring disconsolately downstream at the fast-vanishing canoe. +The barrister (whatever were his faults) displayed on this occasion a +promptitude worthy of his hero, Robert Skill; with one effort of his +mind he foresaw what was about to follow; with one movement of his body +he dropped to the floor and crawled under the table. + +Julia, on her part, was not yet alive to her position. She saw she had +lost the canoe, and she looked forward with something less than avidity +to her next interview with Mr Bloomfield; but she had no idea that she +was imprisoned, for she knew of the plank bridge. + +She made the circuit of the house, and found the door open and the +bridge withdrawn. It was plain, then, that Jimson must have come; +plain, too, that he must be on board. He must be a very shy man to +have suffered this invasion of his residence, and made no sign; and her +courage rose higher at the thought. He must come now, she must force him +from his privacy, for the plank was too heavy for her single strength; +so she tapped upon the open door. Then she tapped again. + +'Mr Jimson,' she cried, 'Mr Jimson! here, come!--you must come, you +know, sooner or later, for I can't get off without you. O, don't be so +exceedingly silly! O, please, come!' + +Still there was no reply. + +'If he is here he must be mad,' she thought, with a little fear. And the +next moment she remembered he had probably gone aboard like herself in +a boat. In that case she might as well see the houseboat, and she pushed +open the door and stepped in. Under the table, where he lay smothered +with dust, Gideon's heart stood still. + +There were the remains of Jimson's lunch. 'He likes rather nice things +to eat,' she thought. 'O, I am sure he is quite a delightful man. I +wonder if he is as good-looking as Mr Forsyth. Mrs Jimson--I don't +believe it sounds as nice as Mrs Forsyth; but then "Gideon" is so really +odious! And here is some of his music too; this is delightful. Orange +Pekoe--O, that's what he meant by some kind of tea.' And she trilled +with laughter. 'Adagio molto espressivo, sempre legato,' she read +next. (For the literary part of a composer's business Gideon was well +equipped.) 'How very strange to have all these directions, and +only three or four notes! O, here's another with some more. Andante +patetico.' And she began to glance over the music. 'O dear me,' she +thought, 'he must be terribly modern! It all seems discords to me. Let's +try the air. It is very strange, it seems familiar.' She began to sing +it, and suddenly broke off with laughter. 'Why, it's "Tommy make room +for your Uncle!"' she cried aloud, so that the soul of Gideon was filled +with bitterness. 'Andante patetico, indeed! The man must be a mere +impostor.' + +And just at this moment there came a confused, scuffling sound from +underneath the table; a strange note, like that of a barn-door fowl, +ushered in a most explosive sneeze; the head of the sufferer was at +the same time brought smartly in contact with the boards above; and the +sneeze was followed by a hollow groan. + +Julia fled to the door, and there, with the salutary instinct of the +brave, turned and faced the danger. There was no pursuit. The sounds +continued; below the table a crouching figure was indistinctly to be +seen jostled by the throes of a sneezing-fit; and that was all. + +'Surely,' thought Julia, 'this is most unusual behaviour. He cannot be a +man of the world!' + +Meanwhile the dust of years had been disturbed by the young barrister's +convulsions; and the sneezing-fit was succeeded by a passionate access +of coughing. + +Julia began to feel a certain interest. 'I am afraid you are really +quite ill,' she said, drawing a little nearer. 'Please don't let me put +you out, and do not stay under that table, Mr Jimson. Indeed it cannot +be good for you.' + +Mr Jimson only answered by a distressing cough; and the next moment +the girl was on her knees, and their faces had almost knocked together +under the table. + +'O, my gracious goodness!' exclaimed Miss Hazeltine, and sprang to her +feet. 'Mr Forsyth gone mad!' + +'I am not mad,' said the gentleman ruefully, extricating himself from +his position. 'Dearest. Miss Hazeltine, I vow to you upon my knees I am +not mad!' + +'You are not!' she cried, panting. + +'I know,' he said, 'that to a superficial eye my conduct may appear +unconventional.' + +'If you are not mad, it was no conduct at all,' cried the girl, with +a flash of colour, 'and showed you did not care one penny for my +feelings!' + +'This is the very devil and all. I know--I admit that,' cried Gideon, +with a great effort of manly candour. + +'It was abominable conduct!' said Julia, with energy. + +'I know it must have shaken your esteem,' said the barrister. 'But, +dearest Miss Hazeltine, I beg of you to hear me out; my behaviour, +strange as it may seem, is not unsusceptible of explanation; and I +positively cannot and will not consent to continue to try to exist +without--without the esteem of one whom I admire--the moment is ill +chosen, I am well aware of that; but I repeat the expression--one whom I +admire.' + +A touch of amusement appeared on Miss Hazeltine's face. 'Very well,' +said she, 'come out of this dreadfully cold place, and let us sit down +on deck.' The barrister dolefully followed her. 'Now,' said she, making +herself comfortable against the end of the house, 'go on. I will hear +you out.' And then, seeing him stand before her with so much obvious +disrelish to the task, she was suddenly overcome with laughter. Julia's +laugh was a thing to ravish lovers; she rolled her mirthful descant with +the freedom and the melody of a blackbird's song upon the river, and +repeated by the echoes of the farther bank. It seemed a thing in its own +place and a sound native to the open air. There was only one creature +who heard it without joy, and that was her unfortunate admirer. + +'Miss Hazeltine,' he said, in a voice that tottered with annoyance, 'I +speak as your sincere well-wisher, but this can only be called levity.' + +Julia made great eyes at him. + +'I can't withdraw the word,' he said: 'already the freedom with which I +heard you hobnobbing with a boatman gave me exquisite pain. Then there +was a want of reserve about Jimson--' + +'But Jimson appears to be yourself,' objected Julia. + +'I am far from denying that,' cried the barrister, 'but you did not +know it at the time. What could Jimson be to you? Who was Jimson? Miss +Hazeltine, it cut me to the heart.' + +'Really this seems to me to be very silly,' returned Julia, with severe +decision. 'You have behaved in the most extraordinary manner; you +pretend you are able to explain your conduct, and instead of doing so +you begin to attack me.' + +'I am well aware of that,' replied Gideon. 'I--I will make a clean +breast of it. When you know all the circumstances you will be able to +excuse me. + +And sitting down beside her on the deck, he poured forth his miserable +history. + +'O, Mr Forsyth,' she cried, when he had done, 'I am--so--sorry! wish +I hadn't laughed at you--only you know you really were so exceedingly +funny. But I wish I hadn't, and I wouldn't either if I had only known.' +And she gave him her hand. + +Gideon kept it in his own. 'You do not think the worse of me for this?' +he asked tenderly. + +'Because you have been so silly and got into such dreadful trouble? you +poor boy, no!' cried Julia; and, in the warmth of the moment, reached +him her other hand; 'you may count on me,' she added. + +'Really?' said Gideon. + +'Really and really!' replied the girl. + +'I do then, and I will,' cried the young man. 'I admit the moment is not +well chosen; but I have no friends--to speak of.' + +'No more have I,' said Julia. 'But don't you think it's perhaps time you +gave me back my hands?' + +'La ci darem la mano,' said the barrister, 'the merest moment more! I +have so few friends,' he added. + +'I thought it was considered such a bad account of a young man to have +no friends,' observed Julia. + +'O, but I have crowds of FRIENDS!' cried Gideon. 'That's not what I +mean. I feel the moment is ill chosen; but O, Julia, if you could only +see yourself!' + +'Mr Forsyth--' + +'Don't call me by that beastly name!' cried the youth. 'Call me Gideon!' + +'O, never that,' from Julia. 'Besides, we have known each other such a +short time.' + +'Not at all!' protested Gideon. 'We met at Bournemouth ever so long ago. +I never forgot you since. Say you never forgot me. Say you never forgot +me, and call me Gideon!' + +'Isn't this rather--a want of reserve about Jimson?' enquired the girl. + +'O, I know I am an ass,' cried the barrister, 'and I don't care a +halfpenny! I know I'm an ass, and you may laugh at me to your heart's +delight.' And as Julia's lips opened with a smile, he once more dropped +into music. 'There's the Land of Cherry Isle!' he sang, courting her +with his eyes. + +'It's like an opera,' said Julia, rather faintly. + +'What should it be?' said Gideon. 'Am I not Jimson? It would be strange +if I did not serenade my love. O yes, I mean the word, my Julia; and I +mean to win you. I am in dreadful trouble, and I have not a penny of +my own, and I have cut the silliest figure; and yet I mean to win you, +Julia. Look at me, if you can, and tell me no!' + +She looked at him; and whatever her eyes may have told him, it is to be +supposed he took a pleasure in the message, for he read it a long while. + +'And Uncle Ned will give us some money to go on upon in the meanwhile,' +he said at last. + +'Well, I call that cool!' said a cheerful voice at his elbow. + +Gideon and Julia sprang apart with wonderful alacrity; the latter +annoyed to observe that although they had never moved since they sat +down, they were now quite close together; both presenting faces of a +very heightened colour to the eyes of Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield. That +gentleman, coming up the river in his boat, had captured the truant +canoe, and divining what had happened, had thought to steal a march upon +Miss Hazeltine at her sketch. He had unexpectedly brought down two birds +with one stone; and as he looked upon the pair of flushed and breathless +culprits, the pleasant human instinct of the matchmaker softened his +heart. + +'Well, I call that cool,' he repeated; 'you seem to count very securely +upon Uncle Ned. But look here, Gid, I thought I had told you to keep +away?' + +'To keep away from Maidenhead,' replied Gid. 'But how should I expect to +find you here?' + +'There is something in that,' Mr Bloomfield admitted. 'You see I thought +it better that even you should be ignorant of my address; those rascals, +the Finsburys, would have wormed it out of you. And just to put them off +the scent I hoisted these abominable colours. But that is not all, +Gid; you promised me to work, and here I find you playing the fool at +Padwick.' + +'Please, Mr Bloomfield, you must not be hard on Mr Forsyth,' said Julia. +'Poor boy, he is in dreadful straits.' + +'What's this, Gid?' enquired the uncle. 'Have you been fighting? or is +it a bill?' + +These, in the opinion of the Squirradical, were the two misfortunes +incident to gentlemen; and indeed both were culled from his own career. +He had once put his name (as a matter of form) on a friend's paper; it +had cost him a cool thousand; and the friend had gone about with the +fear of death upon him ever since, and never turned a corner without +scouting in front of him for Mr Bloomfield and the oaken staff. As for +fighting, the Squirradical was always on the brink of it; and once, when +(in the character of president of a Radical club) he had cleared out +the hall of his opponents, things had gone even further. Mr Holtum, +the Conservative candidate, who lay so long on the bed of sickness, was +prepared to swear to Mr Bloomfield. 'I will swear to it in any court--it +was the hand of that brute that struck me down,' he was reported to have +said; and when he was thought to be sinking, it was known that he had +made an ante-mortem statement in that sense. It was a cheerful day for +the Squirradical when Holtum was restored to his brewery. + +'It's much worse than that,' said Gideon; 'a combination of +circumstances really providentially unjust--a--in fact, a syndicate of +murderers seem to have perceived my latent ability to rid them of the +traces of their crime. It's a legal study after all, you see!' And with +these words, Gideon, for the second time that day, began to describe the +adventures of the Broadwood Grand. + +'I must write to The Times,' cried Mr Bloomfield. + +'Do you want to get me disbarred?' asked Gideon. + +'Disbarred! Come, it can't be as bad as that,' said his uncle. 'It's +a good, honest, Liberal Government that's in, and they would certainly +move at my request. Thank God, the days of Tory jobbery are at an end.' + +'It wouldn't do, Uncle Ned,' said Gideon. + +'But you're not mad enough,' cried Mr Bloomfield, 'to persist in trying +to dispose of it yourself?' + +'There is no other path open to me,' said Gideon. + +'It's not common sense, and I will not hear of it,' cried Mr Bloomfield. +'I command you, positively, Gid, to desist from this criminal +interference.' + +'Very well, then, I hand it over to you,' said Gideon, 'and you can do +what you like with the dead body.' + +'God forbid!' ejaculated the president of the Radical Club, 'I'll have +nothing to do with it.' + +'Then you must allow me to do the best I can,' returned his nephew. +'Believe me, I have a distinct talent for this sort of difficulty.' + +'We might forward it to that pest-house, the Conservative Club,' +observed Mr Bloomfield. 'It might damage them in the eyes of their +constituents; and it could be profitably worked up in the local +journal.' + +'If you see any political capital in the thing,' said Gideon, 'you may +have it for me.' + +'No, no, Gid--no, no, I thought you might. I will have no hand in the +thing. On reflection, it's highly undesirable that either I or Miss +Hazeltine should linger here. We might be observed,' said the +president, looking up and down the river; 'and in my public position +the consequences would be painful for the party. And, at any rate, it's +dinner-time.' + +'What?' cried Gideon, plunging for his watch. 'And so it is! Great +heaven, the piano should have been here hours ago!' + +Mr Bloomfield was clambering back into his boat; but at these words he +paused. + +'I saw it arrive myself at the station; I hired a carrier man; he had a +round to make, but he was to be here by four at the latest,' cried the +barrister. 'No doubt the piano is open, and the body found.' + +'You must fly at once,' cried Mr Bloomfield, 'it's the only manly step.' + +'But suppose it's all right?' wailed Gideon. 'Suppose the piano comes, +and I am not here to receive it? I shall have hanged myself by my +cowardice. No, Uncle Ned, enquiries must be made in Padwick; I dare +not go, of course; but you may--you could hang about the police office, +don't you see?' + +'No, Gid--no, my dear nephew,' said Mr Bloomfield, with the voice of one +on the rack. 'I regard you with the most sacred affection; and I thank +God I am an Englishman--and all that. But not--not the police, Gid.' + +'Then you desert me?' said Gideon. 'Say it plainly.' + +'Far from it! far from it!' protested Mr Bloomfield. 'I only propose +caution. Common sense, Gid, should always be an Englishman's guide.' + +'Will you let me speak?' said Julia. 'I think Gideon had better leave +this dreadful houseboat, and wait among the willows over there. If the +piano comes, then he could step out and take it in; and if the police +come, he could slip into our houseboat, and there needn't be any +more Jimson at all. He could go to bed, and we could burn his clothes +(couldn't we?) in the steam-launch; and then really it seems as if it +would be all right. Mr Bloomfield is so respectable, you know, and such +a leading character, it would be quite impossible even to fancy that he +could be mixed up with it.' + +'This young lady has strong common sense,' said the Squirradical. + +'O, I don't think I'm at all a fool,' said Julia, with conviction. + +'But what if neither of them come?' asked Gideon; 'what shall I do +then?' + +'Why then,' said she, 'you had better go down to the village after dark; +and I can go with you, and then I am sure you could never be suspected; +and even if you were, I could tell them it was altogether a mistake.' + +'I will not permit that--I will not suffer Miss Hazeltine to go,' cried +Mr Bloomfield. + +'Why?' asked Julia. + +Mr Bloomfield had not the least desire to tell her why, for it was +simply a craven fear of being drawn himself into the imbroglio; but with +the usual tactics of a man who is ashamed of himself, he took the high +hand. 'God forbid, my dear Miss Hazeltine, that I should dictate to a +lady on the question of propriety--' he began. + +'O, is that all?' interrupted Julia. 'Then we must go all three.' + +'Caught!' thought the Squirradical. + + + +CHAPTER XII. Positively the Last Appearance of the Broadwood Grand + +England is supposed to be unmusical; but without dwelling on the +patronage extended to the organ-grinder, without seeking to found any +argument on the prevalence of the jew's trump, there is surely one +instrument that may be said to be national in the fullest acceptance +of the word. The herdboy in the broom, already musical in the days of +Father Chaucer, startles (and perhaps pains) the lark with this exiguous +pipe; and in the hands of the skilled bricklayer, + +'The thing becomes a trumpet, whence he blows' + +(as a general rule) either 'The British Grenadiers' or 'Cherry Ripe'. +The latter air is indeed the shibboleth and diploma piece of the +penny whistler; I hazard a guess it was originally composed for this +instrument. It is singular enough that a man should be able to gain +a livelihood, or even to tide over a period of unemployment, by the +display of his proficiency upon the penny whistle; still more so, that +the professional should almost invariably confine himself to 'Cherry +Ripe'. But indeed, singularities surround the subject, thick like +blackberries. Why, for instance, should the pipe be called a penny +whistle? I think no one ever bought it for a penny. Why should the +alternative name be tin whistle? I am grossly deceived if it be made +of tin. Lastly, in what deaf catacomb, in what earless desert, does the +beginner pass the excruciating interval of his apprenticeship? We have +all heard people learning the piano, the fiddle, and the cornet; but +the young of the penny whistler (like that of the salmon) is occult from +observation; he is never heard until proficient; and providence (perhaps +alarmed by the works of Mr Mallock) defends human hearing from his first +attempts upon the upper octave. + +A really noteworthy thing was taking place in a green lane, not far from +Padwick. On the bench of a carrier's cart there sat a tow-headed, lanky, +modest-looking youth; the reins were on his lap; the whip lay behind +him in the interior of the cart; the horse proceeded without guidance +or encouragement; the carrier (or the carrier's man), rapt into a higher +sphere than that of his daily occupations, his looks dwelling on the +skies, devoted himself wholly to a brand-new D penny whistle, whence he +diffidently endeavoured to elicit that pleasing melody 'The Ploughboy'. +To any observant person who should have chanced to saunter in that lane, +the hour would have been thrilling. 'Here at last,' he would have said, +'is the beginner.' + +The tow-headed youth (whose name was Harker) had just encored himself +for the nineteenth time, when he was struck into the extreme of +confusion by the discovery that he was not alone. + +'There you have it!' cried a manly voice from the side of the road. + +'That's as good as I want to hear. Perhaps a leetle oilier in the run,' +the voice suggested, with meditative gusto. 'Give it us again.' + +Harker glanced, from the depths of his humiliation, at the speaker. He +beheld a powerful, sun-brown, clean-shaven fellow, about forty years of +age, striding beside the cart with a non-commissioned military bearing, +and (as he strode) spinning in the air a cane. The fellow's clothes were +very bad, but he looked clean and self-reliant. + +'I'm only a beginner,' gasped the blushing Harker, 'I didn't think +anybody could hear me.' + +'Well, I like that!' returned the other. 'You're a pretty old beginner. +Come, I'll give you a lead myself. Give us a seat here beside you.' + +The next moment the military gentleman was perched on the cart, pipe in +hand. He gave the instrument a knowing rattle on the shaft, mouthed it, +appeared to commune for a moment with the muse, and dashed into 'The +girl I left behind me'. He was a great, rather than a fine, performer; +he lacked the bird-like richness; he could scarce have extracted all +the honey out of 'Cherry Ripe'; he did not fear--he even ostentatiously +displayed and seemed to revel in he shrillness of the instrument; but +in fire, speed, precision, evenness, and fluency; in linked agility of +jimmy--a technical expression, by your leave, answering to warblers on +the bagpipe; and perhaps, above all, in that inspiring side-glance of +the eye, with which he followed the effect and (as by a human appeal) +eked out the insufficiency of his performance: in these, the fellow +stood without a rival. Harker listened: 'The girl I left behind me' +filled him with despair; 'The Soldier's Joy' carried him beyond jealousy +into generous enthusiasm. + +'Turn about,' said the military gentleman, offering the pipe. + +'O, not after you!' cried Harker; 'you're a professional.' + +'No,' said his companion; 'an amatyure like yourself. That's one style +of play, yours is the other, and I like it best. But I began when I was +a boy, you see, before my taste was formed. When you're my age you'll +play that thing like a cornet-a-piston. Give us that air again; how does +it go?' and he affected to endeavour to recall 'The Ploughboy'. + +A timid, insane hope sprang in the breast of Harker. Was it possible? +Was there something in his playing? It had, indeed, seemed to him at +times as if he got a kind of a richness out of it. Was he a genius? +Meantime the military gentleman stumbled over the air. + +'No,' said the unhappy Harker, 'that's not quite it. It goes this +way--just to show you.' + +And, taking the pipe between his lips, he sealed his doom. When he had +played the air, and then a second time, and a third; when the military +gentleman had tried it once more, and once more failed; when it became +clear to Harker that he, the blushing debutant, was actually giving a +lesson to this full-grown flutist--and the flutist under his care was +not very brilliantly progressing--how am I to tell what floods of glory +brightened the autumnal countryside; how, unless the reader were an +amateur himself, describe the heights of idiotic vanity to which +the carrier climbed? One significant fact shall paint the situation: +thenceforth it was Harker who played, and the military gentleman +listened and approved. + +As he listened, however, he did not forget the habit of soldierly +precaution, looking both behind and before. He looked behind and +computed the value of the carrier's load, divining the contents of the +brown-paper parcels and the portly hamper, and briefly setting down the +grand piano in the brand-new piano-case as 'difficult to get rid of'. +He looked before, and spied at the corner of the green lane a little +country public-house embowered in roses. 'I'll have a shy at it,' +concluded the military gentleman, and roundly proposed a glass. 'Well, +I'm not a drinking man,' said Harker. + +'Look here, now,' cut in the other, 'I'll tell you who I am: I'm +Colour-Sergeant Brand of the Blankth. That'll tell you if I'm a drinking +man or not.' It might and it might not, thus a Greek chorus would have +intervened, and gone on to point out how very far it fell short of +telling why the sergeant was tramping a country lane in tatters; or even +to argue that he must have pretermitted some while ago his labours for +the general defence, and (in the interval) possibly turned his attention +to oakum. But there was no Greek chorus present; and the man of war went +on to contend that drinking was one thing and a friendly glass another. + +In the Blue Lion, which was the name of the country public-house, +Colour-Sergeant Brand introduced his new friend, Mr Harker, to a +number of ingenious mixtures, calculated to prevent the approaches of +intoxication. These he explained to be 'rekisite' in the service, so +that a self-respecting officer should always appear upon parade in a +condition honourable to his corps. The most efficacious of these devices +was to lace a pint of mild ale with twopenceworth of London gin. I am +pleased to hand in this recipe to the discerning reader, who may find +it useful even in civil station; for its effect upon Mr Harker was +revolutionary. He must be helped on board his own waggon, where he +proceeded to display a spirit entirely given over to mirth and music, +alternately hooting with laughter, to which the sergeant hastened to +bear chorus, and incoherently tootling on the pipe. The man of war, +meantime, unostentatiously possessed himself of the reins. It was plain +he had a taste for the secluded beauties of an English landscape; for +the cart, although it wandered under his guidance for some time, was +never observed to issue on the dusty highway, journeying between hedge +and ditch, and for the most part under overhanging boughs. It was plain, +besides, he had an eye to the true interests of Mr Harker; for though +the cart drew up more than once at the doors of public-houses, it was +only the sergeant who set foot to ground, and, being equipped himself +with a quart bottle, once more proceeded on his rural drive. + +To give any idea of the complexity of the sergeant's course, a map of +that part of Middlesex would be required, and my publisher is averse +from the expense. Suffice it, that a little after the night had closed, +the cart was brought to a standstill in a woody road; where the sergeant +lifted from among the parcels, and tenderly deposited upon the wayside, +the inanimate form of Harker. + +'If you come-to before daylight,' thought the sergeant, 'I shall be +surprised for one.' + +From the various pockets of the slumbering carrier he gently collected +the sum of seventeen shillings and eightpence sterling; and, getting +once more into the cart, drove thoughtfully away. + +'If I was exactly sure of where I was, it would be a good job,' he +reflected. 'Anyway, here's a corner.' + +He turned it, and found himself upon the riverside. A little above him +the lights of a houseboat shone cheerfully; and already close at hand, +so close that it was impossible to avoid their notice, three persons, a +lady and two gentlemen, were deliberately drawing near. The sergeant put +his trust in the convenient darkness of the night, and drove on to meet +them. One of the gentlemen, who was of a portly figure, walked in the +midst of the fairway, and presently held up a staff by way of signal. + +'My man, have you seen anything of a carrier's cart?' he cried. + +Dark as it was, it seemed to the sergeant as though the slimmer of +the two gentlemen had made a motion to prevent the other speaking, and +(finding himself too late) had skipped aside with some alacrity. At +another season, Sergeant Brand would have paid more attention to the +fact; but he was then immersed in the perils of his own predicament. + +'A carrier's cart?' said he, with a perceptible uncertainty of voice. +'No, sir.' + +'Ah!' said the portly gentleman, and stood aside to let the sergeant +pass. The lady appeared to bend forward and study the cart with every +mark of sharpened curiosity, the slimmer gentleman still keeping in the +rear. + +'I wonder what the devil they would be at,' thought Sergeant Brand; and, +looking fearfully back, he saw the trio standing together in the midst +of the way, like folk consulting. The bravest of military heroes are +not always equal to themselves as to their reputation; and fear, on some +singular provocation, will find a lodgment in the most unfamiliar bosom. +The word 'detective' might have been heard to gurgle in the sergeant's +throat; and vigorously applying the whip, he fled up the riverside road +to Great Haverham, at the gallop of the carrier's horse. The lights of +the houseboat flashed upon the flying waggon as it passed; the beat of +hoofs and the rattle of the vehicle gradually coalesced and died away; +and presently, to the trio on the riverside, silence had redescended. + +'It's the most extraordinary thing,' cried the slimmer of the two +gentlemen, 'but that's the cart.' + +'And I know I saw a piano,' said the girl. + +'O, it's the cart, certainly; and the extraordinary thing is, it's not +the man,' added the first. + +'It must be the man, Gid, it must be,' said the portly one. + +'Well, then, why is he running away?' asked Gideon. + +'His horse bolted, I suppose,' said the Squirradical. + +'Nonsense! I heard the whip going like a flail,' said Gideon. 'It simply +defies the human reason.' + +'I'll tell you,' broke in the girl, 'he came round that corner. Suppose +we went and--what do you call it in books?--followed his trail? There +may be a house there, or somebody who saw him, or something.' + +'Well, suppose we did, for the fun of the thing,' said Gideon. + +The fun of the thing (it would appear) consisted in the extremely close +juxtaposition of himself and Miss Hazeltine. To Uncle Ned, who was +excluded from these simple pleasures, the excursion appeared hopeless +from the first; and when a fresh perspective of darkness opened up, +dimly contained between park palings on the one side and a hedge and +ditch upon the other, the whole without the smallest signal of human +habitation, the Squirradical drew up. + +'This is a wild-goose chase,' said he. + +With the cessation of the footfalls, another sound smote upon their +ears. + +'O, what's that?' cried Julia. + +'I can't think,' said Gideon. + +The Squirradical had his stick presented like a sword. 'Gid,' he began, +'Gid, I--' + +'O Mr Forsyth!' cried the girl. 'O don't go forward, you don't know what +it might be--it might be something perfectly horrid.' + +'It may be the devil itself,' said Gideon, disengaging himself, 'but I +am going to see it.' + +'Don't be rash, Gid,' cried his uncle. + +The barrister drew near to the sound, which was certainly of a +portentous character. In quality it appeared to blend the strains of +the cow, the fog-horn, and the mosquito; and the startling manner of its +enunciation added incalculably to its terrors. A dark object, not unlike +the human form divine, appeared on the brink of the ditch. + +'It's a man,' said Gideon, 'it's only a man; he seems to be asleep and +snoring. Hullo,' he added, a moment after, 'there must be something +wrong with him, he won't waken.' + +Gideon produced his vestas, struck one, and by its light recognized the +tow head of Harker. + +'This is the man,' said he, 'as drunk as Belial. I see the whole story'; +and to his two companions, who had now ventured to rejoin him, he set +forth a theory of the divorce between the carrier and his cart, which +was not unlike the truth. + +'Drunken brute!' said Uncle Ned, 'let's get him to a pump and give him +what he deserves.' + +'Not at all!' said Gideon. 'It is highly undesirable he should see us +together; and really, do you know, I am very much obliged to him, for +this is about the luckiest thing that could have possibly occurred. It +seems to me--Uncle Ned, I declare to heaven it seems to me--I'm clear of +it!' + +'Clear of what?' asked the Squirradical. + +'The whole affair!' cried Gideon. 'That man has been ass enough to steal +the cart and the dead body; what he hopes to do with it I neither know +nor care. My hands are free, Jimson ceases; down with Jimson. Shake +hands with me, Uncle Ned--Julia, darling girl, Julia, I--' + +'Gideon, Gideon!' said his uncle. 'O, it's all right, uncle, when +we're going to be married so soon,' said Gideon. 'You know you said so +yourself in the houseboat.' + +'Did I?' said Uncle Ned; 'I am certain I said no such thing.' + +'Appeal to him, tell him he did, get on his soft side,' cried Gideon. +'He's a real brick if you get on his soft side.' + +'Dear Mr Bloomfield,' said Julia, 'I know Gideon will be such a very +good boy, and he has promised me to do such a lot of law, and I will +see that he does too. And you know it is so very steadying to young men, +everybody admits that; though, of course, I know I have no money, Mr +Bloomfield,' she added. + +'My dear young lady, as this rapscallion told you today on the boat, +Uncle Ned has plenty,' said the Squirradical, 'and I can never forget +that you have been shamefully defrauded. So as there's nobody looking, +you had better give your Uncle Ned a kiss. There, you rogue,' resumed +Mr Bloomfield, when the ceremony had been daintily performed, 'this very +pretty young lady is yours, and a vast deal more than you deserve. But +now, let us get back to the houseboat, get up steam on the launch, and +away back to town.' + +'That's the thing!' cried Gideon; 'and tomorrow there will be no +houseboat, and no Jimson, and no carrier's cart, and no piano; and when +Harker awakes on the ditchside, he may tell himself the whole affair has +been a dream.' + +'Aha!' said Uncle Ned, 'but there's another man who will have a +different awakening. That fellow in the cart will find he has been too +clever by half.' + +'Uncle Ned and Julia,' said Gideon, 'I am as happy as the King of +Tartary, my heart is like a threepenny-bit, my heels are like feathers; +I am out of all my troubles, Julia's hand is in mine. Is this a time +for anything but handsome sentiments? Why, there's not room in me for +anything that's not angelic! And when I think of that poor unhappy devil +in the cart, I stand here in the night and cry with a single heart God +help him!' + +'Amen,' said Uncle Ned. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the Second + +In a really polite age of literature I would have scorned to cast my eye +again on the contortions of Morris. But the study is in the spirit of +the day; it presents, besides, features of a high, almost a repulsive, +morality; and if it should prove the means of preventing any respectable +and inexperienced gentleman from plunging light-heartedly into crime, +even political crime, this work will not have been penned in vain. + +He rose on the morrow of his night with Michael, rose from the leaden +slumber of distress, to find his hand tremulous, his eyes closed with +rheum, his throat parched, and his digestion obviously paralysed. +'Lord knows it's not from eating!' Morris thought; and as he dressed +he reconsidered his position under several heads. Nothing will so well +depict the troubled seas in which he was now voyaging as a review +of these various anxieties. I have thrown them (for the reader's +convenience) into a certain order; but in the mind of one poor human +equal they whirled together like the dust of hurricanes. With the same +obliging preoccupation, I have put a name to each of his distresses; +and it will be observed with pity that every individual item would have +graced and commended the cover of a railway novel. + +Anxiety the First: Where is the Body? or, The Mystery of Bent Pitman. It +was now manifestly plain that Bent Pitman (as was to be looked for from +his ominous appellation) belonged to the darker order of the criminal +class. An honest man would not have cashed the bill; a humane man would +not have accepted in silence the tragic contents of the water-butt; a +man, who was not already up to the hilts in gore, would have lacked +the means of secretly disposing them. This process of reasoning left a +horrid image of the monster, Pitman. Doubtless he had long ago disposed +of the body--dropping it through a trapdoor in his back kitchen, Morris +supposed, with some hazy recollection of a picture in a penny dreadful; +and doubtless the man now lived in wanton splendour on the proceeds of +the bill. So far, all was peace. But with the profligate habits of a man +like Bent Pitman (who was no doubt a hunchback in the bargain), eight +hundred pounds could be easily melted in a week. When they were gone, +what would he be likely to do next? A hell-like voice in Morris's own +bosom gave the answer: 'Blackmail me.' + +Anxiety the Second: The Fraud of the Tontine; or, Is my Uncle dead? +This, on which all Morris's hopes depended, was yet a question. He had +tried to bully Teena; he had tried to bribe her; and nothing came of +it. He had his moral conviction still; but you cannot blackmail a sharp +lawyer on a moral conviction. And besides, since his interview with +Michael, the idea wore a less attractive countenance. Was Michael +the man to be blackmailed? and was Morris the man to do it? Grave +considerations. 'It's not that I'm afraid of him,' Morris so far +condescended to reassure himself; 'but I must be very certain of my +ground, and the deuce of it is, I see no way. How unlike is life to +novels! I wouldn't have even begun this business in a novel, but what +I'd have met a dark, slouching fellow in the Oxford Road, who'd have +become my accomplice, and known all about how to do it, and probably +broken into Michael's house at night and found nothing but a waxwork +image; and then blackmailed or murdered me. But here, in real life, I +might walk the streets till I dropped dead, and none of the criminal +classes would look near me. Though, to be sure, there is always Pitman,' +he added thoughtfully. + +Anxiety the Third: The Cottage at Browndean; or, The Underpaid +Accomplice. For he had an accomplice, and that accomplice was blooming +unseen in a damp cottage in Hampshire with empty pockets. What could be +done about that? He really ought to have sent him something; if it was +only a post-office order for five bob, enough to prove that he was kept +in mind, enough to keep him in hope, beer, and tobacco. 'But what +would you have?' thought Morris; and ruefully poured into his hand +a half-crown, a florin, and eightpence in small change. For a man in +Morris's position, at war with all society, and conducting, with the +hand of inexperience, a widely ramified intrigue, the sum was already a +derision. John would have to be doing; no mistake of that. 'But then,' +asked the hell-like voice, 'how long is John likely to stand it?' + +Anxiety the Fourth: The Leather Business; or, The Shutters at Last: a +Tale of the City. On this head Morris had no news. He had not yet dared +to visit the family concern; yet he knew he must delay no longer, and +if anything had been wanted to sharpen this conviction, Michael's +references of the night before rang ambiguously in his ear. Well and +good. To visit the city might be indispensable; but what was he to do +when he was there? He had no right to sign in his own name; and, with +all the will in the world, he seemed to lack the art of signing with +his uncle's. Under these circumstances, Morris could do nothing to +procrastinate the crash; and, when it came, when prying eyes began to be +applied to every joint of his behaviour, two questions could not fail to +be addressed, sooner or later, to a speechless and perspiring insolvent. +Where is Mr Joseph Finsbury? and how about your visit to the bank? +Questions, how easy to put!--ye gods, how impossible to answer! The man +to whom they should be addressed went certainly to gaol, and--eh! what +was this?--possibly to the gallows. Morris was trying to shave when this +idea struck him, and he laid the razor down. Here (in Michael's words) +was the total disappearance of a valuable uncle; here was a time of +inexplicable conduct on the part of a nephew who had been in bad +blood with the old man any time these seven years; what a chance for a +judicial blunder! 'But no,' thought Morris, 'they cannot, they dare not, +make it murder. Not that. But honestly, and speaking as a man to a man, +I don't see any other crime in the calendar (except arson) that I don't +seem somehow to have committed. And yet I'm a perfectly respectable man, +and wished nothing but my due. Law is a pretty business.' + +With this conclusion firmly seated in his mind, Morris Finsbury +descended to the hall of the house in John Street, still half-shaven. +There was a letter in the box; he knew the handwriting: John at last! + +'Well, I think I might have been spared this,' he said bitterly, and +tore it open. + +Dear Morris [it ran], what the dickens do you mean by it? I'm in an +awful hole down here; I have to go on tick, and the parties on the spot +don't cotton to the idea; they couldn't, because it is so plain I'm in a +stait of Destitution. I've got no bedclothes, think of that, I must have +coins, the hole thing's a Mockry, I wont stand it, nobody would. I would +have come away before, only I have no money for the railway fare. Don't +be a lunatic, Morris, you don't seem to understand my dredful situation. +I have to get the stamp on tick. A fact. + +--Ever your affte. Brother, + +J. FINSBURY + +'Can't even spell!' Morris reflected, as he crammed the letter in his +pocket, and left the house. 'What can I do for him? I have to go to the +expense of a barber, I'm so shattered! How can I send anybody coins? +It's hard lines, I daresay; but does he think I'm living on hot muffins? +One comfort,' was his grim reflection, 'he can't cut and run--he's got +to stay; he's as helpless as the dead.' And then he broke forth again: +'Complains, does he? and he's never even heard of Bent Pitman! If he had +what I have on my mind, he might complain with a good grace.' + +But these were not honest arguments, or not wholly honest; there was a +struggle in the mind of Morris; he could not disguise from himself that +his brother John was miserably situated at Browndean, without news, +without money, without bedclothes, without society or any entertainment; +and by the time he had been shaved and picked a hasty breakfast at a +coffee tavern, Morris had arrived at a compromise. + +'Poor Johnny,' he said to himself, 'he's in an awful box! I can't +send him coins, but I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll send him the Pink +Un--it'll cheer John up; and besides, it'll do his credit good getting +anything by post.' + +Accordingly, on his way to the leather business, whither he proceeded +(according to his thrifty habit) on foot, Morris purchased and +dispatched a single copy of that enlivening periodical, to which (in +a sudden pang of remorse) he added at random the Athenaeum, the +Revivalist, and the Penny Pictorial Weekly. So there was John set up +with literature, and Morris had laid balm upon his conscience. + +As if to reward him, he was received in his place of business with good +news. Orders were pouring in; there was a run on some of the back stock, +and the figure had gone up. Even the manager appeared elated. As for +Morris, who had almost forgotten the meaning of good news, he longed to +sob like a little child; he could have caught the manager (a pallid +man with startled eyebrows) to his bosom; he could have found it in +his generosity to give a cheque (for a small sum) to every clerk in +the counting-house. As he sat and opened his letters a chorus of airy +vocalists sang in his brain, to most exquisite music, 'This whole +concern may be profitable yet, profitable yet, profitable yet.' + +To him, in this sunny moment of relief, enter a Mr Rodgerson, a +creditor, but not one who was expected to be pressing, for his +connection with the firm was old and regular. + +'O, Finsbury,' said he, not without embarrassment, 'it's of course only +fair to let you know--the fact is, money is a trifle tight--I have some +paper out--for that matter, every one's complaining--and in short--' + +'It has never been our habit, Rodgerson,' said Morris, turning pale. +'But give me time to turn round, and I'll see what I can do; I daresay +we can let you have something to account.' + +'Well, that's just where is,' replied Rodgerson. 'I was tempted; I've +let the credit out of MY hands.' + +'Out of your hands?' repeated Morris. 'That's playing rather fast and +loose with us, Mr Rodgerson.' + +'Well, I got cent. for cent. for it,' said the other, 'on the nail, in a +certified cheque.' + +'Cent. for cent.!' cried Morris. 'Why, that's something like thirty per +cent. bonus; a singular thing! Who's the party?' + +'Don't know the man,' was the reply. 'Name of Moss.' + +'A Jew,' Morris reflected, when his visitor was gone. And what could a +Jew want with a claim of--he verified the amount in the books--a claim +of three five eight, nineteen, ten, against the house of Finsbury? And +why should he pay cent. for cent.? The figure proved the loyalty of +Rodgerson--even Morris admitted that. But it proved unfortunately +something else--the eagerness of Moss. The claim must have been wanted +instantly, for that day, for that morning even. Why? The mystery of Moss +promised to be a fit pendant to the mystery of Pitman. 'And just when +all was looking well too!' cried Morris, smiting his hand upon the desk. +And almost at the same moment Mr Moss was announced. + +Mr Moss was a radiant Hebrew, brutally handsome, and offensively polite. +He was acting, it appeared, for a third party; he understood nothing of +the circumstances; his client desired to have his position regularized; +but he would accept an antedated cheque--antedated by two months, if Mr +Finsbury chose. + +'But I don't understand this,' said Morris. 'What made you pay cent. per +cent. for it today?' + +Mr Moss had no idea; only his orders. + +'The whole thing is thoroughly irregular,' said Morris. 'It is not the +custom of the trade to settle at this time of the year. What are your +instructions if I refuse?' + +'I am to see Mr Joseph Finsbury, the head of the firm,' said Mr Moss. +'I was directed to insist on that; it was implied you had no status +here--the expressions are not mine.' + +'You cannot see Mr Joseph; he is unwell,' said Morris. + +'In that case I was to place the matter in the hands of a lawyer. Let +me see,' said Mr Moss, opening a pocket-book with, perhaps, suspicious +care, at the right place--'Yes--of Mr Michael Finsbury. A relation, +perhaps? In that case, I presume, the matter will be pleasantly +arranged.' + +To pass into the hands of Michael was too much for Morris. He struck his +colours. A cheque at two months was nothing, after all. In two months +he would probably be dead, or in a gaol at any rate. He bade the manager +give Mr Moss a chair and the paper. 'I'm going over to get a cheque +signed by Mr Finsbury,' said he, 'who is lying ill at John Street.' + +A cab there and a cab back; here were inroads on his wretched capital! +He counted the cost; when he was done with Mr Moss he would be left with +twelvepence-halfpenny in the world. What was even worse, he had now been +forced to bring his uncle up to Bloomsbury. 'No use for poor Johnny +in Hampshire now,' he reflected. 'And how the farce is to be kept up +completely passes me. At Browndean it was just possible; in Bloomsbury +it seems beyond human ingenuity--though I suppose it's what Michael +does. But then he has accomplices--that Scotsman and the whole gang. Ah, +if I had accomplices!' + +Necessity is the mother of the arts. Under a spur so immediate, Morris +surprised himself by the neatness and dispatch of his new forgery, and +within three-fourths of an hour had handed it to Mr Moss. + +'That is very satisfactory,' observed that gentleman, rising. 'I was to +tell you it will not be presented, but you had better take care.' + +The room swam round Morris. 'What--what's that?' he cried, grasping the +table. He was miserably conscious the next moment of his shrill tongue +and ashen face. 'What do you mean--it will not be presented? Why am I to +take care? What is all this mummery?' + +'I have no idea, Mr Finsbury,' replied the smiling Hebrew. 'It was a +message I was to deliver. The expressions were put into my mouth.' + +'What is your client's name?' asked Morris. + +'That is a secret for the moment,' answered Mr Moss. Morris bent toward +him. 'It's not the bank?' he asked hoarsely. + +'I have no authority to say more, Mr Finsbury,' returned Mr Moss. 'I +will wish you a good morning, if you please.' + +'Wish me a good morning!' thought Morris; and the next moment, seizing +his hat, he fled from his place of business like a madman. Three streets +away he stopped and groaned. 'Lord! I should have borrowed from the +manager!' he cried. 'But it's too late now; it would look dicky to go +back; I'm penniless--simply penniless--like the unemployed.' + +He went home and sat in the dismantled dining-room with his head in his +hands. Newton never thought harder than this victim of circumstances, +and yet no clearness came. 'It may be a defect in my intelligence,' he +cried, rising to his feet, 'but I cannot see that I am fairly used. The +bad luck I've had is a thing to write to The Times about; it's enough to +breed a revolution. And the plain English of the whole thing is that I +must have money at once. I'm done with all morality now; I'm long past +that stage; money I must have, and the only chance I see is Bent Pitman. +Bent Pitman is a criminal, and therefore his position's weak. He must +have some of that eight hundred left; if he has I'll force him to go +shares; and even if he hasn't, I'll tell him the tontine affair, and +with a desperate man like Pitman at my back, it'll be strange if I don't +succeed.' + +Well and good. But how to lay hands upon Bent Pitman, except by +advertisement, was not so clear. And even so, in what terms to ask a +meeting? on what grounds? and where? Not at John Street, for it would +never do to let a man like Bent Pitman know your real address; nor yet +at Pitman's house, some dreadful place in Holloway, with a trapdoor +in the back kitchen; a house which you might enter in a light summer +overcoat and varnished boots, to come forth again piecemeal in a +market-basket. That was the drawback of a really efficient accomplice, +Morris felt, not without a shudder. 'I never dreamed I should come to +actually covet such society,' he thought. And then a brilliant idea +struck him. Waterloo Station, a public place, yet at certain hours of +the day a solitary; a place, besides, the very name of which must knock +upon the heart of Pitman, and at once suggest a knowledge of the latest +of his guilty secrets. Morris took a piece of paper and sketched his +advertisement. + + +WILLIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of +SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE on the far end of the main line departure +platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M., Sunday next. + +Morris reperused this literary trifle with approbation. 'Terse,' he +reflected. 'Something to his advantage is not strictly true; but it's +taking and original, and a man is not on oath in an advertisement. +All that I require now is the ready cash for my own meals and for the +advertisement, and--no, I can't lavish money upon John, but I'll give +him some more papers. How to raise the wind?' + +He approached his cabinet of signets, and the collector suddenly +revolted in his blood. 'I will not!' he cried; 'nothing shall induce me +to massacre my collection--rather theft!' And dashing upstairs to the +drawing-room, he helped himself to a few of his uncle's curiosities: +a pair of Turkish babooshes, a Smyrna fan, a water-cooler, a musket +guaranteed to have been seized from an Ephesian bandit, and a pocketful +of curious but incomplete seashells. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. William Bent Pitman Hears of Something to his Advantage + +On the morning of Sunday, William Dent Pitman rose at his usual hour, +although with something more than the usual reluctance. The day before +(it should be explained) an addition had been made to his family in the +person of a lodger. Michael Finsbury had acted sponsor in the business, +and guaranteed the weekly bill; on the other hand, no doubt with a spice +of his prevailing jocularity, he had drawn a depressing portrait of the +lodger's character. Mr Pitman had been led to understand his guest was +not good company; he had approached the gentleman with fear, and had +rejoiced to find himself the entertainer of an angel. At tea he had been +vastly pleased; till hard on one in the morning he had sat entranced by +eloquence and progressively fortified with information in the studio; +and now, as he reviewed over his toilet the harmless pleasures of +the evening, the future smiled upon him with revived attractions. 'Mr +Finsbury is indeed an acquisition,' he remarked to himself; and as +he entered the little parlour, where the table was already laid for +breakfast, the cordiality of his greeting would have befitted an +acquaintanceship already old. + +'I am delighted to see you, sir'--these were his expressions--'and I +trust you have slept well.' + +'Accustomed as I have been for so long to a life of almost perpetual +change,' replied the guest, 'the disturbance so often complained of by +the more sedentary, as attending their first night in (what is called) a +new bed, is a complaint from which I am entirely free.' + +'I am delighted to hear it,' said the drawing-master warmly. 'But I see +I have interrupted you over the paper.' + +'The Sunday paper is one of the features of the age,' said Mr Finsbury. +'In America, I am told, it supersedes all other literature, the bone and +sinew of the nation finding their requirements catered for; hundreds of +columns will be occupied with interesting details of the world's +doings, such as water-spouts, elopements, conflagrations, and public +entertainments; there is a corner for politics, ladies' work, chess, +religion, and even literature; and a few spicy editorials serve to +direct the course of public thought. It is difficult to estimate the +part played by such enormous and miscellaneous repositories in the +education of the people. But this (though interesting in itself) +partakes of the nature of a digression; and what I was about to ask you +was this: Are you yourself a student of the daily press?' + +'There is not much in the papers to interest an artist,' returned +Pitman. + +'In that case,' resumed Joseph, 'an advertisement which has appeared +the last two days in various journals, and reappears this morning, +may possibly have failed to catch your eye. The name, with a trifling +variation, bears a strong resemblance to your own. Ah, here it is. If +you please, I will read it to you: + +WILIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of +SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at the far end of the main line departure +platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M. today. + +'Is that in print?' cried Pitman. 'Let me see it! Bent? It must be Dent! +SOMETHING TO MY ADVANTAGE? Mr Finsbury, excuse me offering a word of +caution; I am aware how strangely this must sound in your ears, but +there are domestic reasons why this little circumstance might perhaps +be better kept between ourselves. Mrs Pitman--my dear Sir, I assure you +there is nothing dishonourable in my secrecy; the reasons are domestic, +merely domestic; and I may set your conscience at rest when I assure +you all the circumstances are known to our common friend, your excellent +nephew, Mr Michael, who has not withdrawn from me his esteem.' + +'A word is enough, Mr Pitman,' said Joseph, with one of his Oriental +reverences. + +Half an hour later, the drawing-master found Michael in bed and reading +a book, the picture of good-humour and repose. + +'Hillo, Pitman,' he said, laying down his book, 'what brings you here at +this inclement hour? Ought to be in church, my boy!' + +'I have little thought of church today, Mr Finsbury,' said the +drawing-master. 'I am on the brink of something new, Sir.' And he +presented the advertisement. + +'Why, what is this?' cried Michael, sitting suddenly up. He studied +it for half a minute with a frown. 'Pitman, I don't care about this +document a particle,' said he. + +'It will have to be attended to, however,' said Pitman. + +'I thought you'd had enough of Waterloo,' returned the lawyer. 'Have you +started a morbid craving? You've never been yourself anyway since you +lost that beard. I believe now it was where you kept your senses.' + +'Mr Finsbury,' said the drawing-master, 'I have tried to reason this +matter out, and, with your permission, I should like to lay before you +the results.' + +'Fire away,' said Michael; 'but please, Pitman, remember it's Sunday, +and let's have no bad language.' + +'There are three views open to us,' began Pitman. 'First this may +be connected with the barrel; second, it may be connected with Mr +Semitopolis's statue; and third, it may be from my wife's brother, who +went to Australia. In the first case, which is of course possible, I +confess the matter would be best allowed to drop.' + +'The court is with you there, Brother Pitman,' said Michael. + +'In the second,' continued the other, 'it is plainly my duty to leave no +stone unturned for the recovery of the lost antique.' + +'My dear fellow, Semitopolis has come down like a trump; he has pocketed +the loss and left you the profit. What more would you have?' enquired +the lawyer. + +'I conceive, sir, under correction, that Mr Semitopolis's generosity +binds me to even greater exertion,' said the drawing-master. 'The whole +business was unfortunate; it was--I need not disguise it from you--it +was illegal from the first: the more reason that I should try to behave +like a gentleman,' concluded Pitman, flushing. + +'I have nothing to say to that,' returned the lawyer. 'I have sometimes +thought I should like to try to behave like a gentleman myself; only +it's such a one-sided business, with the world and the legal profession +as they are.' + +'Then, in the third,' resumed the drawing-master, 'if it's Uncle Tim, of +course, our fortune's made.' + +'It's not Uncle Tim, though,' said the lawyer. + +'Have you observed that very remarkable expression: SOMETHING TO HIS +ADVANTAGE?' enquired Pitman shrewdly. + +'You innocent mutton,' said Michael, 'it's the seediest commonplace in +the English language, and only proves the advertiser is an ass. Let me +demolish your house of cards for you at once. Would Uncle Tim make +that blunder in your name?--in itself, the blunder is delicious, a huge +improvement on the gross reality, and I mean to adopt it in the future; +but is it like Uncle Tim?' + +'No, it's not like him,' Pitman admitted. 'But his mind may have become +unhinged at Ballarat.' + +'If you come to that, Pitman,' said Michael, 'the advertiser may be +Queen Victoria, fired with the desire to make a duke of you. I put it +to yourself if that's probable; and yet it's not against the laws of +nature. But we sit here to consider probabilities; and with your genteel +permission, I eliminate her Majesty and Uncle Tim on the threshold. To +proceed, we have your second idea, that this has some connection with +the statue. Possible; but in that case who is the advertiser? Not +Ricardi, for he knows your address; not the person who got the box, for +he doesn't know your name. The vanman, I hear you suggest, in a lucid +interval. He might have got your name, and got it incorrectly, at the +station; and he might have failed to get your address. I grant the +vanman. But a question: Do you really wish to meet the vanman?' + +'Why should I not?' asked Pitman. + +'If he wants to meet you,' replied Michael, 'observe this: it is because +he has found his address-book, has been to the house that got the +statue, and-mark my words!--is moving at the instigation of the +murderer.' + +'I should be very sorry to think so,' said Pitman; 'but I still consider +it my duty to Mr Sernitopolis. . .' + +'Pitman,' interrupted Michael, 'this will not do. Don't seek to impose +on your legal adviser; don't try to pass yourself off for the Duke of +Wellington, for that is not your line. Come, I wager a dinner I can read +your thoughts. You still believe it's Uncle Tim.' + +'Mr Finsbury,' said the drawing-master, colouring, 'you are not a man in +narrow circumstances, and you have no family. Guendolen is growing up, +a very promising girl--she was confirmed this year; and I think you will +be able to enter into my feelings as a parent when I tell you she is +quite ignorant of dancing. The boys are at the board school, which is +all very well in its way; at least, I am the last man in the world to +criticize the institutions of my native land. But I had fondly hoped +that Harold might become a professional musician; and little Otho +shows a quite remarkable vocation for the Church. I am not exactly an +ambitious man...' + +'Well, well,' interrupted Michael. 'Be explicit; you think it's Uncle +Tim?' + +'It might be Uncle Tim,' insisted Pitman, 'and if it were, and I +neglected the occasion, how could I ever look my children in the face? I +do not refer to Mrs Pitman. . .' + +'No, you never do,' said Michael. + +'. . . but in the case of her own brother returning from Ballarat. . .' +continued Pitman. + +'. . . with his mind unhinged,' put in the lawyer. + +'. . . returning from Ballarat with a large fortune, her impatience may +be more easily imagined than described,' concluded Pitman. + +'All right,' said Michael, 'be it so. And what do you propose to do?' + +'I am going to Waterloo,' said Pitman, 'in disguise.' + +'All by your little self?' enquired the lawyer. 'Well, I hope you think +it safe. Mind and send me word from the police cells.' + +'O, Mr Finsbury, I had ventured to hope--perhaps you might be induced +to--to make one of us,' faltered Pitman. + +'Disguise myself on Sunday?' cried Michael. 'How little you understand +my principles!' + +'Mr Finsbury, I have no means of showing you my gratitude; but let me +ask you one question,' said Pitman. 'If I were a very rich client, would +you not take the risk?' + +'Diamond, Diamond, you know not what you do!' cried Michael. 'Why, man, +do you suppose I make a practice of cutting about London with my clients +in disguise? Do you suppose money would induce me to touch this business +with a stick? I give you my word of honour, it would not. But I own I +have a real curiosity to see how you conduct this interview--that tempts +me; it tempts me, Pitman, more than gold--it should be exquisitely +rich.' And suddenly Michael laughed. 'Well, Pitman,' said he, 'have all +the truck ready in the studio. I'll go.' + +About twenty minutes after two, on this eventful day, the vast and +gloomy shed of Waterloo lay, like the temple of a dead religion, silent +and deserted. Here and there at one of the platforms, a train lay +becalmed; here and there a wandering footfall echoed; the cab-horses +outside stamped with startling reverberations on the stones; or from the +neighbouring wilderness of railway an engine snorted forth a whistle. +The main-line departure platform slumbered like the rest; the +booking-hutches closed; the backs of Mr Haggard's novels, with which +upon a weekday the bookstall shines emblazoned, discreetly hidden behind +dingy shutters; the rare officials, undisguisedly somnambulant; and the +customary loiterers, even to the middle-aged woman with the ulster and +the handbag, fled to more congenial scenes. As in the inmost dells of +some small tropic island the throbbing of the ocean lingers, so here a +faint pervading hum and trepidation told in every corner of surrounding +London. + +At the hour already named, persons acquainted with John Dickson, of +Ballarat, and Ezra Thomas, of the United States of America, would have +been cheered to behold them enter through the booking-office. + +'What names are we to take?' enquired the latter, anxiously adjusting +the window-glass spectacles which he had been suffered on this occasion +to assume. + +'There's no choice for you, my boy,' returned Michael. 'Bent Pitman +or nothing. As for me, I think I look as if I might be called Appleby; +something agreeably old-world about Appleby--breathes of Devonshire +cider. Talking of which, suppose you wet your whistle? the interview is +likely to be trying.' + +'I think I'll wait till afterwards,' returned Pitman; 'on the whole, I +think I'll wait till the thing's over. I don't know if it strikes you +as it does me; but the place seems deserted and silent, Mr Finsbury, and +filled with very singular echoes.' + +'Kind of Jack-in-the-box feeling?' enquired Michael, 'as if all these +empty trains might be filled with policemen waiting for a signal? and +Sir Charles Warren perched among the girders with a silver whistle to +his lips? It's guilt, Pitman.' + +In this uneasy frame of mind they walked nearly the whole length of +the departure platform, and at the western extremity became aware of a +slender figure standing back against a pillar. The figure was plainly +sunk into a deep abstraction; he was not aware of their approach, but +gazed far abroad over the sunlit station. Michael stopped. + +'Holloa!' said he, 'can that be your advertiser? If so, I'm done with +it.' And then, on second thoughts: 'Not so, either,' he resumed more +cheerfully. 'Here, turn your back a moment. So. Give me the specs.' + +'But you agreed I was to have them,' protested Pitman. + +'Ah, but that man knows me,' said Michael. + +'Does he? what's his name?' cried Pitman. + +'O, he took me into his confidence,' returned the lawyer. 'But I may say +one thing: if he's your advertiser (and he may be, for he seems to +have been seized with criminal lunacy) you can go ahead with a clear +conscience, for I hold him in the hollow of my hand.' + +The change effected, and Pitman comforted with this good news, the pair +drew near to Morris. + +'Are you looking for Mr William Bent Pitman?' enquired the +drawing-master. 'I am he.' + +Morris raised his head. He saw before him, in the speaker, a person +of almost indescribable insignificance, in white spats and a shirt cut +indecently low. A little behind, a second and more burly figure +offered little to criticism, except ulster, whiskers, spectacles, +and deerstalker hat. Since he had decided to call up devils from the +underworld of London, Morris had pondered deeply on the probabilities +of their appearance. His first emotion, like that of Charoba when she +beheld the sea, was one of disappointment; his second did more justice +to the case. Never before had he seen a couple dressed like these; he +had struck a new stratum. + +'I must speak with you alone,' said he. + +'You need not mind Mr Appleby,' returned Pitman. 'He knows all.' + +'All? Do you know what I am here to speak of?' enquired Morris--. 'The +barrel.' + +Pitman turned pale, but it was with manly indignation. 'You are the +man!' he cried. 'You very wicked person.' + +'Am I to speak before him?' asked Morris, disregarding these severe +expressions. + +'He has been present throughout,' said Pitman. 'He opened the barrel; +your guilty secret is already known to him, as well as to your Maker and +myself.' + +'Well, then,' said Morris, 'what have you done with the money?' + +'I know nothing about any money,' said Pitman. + +'You needn't try that on,' said Morris. 'I have tracked you down; you +came to the station sacrilegiously disguised as a clergyman, procured my +barrel, opened it, rifled the body, and cashed the bill. I have been to +the bank, I tell you! I have followed you step by step, and your denials +are childish and absurd.' + +'Come, come, Morris, keep your temper,' said Mr Appleby. + +'Michael!' cried Morris, 'Michael here too!' + +'Here too,' echoed the lawyer; 'here and everywhere, my good fellow; +every step you take is counted; trained detectives follow you like your +shadow; they report to me every three-quarters of an hour; no expense is +spared.' + +Morris's face took on a hue of dirty grey. 'Well, I don't care; I have +the less reserve to keep,' he cried. 'That man cashed my bill; it's a +theft, and I want the money back.' + +'Do you think I would lie to you, Morris?' asked Michael. + +'I don't know,' said his cousin. 'I want my money.' + +'It was I alone who touched the body,' began Michael. + +'You? Michael!' cried Morris, starting back. 'Then why haven't you +declared the death?' 'What the devil do you mean?' asked Michael. + +'Am I mad? or are you?' cried Morris. + +'I think it must be Pitman,' said Michael. + +The three men stared at each other, wild-eyed. + +'This is dreadful,' said Morris, 'dreadful. I do not understand one word +that is addressed to me.' + +'I give you my word of honour, no more do I,' said Michael. + +'And in God's name, why whiskers?' cried Morris, pointing in a ghastly +manner at his cousin. 'Does my brain reel? How whiskers?' + +'O, that's a matter of detail,' said Michael. + +There was another silence, during which Morris appeared to himself to +be shot in a trapeze as high as St Paul's, and as low as Baker Street +Station. + +'Let us recapitulate,' said Michael, 'unless it's really a dream, in +which case I wish Teena would call me for breakfast. My friend Pitman, +here, received a barrel which, it now appears, was meant for you. The +barrel contained the body of a man. How or why you killed him...' + +'I never laid a hand on him,' protested Morris. 'This is what I have +dreaded all along. But think, Michael! I'm not that kind of man; with +all my faults, I wouldn't touch a hair of anybody's head, and it was all +dead loss to me. He got killed in that vile accident.' + +Suddenly Michael was seized by mirth so prolonged and excessive that his +companions supposed beyond a doubt his reason had deserted him. Again +and again he struggled to compose himself, and again and again laughter +overwhelmed him like a tide. In all this maddening interview there had +been no more spectral feature than this of Michael's merriment; and +Pitman and Morris, drawn together by the common fear, exchanged glances +of anxiety. + +'Morris,' gasped the lawyer, when he was at last able to articulate, +'hold on, I see it all now. I can make it clear in one word. Here's the +key: I NEVER GUESSED IT WAS UNCLE JOSEPH TILL THIS MOMENT.' + +This remark produced an instant lightening of the tension for Morris. +For Pitman it quenched the last ray of hope and daylight. Uncle Joseph, +whom he had left an hour ago in Norfolk Street, pasting newspaper +cuttings?--it?--the dead body?--then who was he, Pitman? and was this +Waterloo Station or Colney Hatch? + +'To be sure!' cried Morris; 'it was badly smashed, I know. How stupid +not to think of that! Why, then, all's clear; and, my dear Michael, I'll +tell you what--we're saved, both saved. You get the tontine--I don't +grudge it you the least--and I get the leather business, which is really +beginning to look up. Declare the death at once, don't mind me in the +smallest, don't consider me; declare the death, and we're all right.' + +'Ah, but I can't declare it,' said Michael. + +'Why not?' cried Morris. + +'I can't produce the corpus, Morris. I've lost it,' said the lawyer. + +'Stop a bit,' ejaculated the leather merchant. 'How is this? It's not +possible. I lost it.' + +'Well, I've lost it too, my son,' said Michael, with extreme serenity. +'Not recognizing it, you see, and suspecting something irregular in its +origin, I got rid of--what shall we say?--got rid of the proceeds at +once.' + +'You got rid of the body? What made you do that?' walled Morris. 'But +you can get it again? You know where it is?' + +'I wish I did, Morris, and you may believe me there, for it would be a +small sum in my pocket; but the fact is, I don't,' said Michael. + +'Good Lord,' said Morris, addressing heaven and earth, 'good Lord, I've +lost the leather business!' + +Michael was once more shaken with laughter. + +'Why do you laugh, you fool?' cried his cousin, 'you lose more than I. +You've bungled it worse than even I did. If you had a spark of feeling, +you would be shaking in your boots with vexation. But I'll tell you one +thing--I'll have that eight hundred pound--I'll have that and go to Swan +River--that's mine, anyway, and your friend must have forged to cash it. +Give me the eight hundred, here, upon this platform, or I go straight to +Scotland Yard and turn the whole disreputable story inside out.' + +'Morris,' said Michael, laying his hand upon his shoulder, 'hear reason. +It wasn't us, it was the other man. We never even searched the body.' + +'The other man?' repeated Morris. + +'Yes, the other man. We palmed Uncle Joseph off upon another man,' said +Michael. + +'You what? You palmed him off? That's surely a singular expression,' +said Morris. + +'Yes, palmed him off for a piano,' said Michael with perfect simplicity. +'Remarkably full, rich tone,' he added. + +Morris carried his hand to his brow and looked at it; it was wet with +sweat. 'Fever,' said he. + +'No, it was a Broadwood grand,' said Michael. 'Pitman here will tell you +if it was genuine or not.' + +'Eh? O! O yes, I believe it was a genuine Broadwood; I have played upon +it several times myself,' said Pitman. 'The three-letter E was broken.' + +'Don't say anything more about pianos,' said Morris, with a strong +shudder; 'I'm not the man I used to be! This--this other man--let's come +to him, if I can only manage to follow. Who is he? Where can I get hold +of him?' + +'Ah, that's the rub,' said Michael. 'He's been in possession of the +desired article, let me see--since Wednesday, about four o'clock, and is +now, I should imagine, on his way to the isles of Javan and Gadire.' + +'Michael,' said Morris pleadingly, 'I am in a very weak state, and I beg +your consideration for a kinsman. Say it slowly again, and be sure you +are correct. When did he get it?' + +Michael repeated his statement. + +'Yes, that's the worst thing yet,' said Morris, drawing in his breath. + +'What is?' asked the lawyer. + +'Even the dates are sheer nonsense,' said the leather merchant. + +'The bill was cashed on Tuesday. There's not a gleam of reason in the +whole transaction.' + +A young gentleman, who had passed the trio and suddenly started and +turned back, at this moment laid a heavy hand on Michael's shoulder. + +'Aha! so this is Mr Dickson?' said he. + +The trump of judgement could scarce have rung with a more dreadful note +in the ears of Pitman and the lawyer. To Morris this erroneous name +seemed a legitimate enough continuation of the nightmare in which he +had so long been wandering. And when Michael, with his brand-new bushy +whiskers, broke from the grasp of the stranger and turned to run, and +the weird little shaven creature in the low-necked shirt followed his +example with a bird-like screech, and the stranger (finding the rest of +his prey escape him) pounced with a rude grasp on Morris himself, +that gentleman's frame of mind might be very nearly expressed in the +colloquial phrase: 'I told you so!' + +'I have one of the gang,' said Gideon Forsyth. + +'I do not understand,' said Morris dully. + +'O, I will make you understand,' returned Gideon grimly. + +'You will be a good friend to me if you can make me understand +anything,' cried Morris, with a sudden energy of conviction. + +'I don't know you personally, do I?' continued Gideon, examining his +unresisting prisoner. 'Never mind, I know your friends. They are your +friends, are they not?' + +'I do not understand you,' said Morris. + +'You had possibly something to do with a piano?' suggested Gideon. + +'A piano!' cried Morris, convulsively clasping Gideon by the arm. 'Then +you're the other man! Where is it? Where is the body? And did you cash +the draft?' + +'Where is the body? This is very strange,' mused Gideon. 'Do you want +the body?' + +'Want it?' cried Morris. 'My whole fortune depends upon it! I lost it. +Where is it? Take me to it? + +'O, you want it, do you? And the other man, Dickson--does he want it?' +enquired Gideon. + +'Who do you mean by Dickson? O, Michael Finsbury! Why, of course he +does! He lost it too. If he had it, he'd have won the tontine tomorrow.' + +'Michael Finsbury! Not the solicitor?' cried Gideon. 'Yes, the +solicitor,' said Morris. 'But where is the body?' + +'Then that is why he sent the brief! What is Mr Finsbury's private +address?' asked Gideon. + +'233 King's Road. What brief? Where are you going? Where is the body?' +cried Morris, clinging to Gideon's arm. + +'I have lost it myself,' returned Gideon, and ran out of the station. + + + +CHAPTER XV. The Return of the Great Vance + +Morris returned from Waterloo in a frame of mind that baffles +description. He was a modest man; he had never conceived an overweening +notion of his own powers; he knew himself unfit to write a book, turn a +table napkin-ring, entertain a Christmas party with legerdemain--grapple +(in short) any of those conspicuous accomplishments that are usually +classed under the head of genius. He knew--he admitted--his parts to be +pedestrian, but he had considered them (until quite lately) fully equal +to the demands of life. And today he owned himself defeated: life had +the upper hand; if there had been any means of flight or place to flee +to, if the world had been so ordered that a man could leave it like a +place of entertainment, Morris would have instantly resigned all further +claim on its rewards and pleasures, and, with inexpressible contentment, +ceased to be. As it was, one aim shone before him: he could get home. +Even as the sick dog crawls under the sofa, Morris could shut the door +of John Street and be alone. + +The dusk was falling when he drew near this place of refuge; and the +first thing that met his eyes was the figure of a man upon the step, +alternately plucking at the bell-handle and pounding on the panels. The +man had no hat, his clothes were hideous with filth, he had the air of a +hop-picker. Yet Morris knew him; it was John. + +The first impulse of flight was succeeded, in the elder brother's +bosom, by the empty quiescence of despair. 'What does it matter now?' he +thought, and drawing forth his latchkey ascended the steps. + +John turned about; his face was ghastly with weariness and dirt and +fury; and as he recognized the head of his family, he drew in a long +rasping breath, and his eyes glittered. + +'Open that door,' he said, standing back. + +'I am going to,' said Morris, and added mentally, 'He looks like +murder!' + +The brothers passed into the hall, the door closed behind them; and +suddenly John seized Morris by the shoulders and shook him as a terrier +shakes a rat. 'You mangy little cad,' he said, 'I'd serve you right to +smash your skull!' And shook him again, so that his teeth rattled and +his head smote upon the wall. + +'Don't be violent, Johnny,' said Morris. 'It can't do any good now.' + +'Shut your mouth,' said John, 'your time's come to listen.' + +He strode into the dining-room, fell into the easy-chair, and taking off +one of his burst walking-shoes, nursed for a while his foot like one in +agony. 'I'm lame for life,' he said. 'What is there for dinner?' + +'Nothing, Johnny,' said Morris. + +'Nothing? What do you mean by that?' enquired the Great Vance. 'Don't +set up your chat to me!' + +'I mean simply nothing,' said his brother. 'I have nothing to eat, and +nothing to buy it with. I've only had a cup of tea and a sandwich all +this day myself.' + +'Only a sandwich?' sneered Vance. 'I suppose YOU'RE going to complain +next. But you had better take care: I've had all I mean to take; and +I can tell you what it is, I mean to dine and to dine well. Take your +signets and sell them.' + +'I can't today,' objected Morris; 'it's Sunday.' + +'I tell you I'm going to dine!' cried the younger brother. + +'But if it's not possible, Johnny?' pleaded the other. + +'You nincompoop!' cried Vance. 'Ain't we householders? Don't they know +us at that hotel where Uncle Parker used to come. Be off with you; and +if you ain't back in half an hour, and if the dinner ain't good, first +I'll lick you till you don't want to breathe, and then I'll go straight +to the police and blow the gaff. Do you understand that, Morris +Finsbury? Because if you do, you had better jump.' + +The idea smiled even upon the wretched Morris, who was sick with famine. +He sped upon his errand, and returned to find John still nursing his +foot in the armchair. + +'What would you like to drink, Johnny?' he enquired soothingly. + +'Fizz,' said John. 'Some of the poppy stuff from the end bin; a bottle +of the old port that Michael liked, to follow; and see and don't shake +the port. And look here, light the fire--and the gas, and draw down the +blinds; it's cold and it's getting dark. And then you can lay the cloth. +And, I say--here, you! bring me down some clothes.' + +The room looked comparatively habitable by the time the dinner came; and +the dinner itself was good: strong gravy soup, fillets of sole, mutton +chops and tomato sauce, roast beef done rare with roast potatoes, +cabinet pudding, a piece of Chester cheese, and some early celery: a +meal uncompromisingly British, but supporting. + +'Thank God!' said John, his nostrils sniffing wide, surprised by joy +into the unwonted formality of grace. 'Now I'm going to take this chair +with my back to the fire--there's been a strong frost these two last +nights, and I can't get it out of my bones; the celery will be just the +ticket--I'm going to sit here, and you are going to stand there, Morris +Finsbury, and play butler.' + +'But, Johnny, I'm so hungry myself,' pleaded Morris. + +'You can have what I leave,' said Vance. 'You're just beginning to +pay your score, my daisy; I owe you one-pound-ten; don't you rouse the +British lion!' There was something indescribably menacing in the face +and voice of the Great Vance as he uttered these words, at which the +soul of Morris withered. 'There!' resumed the feaster, 'give us a glass +of the fizz to start with. Gravy soup! And I thought I didn't like gravy +soup! Do you know how I got here?' he asked, with another explosion of +wrath. + +'No, Johnny; how could I?' said the obsequious Morris. + +'I walked on my ten toes!' cried John; 'tramped the whole way from +Browndean; and begged! I would like to see you beg. It's not so easy +as you might suppose. I played it on being a shipwrecked mariner from +Blyth; I don't know where Blyth is, do you? but I thought it sounded +natural. I begged from a little beast of a schoolboy, and he forked out +a bit of twine, and asked me to make a clove hitch; I did, too, I know I +did, but he said it wasn't, he said it was a granny's knot, and I was a +what-d'ye-call-'em, and he would give me in charge. Then I begged from +a naval officer--he never bothered me with knots, but he only gave me +a tract; there's a nice account of the British navy!--and then from a +widow woman that sold lollipops, and I got a hunch of bread from her. +Another party I fell in with said you could generally always get bread; +and the thing to do was to break a plateglass window and get into gaol; +seemed rather a brilliant scheme. Pass the beef.' + +'Why didn't you stay at Browndean?' Morris ventured to enquire. + +'Skittles!' said John. 'On what? The Pink Un and a measly religious +paper? I had to leave Browndean; I had to, I tell you. I got tick at +a public, and set up to be the Great Vance; so would you, if you were +leading such a beastly existence! And a card stood me a lot of ale and +stuff, and we got swipey, talking about music-halls and the piles of tin +I got for singing; and then they got me on to sing "Around her splendid +form I weaved the magic circle," and then he said I couldn't be Vance, +and I stuck to it like grim death I was. It was rot of me to sing, of +course, but I thought I could brazen it out with a set of yokels. It +settled my hash at the public,' said John, with a sigh. 'And then the +last thing was the carpenter--' + +'Our landlord?' enquired Morris. + +'That's the party,' said John. 'He came nosing about the place, and then +wanted to know where the water-butt was, and the bedclothes. I told him +to go to the devil; so would you too, when there was no possible thing +to say! And then he said I had pawned them, and did I know it was +felony? Then I made a pretty neat stroke. I remembered he was deaf, and +talked a whole lot of rot, very politely, just so low he couldn't hear +a word. "I don't hear you," says he. "I know you don't, my buck, and I +don't mean you to," says I, smiling away like a haberdasher. "I'm hard +of hearing," he roars. "I'd be in a pretty hot corner if you weren't," +says I, making signs as if I was explaining everything. It was tip-top +as long as it lasted. "Well," he said, "I'm deaf, worse luck, but I +bet the constable can hear you." And off he started one way, and I the +other. They got a spirit-lamp and the Pink Un, and that old religious +paper, and another periodical you sent me. I think you must have been +drunk--it had a name like one of those spots that Uncle Joseph used to +hold forth at, and it was all full of the most awful swipes about poetry +and the use of the globes. It was the kind of thing that nobody could +read out of a lunatic asylum. The Athaeneum, that was the name! Golly, +what a paper!' + +'Athenaeum, you mean,' said Morris. + +'I don't care what you call it,' said John, 'so as I don't require to +take it in! There, I feel better. Now I'm going to sit by the fire in +the easy-chair; pass me the cheese, and the celery, and the bottle of +port--no, a champagne glass, it holds more. And now you can pitch in; +there's some of the fish left and a chop, and some fizz. Ah,' sighed the +refreshed pedestrian, 'Michael was right about that port; there's old +and vatted for you! Michael's a man I like; he's clever and reads books, +and the Athaeneum, and all that; but he's not dreary to meet, he don't +talk Athaeneum like the other parties; why, the most of them would throw +a blight over a skittle alley! Talking of Michael, I ain't bored myself +to put the question, because of course I knew it from the first. You've +made a hash of it, eh?' + +'Michael made a hash of it,' said Morris, flushing dark. + +'What have we got to do with that?' enquired John. + +'He has lost the body, that's what we have to do with it,' cried Morris. +'He has lost the body, and the death can't be established.' + +'Hold on,' said John. 'I thought you didn't want to?' + +'O, we're far past that,' said his brother. 'It's not the tontine now, +it's the leather business, Johnny; it's the clothes upon our back.' + +'Stow the slow music,' said John, 'and tell your story from beginning to +end.' Morris did as he was bid. + +'Well, now, what did I tell you?' cried the Great Vance, when the other +had done. 'But I know one thing: I'm not going to be humbugged out of my +property.' + +'I should like to know what you mean to do,' said Morris. + +'I'll tell you that,' responded John with extreme decision. 'I'm going +to put my interests in the hands of the smartest lawyer in London; and +whether you go to quod or not is a matter of indifference to me.' + +'Why, Johnny, we're in the same boat!' expostulated Morris. + +'Are we?' cried his brother. 'I bet we're not! Have I committed forgery? +have I lied about Uncle Joseph? have I put idiotic advertisements in the +comic papers? have I smashed other people's statues? I like your cheek, +Morris Finsbury. No, I've let you run my affairs too long; now they +shall go to Michael. I like Michael, anyway; and it's time I understood +my situation.' + +At this moment the brethren were interrupted by a ring at the bell, +and Morris, going timorously to the door, received from the hands of a +commissionaire a letter addressed in the hand of Michael. Its contents +ran as follows: + +MORRIS FINSBURY, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of +SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at my office, in Chancery Lane, at 10 A.M. +tomorrow. + +MICHAEL FINSBURY + + +So utter was Morris's subjection that he did not wait to be asked, but +handed the note to John as soon as he had glanced at it himself. + +'That's the way to write a letter,' cried John. 'Nobody but Michael +could have written that.' + +And Morris did not even claim the credit of priority. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. Final Adjustment of the Leather Business + +Finsbury brothers were ushered, at ten the next morning, into a large +apartment in Michael's office; the Great Vance, somewhat restored from +yesterday's exhaustion, but with one foot in a slipper; Morris, not +positively damaged, but a man ten years older than he who had left +Bournemouth eight days before, his face ploughed full of anxious +wrinkles, his dark hair liberally grizzled at the temples. + +Three persons were seated at a table to receive them: Michael in +the midst, Gideon Forsyth on his right hand, on his left an ancient +gentleman with spectacles and silver hair. 'By Jingo, it's Uncle Joe!' +cried John. + +But Morris approached his uncle with a pale countenance and glittering +eyes. + +'I'll tell you what you did!' he cried. 'You absconded!' + +'Good morning, Morris Finsbury,' returned Joseph, with no less asperity; +'you are looking seriously ill.' + +'No use making trouble now,' remarked Michael. 'Look the facts in the +face. Your uncle, as you see, was not so much as shaken in the accident; +a man of your humane disposition ought to be delighted.' + +'Then, if that's so,' Morris broke forth, 'how about the body? You don't +mean to insinuate that thing I schemed and sweated for, and colported +with my own hands, was the body of a total stranger?' + +'O no, we can't go as far as that,' said Michael soothingly; 'you may +have met him at the club.' + +Morris fell into a chair. 'I would have found it out if it had come to +the house,' he complained. 'And why didn't it? why did it go to Pitman? +what right had Pitman to open it?' + +'If you come to that, Morris, what have you done with the colossal +Hercules?' asked Michael. + +'He went through it with the meat-axe,' said John. 'It's all in +spillikins in the back garden.' + +'Well, there's one thing,' snapped Morris; 'there's my uncle again, my +fraudulent trustee. He's mine, anyway. And the tontine too. I claim the +tontine; I claim it now. I believe Uncle Masterman's dead.' + +'I must put a stop to this nonsense,' said Michael, 'and that for ever. +You say too near the truth. In one sense your uncle is dead, and has +been so long; but not in the sense of the tontine, which it is even on +the cards he may yet live to win. Uncle Joseph saw him this morning; he +will tell you he still lives, but his mind is in abeyance.' + +'He did not know me,' said Joseph; to do him justice, not without +emotion. + +'So you're out again there, Morris,' said John. 'My eye! what a fool +you've made of yourself!' + +'And that was why you wouldn't compromise,' said Morris. + +'As for the absurd position in which you and Uncle Joseph have been +making yourselves an exhibition,' resumed Michael, 'it is more than time +it came to an end. I have prepared a proper discharge in full, which you +shall sign as a preliminary.' + +'What?' cried Morris, 'and lose my seven thousand eight hundred pounds, +and the leather business, and the contingent interest, and get nothing? +Thank you.' + +'It's like you to feel gratitude, Morris,' began Michael. + +'O, I know it's no good appealing to you, you sneering devil!' cried +Morris. 'But there's a stranger present, I can't think why, and I appeal +to him. I was robbed of that money when I was an orphan, a mere child, +at a commercial academy. Since then, I've never had a wish but to get +back my own. You may hear a lot of stuff about me; and there's no doubt +at times I have been ill-advised. But it's the pathos of my situation; +that's what I want to show you.' + +'Morris,' interrupted Michael, 'I do wish you would let me add one +point, for I think it will affect your judgement. It's pathetic too +since that's your taste in literature.' + +'Well, what is it?' said Morris. + +'It's only the name of one of the persons who's to witness your +signature, Morris,' replied Michael. 'His name's Moss, my dear.' + +There was a long silence. 'I might have been sure it was you!' cried +Morris. + +'You'll sign, won't you?' said Michael. + +'Do you know what you're doing?' cried Morris. 'You're compounding a +felony.' + +'Very well, then, we won't compound it, Morris,' returned Michael. 'See +how little I understood the sterling integrity of your character! I +thought you would prefer it so.' + +'Look here, Michael,' said John, 'this is all very fine and large; but +how about me? Morris is gone up, I see that; but I'm not. And I was +robbed, too, mind you; and just as much an orphan, and at the blessed +same academy as himself.' + +'Johnny,' said Michael, 'don't you think you'd better leave it to me?' + +'I'm your man,' said John. 'You wouldn't deceive a poor orphan, I'll +take my oath. Morris, you sign that document, or I'll start in and +astonish your weak mind.' + +With a sudden alacrity, Morris proffered his willingness. Clerks were +brought in, the discharge was executed, and there was Joseph a free man +once more. + +'And now,' said Michael, 'hear what I propose to do. Here, John +and Morris, is the leather business made over to the pair of you in +partnership. I have valued it at the lowest possible figure, Pogram and +Jarris's. And here is a cheque for the balance of your fortune. Now, you +see, Morris, you start fresh from the commercial academy; and, as you +said yourself the leather business was looking up, I suppose you'll +probably marry before long. Here's your marriage present--from a Mr +Moss.' + +Morris bounded on his cheque with a crimsoned countenance. + +'I don't understand the performance,' remarked John. 'It seems too good +to be true.' + +'It's simply a readjustment,' Michael explained. 'I take up Uncle +Joseph's liabilities; and if he gets the tontine, it's to be mine; if +my father gets it, it's mine anyway, you see. So that I'm rather +advantageously placed.' + +'Morris, my unconverted friend, you've got left,' was John's comment. + +'And now, Mr Forsyth,' resumed Michael, turning to his silent guest, +'here are all the criminals before you, except Pitman. I really didn't +like to interrupt his scholastic career; but you can have him arrested +at the seminary--I know his hours. Here we are then; we're not pretty to +look at: what do you propose to do with us?' + +'Nothing in the world, Mr Finsbury,' returned Gideon. 'I seem to +understand that this gentleman'---indicating Morris--'is the fons et +origo of the trouble; and, from what I gather, he has already paid +through the nose. And really, to be quite frank, I do not see who is to +gain by any scandal; not me, at least. And besides, I have to thank you +for that brief.' + +Michael blushed. 'It was the least I could do to let you have some +business,' he said. 'But there's one thing more. I don't want you to +misjudge poor Pitman, who is the most harmless being upon earth. I +wish you would dine with me tonight, and see the creature on his native +heath--say at Verrey's?' + +'I have no engagement, Mr Finsbury,' replied Gideon. 'I shall be +delighted. But subject to your judgement, can we do nothing for the man +in the cart? I have qualms of conscience.' + +'Nothing but sympathize,' said Michael. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wrong Box, by +Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WRONG BOX *** + +***** This file should be named 1585.txt or 1585.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/8/1585/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0122ce --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1585 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1585) diff --git a/old/2021-01-27/1585-0.txt b/old/2021-01-27/1585-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b56b8d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2021-01-27/1585-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7005 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wrong Box, by +Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wrong Box + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + +Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #1585] +Last Updated: September 14, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WRONG BOX *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + + + + + +THE WRONG BOX + +By Robert Louis Stevenson And Lloyd Osbourne + + + + +PREFACE + +‘Nothing like a little judicious levity,’ says Michael Finsbury in the +text: nor can any better excuse be found for the volume in the reader’s +hand. The authors can but add that one of them is old enough to be +ashamed of himself, and the other young enough to learn better. + +R. L. S. L. O. + + + + +CHAPTER I. In Which Morris Suspects + +How very little does the amateur, dwelling at home at ease, comprehend +the labours and perils of the author, and, when he smilingly skims the +surface of a work of fiction, how little does he consider the hours +of toil, consultation of authorities, researches in the Bodleian, +correspondence with learned and illegible Germans--in one word, the vast +scaffolding that was first built up and then knocked down, to while away +an hour for him in a railway train! Thus I might begin this tale with +a biography of Tonti--birthplace, parentage, genius probably inherited +from his mother, remarkable instance of precocity, etc--and a complete +treatise on the system to which he bequeathed his name. The material +is all beside me in a pigeon-hole, but I scorn to appear vainglorious. +Tonti is dead, and I never saw anyone who even pretended to regret him; +and, as for the tontine system, a word will suffice for all the purposes +of this unvarnished narrative. + +A number of sprightly youths (the more the merrier) put up a certain sum +of money, which is then funded in a pool under trustees; coming on for +a century later, the proceeds are fluttered for a moment in the face of +the last survivor, who is probably deaf, so that he cannot even hear of +his success--and who is certainly dying, so that he might just as well +have lost. The peculiar poetry and even humour of the scheme is now +apparent, since it is one by which nobody concerned can possibly profit; +but its fine, sportsmanlike character endeared it to our grandparents. + +When Joseph Finsbury and his brother Masterman were little lads +in white-frilled trousers, their father--a well-to-do merchant +in Cheapside--caused them to join a small but rich tontine of +seven-and-thirty lives. A thousand pounds was the entrance fee; and +Joseph Finsbury can remember to this day the visit to the lawyer’s, +where the members of the tontine--all children like himself--were +assembled together, and sat in turn in the big office chair, and signed +their names with the assistance of a kind old gentleman in spectacles +and Wellington boots. He remembers playing with the children afterwards +on the lawn at the back of the lawyer’s house, and a battle-royal that +he had with a brother tontiner who had kicked his shins. The sound of +war called forth the lawyer from where he was dispensing cake and +wine to the assembled parents in the office, and the combatants were +separated, and Joseph’s spirit (for he was the smaller of the two) +commended by the gentleman in the Wellington boots, who vowed he had +been just such another at the same age. Joseph wondered to himself if +he had worn at that time little Wellingtons and a little bald head, +and when, in bed at night, he grew tired of telling himself stories +of sea-fights, he used to dress himself up as the old gentleman, and +entertain other little boys and girls with cake and wine. + +In the year 1840 the thirty-seven were all alive; in 1850 their number +had decreased by six; in 1856 and 1857 business was more lively, for the +Crimea and the Mutiny carried off no less than nine. There remained +in 1870 but five of the original members, and at the date of my story, +including the two Finsburys, but three. + +By this time Masterman was in his seventy-third year; he had long +complained of the effects of age, had long since retired from business, +and now lived in absolute seclusion under the roof of his son Michael, +the well-known solicitor. Joseph, on the other hand, was still up and +about, and still presented but a semi-venerable figure on the streets +in which he loved to wander. This was the more to be deplored because +Masterman had led (even to the least particular) a model British life. +Industry, regularity, respectability, and a preference for the four per +cents are understood to be the very foundations of a green old age. All +these Masterman had eminently displayed, and here he was, ab agendo, at +seventy-three; while Joseph, barely two years younger, and in the most +excellent preservation, had disgraced himself through life by idleness +and eccentricity. Embarked in the leather trade, he had early wearied +of business, for which he was supposed to have small parts. A taste for +general information, not promptly checked, had soon begun to sap his +manhood. There is no passion more debilitating to the mind, unless, +perhaps, it be that itch of public speaking which it not infrequently +accompanies or begets. The two were conjoined in the case of Joseph; the +acute stage of this double malady, that in which the patient delivers +gratuitous lectures, soon declared itself with severity, and not many +years had passed over his head before he would have travelled thirty +miles to address an infant school. He was no student; his reading was +confined to elementary textbooks and the daily papers; he did not even +fly as high as cyclopedias; life, he would say, was his volume. His +lectures were not meant, he would declare, for college professors; they +were addressed direct to ‘the great heart of the people’, and the +heart of the people must certainly be sounder than its head, for his +lucubrations were received with favour. That entitled ‘How to Live +Cheerfully on Forty Pounds a Year’, created a sensation among the +unemployed. ‘Education: Its Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability’, +gained him the respect of the shallow-minded. As for his celebrated +essay on ‘Life Insurance Regarded in its Relation to the Masses’, read +before the Working Men’s Mutual Improvement Society, Isle of Dogs, it +was received with a ‘literal ovation’ by an unintelligent audience of +both sexes, and so marked was the effect that he was next year elected +honorary president of the institution, an office of less than +no emolument--since the holder was expected to come down with a +donation--but one which highly satisfied his self-esteem. + +While Joseph was thus building himself up a reputation among the more +cultivated portion of the ignorant, his domestic life was suddenly +overwhelmed by orphans. The death of his younger brother Jacob saddled +him with the charge of two boys, Morris and John; and in the course of +the same year his family was still further swelled by the addition of a +little girl, the daughter of John Henry Hazeltine, Esq., a gentleman +of small property and fewer friends. He had met Joseph only once, at a +lecture-hall in Holloway; but from that formative experience he returned +home to make a new will, and consign his daughter and her fortune to the +lecturer. Joseph had a kindly disposition; and yet it was not without +reluctance that he accepted this new responsibility, advertised for a +nurse, and purchased a second-hand perambulator. Morris and John he made +more readily welcome; not so much because of the tie of consanguinity +as because the leather business (in which he hastened to invest their +fortune of thirty thousand pounds) had recently exhibited inexplicable +symptoms of decline. A young but capable Scot was chosen as manager to +the enterprise, and the cares of business never again afflicted Joseph +Finsbury. Leaving his charges in the hands of the capable Scot (who was +married), he began his extensive travels on the Continent and in Asia +Minor. + +With a polyglot Testament in one hand and a phrase-book in the other, +he groped his way among the speakers of eleven European languages. +The first of these guides is hardly applicable to the purposes of the +philosophic traveller, and even the second is designed more expressly +for the tourist than for the expert in life. But he pressed interpreters +into his service--whenever he could get their services for nothing--and +by one means and another filled many notebooks with the results of his +researches. + +In these wanderings he spent several years, and only returned to England +when the increasing age of his charges needed his attention. The two +lads had been placed in a good but economical school, where they had +received a sound commercial education; which was somewhat awkward, as +the leather business was by no means in a state to court enquiry. In +fact, when Joseph went over his accounts preparatory to surrendering his +trust, he was dismayed to discover that his brother’s fortune had not +increased by his stewardship; even by making over to his two wards +every penny he had in the world, there would still be a deficit of seven +thousand eight hundred pounds. When these facts were communicated to the +two brothers in the presence of a lawyer, Morris Finsbury threatened +his uncle with all the terrors of the law, and was only prevented from +taking extreme steps by the advice of the professional man. ‘You cannot +get blood from a stone,’ observed the lawyer. + +And Morris saw the point and came to terms with his uncle. On the one +side, Joseph gave up all that he possessed, and assigned to his +nephew his contingent interest in the tontine, already quite a hopeful +speculation. On the other, Morris agreed to harbour his uncle and Miss +Hazeltine (who had come to grief with the rest), and to pay to each +of them one pound a month as pocket-money. The allowance was amply +sufficient for the old man; it scarce appears how Miss Hazeltine +contrived to dress upon it; but she did, and, what is more, she never +complained. She was, indeed, sincerely attached to her incompetent +guardian. He had never been unkind; his age spoke for him loudly; there +was something appealing in his whole-souled quest of knowledge and +innocent delight in the smallest mark of admiration; and, though the +lawyer had warned her she was being sacrificed, Julia had refused to add +to the perplexities of Uncle Joseph. + +In a large, dreary house in John Street, Bloomsbury, these four dwelt +together; a family in appearance, in reality a financial association. +Julia and Uncle Joseph were, of course, slaves; John, a gentle man with +a taste for the banjo, the music-hall, the Gaiety bar, and the sporting +papers, must have been anywhere a secondary figure; and the cares +and delights of empire devolved entirely upon Morris. That these are +inextricably intermixed is one of the commonplaces with which the bland +essayist consoles the incompetent and the obscure, but in the case of +Morris the bitter must have largely outweighed the sweet. He grudged no +trouble to himself, he spared none to others; he called the servants +in the morning, he served out the stores with his own hand, he took +soundings of the sherry, he numbered the remainder biscuits; painful +scenes took place over the weekly bills, and the cook was frequently +impeached, and the tradespeople came and hectored with him in the back +parlour upon a question of three farthings. The superficial might have +deemed him a miser; in his own eyes he was simply a man who had been +defrauded; the world owed him seven thousand eight hundred pounds, and +he intended that the world should pay. + +But it was in his dealings with Joseph that Morris’s character +particularly shone. His uncle was a rather gambling stock in which he +had invested heavily; and he spared no pains in nursing the security. +The old man was seen monthly by a physician, whether he was well or ill. +His diet, his raiment, his occasional outings, now to Brighton, now to +Bournemouth, were doled out to him like pap to infants. In bad weather +he must keep the house. In good weather, by half-past nine, he must +be ready in the hall; Morris would see that he had gloves and that his +shoes were sound; and the pair would start for the leather business +arm in arm. The way there was probably dreary enough, for there was no +pretence of friendly feeling; Morris had never ceased to upbraid +his guardian with his defalcation and to lament the burthen of Miss +Hazeltine; and Joseph, though he was a mild enough soul, regarded his +nephew with something very near akin to hatred. But the way there +was nothing to the journey back; for the mere sight of the place of +business, as well as every detail of its transactions, was enough to +poison life for any Finsbury. + +Joseph’s name was still over the door; it was he who still signed the +cheques; but this was only policy on the part of Morris, and designed +to discourage other members of the tontine. In reality the business was +entirely his; and he found it an inheritance of sorrows. He tried to +sell it, and the offers he received were quite derisory. He tried to +extend it, and it was only the liabilities he succeeded in extending; to +restrict it, and it was only the profits he managed to restrict. Nobody +had ever made money out of that concern except the capable Scot, who +retired (after his discharge) to the neighbourhood of Banff and built a +castle with his profits. The memory of this fallacious Caledonian Morris +would revile daily, as he sat in the private office opening his mail, +with old Joseph at another table, sullenly awaiting orders, or savagely +affixing signatures to he knew not what. And when the man of the heather +pushed cynicism so far as to send him the announcement of his second +marriage (to Davida, eldest daughter of the Revd. Alexander McCraw), it +was really supposed that Morris would have had a fit. + +Business hours, in the Finsbury leather trade, had been cut to the +quick; even Morris’s strong sense of duty to himself was not strong +enough to dally within those walls and under the shadow of that +bankruptcy; and presently the manager and the clerks would draw a long +breath, and compose themselves for another day of procrastination. Raw +Haste, on the authority of my Lord Tennyson, is half-sister to Delay; +but the Business Habits are certainly her uncles. Meanwhile, the leather +merchant would lead his living investment back to John Street like a +puppy dog; and, having there immured him in the hall, would depart for +the day on the quest of seal rings, the only passion of his life. Joseph +had more than the vanity of man, he had that of lecturers. He owned he +was in fault, although more sinned against (by the capable Scot) than +sinning; but had he steeped his hands in gore, he would still not +deserve to be thus dragged at the chariot-wheels of a young man, to sit +a captive in the halls of his own leather business, to be entertained +with mortifying comments on his whole career--to have his costume +examined, his collar pulled up, the presence of his mittens verified, +and to be taken out and brought home in custody, like an infant with +a nurse. At the thought of it his soul would swell with venom, and he +would make haste to hang up his hat and coat and the detested mittens, +and slink upstairs to Julia and his notebooks. The drawing-room at least +was sacred from Morris; it belonged to the old man and the young girl; +it was there that she made her dresses; it was there that he inked +his spectacles over the registration of disconnected facts and the +calculation of insignificant statistics. + +Here he would sometimes lament his connection with the tontine. ‘If it +were not for that,’ he cried one afternoon, ‘he would not care to keep +me. I might be a free man, Julia. And I could so easily support myself +by giving lectures.’ + +‘To be sure you could,’ said she; ‘and I think it one of the meanest +things he ever did to deprive you of that amusement. There were those +nice people at the Isle of Cats (wasn’t it?) who wrote and asked you so +very kindly to give them an address. I did think he might have let you +go to the Isle of Cats.’ + +‘He is a man of no intelligence,’ cried Joseph. ‘He lives here literally +surrounded by the absorbing spectacle of life, and for all the good +it does him, he might just as well be in his coffin. Think of his +opportunities! The heart of any other young man would burn within him +at the chance. The amount of information that I have it in my power +to convey, if he would only listen, is a thing that beggars language, +Julia.’ + +‘Whatever you do, my dear, you mustn’t excite yourself,’ said Julia; +‘for you know, if you look at all ill, the doctor will be sent for.’ + +‘That is very true,’ returned the old man humbly, ‘I will compose myself +with a little study.’ He thumbed his gallery of notebooks. ‘I wonder,’ +he said, ‘I wonder (since I see your hands are occupied) whether it +might not interest you--’ + +‘Why, of course it would,’ cried Julia. ‘Read me one of your nice +stories, there’s a dear.’ + +He had the volume down and his spectacles upon his nose instanter, as +though to forestall some possible retractation. ‘What I propose to read +to you,’ said he, skimming through the pages, ‘is the notes of a highly +important conversation with a Dutch courier of the name of David Abbas, +which is the Latin for abbot. Its results are well worth the money +it cost me, for, as Abbas at first appeared somewhat impatient, I was +induced to (what is, I believe, singularly called) stand him drink. It +runs only to about five-and-twenty pages. Yes, here it is.’ He cleared +his throat, and began to read. + +Mr Finsbury (according to his own report) contributed about four hundred +and ninety-nine five-hundredths of the interview, and elicited from +Abbas literally nothing. It was dull for Julia, who did not require to +listen; for the Dutch courier, who had to answer, it must have been +a perfect nightmare. It would seem as if he had consoled himself by +frequent appliances to the bottle; it would even seem that (toward the +end) he had ceased to depend on Joseph’s frugal generosity and called +for the flagon on his own account. The effect, at least, of some +mellowing influence was visible in the record: Abbas became suddenly a +willing witness; he began to volunteer disclosures; and Julia had just +looked up from her seam with something like a smile, when Morris burst +into the house, eagerly calling for his uncle, and the next instant +plunged into the room, waving in the air the evening paper. + +It was indeed with great news that he came charged. The demise was +announced of Lieutenant-General Sir Glasgow Biggar, KCSI, KCMG, etc., +and the prize of the tontine now lay between the Finsbury brothers. Here +was Morris’s opportunity at last. The brothers had never, it is true, +been cordial. When word came that Joseph was in Asia Minor, Masterman +had expressed himself with irritation. ‘I call it simply indecent,’ he +had said. ‘Mark my words--we shall hear of him next at the North Pole.’ +And these bitter expressions had been reported to the traveller on his +return. What was worse, Masterman had refused to attend the lecture on +‘Education: Its Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability’, although +invited to the platform. Since then the brothers had not met. On the +other hand, they never had openly quarrelled; Joseph (by Morris’s +orders) was prepared to waive the advantage of his juniority; Masterman +had enjoyed all through life the reputation of a man neither greedy nor +unfair. Here, then, were all the elements of compromise assembled; +and Morris, suddenly beholding his seven thousand eight hundred pounds +restored to him, and himself dismissed from the vicissitudes of the +leather trade, hastened the next morning to the office of his cousin +Michael. + +Michael was something of a public character. Launched upon the law at a +very early age, and quite without protectors, he had become a trafficker +in shady affairs. He was known to be the man for a lost cause; it was +known he could extract testimony from a stone, and interest from a +gold-mine; and his office was besieged in consequence by all that +numerous class of persons who have still some reputation to lose, and +find themselves upon the point of losing it; by those who have +made undesirable acquaintances, who have mislaid a compromising +correspondence, or who are blackmailed by their own butlers. In +private life Michael was a man of pleasure; but it was thought his dire +experience at the office had gone far to sober him, and it was known +that (in the matter of investments) he preferred the solid to the +brilliant. What was yet more to the purpose, he had been all his life a +consistent scoffer at the Finsbury tontine. + +It was therefore with little fear for the result that Morris presented +himself before his cousin, and proceeded feverishly to set forth his +scheme. For near upon a quarter of an hour the lawyer suffered him to +dwell upon its manifest advantages uninterrupted. Then Michael rose from +his seat, and, ringing for his clerk, uttered a single clause: ‘It won’t +do, Morris.’ + +It was in vain that the leather merchant pleaded and reasoned, and +returned day after day to plead and reason. It was in vain that he +offered a bonus of one thousand, of two thousand, of three thousand +pounds; in vain that he offered, in Joseph’s name, to be content with +only one-third of the pool. Still there came the same answer: ‘It won’t +do.’ + +‘I can’t see the bottom of this,’ he said at last. ‘You answer none of +my arguments; you haven’t a word to say. For my part, I believe it’s +malice.’ + +The lawyer smiled at him benignly. ‘You may believe one thing,’ said he. +‘Whatever else I do, I am not going to gratify any of your curiosity. +You see I am a trifle more communicative today, because this is our last +interview upon the subject.’ + +‘Our last interview!’ cried Morris. + +‘The stirrup-cup, dear boy,’ returned Michael. ‘I can’t have my business +hours encroached upon. And, by the by, have you no business of your own? +Are there no convulsions in the leather trade?’ + +‘I believe it to be malice,’ repeated Morris doggedly. ‘You always hated +and despised me from a boy.’ + +‘No, no--not hated,’ returned Michael soothingly. ‘I rather like you +than otherwise; there’s such a permanent surprise about you, you look so +dark and attractive from a distance. Do you know that to the naked +eye you look romantic?--like what they call a man with a history? And +indeed, from all that I can hear, the history of the leather trade is +full of incident.’ + +‘Yes,’ said Morris, disregarding these remarks, ‘it’s no use coming +here. I shall see your father.’ + +‘O no, you won’t,’ said Michael. ‘Nobody shall see my father.’ + +‘I should like to know why,’ cried his cousin. + +‘I never make any secret of that,’ replied the lawyer. ‘He is too ill.’ + +‘If he is as ill as you say,’ cried the other, ‘the more reason for +accepting my proposal. I will see him.’ + +‘Will you?’ said Michael, and he rose and rang for his clerk. + +It was now time, according to Sir Faraday Bond, the medical baronet +whose name is so familiar at the foot of bulletins, that Joseph (the +poor Golden Goose) should be removed into the purer air of Bournemouth; +and for that uncharted wilderness of villas the family now shook off +the dust of Bloomsbury; Julia delighted, because at Bournemouth she +sometimes made acquaintances; John in despair, for he was a man of city +tastes; Joseph indifferent where he was, so long as there was pen and +ink and daily papers, and he could avoid martyrdom at the office; Morris +himself, perhaps, not displeased to pretermit these visits to the city, +and have a quiet time for thought. He was prepared for any sacrifice; +all he desired was to get his money again and clear his feet of leather; +and it would be strange, since he was so modest in his desires, and the +pool amounted to upward of a hundred and sixteen thousand pounds--it +would be strange indeed if he could find no way of influencing Michael. +‘If I could only guess his reason,’ he repeated to himself; and by day, +as he walked in Branksome Woods, and by night, as he turned upon his +bed, and at meal-times, when he forgot to eat, and in the bathing +machine, when he forgot to dress himself, that problem was constantly +before him: Why had Michael refused? + +At last, one night, he burst into his brother’s room and woke him. + +‘What’s all this?’ asked John. + +‘Julia leaves this place tomorrow,’ replied Morris. ‘She must go up to +town and get the house ready, and find servants. We shall all follow in +three days.’ + +‘Oh, brayvo!’ cried John. ‘But why?’ + +‘I’ve found it out, John,’ returned his brother gently. + +‘It? What?’ enquired John. + +‘Why Michael won’t compromise,’ said Morris. ‘It’s because he can’t. +It’s because Masterman’s dead, and he’s keeping it dark.’ + +‘Golly!’ cried the impressionable John. ‘But what’s the use? Why does he +do it, anyway?’ + +‘To defraud us of the tontine,’ said his brother. + +‘He couldn’t; you have to have a doctor’s certificate,’ objected John. + +‘Did you never hear of venal doctors?’ enquired Morris. ‘They’re as +common as blackberries: you can pick ‘em up for three-pound-ten a head.’ + +‘I wouldn’t do it under fifty if I were a sawbones,’ ejaculated John. + +‘And then Michael,’ continued Morris, ‘is in the very thick of it. All +his clients have come to grief; his whole business is rotten eggs. If +any man could arrange it, he could; and depend upon it, he has his plan +all straight; and depend upon it, it’s a good one, for he’s clever, and +be damned to him! But I’m clever too; and I’m desperate. I lost seven +thousand eight hundred pounds when I was an orphan at school.’ + +‘O, don’t be tedious,’ interrupted John. ‘You’ve lost far more already +trying to get it back.’ + + + +CHAPTER II. In Which Morris takes Action + +Some days later, accordingly, the three males of this depressing family +might have been observed (by a reader of G. P. R. James) taking their +departure from the East Station of Bournemouth. The weather was raw +and changeable, and Joseph was arrayed in consequence according to the +principles of Sir Faraday Bond, a man no less strict (as is well known) +on costume than on diet. There are few polite invalids who have not +lived, or tried to live, by that punctilious physician’s orders. ‘Avoid +tea, madam,’ the reader has doubtless heard him say, ‘avoid tea, fried +liver, antimonial wine, and bakers’ bread. Retire nightly at 10.45; +and clothe yourself (if you please) throughout in hygienic flannel. +Externally, the fur of the marten is indicated. Do not forget to +procure a pair of health boots at Messrs Dail and Crumbie’s.’ And he has +probably called you back, even after you have paid your fee, to add +with stentorian emphasis: ‘I had forgotten one caution: avoid kippered +sturgeon as you would the very devil.’ The unfortunate Joseph was cut to +the pattern of Sir Faraday in every button; he was shod with the health +boot; his suit was of genuine ventilating cloth; his shirt of hygienic +flannel, a somewhat dingy fabric; and he was draped to the knees in +the inevitable greatcoat of marten’s fur. The very railway porters at +Bournemouth (which was a favourite station of the doctor’s) marked the +old gentleman for a creature of Sir Faraday. There was but one evidence +of personal taste, a vizarded forage cap; from this form of headpiece, +since he had fled from a dying jackal on the plains of Ephesus, and +weathered a bora in the Adriatic, nothing could divorce our traveller. + +The three Finsburys mounted into their compartment, and fell immediately +to quarrelling, a step unseemly in itself and (in this case) highly +unfortunate for Morris. Had he lingered a moment longer by the window, +this tale need never have been written. For he might then have observed +(as the porters did not fail to do) the arrival of a second passenger in +the uniform of Sir Faraday Bond. But he had other matters on hand, which +he judged (God knows how erroneously) to be more important. + +‘I never heard of such a thing,’ he cried, resuming a discussion which +had scarcely ceased all morning. ‘The bill is not yours; it is mine.’ + +‘It is payable to me,’ returned the old gentleman, with an air of bitter +obstinacy. ‘I will do what I please with my own property.’ + +The bill was one for eight hundred pounds, which had been given him at +breakfast to endorse, and which he had simply pocketed. + +‘Hear him, Johnny!’ cried Morris. ‘His property! the very clothes upon +his back belong to me.’ + +‘Let him alone,’ said John. ‘I am sick of both of you.’ + +‘That is no way to speak of your uncle, sir,’ cried Joseph. ‘I will not +endure this disrespect. You are a pair of exceedingly forward, impudent, +and ignorant young men, and I have quite made up my mind to put an end +to the whole business.’. + +‘O skittles!’ said the graceful John. + +But Morris was not so easy in his mind. This unusual act of +insubordination had already troubled him; and these mutinous words now +sounded ominously in his ears. He looked at the old gentleman uneasily. +Upon one occasion, many years before, when Joseph was delivering a +lecture, the audience had revolted in a body; finding their entertainer +somewhat dry, they had taken the question of amusement into their own +hands; and the lecturer (along with the board schoolmaster, the Baptist +clergyman, and a working-man’s candidate, who made up his bodyguard) was +ultimately driven from the scene. Morris had not been present on that +fatal day; if he had, he would have recognized a certain fighting +glitter in his uncle’s eye, and a certain chewing movement of his lips, +as old acquaintances. But even to the inexpert these symptoms breathed +of something dangerous. + +‘Well, well,’ said Morris. ‘I have no wish to bother you further till we +get to London.’ + +Joseph did not so much as look at him in answer; with tremulous hands +he produced a copy of the British Mechanic, and ostentatiously buried +himself in its perusal. + +‘I wonder what can make him so cantankerous?’ reflected the nephew. ‘I +don’t like the look of it at all.’ And he dubiously scratched his nose. + +The train travelled forth into the world, bearing along with it the +customary freight of obliterated voyagers, and along with these old +Joseph, affecting immersion in his paper, and John slumbering over +the columns of the Pink Un, and Morris revolving in his mind a dozen +grudges, and suspicions, and alarms. It passed Christchurch by the sea, +Herne with its pinewoods, Ringwood on its mazy river. A little behind +time, but not much for the South-Western, it drew up at the platform of +a station, in the midst of the New Forest, the real name of which (in +case the railway company ‘might have the law of me’) I shall veil under +the alias of Browndean. + +Many passengers put their heads to the window, and among the rest an old +gentleman on whom I willingly dwell, for I am nearly done with him now, +and (in the whole course of the present narrative) I am not in the least +likely to meet another character so decent. His name is immaterial, not +so his habits. He had passed his life wandering in a tweed suit on the +continent of Europe; and years of Galignani’s Messenger having at length +undermined his eyesight, he suddenly remembered the rivers of Assyria +and came to London to consult an oculist. From the oculist to the +dentist, and from both to the physician, the step appears inevitable; +presently he was in the hands of Sir Faraday, robed in ventilating cloth +and sent to Bournemouth; and to that domineering baronet (who was his +only friend upon his native soil) he was now returning to report. The +case of these tweedsuited wanderers is unique. We have all seen them +entering the table d’hote (at Spezzia, or Grdtz, or Venice) with a +genteel melancholy and a faint appearance of having been to India and +not succeeded. In the offices of many hundred hotels they are known by +name; and yet, if the whole of this wandering cohort were to disappear +tomorrow, their absence would be wholly unremarked. How much more, if +only one--say this one in the ventilating cloth--should vanish! He had +paid his bills at Bournemouth; his worldly effects were all in the van +in two portmanteaux, and these after the proper interval would be +sold as unclaimed baggage to a Jew; Sir Faraday’s butler would be a +half-crown poorer at the year’s end, and the hotelkeepers of Europe +about the same date would be mourning a small but quite observable +decline in profits. And that would be literally all. Perhaps the old +gentleman thought something of the sort, for he looked melancholy enough +as he pulled his bare, grey head back into the carriage, and the train +smoked under the bridge, and forth, with ever quickening speed, across +the mingled heaths and woods of the New Forest. + +Not many hundred yards beyond Browndean, however, a sudden jarring of +brakes set everybody’s teeth on edge, and there was a brutal stoppage. +Morris Finsbury was aware of a confused uproar of voices, and sprang to +the window. Women were screaming, men were tumbling from the windows on +the track, the guard was crying to them to stay where they were; at the +same time the train began to gather way and move very slowly backward +toward Browndean; and the next moment--, all these various sounds were +blotted out in the apocalyptic whistle and the thundering onslaught of +the down express. + +The actual collision Morris did not hear. Perhaps he fainted. He had a +wild dream of having seen the carriage double up and fall to pieces +like a pantomime trick; and sure enough, when he came to himself, he was +lying on the bare earth and under the open sky. His head ached savagely; +he carried his hand to his brow, and was not surprised to see it red +with blood. The air was filled with an intolerable, throbbing roar, +which he expected to find die away with the return of consciousness; and +instead of that it seemed but to swell the louder and to pierce the more +cruelly through his ears. It was a raging, bellowing thunder, like a +boiler-riveting factory. + +And now curiosity began to stir, and he sat up and looked about him. The +track at this point ran in a sharp curve about a wooded hillock; all +of the near side was heaped with the wreckage of the Bournemouth train; +that of the express was mostly hidden by the trees; and just at the +turn, under clouds of vomiting steam and piled about with cairns of +living coal, lay what remained of the two engines, one upon the other. +On the heathy margin of the line were many people running to and fro, +and crying aloud as they ran, and many others lying motionless like +sleeping tramps. + +Morris suddenly drew an inference. ‘There has been an accident’ thought +he, and was elated at his perspicacity. Almost at the same time his eye +lighted on John, who lay close by as white as paper. ‘Poor old John! +poor old cove!’ he thought, the schoolboy expression popping forth from +some forgotten treasury, and he took his brother’s hand in his with +childish tenderness. It was perhaps the touch that recalled him; +at least John opened his eyes, sat suddenly up, and after several +ineffectual movements of his lips, ‘What’s the row?’ said he, in a +phantom voice. + +The din of that devil’s smithy still thundered in their ears. ‘Let us +get away from that,’ Morris cried, and pointed to the vomit of steam +that still spouted from the broken engines. And the pair helped each +other up, and stood and quaked and wavered and stared about them at the +scene of death. + +Just then they were approached by a party of men who had already +organized themselves for the purposes of rescue. + +‘Are you hurt?’ cried one of these, a young fellow with the sweat +streaming down his pallid face, and who, by the way he was treated, was +evidently the doctor. + +Morris shook his head, and the young man, nodding grimly, handed him a +bottle of some spirit. + +‘Take a drink of that,’ he said; ‘your friend looks as if he needed it +badly. We want every man we can get,’ he added; ‘there’s terrible work +before us, and nobody should shirk. If you can do no more, you can carry +a stretcher.’ + +The doctor was hardly gone before Morris, under the spur of the dram, +awoke to the full possession of his wits. + +‘My God!’ he cried. ‘Uncle Joseph!’ + +‘Yes,’ said John, ‘where can he be? He can’t be far off. I hope the old +party isn’t damaged.’ + +‘Come and help me to look,’ said Morris, with a snap of savage +determination strangely foreign to his ordinary bearing; and then, for +one moment, he broke forth. ‘If he’s dead!’ he cried, and shook his fist +at heaven. + +To and fro the brothers hurried, staring in the faces of the wounded, +or turning the dead upon their backs. They must have thus examined forty +people, and still there was no word of Uncle Joseph. But now the course +of their search brought them near the centre of the collision, where the +boilers were still blowing off steam with a deafening clamour. It was +a part of the field not yet gleaned by the rescuing party. The ground, +especially on the margin of the wood, was full of inequalities--here +a pit, there a hillock surmounted with a bush of furze. It was a place +where many bodies might lie concealed, and they beat it like pointers +after game. Suddenly Morris, who was leading, paused and reached forth +his index with a tragic gesture. John followed the direction of his +brother’s hand. + +In the bottom of a sandy hole lay something that had once been human. +The face had suffered severely, and it was unrecognizable; but that was +not required. The snowy hair, the coat of marten, the ventilating cloth, +the hygienic flannel--everything down to the health boots from Messrs +Dail and Crumbie’s, identified the body as that of Uncle Joseph. Only +the forage cap must have been lost in the convulsion, for the dead man +was bareheaded. + +‘The poor old beggar!’ said John, with a touch of natural feeling; ‘I +would give ten pounds if we hadn’t chivvied him in the train!’ + +But there was no sentiment in the face of Morris as he gazed upon the +dead. Gnawing his nails, with introverted eyes, his brow marked with +the stamp of tragic indignation and tragic intellectual effort, he stood +there silent. Here was a last injustice; he had been robbed while he was +an orphan at school, he had been lashed to a decadent leather business, +he had been saddled with Miss Hazeltine, his cousin had been defrauding +him of the tontine, and he had borne all this, we might almost say, with +dignity, and now they had gone and killed his uncle! + +‘Here!’ he said suddenly, ‘take his heels, we must get him into the +woods. I’m not going to have anybody find this.’ + +‘O, fudge!’ said John, ‘where’s the use?’ + +‘Do what I tell you,’ spirted Morris, as he took the corpse by the +shoulders. ‘Am I to carry him myself?’ + +They were close upon the borders of the wood; in ten or twelve paces +they were under cover; and a little further back, in a sandy clearing of +the trees, they laid their burthen down, and stood and looked at it with +loathing. + +‘What do you mean to do?’ whispered John. + +‘Bury him, to be sure,’ responded Morris, and he opened his pocket-knife +and began feverishly to dig. + +‘You’ll never make a hand of it with that,’ objected the other. + +‘If you won’t help me, you cowardly shirk,’ screamed Morris, ‘you can go +to the devil!’ + +‘It’s the childishest folly,’ said John; ‘but no man shall call me a +coward,’ and he began to help his brother grudgingly. + +The soil was sandy and light, but matted with the roots of the +surrounding firs. Gorse tore their hands; and as they baled the sand +from the grave, it was often discoloured with their blood. An hour +passed of unremitting energy upon the part of Morris, of lukewarm help +on that of John; and still the trench was barely nine inches in depth. +Into this the body was rudely flung: sand was piled upon it, and then +more sand must be dug, and gorse had to be cut to pile on that; and +still from one end of the sordid mound a pair of feet projected and +caught the light upon their patent-leather toes. But by this time the +nerves of both were shaken; even Morris had enough of his grisly task; +and they skulked off like animals into the thickest of the neighbouring +covert. + +‘It’s the best that we can do,’ said Morris, sitting down. + +‘And now,’ said John, ‘perhaps you’ll have the politeness to tell me +what it’s all about.’ + +‘Upon my word,’ cried Morris, ‘if you do not understand for yourself, I +almost despair of telling you.’ + +‘O, of course it’s some rot about the tontine,’ returned the other. ‘But +it’s the merest nonsense. We’ve lost it, and there’s an end.’ + +‘I tell you,’ said Morris, ‘Uncle Masterman is dead. I know it, there’s +a voice that tells me so.’ + +‘Well, and so is Uncle Joseph,’ said John. + +‘He’s not dead, unless I choose,’ returned Morris. + +‘And come to that,’ cried John, ‘if you’re right, and Uncle Masterman’s +been dead ever so long, all we have to do is to tell the truth and +expose Michael.’ + +‘You seem to think Michael is a fool,’ sneered Morris. ‘Can’t you +understand he’s been preparing this fraud for years? He has the whole +thing ready: the nurse, the doctor, the undertaker, all bought, the +certificate all ready but the date! Let him get wind of this business, +and you mark my words, Uncle Masterman will die in two days and be +buried in a week. But see here, Johnny; what Michael can do, I can do. +If he plays a game of bluff, so can I. If his father is to live for +ever, by God, so shall my uncle!’ + +‘It’s illegal, ain’t it?’ said John. + +‘A man must have SOME moral courage,’ replied Morris with dignity. + +‘And then suppose you’re wrong? Suppose Uncle Masterman’s alive and +kicking?’ + +‘Well, even then,’ responded the plotter, ‘we are no worse off than we +were before; in fact, we’re better. Uncle Masterman must die some day; +as long as Uncle Joseph was alive, he might have died any day; but we’re +out of all that trouble now: there’s no sort of limit to the game that I +propose--it can be kept up till Kingdom Come.’ + +‘If I could only see how you meant to set about it’ sighed John. ‘But +you know, Morris, you always were such a bungler.’ + +‘I’d like to know what I ever bungled,’ cried Morris; ‘I have the best +collection of signet rings in London.’ + +‘Well, you know, there’s the leather business,’ suggested the other. +‘That’s considered rather a hash.’ + +It was a mark of singular self-control in Morris that he suffered this +to pass unchallenged, and even unresented. + +‘About the business in hand,’ said he, ‘once we can get him up to +Bloomsbury, there’s no sort of trouble. We bury him in the cellar, which +seems made for it; and then all I have to do is to start out and find a +venal doctor.’ + +‘Why can’t we leave him where he is?’ asked John. + +‘Because we know nothing about the country,’ retorted Morris. ‘This wood +may be a regular lovers’ walk. Turn your mind to the real difficulty. +How are we to get him up to Bloomsbury?’ + +Various schemes were mooted and rejected. The railway station at +Browndean was, of course, out of the question, for it would now be a +centre of curiosity and gossip, and (of all things) they would be +least able to dispatch a dead body without remark. John feebly proposed +getting an ale-cask and sending it as beer, but the objections to this +course were so overwhelming that Morris scorned to answer. The purchase +of a packing-case seemed equally hopeless, for why should two gentlemen +without baggage of any kind require a packing-case? They would be more +likely to require clean linen. + +‘We are working on wrong lines,’ cried Morris at last. ‘The thing must +be gone about more carefully. Suppose now,’ he added excitedly, speaking +by fits and starts, as if he were thinking aloud, ‘suppose we rent +a cottage by the month. A householder can buy a packing-case without +remark. Then suppose we clear the people out today, get the packing-case +tonight, and tomorrow I hire a carriage or a cart that we could +drive ourselves--and take the box, or whatever we get, to Ringwood or +Lyndhurst or somewhere; we could label it “specimens”, don’t you see? +Johnny, I believe I’ve hit the nail at last.’ + +‘Well, it sounds more feasible,’ admitted John. + +‘Of course we must take assumed names,’ continued Morris. ‘It would +never do to keep our own. What do you say to “Masterman” itself? It +sounds quiet and dignified.’ + +‘I will NOT take the name of Masterman,’ returned his brother; ‘you may, +if you like. I shall call myself Vance--the Great Vance; positively the +last six nights. There’s some go in a name like that.’ + +‘Vance?’ cried Morris. ‘Do you think we are playing a pantomime for our +amusement? There was never anybody named Vance who wasn’t a music-hall +singer.’ + +‘That’s the beauty of it,’ returned John; ‘it gives you some standing at +once. You may call yourself Fortescue till all’s blue, and nobody cares; +but to be Vance gives a man a natural nobility.’ + +‘But there’s lots of other theatrical names,’ cried Morris. ‘Leybourne, +Irving, Brough, Toole--’ + +‘Devil a one will I take!’ returned his brother. ‘I am going to have my +little lark out of this as well as you.’ + +‘Very well,’ said Morris, who perceived that John was determined to +carry his point, ‘I shall be Robert Vance.’ + +‘And I shall be George Vance,’ cried John, ‘the only original George +Vance! Rally round the only original!’ + +Repairing as well as they were able the disorder of their clothes, the +Finsbury brothers returned to Browndean by a circuitous route in quest +of luncheon and a suitable cottage. It is not always easy to drop at +a moment’s notice on a furnished residence in a retired locality; but +fortune presently introduced our adventurers to a deaf carpenter, a man +rich in cottages of the required description, and unaffectedly eager to +supply their wants. The second place they visited, standing, as it did, +about a mile and a half from any neighbours, caused them to exchange a +glance of hope. On a nearer view, the place was not without depressing +features. It stood in a marshy-looking hollow of a heath; tall trees +obscured its windows; the thatch visibly rotted on the rafters; and the +walls were stained with splashes of unwholesome green. The rooms were +small, the ceilings low, the furniture merely nominal; a strange chill +and a haunting smell of damp pervaded the kitchen; and the bedroom +boasted only of one bed. + +Morris, with a view to cheapening the place, remarked on this defect. + +‘Well,’ returned the man; ‘if you can’t sleep two abed, you’d better +take a villa residence.’ + +‘And then,’ pursued Morris, ‘there’s no water. How do you get your +water?’ + +‘We fill THAT from the spring,’ replied the carpenter, pointing to a big +barrel that stood beside the door. ‘The spring ain’t so VERY far off, +after all, and it’s easy brought in buckets. There’s a bucket there.’ + +Morris nudged his brother as they examined the water-butt. It was +new, and very solidly constructed for its office. If anything had been +wanting to decide them, this eminently practical barrel would have +turned the scale. A bargain was promptly struck, the month’s rent was +paid upon the nail, and about an hour later the Finsbury brothers might +have been observed returning to the blighted cottage, having along with +them the key, which was the symbol of their tenancy, a spirit-lamp, with +which they fondly told themselves they would be able to cook, a pork pie +of suitable dimensions, and a quart of the worst whisky in Hampshire. +Nor was this all they had effected; already (under the plea that they +were landscape-painters) they had hired for dawn on the morrow a light +but solid two-wheeled cart; so that when they entered in their new +character, they were able to tell themselves that the back of the +business was already broken. + +John proceeded to get tea; while Morris, foraging about the house, was +presently delighted by discovering the lid of the water-butt upon the +kitchen shelf. Here, then, was the packing-case complete; in the absence +of straw, the blankets (which he himself, at least, had not the smallest +intention of using for their present purpose) would exactly take the +place of packing; and Morris, as the difficulties began to vanish from +his path, rose almost to the brink of exultation. There was, however, +one difficulty not yet faced, one upon which his whole scheme depended. +Would John consent to remain alone in the cottage? He had not yet dared +to put the question. + +It was with high good-humour that the pair sat down to the deal table, +and proceeded to fall-to on the pork pie. Morris retailed the discovery +of the lid, and the Great Vance was pleased to applaud by beating on the +table with his fork in true music-hall style. + +‘That’s the dodge,’ he cried. ‘I always said a water-butt was what you +wanted for this business.’ + +‘Of course,’ said Morris, thinking this a favourable opportunity to +prepare his brother, ‘of course you must stay on in this place till I +give the word; I’ll give out that uncle is resting in the New Forest. It +would not do for both of us to appear in London; we could never conceal +the absence of the old man.’ + +John’s jaw dropped. + +‘O, come!’ he cried. ‘You can stay in this hole yourself. I won’t.’ + +The colour came into Morris’s cheeks. He saw that he must win his +brother at any cost. + +‘You must please remember, Johnny,’ he said, ‘the amount of the tontine. +If I succeed, we shall have each fifty thousand to place to our bank +account; ay, and nearer sixty.’ + +‘But if you fail,’ returned John, ‘what then? What’ll be the colour of +our bank account in that case?’ + +‘I will pay all expenses,’ said Morris, with an inward struggle; ‘you +shall lose nothing.’ + +‘Well,’ said John, with a laugh, ‘if the ex-s are yours, and +half-profits mine, I don’t mind remaining here for a couple of days.’ + +‘A couple of days!’ cried Morris, who was beginning to get angry and +controlled himself with difficulty; ‘why, you would do more to win five +pounds on a horse-race!’ + +‘Perhaps I would,’ returned the Great Vance; ‘it’s the artistic +temperament.’ + +‘This is monstrous!’ burst out Morris. ‘I take all risks; I pay all +expenses; I divide profits; and you won’t take the slightest pains to +help me. It’s not decent; it’s not honest; it’s not even kind.’ + +‘But suppose,’ objected John, who was considerably impressed by his +brother’s vehemence, ‘suppose that Uncle Masterman is alive after all, +and lives ten years longer; must I rot here all that time?’ + +‘Of course not,’ responded Morris, in a more conciliatory tone; ‘I only +ask a month at the outside; and if Uncle Masterman is not dead by that +time you can go abroad.’ + +‘Go abroad?’ repeated John eagerly. ‘Why shouldn’t I go at once? Tell +‘em that Joseph and I are seeing life in Paris.’ + +‘Nonsense,’ said Morris. + +‘Well, but look here,’ said John; ‘it’s this house, it’s such a pig-sty, +it’s so dreary and damp. You said yourself that it was damp.’ + +‘Only to the carpenter,’ Morris distinguished, ‘and that was to reduce +the rent. But really, you know, now we’re in it, I’ve seen worse.’ + +‘And what am I to do?’ complained the victim. ‘How can I entertain a +friend?’ + +‘My dear Johnny, if you don’t think the tontine worth a little trouble, +say so, and I’ll give the business up.’ + +‘You’re dead certain of the figures, I suppose?’ asked John. +‘Well’--with a deep sigh--‘send me the Pink Un and all the comic papers +regularly. I’ll face the music.’ + +As afternoon drew on, the cottage breathed more thrillingly of its +native marsh; a creeping chill inhabited its chambers; the fire smoked, +and a shower of rain, coming up from the channel on a slant of wind, +tingled on the window-panes. At intervals, when the gloom deepened +toward despair, Morris would produce the whisky-bottle, and at first +John welcomed the diversion--not for long. It has been said this spirit +was the worst in Hampshire; only those acquainted with the county can +appreciate the force of that superlative; and at length even the Great +Vance (who was no connoisseur) waved the decoction from his lips. The +approach of dusk, feebly combated with a single tallow candle, added +a touch of tragedy; and John suddenly stopped whistling through his +fingers--an art to the practice of which he had been reduced--and +bitterly lamented his concessions. + +‘I can’t stay here a month,’ he cried. ‘No one could. The thing’s +nonsense, Morris. The parties that lived in the Bastille would rise +against a place like this.’ + +With an admirable affectation of indifference, Morris proposed a game +of pitch-and-toss. To what will not the diplomatist condescend! It was +John’s favourite game; indeed his only game--he had found all the rest +too intellectual--and he played it with equal skill and good fortune. To +Morris himself, on the other hand, the whole business was detestable; +he was a bad pitcher, he had no luck in tossing, and he was one who +suffered torments when he lost. But John was in a dangerous humour, and +his brother was prepared for any sacrifice. + +By seven o’clock, Morris, with incredible agony, had lost a couple of +half-crowns. Even with the tontine before his eyes, this was as much as +he could bear; and, remarking that he would take his revenge some other +time, he proposed a bit of supper and a grog. + +Before they had made an end of this refreshment it was time to be at +work. A bucket of water for present necessities was withdrawn from the +water-butt, which was then emptied and rolled before the kitchen fire to +dry; and the two brothers set forth on their adventure under a starless +heaven. + + + +CHAPTER III. The Lecturer at Large + +Whether mankind is really partial to happiness is an open question. +Not a month passes by but some cherished son runs off into the merchant +service, or some valued husband decamps to Texas with a lady help; +clergymen have fled from their parishioners; and even judges have been +known to retire. To an open mind, it will appear (upon the whole) less +strange that Joseph Finsbury should have been led to entertain ideas of +escape. His lot (I think we may say) was not a happy one. My friend, Mr +Morris, with whom I travel up twice or thrice a week from Snaresbrook +Park, is certainly a gentleman whom I esteem; but he was scarce a model +nephew. As for John, he is of course an excellent fellow; but if he was +the only link that bound one to a home, I think the most of us would +vote for foreign travel. In the case of Joseph, John (if he were a link +at all) was not the only one; endearing bonds had long enchained the old +gentleman to Bloomsbury; and by these expressions I do not in the least +refer to Julia Hazeltine (of whom, however, he was fond enough), but to +that collection of manuscript notebooks in which his life lay buried. +That he should ever have made up his mind to separate himself from these +collections, and go forth upon the world with no other resources than +his memory supplied, is a circumstance highly pathetic in itself, and +but little creditable to the wisdom of his nephews. + +The design, or at least the temptation, was already some months old; and +when a bill for eight hundred pounds, payable to himself, was suddenly +placed in Joseph’s hand, it brought matters to an issue. He retained +that bill, which, to one of his frugality, meant wealth; and he promised +himself to disappear among the crowds at Waterloo, or (if that should +prove impossible) to slink out of the house in the course of the +evening and melt like a dream into the millions of London. By a peculiar +interposition of Providence and railway mismanagement he had not so long +to wait. + +He was one of the first to come to himself and scramble to his feet +after the Browndean catastrophe, and he had no sooner remarked his +prostrate nephews than he understood his opportunity and fled. A man of +upwards of seventy, who has just met with a railway accident, and who is +cumbered besides with the full uniform of Sir Faraday Bond, is not +very likely to flee far, but the wood was close at hand and offered the +fugitive at least a temporary covert. Hither, then, the old gentleman +skipped with extraordinary expedition, and, being somewhat winded and +a good deal shaken, here he lay down in a convenient grove and was +presently overwhelmed by slumber. The way of fate is often highly +entertaining to the looker-on, and it is certainly a pleasant +circumstance, that while Morris and John were delving in the sand to +conceal the body of a total stranger, their uncle lay in dreamless sleep +a few hundred yards deeper in the wood. + +He was awakened by the jolly note of a bugle from the neighbouring high +road, where a char-a-banc was bowling by with some belated tourists. The +sound cheered his old heart, it directed his steps into the bargain, and +soon he was on the highway, looking east and west from under his vizor, +and doubtfully revolving what he ought to do. A deliberate sound of +wheels arose in the distance, and then a cart was seen approaching, well +filled with parcels, driven by a good-natured looking man on a double +bench, and displaying on a board the legend, ‘I Chandler, carrier’. In +the infamously prosaic mind of Mr Finsbury, certain streaks of poetry +survived and were still efficient; they had carried him to Asia Minor +as a giddy youth of forty, and now, in the first hours of his recovered +freedom, they suggested to him the idea of continuing his flight in Mr +Chandler’s cart. It would be cheap; properly broached, it might even +cost nothing, and, after years of mittens and hygienic flannel, his +heart leaped out to meet the notion of exposure. + +Mr Chandler was perhaps a little puzzled to find so old a gentleman, so +strangely clothed, and begging for a lift on so retired a roadside. +But he was a good-natured man, glad to do a service, and so he took the +stranger up; and he had his own idea of civility, and so he asked no +questions. Silence, in fact, was quite good enough for Mr Chandler; +but the cart had scarcely begun to move forward ere he found himself +involved in a one-sided conversation. + +‘I can see,’ began Mr Finsbury, ‘by the mixture of parcels and boxes +that are contained in your cart, each marked with its individual label, +and by the good Flemish mare you drive, that you occupy the post of +carrier in that great English system of transport which, with all its +defects, is the pride of our country.’ + +‘Yes, sir,’ returned Mr Chandler vaguely, for he hardly knew what to +reply; ‘them parcels posts has done us carriers a world of harm.’ + +‘I am not a prejudiced man,’ continued Joseph Finsbury. ‘As a young +man I travelled much. Nothing was too small or too obscure for me to +acquire. At sea I studied seamanship, learned the complicated knots +employed by mariners, and acquired the technical terms. At Naples, +I would learn the art of making macaroni; at Nice, the principles of +making candied fruit. I never went to the opera without first buying the +book of the piece, and making myself acquainted with the principal airs +by picking them out on the piano with one finger.’ + +‘You must have seen a deal, sir,’ remarked the carrier, touching up his +horse; ‘I wish I could have had your advantages.’ + +‘Do you know how often the word whip occurs in the Old Testament?’ +continued the old gentleman. ‘One hundred and (if I remember exactly) +forty-seven times.’ + +‘Do it indeed, sir?’ said Mr Chandler. ‘I never should have thought it.’ + +‘The Bible contains three million five hundred and one thousand two +hundred and forty-nine letters. Of verses I believe there are upward of +eighteen thousand. There have been many editions of the Bible; Wycliff +was the first to introduce it into England about the year 1300. The +“Paragraph Bible”, as it is called, is a well-known edition, and is so +called because it is divided into paragraphs. The “Breeches Bible” is +another well-known instance, and gets its name either because it was +printed by one Breeches, or because the place of publication bore that +name.’ + +The carrier remarked drily that he thought that was only natural, and +turned his attention to the more congenial task of passing a cart of +hay; it was a matter of some difficulty, for the road was narrow, and +there was a ditch on either hand. + +‘I perceive,’ began Mr Finsbury, when they had successfully passed the +cart, ‘that you hold your reins with one hand; you should employ two.’ + +‘Well, I like that!’ cried the carrier contemptuously. ‘Why?’ + +‘You do not understand,’ continued Mr Finsbury. ‘What I tell you is a +scientific fact, and reposes on the theory of the lever, a branch of +mechanics. There are some very interesting little shilling books upon +the field of study, which I should think a man in your station would +take a pleasure to read. But I am afraid you have not cultivated the art +of observation; at least we have now driven together for some time, and +I cannot remember that you have contributed a single fact. This is a +very false principle, my good man. For instance, I do not know if you +observed that (as you passed the hay-cart man) you took your left?’ + +‘Of course I did,’ cried the carrier, who was now getting belligerent; +‘he’d have the law on me if I hadn’t.’ + +‘In France, now,’ resumed the old man, ‘and also, I believe, in the + +United States of America, you would have taken the right.’ + +‘I would not,’ cried Mr Chandler indignantly. ‘I would have taken the +left.’ + +‘I observe again,’ continued Mr Finsbury, scorning to reply, ‘that you +mend the dilapidated parts of your harness with string. I have always +protested against this carelessness and slovenliness of the English +poor. In an essay that I once read before an appreciative audience--’ + +‘It ain’t string,’ said the carrier sullenly, ‘it’s pack-thread.’ + +‘I have always protested,’ resumed the old man, ‘that in their private +and domestic life, as well as in their labouring career, the lower +classes of this country are improvident, thriftless, and extravagant. A +stitch in time--’ + +‘Who the devil ARE the lower classes?’ cried the carrier. ‘You are the +lower classes yourself! If I thought you were a blooming aristocrat, I +shouldn’t have given you a lift.’ + +The words were uttered with undisguised ill-feeling; it was plain the +pair were not congenial, and further conversation, even to one of Mr +Finsbury’s pathetic loquacity, was out of the question. With an angry +gesture, he pulled down the brim of the forage-cap over his eyes, +and, producing a notebook and a blue pencil from one of his innermost +pockets, soon became absorbed in calculations. + +On his part the carrier fell to whistling with fresh zest; and if (now +and again) he glanced at the companion of his drive, it was with mingled +feelings of triumph and alarm--triumph because he had succeeded in +arresting that prodigy of speech, and alarm lest (by any accident) it +should begin again. Even the shower, which presently overtook and passed +them, was endured by both in silence; and it was still in silence that +they drove at length into Southampton. + +Dusk had fallen; the shop windows glimmered forth into the streets of +the old seaport; in private houses lights were kindled for the evening +meal; and Mr Finsbury began to think complacently of his night’s +lodging. He put his papers by, cleared his throat, and looked doubtfully +at Mr Chandler. + +‘Will you be civil enough,’ said he, ‘to recommend me to an inn?’ Mr +Chandler pondered for a moment. + +‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘I wonder how about the “Tregonwell Arms”.’ + +‘The “Tregonwell Arms” will do very well,’ returned the old man, ‘if +it’s clean and cheap, and the people civil.’ + +‘I wasn’t thinking so much of you,’ returned Mr Chandler thoughtfully. +‘I was thinking of my friend Watts as keeps the ‘ouse; he’s a friend of +mine, you see, and he helped me through my trouble last year. And I was +thinking, would it be fair-like on Watts to saddle him with an old party +like you, who might be the death of him with general information. Would +it be fair to the ‘ouse?’ enquired Mr Chandler, with an air of candid +appeal. + +‘Mark me,’ cried the old gentleman with spirit. ‘It was kind in you to +bring me here for nothing, but it gives you no right to address me +in such terms. Here’s a shilling for your trouble; and, if you do +not choose to set me down at the “Tregonwell Arms”, I can find it for +myself.’ + +Chandler was surprised and a little startled; muttering something +apologetic, he returned the shilling, drove in silence through several +intricate lanes and small streets, drew up at length before the bright +windows of an inn, and called loudly for Mr Watts. + +‘Is that you, Jem?’ cried a hearty voice from the stableyard. ‘Come in +and warm yourself.’ + +‘I only stopped here,’ Mr Chandler explained, ‘to let down an old gent +that wants food and lodging. Mind, I warn you agin him; he’s worse nor a +temperance lecturer.’ + +Mr Finsbury dismounted with difficulty, for he was cramped with his long +drive, and the shaking he had received in the accident. The friendly Mr +Watts, in spite of the carter’s scarcely agreeable introduction, treated +the old gentleman with the utmost courtesy, and led him into the back +parlour, where there was a big fire burning in the grate. Presently a +table was spread in the same room, and he was invited to seat himself +before a stewed fowl--somewhat the worse for having seen service +before--and a big pewter mug of ale from the tap. + +He rose from supper a giant refreshed; and, changing his seat to one +nearer the fire, began to examine the other guests with an eye to the +delights of oratory. There were near a dozen present, all men, and (as +Joseph exulted to perceive) all working men. Often already had he seen +cause to bless that appetite for disconnected fact and rotatory argument +which is so marked a character of the mechanic. But even an audience of +working men has to be courted, and there was no man more deeply versed +in the necessary arts than Joseph Finsbury. He placed his glasses on his +nose, drew from his pocket a bundle of papers, and spread them before +him on a table. He crumpled them, he smoothed them out; now he skimmed +them over, apparently well pleased with their contents; now, with +tapping pencil and contracted brows, he seemed maturely to consider some +particular statement. A stealthy glance about the room assured him of +the success of his manoeuvres; all eyes were turned on the performer, +mouths were open, pipes hung suspended; the birds were charmed. At the +same moment the entrance of Mr Watts afforded him an opportunity. + +‘I observe,’ said he, addressing the landlord, but taking at the same +time the whole room into his confidence with an encouraging look, ‘I +observe that some of these gentlemen are looking with curiosity in +my direction; and certainly it is unusual to see anyone immersed in +literary and scientific labours in the public apartment of an inn. I +have here some calculations I made this morning upon the cost of living +in this and other countries--a subject, I need scarcely say, highly +interesting to the working classes. I have calculated a scale of living +for incomes of eighty, one hundred and sixty, two hundred, and two +hundred and forty pounds a year. I must confess that the income of +eighty pounds has somewhat baffled me, and the others are not so exact +as I could wish; for the price of washing varies largely in foreign +countries, and the different cokes, coals and firewoods fluctuate +surprisingly. I will read my researches, and I hope you won’t scruple to +point out to me any little errors that I may have committed either from +oversight or ignorance. I will begin, gentlemen, with the income of +eighty pounds a year.’ + +Whereupon the old gentleman, with less compassion than he would have had +for brute beasts, delivered himself of all his tedious calculations. +As he occasionally gave nine versions of a single income, placing +the imaginary person in London, Paris, Bagdad, Spitzbergen, +Bassorah, Heligoland, the Scilly Islands, Brighton, Cincinnati, and +Nijni-Novgorod, with an appropriate outfit for each locality, it is no +wonder that his hearers look back on that evening as the most tiresome +they ever spent. + +Long before Mr Finsbury had reached Nijni-Novgorod with the income of +one hundred and sixty pounds, the company had dwindled and faded away to +a few old topers and the bored but affable Watts. There was a constant +stream of customers from the outer world, but so soon as they were +served they drank their liquor quickly and departed with the utmost +celerity for the next public-house. + +By the time the young man with two hundred a year was vegetating in the +Scilly Islands, Mr Watts was left alone with the economist; and that +imaginary person had scarce commenced life at Brighton before the last +of his pursuers desisted from the chase. + +Mr Finsbury slept soundly after the manifold fatigues of the day. He +rose late, and, after a good breakfast, ordered the bill. Then it was +that he made a discovery which has been made by many others, both before +and since: that it is one thing to order your bill, and another to +discharge it. The items were moderate and (what does not always follow) +the total small; but, after the most sedulous review of all his pockets, +one and nine pence halfpenny appeared to be the total of the old +gentleman’s available assets. He asked to see Mr Watts. + +‘Here is a bill on London for eight hundred pounds,’ said Mr Finsbury, +as that worthy appeared. ‘I am afraid, unless you choose to discount it +yourself, it may detain me a day or two till I can get it cashed.’ + +Mr Watts looked at the bill, turned it over, and dogs-eared it with his +fingers. ‘It will keep you a day or two?’ he said, repeating the old +man’s words. ‘You have no other money with you?’ + +‘Some trifling change,’ responded Joseph. ‘Nothing to speak of.’ + +‘Then you can send it me; I should be pleased to trust you.’ + +‘To tell the truth,’ answered the old gentleman, ‘I am more than half +inclined to stay; I am in need of funds.’ + +‘If a loan of ten shillings would help you, it is at your service,’ +responded Watts, with eagerness. + +‘No, I think I would rather stay,’ said the old man, ‘and get my bill +discounted.’ + +‘You shall not stay in my house,’ cried Mr Watts. ‘This is the last time +you shall have a bed at the “Tregonwell Arms”.’ + +‘I insist upon remaining,’ replied Mr Finsbury, with spirit; ‘I remain +by Act of Parliament; turn me out if you dare.’ + +‘Then pay your bill,’ said Mr Watts. + +‘Take that,’ cried the old man, tossing him the negotiable bill. + +‘It is not legal tender,’ replied Mr Watts. ‘You must leave my house at +once.’ + +‘You cannot appreciate the contempt I feel for you, Mr Watts,’ said the +old gentleman, resigning himself to circumstances. ‘But you shall feel +it in one way: I refuse to pay my bill.’ + +‘I don’t care for your bill,’ responded Mr Watts. ‘What I want is your +absence.’ + +‘That you shall have!’ said the old gentleman, and, taking up his +forage cap as he spoke, he crammed it on his head. ‘Perhaps you are +too insolent,’ he added, ‘to inform me of the time of the next London +train?’ + +‘It leaves in three-quarters of an hour,’ returned the innkeeper with +alacrity. ‘You can easily catch it.’ + +Joseph’s position was one of considerable weakness. On the one hand, it +would have been well to avoid the direct line of railway, since it was +there he might expect his nephews to lie in wait for his recapture; on +the other, it was highly desirable, it was even strictly needful, to get +the bill discounted ere it should be stopped. To London, therefore, he +decided to proceed on the first train; and there remained but one point +to be considered, how to pay his fare. + +Joseph’s nails were never clean; he ate almost entirely with his knife. +I doubt if you could say he had the manners of a gentleman; but he had +better than that, a touch of genuine dignity. Was it from his stay in +Asia Minor? Was it from a strain in the Finsbury blood sometimes +alluded to by customers? At least, when he presented himself before the +station-master, his salaam was truly Oriental, palm-trees appeared to +crowd about the little office, and the simoom or the bulbul--but I leave +this image to persons better acquainted with the East. His appearance, +besides, was highly in his favour; the uniform of Sir Faraday, however +inconvenient and conspicuous, was, at least, a costume in which no +swindler could have hoped to prosper; and the exhibition of a valuable +watch and a bill for eight hundred pounds completed what deportment had +begun. A quarter of an hour later, when the train came up, Mr Finsbury +was introduced to the guard and installed in a first-class compartment, +the station-master smilingly assuming all responsibility. + +As the old gentleman sat waiting the moment of departure, he was the +witness of an incident strangely connected with the fortunes of his +house. A packing-case of cyclopean bulk was borne along the platform +by some dozen of tottering porters, and ultimately, to the delight of a +considerable crowd, hoisted on board the van. It is often the cheering +task of the historian to direct attention to the designs and (if it may +be reverently said) the artifices of Providence. In the luggage van, as +Joseph was borne out of the station of Southampton East upon his way +to London, the egg of his romance lay (so to speak) unhatched. The +huge packing-case was directed to lie at Waterloo till called for, and +addressed to one ‘William Dent Pitman’; and the very next article, +a goodly barrel jammed into the corner of the van, bore the +superscription, ‘M. Finsbury, 16 John Street, Bloomsbury. Carriage +paid.’ + +In this juxtaposition, the train of powder was prepared; and there was +now wanting only an idle hand to fire it off. + + + +CHAPTER IV. The Magistrate in the Luggage Van + +The city of Winchester is famed for a cathedral, a bishop--but he was +unfortunately killed some years ago while riding--a public school, a +considerable assortment of the military, and the deliberate passage of +the trains of the London and South-Western line. These and many +similar associations would have doubtless crowded on the mind of Joseph +Finsbury; but his spirit had at that time flitted from the railway +compartment to a heaven of populous lecture-halls and endless oratory. +His body, in the meanwhile, lay doubled on the cushions, the forage-cap +rakishly tilted back after the fashion of those that lie in wait for +nursery-maids, the poor old face quiescent, one arm clutching to his +heart Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper. + +To him, thus unconscious, enter and exeunt again a pair of voyagers. +These two had saved the train and no more. A tandem urged to its last +speed, an act of something closely bordering on brigandage at the ticket +office, and a spasm of running, had brought them on the platform just +as the engine uttered its departing snort. There was but one carriage +easily within their reach; and they had sprung into it, and the leader +and elder already had his feet upon the floor, when he observed Mr +Finsbury. + +‘Good God!’ he cried. ‘Uncle Joseph! This’ll never do.’ + +And he backed out, almost upsetting his companion, and once more closed +the door upon the sleeping patriarch. + +The next moment the pair had jumped into the baggage van. + +‘What’s the row about your Uncle Joseph?’ enquired the younger +traveller, mopping his brow. ‘Does he object to smoking?’ + +‘I don’t know that there’s anything the row with him,’ returned the +other. ‘He’s by no means the first comer, my Uncle Joseph, I can tell +you! Very respectable old gentleman; interested in leather; been to Asia +Minor; no family, no assets--and a tongue, my dear Wickham, sharper than +a serpent’s tooth.’ + +‘Cantankerous old party, eh?’ suggested Wickham. + +‘Not in the least,’ cried the other; ‘only a man with a solid talent +for being a bore; rather cheery I dare say, on a desert island, but on +a railway journey insupportable. You should hear him on Tonti, the ass +that started tontines. He’s incredible on Tonti.’ + +‘By Jove!’ cried Wickham, ‘then you’re one of these Finsbury tontine +fellows. I hadn’t a guess of that.’ + +‘Ah!’ said the other, ‘do you know that old boy in the carriage is worth +a hundred thousand pounds to me? There he was asleep, and nobody there +but you! But I spared him, because I’m a Conservative in politics.’ + +Mr Wickham, pleased to be in a luggage van, was flitting to and fro like +a gentlemanly butterfly. + +‘By Jingo!’ he cried, ‘here’s something for you! “M. Finsbury, 16 John +Street, Bloomsbury, London.” M. stands for Michael, you sly dog; you +keep two establishments, do you?’ + +‘O, that’s Morris,’ responded Michael from the other end of the van, +where he had found a comfortable seat upon some sacks. ‘He’s a little +cousin of mine. I like him myself, because he’s afraid of me. He’s +one of the ornaments of Bloomsbury, and has a collection of some +kind--birds’ eggs or something that’s supposed to be curious. I bet it’s +nothing to my clients!’ + +‘What a lark it would be to play billy with the labels!’ chuckled Mr +Wickham. ‘By George, here’s a tack-hammer! We might send all these +things skipping about the premises like what’s-his-name!’ + +At this moment, the guard, surprised by the sound of voices, opened the +door of his little cabin. + +‘You had best step in here, gentlemen,’ said he, when he had heard their +story. + +‘Won’t you come, Wickham?’ asked Michael. + +‘Catch me--I want to travel in a van,’ replied the youth. + +And so the door of communication was closed; and for the rest of the run +Mr Wickham was left alone over his diversions on the one side, and on +the other Michael and the guard were closeted together in familiar talk. + +‘I can get you a compartment here, sir,’ observed the official, as the +train began to slacken speed before Bishopstoke station. ‘You had best +get out at my door, and I can bring your friend.’ + +Mr Wickham, whom we left (as the reader has shrewdly suspected) +beginning to ‘play billy’ with the labels in the van, was a young +gentleman of much wealth, a pleasing but sandy exterior, and a highly +vacant mind. Not many months before, he had contrived to get himself +blackmailed by the family of a Wallachian Hospodar, resident for +political reasons in the gay city of Paris. A common friend (to whom he +had confided his distress) recommended him to Michael; and the lawyer +was no sooner in possession of the facts than he instantly assumed +the offensive, fell on the flank of the Wallachian forces, and, in the +inside of three days, had the satisfaction to behold them routed and +fleeing for the Danube. It is no business of ours to follow them on +this retreat, over which the police were so obliging as to preside +paternally. Thus relieved from what he loved to refer to as the +Bulgarian Atrocity, Mr Wickham returned to London with the most +unbounded and embarrassing gratitude and admiration for his saviour. +These sentiments were not repaid either in kind or degree; indeed, +Michael was a trifle ashamed of his new client’s friendship; it had +taken many invitations to get him to Winchester and Wickham Manor; but +he had gone at last, and was now returning. It has been remarked by some +judicious thinker (possibly J. F. Smith) that Providence despises to +employ no instrument, however humble; and it is now plain to the dullest +that both Mr Wickham and the Wallachian Hospodar were liquid lead and +wedges in the hand of Destiny. + +Smitten with the desire to shine in Michael’s eyes and show himself a +person of original humour and resources, the young gentleman (who was a +magistrate, more by token, in his native county) was no sooner alone in +the van than he fell upon the labels with all the zeal of a reformer; +and, when he rejoined the lawyer at Bishopstoke, his face was flushed +with his exertions, and his cigar, which he had suffered to go out was +almost bitten in two. + +‘By George, but this has been a lark!’ he cried. ‘I’ve sent the +wrong thing to everybody in England. These cousins of yours have a +packing-case as big as a house. I’ve muddled the whole business up to +that extent, Finsbury, that if it were to get out it’s my belief we +should get lynched.’ + +It was useless to be serious with Mr Wickham. ‘Take care,’ said +Michael. ‘I am getting tired of your perpetual scrapes; my reputation is +beginning to suffer.’ + +‘Your reputation will be all gone before you finish with me,’ replied +his companion with a grin. ‘Clap it in the bill, my boy. “For total loss +of reputation, six and eightpence.” But,’ continued Mr Wickham with more +seriousness, ‘could I be bowled out of the Commission for this +little jest? I know it’s small, but I like to be a JP. Speaking as a +professional man, do you think there’s any risk?’ + +‘What does it matter?’ responded Michael, ‘they’ll chuck you out sooner +or later. Somehow you don’t give the effect of being a good magistrate.’ + +‘I only wish I was a solicitor,’ retorted his companion, ‘instead of a +poor devil of a country gentleman. Suppose we start one of those tontine +affairs ourselves; I to pay five hundred a year, and you to guarantee me +against every misfortune except illness or marriage.’ + +‘It strikes me,’ remarked the lawyer with a meditative laugh, as he +lighted a cigar, ‘it strikes me that you must be a cursed nuisance in +this world of ours.’ + +‘Do you really think so, Finsbury?’ responded the magistrate, leaning +back in his cushions, delighted with the compliment. ‘Yes, I suppose +I am a nuisance. But, mind you, I have a stake in the country: don’t +forget that, dear boy.’ + + + +CHAPTER V. Mr Gideon Forsyth and the Gigantic Box + +It has been mentioned that at Bournemouth Julia sometimes made +acquaintances; it is true she had but a glimpse of them before the +doors of John Street closed again upon its captives, but the glimpse +was sometimes exhilarating, and the consequent regret was tempered +with hope. Among those whom she had thus met a year before was a young +barrister of the name of Gideon Forsyth. + +About three o’clock of the eventful day when the magistrate tampered +with the labels, a somewhat moody and distempered ramble had carried +Mr Forsyth to the corner of John Street; and about the same moment Miss +Hazeltine was called to the door of No. 16 by a thundering double knock. + +Mr Gideon Forsyth was a happy enough young man; he would have been +happier if he had had more money and less uncle. One hundred and +twenty pounds a year was all his store; but his uncle, Mr Edward Hugh +Bloomfield, supplemented this with a handsome allowance and a great +deal of advice, couched in language that would probably have been judged +intemperate on board a pirate ship. Mr Bloomfield was indeed a figure +quite peculiar to the days of Mr Gladstone; what we may call (for the +lack of an accepted expression) a Squirradical. Having acquired years +without experience, he carried into the Radical side of politics those +noisy, after-dinner-table passions, which we are more accustomed to +connect with Toryism in its severe and senile aspects. To the opinions +of Mr Bradlaugh, in fact, he added the temper and the sympathies of that +extinct animal, the Squire; he admired pugilism, he carried a formidable +oaken staff, he was a reverent churchman, and it was hard to know which +would have more volcanically stirred his choler--a person who should +have defended the established church, or one who should have neglected +to attend its celebrations. He had besides some levelling catchwords, +justly dreaded in the family circle; and when he could not go so far +as to declare a step un-English, he might still (and with hardly less +effect) denounce it as unpractical. It was under the ban of this lesser +excommunication that Gideon had fallen. His views on the study of law +had been pronounced unpractical; and it had been intimated to him, in +a vociferous interview punctuated with the oaken staff, that he must +either take a new start and get a brief or two, or prepare to live on +his own money. + +No wonder if Gideon was moody. He had not the slightest wish to modify +his present habits; but he would not stand on that, since the recall of +Mr Bloomfield’s allowance would revolutionize them still more radically. +He had not the least desire to acquaint himself with law; he had looked +into it already, and it seemed not to repay attention; but upon this +also he was ready to give way. In fact, he would go as far as he could +to meet the views of his uncle, the Squirradical. But there was one part +of the programme that appeared independent of his will. How to get +a brief? there was the question. And there was another and a worse. +Suppose he got one, should he prove the better man? + +Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd. A garishly illuminated van +was backed against the kerb; from its open stern, half resting on the +street, half supported by some glistening athletes, the end of the +largest packing-case in the county of Middlesex might have been seen +protruding; while, on the steps of the house, the burly person of +the driver and the slim figure of a young girl stood as upon a stage, +disputing. + +‘It is not for us,’ the girl was saying. ‘I beg you to take it away; it +couldn’t get into the house, even if you managed to get it out of the +van.’ + +‘I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M. Finsbury can arrange +with the Vestry as he likes,’ said the vanman. + +‘But I am not M. Finsbury,’ expostulated the girl. + +‘It doesn’t matter who you are,’ said the vanman. + +‘You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,’ said Gideon, putting +out his hand. + +Julia gave a little cry of pleasure. ‘O, Mr Forsyth,’ she cried, ‘I am +so glad to see you; we must get this horrid thing, which can only have +come here by mistake, into the house. The man says we’ll have to take +off the door, or knock two of our windows into one, or be fined by +the Vestry or Custom House or something for leaving our parcels on the +pavement.’ + +The men by this time had successfully removed the box from the van, had +plumped it down on the pavement, and now stood leaning against it, or +gazing at the door of No. 16, in visible physical distress and mental +embarrassment. The windows of the whole street had filled, as if by +magic, with interested and entertained spectators. + +With as thoughtful and scientific an expression as he could assume, +Gideon measured the doorway with his cane, while Julia entered his +observations in a drawing-book. He then measured the box, and, upon +comparing his data, found that there was just enough space for it to +enter. Next, throwing off his coat and waistcoat, he assisted the men to +take the door from its hinges. And lastly, all bystanders being pressed +into the service, the packing-case mounted the steps upon some +fifteen pairs of wavering legs--scraped, loudly grinding, through the +doorway--and was deposited at length, with a formidable convulsion, in +the far end of the lobby, which it almost blocked. The artisans of this +victory smiled upon each other as the dust subsided. It was true they +had smashed a bust of Apollo and ploughed the wall into deep ruts; but, +at least, they were no longer one of the public spectacles of London. + +‘Well, sir,’ said the vanman, ‘I never see such a job.’ + +Gideon eloquently expressed his concurrence in this sentiment by +pressing a couple of sovereigns in the man’s hand. + +‘Make it three, sir, and I’ll stand Sam to everybody here!’ cried the +latter, and, this having been done, the whole body of volunteer porters +swarmed into the van, which drove off in the direction of the nearest +reliable public-house. Gideon closed the door on their departure, and +turned to Julia; their eyes met; the most uncontrollable mirth seized +upon them both, and they made the house ring with their laughter. Then +curiosity awoke in Julia’s mind, and she went and examined the box, and +more especially the label. + +‘This is the strangest thing that ever happened,’ she said, with another +burst of laughter. ‘It is certainly Morris’s handwriting, and I had a +letter from him only this morning, telling me to expect a barrel. Is +there a barrel coming too, do you think, Mr Forsyth?’ + +“‘Statuary with Care, Fragile,’” read Gideon aloud from the painted +warning on the box. ‘Then you were told nothing about this?’ + +‘No,’ responded Julia. ‘O, Mr Forsyth, don’t you think we might take a +peep at it?’ + +‘Yes, indeed,’ cried Gideon. ‘Just let me have a hammer.’ + +‘Come down, and I’ll show you where it is,’ cried Julia. ‘The shelf is +too high for me to reach’; and, opening the door of the kitchen stair, +she bade Gideon follow her. They found both the hammer and a chisel; +but Gideon was surprised to see no sign of a servant. He also discovered +that Miss Hazeltine had a very pretty little foot and ankle; and the +discovery embarrassed him so much that he was glad to fall at once upon +the packing-case. + +He worked hard and earnestly, and dealt his blows with the precision +of a blacksmith; Julia the while standing silently by his side, and +regarding rather the workman than the work. He was a handsome fellow; +she told herself she had never seen such beautiful arms. And suddenly, +as though he had overheard these thoughts, Gideon turned and smiled to +her. She, too, smiled and coloured; and the double change became her +so prettily that Gideon forgot to turn away his eyes, and, swinging the +hammer with a will, discharged a smashing blow on his own knuckles. With +admirable presence of mind he crushed down an oath and substituted the +harmless comment, ‘Butter fingers!’ But the pain was sharp, his nerve +was shaken, and after an abortive trial he found he must desist from +further operations. + +In a moment Julia was off to the pantry; in a moment she was back again +with a basin of water and a sponge, and had begun to bathe his wounded +hand. + +‘I am dreadfully sorry!’ said Gideon apologetically. ‘If I had had +any manners I should have opened the box first and smashed my hand +afterward. It feels much better,’ he added. ‘I assure you it does.’ + +‘And now I think you are well enough to direct operations,’ said she. +‘Tell me what to do, and I’ll be your workman.’ + +‘A very pretty workman,’ said Gideon, rather forgetting himself. +She turned and looked at him, with a suspicion of a frown; and +the indiscreet young man was glad to direct her attention to the +packing-case. The bulk of the work had been accomplished; and presently +Julia had burst through the last barrier and disclosed a zone of straw. +in a moment they were kneeling side by side, engaged like haymakers; the +next they were rewarded with a glimpse of something white and polished; +and the next again laid bare an unmistakable marble leg. + +‘He is surely a very athletic person,’ said Julia. + +‘I never saw anything like it,’ responded Gideon. ‘His muscles stand out +like penny rolls.’ + +Another leg was soon disclosed, and then what seemed to be a third. This +resolved itself, however, into a knotted club resting upon a pedestal. + +‘It is a Hercules,’ cried Gideon; ‘I might have guessed that from his +calf. I’m supposed to be rather partial to statuary, but when it comes +to Hercules, the police should interfere. I should say,’ he added, +glancing with disaffection at the swollen leg, ‘that this was about the +biggest and the worst in Europe. What in heaven’s name can have induced +him to come here?’ + +‘I suppose nobody else would have a gift of him,’ said Julia. ‘And for +that matter, I think we could have done without the monster very well.’ + +‘O, don’t say that,’ returned Gideon. ‘This has been one of the most +amusing experiences of my life.’ + +‘I don’t think you’ll forget it very soon,’ said Julia. ‘Your hand will +remind you.’ + +‘Well, I suppose I must be going,’ said Gideon reluctantly. ‘No,’ +pleaded Julia. ‘Why should you? Stay and have tea with me.’ + +‘If I thought you really wished me to stay,’ said Gideon, looking at his +hat, ‘of course I should only be too delighted.’ + +‘What a silly person you must take me for!’ returned the girl. ‘Why, of +course I do; and, besides, I want some cakes for tea, and I’ve nobody to +send. Here is the latchkey.’ + +Gideon put on his hat with alacrity, and casting one look at Miss +Hazeltine, and another at the legs of Hercules, threw open the door and +departed on his errand. + +He returned with a large bag of the choicest and most tempting of cakes +and tartlets, and found Julia in the act of spreading a small tea-table +in the lobby. + +‘The rooms are all in such a state,’ she cried, ‘that I thought we +should be more cosy and comfortable in our own lobby, and under our own +vine and statuary.’ + +‘Ever so much better,’ cried Gideon delightedly. + +‘O what adorable cream tarts!’ said Julia, opening the bag, ‘and the +dearest little cherry tartlets, with all the cherries spilled out into +the cream!’ + +‘Yes,’ said Gideon, concealing his dismay, ‘I knew they would mix +beautifully; the woman behind the counter told me so.’ + +‘Now,’ said Julia, as they began their little festival, ‘I am going +to show you Morris’s letter; read it aloud, please; perhaps there’s +something I have missed.’ + +Gideon took the letter, and spreading it out on his knee, read as +follows: + + +DEAR JULIA, I write you from Browndean, where we are stopping over for +a few days. Uncle was much shaken in that dreadful accident, of which, +I dare say, you have seen the account. Tomorrow I leave him here with +John, and come up alone; but before that, you will have received a +barrel CONTAINING SPECIMENS FOR A FRIEND. Do not open it on any account, +but leave it in the lobby till I come. + +Yours in haste, + +M. FINSBURY. + +P.S.--Be sure and leave the barrel in the lobby. + + +‘No,’ said Gideon, ‘there seems to be nothing about the monument,’ +and he nodded, as he spoke, at the marble legs. ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he +continued, ‘would you mind me asking a few questions?’ + +‘Certainly not,’ replied Julia; ‘and if you can make me understand why +Morris has sent a statue of Hercules instead of a barrel containing +specimens for a friend, I shall be grateful till my dying day. And what +are specimens for a friend?’ + +‘I haven’t a guess,’ said Gideon. ‘Specimens are usually bits of stone, +but rather smaller than our friend the monument. Still, that is not the +point. Are you quite alone in this big house?’ + +‘Yes, I am at present,’ returned Julia. ‘I came up before them to +prepare the house, and get another servant. But I couldn’t get one I +liked.’ + +‘Then you are utterly alone,’ said Gideon in amazement. ‘Are you not +afraid?’ + +‘No,’ responded Julia stoutly. ‘I don’t see why I should be more afraid +than you would be; I am weaker, of course, but when I found I must sleep +alone in the house I bought a revolver wonderfully cheap, and made the +man show me how to use it.’ + +‘And how do you use it?’ demanded Gideon, much amused at her courage. + +‘Why,’ said she, with a smile, ‘you pull the little trigger thing on +top, and then pointing it very low, for it springs up as you fire, you +pull the underneath little trigger thing, and it goes off as well as if +a man had done it.’ + +‘And how often have you used it?’ asked Gideon. + +‘O, I have not used it yet,’ said the determined young lady; ‘but I +know how, and that makes me wonderfully courageous, especially when I +barricade my door with a chest of drawers.’ + +‘I’m awfully glad they are coming back soon,’ said Gideon. ‘This +business strikes me as excessively unsafe; if it goes on much longer, +I could provide you with a maiden aunt of mine, or my landlady if you +preferred.’ + +‘Lend me an aunt!’ cried Julia. ‘O, what generosity! I begin to think it +must have been you that sent the Hercules.’ + +‘Believe me,’ cried the young man, ‘I admire you too much to send you +such an infamous work of art..’ + +Julia was beginning to reply, when they were both startled by a knocking +at the door. + +‘O, Mr Forsyth!’ + +‘Don’t be afraid, my dear girl,’ said Gideon, laying his hand tenderly +on her arm. + +‘I know it’s the police,’ she whispered. ‘They are coming to complain +about the statue.’ + +The knock was repeated. It was louder than before, and more impatient. + +‘It’s Morris,’ cried Julia, in a startled voice, and she ran to the door +and opened it. + +It was indeed Morris that stood before them; not the Morris of ordinary +days, but a wild-looking fellow, pale and haggard, with bloodshot eyes, +and a two-days’ beard upon his chin. + +‘The barrel!’ he cried. ‘Where’s the barrel that came this morning?’ +And he stared about the lobby, his eyes, as they fell upon the legs of +Hercules, literally goggling in his head. ‘What is that?’ he screamed. +‘What is that waxwork? Speak, you fool! What is that? And where’s the +barrel--the water-butt?’ + +‘No barrel came, Morris,’ responded Julia coldly. ‘This is the only +thing that has arrived.’ + +‘This!’ shrieked the miserable man. ‘I never heard of it!’ + +‘It came addressed in your hand,’ replied Julia; ‘we had nearly to pull +the house down to get it in, that is all that I can tell you.’ + +Morris gazed at her in utter bewilderment. He passed his hand over his +forehead; he leaned against the wall like a man about to faint. Then his +tongue was loosed, and he overwhelmed the girl with torrents of abuse. +Such fire, such directness, such a choice of ungentlemanly language, +none had ever before suspected Morris to possess; and the girl trembled +and shrank before his fury. + +‘You shall not speak to Miss Hazeltine in that way,’ said Gideon +sternly. ‘It is what I will not suffer.’ + +‘I shall speak to the girl as I like,’ returned Morris, with a fresh +outburst of anger. ‘I’ll speak to the hussy as she deserves.’ + +‘Not a word more, sir, not one word,’ cried Gideon. ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he +continued, addressing the young girl, ‘you cannot stay a moment longer +in the same house with this unmanly fellow. Here is my arm; let me take +you where you will be secure from insult.’ + +‘Mr Forsyth,’ returned Julia, ‘you are right; I cannot stay here longer, +and I am sure I trust myself to an honourable gentleman.’ + +Pale and resolute, Gideon offered her his arm, and the pair descended +the steps, followed by Morris clamouring for the latchkey. + +Julia had scarcely handed the key to Morris before an empty hansom drove +smartly into John Street. It was hailed by both men, and as the cabman +drew up his restive horse, Morris made a dash into the vehicle. + +‘Sixpence above fare,’ he cried recklessly. ‘Waterloo Station for your +life. Sixpence for yourself!’ + +‘Make it a shilling, guv’ner,’ said the man, with a grin; ‘the other +parties were first.’ + +‘A shilling then,’ cried Morris, with the inward reflection that he +would reconsider it at Waterloo. The man whipped up his horse, and the +hansom vanished from John Street. + + + +CHAPTER VI. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the First + +As the hansom span through the streets of London, Morris sought to +rally the forces of his mind. The water-butt with the dead body had +miscarried, and it was essential to recover it. So much was clear; and +if, by some blest good fortune, it was still at the station, all might +be well. If it had been sent out, however, if it were already in the +hands of some wrong person, matters looked more ominous. People who +receive unexplained packages are usually keen to have them open; the +example of Miss Hazeltine (whom he cursed again) was there to remind him +of the circumstance; and if anyone had opened the water-butt--‘O Lord!’ +cried Morris at the thought, and carried his hand to his damp forehead. +The private conception of any breach of law is apt to be inspiriting, +for the scheme (while yet inchoate) wears dashing and attractive +colours. Not so in the least that part of the criminal’s later +reflections which deal with the police. That useful corps (as Morris +now began to think) had scarce been kept sufficiently in view when +he embarked upon his enterprise. ‘I must play devilish close,’ he +reflected, and he was aware of an exquisite thrill of fear in the region +of the spine. + +‘Main line or loop?’ enquired the cabman, through the scuttle. + +‘Main line,’ replied Morris, and mentally decided that the man should +have his shilling after all. ‘It would be madness to attract attention,’ +thought he. ‘But what this thing will cost me, first and last, begins to +be a nightmare!’ + +He passed through the booking-office and wandered disconsolately on the +platform. It was a breathing-space in the day’s traffic. There were +few people there, and these for the most part quiescent on the benches. +Morris seemed to attract no remark, which was a good thing; but, on the +other hand, he was making no progress in his quest. Something must be +done, something must be risked. Every passing instant only added to his +dangers. Summoning all his courage, he stopped a porter, and asked him +if he remembered receiving a barrel by the morning train. He was anxious +to get information, for the barrel belonged to a friend. ‘It is a matter +of some moment,’ he added, ‘for it contains specimens.’ + +‘I was not here this morning, sir,’ responded the porter, somewhat +reluctantly, ‘but I’ll ask Bill. Do you recollect, Bill, to have got a +barrel from Bournemouth this morning containing specimens?’ + +‘I don’t know about specimens,’ replied Bill; ‘but the party as received +the barrel I mean raised a sight of trouble.’ + +‘What’s that?’ cried Morris, in the agitation of the moment pressing a +penny into the man’s hand. + +‘You see, sir, the barrel arrived at one-thirty. No one claimed it till +about three, when a small, sickly--looking gentleman (probably a curate) +came up, and sez he, “Have you got anything for Pitman?” or “Wili’m Bent +Pitman,” if I recollect right. “I don’t exactly know,” sez I, “but I +rather fancy that there barrel bears that name.” The little man went +up to the barrel, and seemed regularly all took aback when he saw the +address, and then he pitched into us for not having brought what he +wanted. “I don’t care a damn what you want,” sez I to him, “but if you +are Will’m Bent Pitman, there’s your barrel.”’ + +‘Well, and did he take it?’ cried the breathless Morris. + +‘Well, sir,’ returned Bill, ‘it appears it was a packing-case he was +after. The packing-case came; that’s sure enough, because it was about +the biggest packing-case ever I clapped eyes on. And this Pitman he +seemed a good deal cut up, and he had the superintendent out, and +they got hold of the vanman--him as took the packing-case. Well, sir,’ +continued Bill, with a smile, ‘I never see a man in such a state. +Everybody about that van was mortal, bar the horses. Some gen’leman (as +well as I could make out) had given the vanman a sov.; and so that was +where the trouble come in, you see.’ + +‘But what did he say?’ gasped Morris. + +‘I don’t know as he SAID much, sir,’ said Bill. ‘But he offered to +fight this Pitman for a pot of beer. He had lost his book, too, and the +receipts, and his men were all as mortal as himself. O, they were all +like’--and Bill paused for a simile--‘like lords! The superintendent +sacked them on the spot.’ + +‘O, come, but that’s not so bad,’ said Morris, with a bursting sigh. ‘He +couldn’t tell where he took the packing-case, then?’ + +‘Not he,’ said Bill, ‘nor yet nothink else.’ + +‘And what--what did Pitman do?’ asked Morris. + +‘O, he went off with the barrel in a four-wheeler, very trembling like,’ +replied Bill. ‘I don’t believe he’s a gentleman as has good health.’ + +‘Well, so the barrel’s gone,’ said Morris, half to himself. + +‘You may depend on that, sir,’ returned the porter. ‘But you had better +see the superintendent.’ + +‘Not in the least; it’s of no account,’ said Morris. ‘It only contained +specimens.’ And he walked hastily away. + +Ensconced once more in a hansom, he proceeded to reconsider his +position. Suppose (he thought), suppose he should accept defeat and +declare his uncle’s death at once? He should lose the tontine, and with +that the last hope of his seven thousand eight hundred pounds. But on +the other hand, since the shilling to the hansom cabman, he had begun to +see that crime was expensive in its course, and, since the loss of the +water-butt, that it was uncertain in its consequences. Quietly at first, +and then with growing heat, he reviewed the advantages of backing out. +It involved a loss; but (come to think of it) no such great loss after +all; only that of the tontine, which had been always a toss-up, which +at bottom he had never really expected. He reminded himself of that +eagerly; he congratulated himself upon his constant moderation. He had +never really expected the tontine; he had never even very definitely +hoped to recover his seven thousand eight hundred pounds; he had been +hurried into the whole thing by Michael’s obvious dishonesty. Yes, it +would probably be better to draw back from this high-flying venture, +settle back on the leather business-- + +‘Great God!’ cried Morris, bounding in the hansom like a Jack-in-a-box. +‘I have not only not gained the tontine--I have lost the leather +business!’ + +Such was the monstrous fact. He had no power to sign; he could not draw +a cheque for thirty shillings. Until he could produce legal evidence +of his uncle’s death, he was a penniless outcast--and as soon as he +produced it he had lost the tontine! There was no hesitation on the part +of Morris; to drop the tontine like a hot chestnut, to concentrate +all his forces on the leather business and the rest of his small but +legitimate inheritance, was the decision of a single instant. And the +next, the full extent of his calamity was suddenly disclosed to him. +Declare his uncle’s death? He couldn’t! Since the body was lost Joseph +had (in a legal sense) become immortal. + +There was no created vehicle big enough to contain Morris and his woes. +He paid the hansom off and walked on he knew not whither. + +‘I seem to have gone into this business with too much precipitation,’ +he reflected, with a deadly sigh. ‘I fear it seems too ramified for a +person of my powers of mind.’ + +And then a remark of his uncle’s flashed into his memory: If you want to +think clearly, put it all down on paper. ‘Well, the old boy knew a thing +or two,’ said Morris. ‘I will try; but I don’t believe the paper was +ever made that will clear my mind.’ + +He entered a place of public entertainment, ordered bread and cheese, +and writing materials, and sat down before them heavily. He tried the +pen. It was an excellent pen, but what was he to write? ‘I have it,’ +cried Morris. ‘Robinson Crusoe and the double columns!’ He prepared his +paper after that classic model, and began as follows: + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 1. I have lost my uncle’s body. + + 1. But then Pitman has found it. + +‘Stop a bit,’ said Morris. ‘I am letting the spirit of antithesis run +away with me. Let’s start again.’ + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 1. I have lost my uncle’s body. + + 1. But then I no longer require to bury it. + + + 2. I have lost the tontine. + + 2.But I may still save that if Pitman disposes of the body, and + if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. + + + 3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle’s + succession. + + 3. But not if Pitman gives the body up to the police. + +‘O, but in that case I go to gaol; I had forgot that,’ thought Morris. +‘Indeed, I don’t know that I had better dwell on that hypothesis at all; +it’s all very well to talk of facing the worst; but in a case of this +kind a man’s first duty is to his own nerve. Is there any answer to No. +3? Is there any possible good side to such a beastly bungle? There must +be, of course, or where would be the use of this double-entry business? +And--by George, I have it!’ he exclaimed; ‘it’s exactly the same as the +last!’ And he hastily re-wrote the passage: + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle’s + succession. + + 3. But not if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. + +‘This venal doctor seems quite a desideratum,’ he reflected. ‘I want him +first to give me a certificate that my uncle is dead, so that I may get +the leather business; and then that he’s alive--but here we are again at +the incompatible interests!’ And he returned to his tabulation: + + Bad. ---- Good. + + 4. I have almost no money. + + 4. But there is plenty in the bank. + + + 5. Yes, but I can’t get the money in the bank. + + 5. But--well, that seems unhappily to be the case. + + + 6. I have left the bill for eight hundred pounds in Uncle + Joseph’s pocket. + + 6. But if Pitman is only a dishonest man, the presence of this + bill may lead him to keep the whole thing dark and throw the body + into the New Cut. + + + 7. Yes, but if Pitman is dishonest and finds the bill, he will + know who Joseph is, and he may blackmail me. + + 7. Yes, but if I am right about Uncle Masterman, I can blackmail + Michael. + + + 8. But I can’t blackmail Michael (which is, besides, a very + dangerous thing to do) until I find out. + + 8. Worse luck! + + + 9. The leather business will soon want money for current + expenses, and I have none to give. + + 9. But the leather business is a sinking ship. + + + 10. Yes, but it’s all the ship I have. + + 10. A fact. + + + 11. John will soon want money, and I have none to give. + + 11. + + + 12. And the venal doctor will want money down. + + 12. + + + 13. And if Pitman is dishonest and don’t send me to gaol, he will + want a fortune. + + 13. + +‘O, this seems to be a very one-sided business,’ exclaimed Morris. +‘There’s not so much in this method as I was led to think.’ He crumpled +the paper up and threw it down; and then, the next moment, picked it +up again and ran it over. ‘It seems it’s on the financial point that +my position is weakest,’ he reflected. ‘Is there positively no way of +raising the wind? In a vast city like this, and surrounded by all the +resources of civilization, it seems not to be conceived! Let us have +no more precipitation. Is there nothing I can sell? My collection of +signet--’ But at the thought of scattering these loved treasures the +blood leaped into Morris’s check. ‘I would rather die!’ he exclaimed, +and, cramming his hat upon his head, strode forth into the streets. + +‘I MUST raise funds,’ he thought. ‘My uncle being dead, the money in +the bank is mine, or would be mine but for the cursed injustice that has +pursued me ever since I was an orphan in a commercial academy. I know +what any other man would do; any other man in Christendom would forge; +although I don’t know why I call it forging, either, when Joseph’s dead, +and the funds are my own. When I think of that, when I think that my +uncle is really as dead as mutton, and that I can’t prove it, my gorge +rises at the injustice of the whole affair. I used to feel bitterly +about that seven thousand eight hundred pounds; it seems a trifle now! +Dear me, why, the day before yesterday I was comparatively happy.’ + +And Morris stood on the sidewalk and heaved another sobbing sigh. + +‘Then there’s another thing,’ he resumed; ‘can I? Am I able? Why didn’t +I practise different handwritings while I was young? How a fellow +regrets those lost opportunities when he grows up! But there’s +one comfort: it’s not morally wrong; I can try it on with a +clear conscience, and even if I was found out, I wouldn’t greatly +care--morally, I mean. And then, if I succeed, and if Pitman is staunch, +there’s nothing to do but find a venal doctor; and that ought to be +simple enough in a place like London. By all accounts the town’s +alive with them. It wouldn’t do, of course, to advertise for a corrupt +physician; that would be impolitic. No, I suppose a fellow has simply to +spot along the streets for a red lamp and herbs in the window, and +then you go in and--and--and put it to him plainly; though it seems a +delicate step.’ + +He was near home now, after many devious wanderings, and turned up +John Street. As he thrust his latchkey in the lock, another mortifying +reflection struck him to the heart. + +‘Not even this house is mine till I can prove him dead,’ he snarled, and +slammed the door behind him so that the windows in the attic rattled. + +Night had long fallen; long ago the lamps and the shop-fronts had begun +to glitter down the endless streets; the lobby was pitch--dark; and, as +the devil would have it, Morris barked his shins and sprawled all his +length over the pedestal of Hercules. The pain was sharp; his temper was +already thoroughly undermined; by a last misfortune his hand closed on +the hammer as he fell; and, in a spasm of childish irritation, he turned +and struck at the offending statue. There was a splintering crash. + +‘O Lord, what have I done next?’ wailed Morris; and he groped his way +to find a candle. ‘Yes,’ he reflected, as he stood with the light in +his hand and looked upon the mutilated leg, from which about a pound of +muscle was detached. ‘Yes, I have destroyed a genuine antique; I may be +in for thousands!’ And then there sprung up in his bosom a sort of angry +hope. ‘Let me see,’ he thought. ‘Julia’s got rid of--, there’s nothing +to connect me with that beast Forsyth; the men were all drunk, and +(what’s better) they’ve been all discharged. O, come, I think this is +another case of moral courage! I’ll deny all knowledge of the thing.’ + +A moment more, and he stood again before the Hercules, his lips sternly +compressed, the coal-axe and the meat-cleaver under his arm. The next, +he had fallen upon the packing-case. This had been already seriously +undermined by the operations of Gideon; a few well-directed blows, and +it already quaked and gaped; yet a few more, and it fell about Morris in +a shower of boards followed by an avalanche of straw. + +And now the leather-merchant could behold the nature of his task: and at +the first sight his spirit quailed. It was, indeed, no more ambitious a +task for De Lesseps, with all his men and horses, to attack the hills +of Panama, than for a single, slim young gentleman, with no previous +experience of labour in a quarry, to measure himself against that +bloated monster on his pedestal. And yet the pair were well encountered: +on the one side, bulk--on the other, genuine heroic fire. + +‘Down you shall come, you great big, ugly brute!’ cried Morris aloud, +with something of that passion which swept the Parisian mob against the +walls of the Bastille. ‘Down you shall come, this night. I’ll have none +of you in my lobby.’ + +The face, from its indecent expression, had particularly animated the +zeal of our iconoclast; and it was against the face that he began his +operations. The great height of the demigod--for he stood a fathom +and half in his stocking-feet--offered a preliminary obstacle to this +attack. But here, in the first skirmish of the battle, intellect already +began to triumph over matter. By means of a pair of library steps, +the injured householder gained a posture of advantage; and, with great +swipes of the coal-axe, proceeded to decapitate the brute. + +Two hours later, what had been the erect image of a gigantic coal-porter +turned miraculously white, was now no more than a medley of disjected +members; the quadragenarian torso prone against the pedestal; the +lascivious countenance leering down the kitchen stair; the legs, the +arms, the hands, and even the fingers, scattered broadcast on the lobby +floor. Half an hour more, and all the debris had been laboriously carted +to the kitchen; and Morris, with a gentle sentiment of triumph, looked +round upon the scene of his achievements. Yes, he could deny all +knowledge of it now: the lobby, beyond the fact that it was partly +ruinous, betrayed no trace of the passage of Hercules. But it was a +weary Morris that crept up to bed; his arms and shoulders ached, the +palms of his hands burned from the rough kisses of the coal-axe, and +there was one smarting finger that stole continually to his mouth. Sleep +long delayed to visit the dilapidated hero, and with the first peep of +day it had again deserted him. + +The morning, as though to accord with his disastrous fortunes, dawned +inclemently. An easterly gale was shouting in the streets; flaws of rain +angrily assailed the windows; and as Morris dressed, the draught from +the fireplace vividly played about his legs. + +‘I think,’ he could not help observing bitterly, ‘that with all I have +to bear, they might have given me decent weather.’ + +There was no bread in the house, for Miss Hazeltine (like all women left +to themselves) had subsisted entirely upon cake. But some of this was +found, and (along with what the poets call a glass of fair, cold water) +made up a semblance of a morning meal, and then down he sat undauntedly +to his delicate task. + +Nothing can be more interesting than the study of signatures, +written (as they are) before meals and after, during indigestion and +intoxication; written when the signer is trembling for the life of his +child or has come from winning the Derby, in his lawyer’s office, or +under the bright eyes of his sweetheart. To the vulgar, these seem never +the same; but to the expert, the bank clerk, or the lithographer, they +are constant quantities, and as recognizable as the North Star to the +night-watch on deck. + +To all this Morris was alive. In the theory of that graceful art in +which he was now embarking, our spirited leather-merchant was beyond +all reproach. But, happily for the investor, forgery is an affair +of practice. And as Morris sat surrounded by examples of his uncle’s +signature and of his own incompetence, insidious depression stole upon +his spirits. From time to time the wind wuthered in the chimney at his +back; from time to time there swept over Bloomsbury a squall so dark +that he must rise and light the gas; about him was the chill and the +mean disorder of a house out of commission--the floor bare, the sofa +heaped with books and accounts enveloped in a dirty table-cloth, the +pens rusted, the paper glazed with a thick film of dust; and yet these +were but adminicles of misery, and the true root of his depression lay +round him on the table in the shape of misbegotten forgeries. + +‘It’s one of the strangest things I ever heard of,’ he complained. ‘It +almost seems as if it was a talent that I didn’t possess.’ He went once +more minutely through his proofs. ‘A clerk would simply gibe at them,’ +said he. ‘Well, there’s nothing else but tracing possible.’ + +He waited till a squall had passed and there came a blink of scowling +daylight. Then he went to the window, and in the face of all John Street +traced his uncle’s signature. It was a poor thing at the best. ‘But it +must do,’ said he, as he stood gazing woefully on his handiwork. ‘He’s +dead, anyway.’ And he filled up the cheque for a couple of hundred and +sallied forth for the Anglo-Patagonian Bank. + +There, at the desk at which he was accustomed to transact business, +and with as much indifference as he could assume, Morris presented the +forged cheque to the big, red-bearded Scots teller. The teller seemed to +view it with surprise; and as he turned it this way and that, and even +scrutinized the signature with a magnifying-glass, his surprise appeared +to warm into disfavour. Begging to be excused for a moment, he +passed away into the rearmost quarters of the bank; whence, after an +appreciable interval, he returned again in earnest talk with a superior, +an oldish and a baldish, but a very gentlemanly man. + +‘Mr Morris Finsbury, I believe,’ said the gentlemanly man, fixing Morris +with a pair of double eye-glasses. + +‘That is my name,’ said Morris, quavering. ‘Is there anything wrong. + +‘Well, the fact is, Mr Finsbury, you see we are rather surprised at +receiving this,’ said the other, flicking at the cheque. ‘There are no +effects.’ + +‘No effects?’ cried Morris. ‘Why, I know myself there must be +eight-and-twenty hundred pounds, if there’s a penny.’ + +‘Two seven six four, I think,’ replied the gentlemanly man; ‘but it was +drawn yesterday.’ + +‘Drawn!’ cried Morris. + +‘By your uncle himself, sir,’ continued the other. ‘Not only that, but +we discounted a bill for him for--let me see--how much was it for, Mr +Bell?’ + +‘Eight hundred, Mr Judkin,’ replied the teller. + +‘Bent Pitman!’ cried Morris, staggering back. + +‘I beg your pardon,’ said Mr Judkin. + +‘It’s--it’s only an expletive,’ said Morris. + +‘I hope there’s nothing wrong, Mr Finsbury,’ said Mr Bell. + +‘All I can tell you,’ said Morris, with a harsh laugh,’ is that the +whole thing’s impossible. My uncle is at Bournemouth, unable to move.’ + +‘Really!’ cried Mr Bell, and he recovered the cheque from Mr Judkin. +‘But this cheque is dated in London, and today,’ he observed. ‘How d’ye +account for that, sir?’ + +‘O, that was a mistake,’ said Morris, and a deep tide of colour dyed his +face and neck. + +‘No doubt, no doubt,’ said Mr Judkin, but he looked at his customer +enquiringly. + +‘And--and--’ resumed Morris, ‘even if there were no effects--this is a +very trifling sum to overdraw--our firm--the name of Finsbury, is surely +good enough for such a wretched sum as this.’ + +‘No doubt, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Mr Judkin; ‘and if you insist I will +take it into consideration; but I hardly think--in short, Mr Finsbury, +if there had been nothing else, the signature seems hardly all that we +could wish.’ + +‘That’s of no consequence,’ replied Morris nervously. ‘I’ll get my uncle +to sign another. The fact is,’ he went on, with a bold stroke, ‘my uncle +is so far from well at present that he was unable to sign this cheque +without assistance, and I fear that my holding the pen for him may have +made the difference in the signature.’ + +Mr Judkin shot a keen glance into Morris’s face; and then turned and +looked at Mr Bell. + +‘Well,’ he said, ‘it seems as if we had been victimized by a swindler. +Pray tell Mr Finsbury we shall put detectives on at once. As for this +cheque of yours, I regret that, owing to the way it was signed, the +bank can hardly consider it--what shall I say?--businesslike,’ and he +returned the cheque across the counter. + +Morris took it up mechanically; he was thinking of something very +different. + +‘In a--case of this kind,’ he began, ‘I believe the loss falls on us; I +mean upon my uncle and myself.’ + +‘It does not, sir,’ replied Mr Bell; ‘the bank is responsible, and +the bank will either recover the money or refund it, you may depend on +that.’ + +Morris’s face fell; then it was visited by another gleam of hope. + +‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said, ‘you leave this entirely in my hands. +I’ll sift the matter. I’ve an idea, at any rate; and detectives,’ he +added appealingly, ‘are so expensive.’ + +‘The bank would not hear of it,’ returned Mr Judkin. ‘The bank stands to +lose between three and four thousand pounds; it will spend as much more +if necessary. An undiscovered forger is a permanent danger. We shall +clear it up to the bottom, Mr Finsbury; set your mind at rest on that.’ + +‘Then I’ll stand the loss,’ said Morris boldly. ‘I order you to abandon +the search.’ He was determined that no enquiry should be made. + +‘I beg your pardon,’ returned Mr Judkin, ‘but we have nothing to do with +you in this matter, which is one between your uncle and ourselves. If +he should take this opinion, and will either come here himself or let me +see him in his sick-room--’ + +‘Quite impossible,’ cried Morris. + +‘Well, then, you see,’ said Mr Judkin, ‘how my hands are tied. The whole +affair must go at once into the hands of the police.’ + +Morris mechanically folded the cheque and restored it to his +pocket--book. + +‘Good--morning,’ said he, and scrambled somehow out of the bank. + +‘I don’t know what they suspect,’ he reflected; ‘I can’t make them +out, their whole behaviour is thoroughly unbusinesslike. But it doesn’t +matter; all’s up with everything. The money has been paid; the police +are on the scent; in two hours that idiot Pitman will be nabbed--and the +whole story of the dead body in the evening papers.’ + +If he could have heard what passed in the bank after his departure he +would have been less alarmed, perhaps more mortified. + +‘That was a curious affair, Mr Bell,’ said Mr Judkin. + +‘Yes, sir,’ said Mr Bell, ‘but I think we have given him a fright.’ + +‘O, we shall hear no more of Mr Morris Finsbury,’ returned the other; +‘it was a first attempt, and the house have dealt with us so long that +I was anxious to deal gently. But I suppose, Mr Bell, there can be no +mistake about yesterday? It was old Mr Finsbury himself?’ + +‘There could be no possible doubt of that,’ said Mr Bell with a chuckle. +‘He explained to me the principles of banking.’ + +‘Well, well,’ said Mr Judkin. ‘The next time he calls ask him to step +into my room. It is only proper he should be warned.’ + + + +CHAPTER VII. In Which William Dent Pitman takes Legal Advice + +Norfolk Street, King’s Road--jocularly known among Mr Pitman’s lodgers +as ‘Norfolk Island’--is neither a long, a handsome, nor a pleasing +thoroughfare. Dirty, undersized maids-of-all-work issue from it in +pursuit of beer, or linger on its sidewalk listening to the voice of +love. The cat’s-meat man passes twice a day. An occasional organ-grinder +wanders in and wanders out again, disgusted. In holiday-time the +street is the arena of the young bloods of the neighbourhood, and +the householders have an opportunity of studying the manly art of +self-defence. And yet Norfolk Street has one claim to be respectable, +for it contains not a single shop--unless you count the public-house at +the corner, which is really in the King’s Road. + +The door of No. 7 bore a brass plate inscribed with the legend ‘W. D. +Pitman, Artist’. It was not a particularly clean brass plate, nor was +No. 7 itself a particularly inviting place of residence. And yet it +had a character of its own, such as may well quicken the pulse of +the reader’s curiosity. For here was the home of an artist--and a +distinguished artist too, highly distinguished by his ill-success--which +had never been made the subject of an article in the illustrated +magazines. No wood-engraver had ever reproduced ‘a corner in the back +drawing-room’ or ‘the studio mantelpiece’ of No. 7; no young lady author +had ever commented on ‘the unaffected simplicity’ with which Mr Pitman +received her in the midst of his ‘treasures’. It is an omission I would +gladly supply, but our business is only with the backward parts and +‘abject rear’ of this aesthetic dwelling. + +Here was a garden, boasting a dwarf fountain (that never played) in the +centre, a few grimy-looking flowers in pots, two or three newly +planted trees which the spring of Chelsea visited without noticeable +consequence, and two or three statues after the antique, representing +satyrs and nymphs in the worst possible style of sculptured art. On one +side the garden was overshadowed by a pair of crazy studios, usually +hired out to the more obscure and youthful practitioners of British +art. Opposite these another lofty out-building, somewhat more carefully +finished, and boasting of a communication with the house and a private +door on the back lane, enshrined the multifarious industry of Mr Pitman. +All day, it is true, he was engaged in the work of education at a +seminary for young ladies; but the evenings at least were his own, and +these he would prolong far into the night, now dashing off ‘A landscape +with waterfall’ in oil, now a volunteer bust [‘in marble’, as he would +gently but proudly observe) of some public character, now stooping +his chisel to a mere ‘nymph’ for a gasbracket on a stair, sir’, or a +life-size ‘Infant Samuel’ for a religious nursery. Mr Pitman had studied +in Paris, and he had studied in Rome, supplied with funds by a fond +parent who went subsequently bankrupt in consequence of a fall in +corsets; and though he was never thought to have the smallest modicum +of talent, it was at one time supposed that he had learned his business. +Eighteen years of what is called ‘tuition’ had relieved him of the +dangerous knowledge. His artist lodgers would sometimes reason with him; +they would point out to him how impossible it was to paint by gaslight, +or to sculpture life-sized nymphs without a model. + +‘I know that,’ he would reply. ‘No one in Norfolk Street knows it +better; and if I were rich I should certainly employ the best models +in London; but, being poor, I have taught myself to do without them. An +occasional model would only disturb my ideal conception of the figure, +and be a positive impediment in my career. As for painting by an +artificial light,’ he would continue, ‘that is simply a knack I have +found it necessary to acquire, my days being engrossed in the work of +tuition.’ + +At the moment when we must present him to our readers, Pitman was in his +studio alone, by the dying light of the October day. He sat (sure enough +with ‘unaffected simplicity’) in a Windsor chair, his low-crowned black +felt hat by his side; a dark, weak, harmless, pathetic little man, clad +in the hue of mourning, his coat longer than is usual with the laity, +his neck enclosed in a collar without a parting, his neckcloth pale in +hue and simply tied; the whole outward man, except for a pointed beard, +tentatively clerical. There was a thinning on the top of Pitman’s head, +there were silver hairs at Pitman’s temple. Poor gentleman, he was no +longer young; and years, and poverty, and humble ambition thwarted, make +a cheerless lot. + +In front of him, in the corner by the door, there stood a portly barrel; +and let him turn them where he might, it was always to the barrel that +his eyes and his thoughts returned. + +‘Should I open it? Should I return it? Should I communicate with Mr +Sernitopolis at once?’ he wondered. ‘No,’ he concluded finally, ‘nothing +without Mr Finsbury’s advice.’ And he arose and produced a shabby +leathern desk. It opened without the formality of unlocking, and +displayed the thick cream-coloured notepaper on which Mr Pitman was +in the habit of communicating with the proprietors of schools and the +parents of his pupils. He placed the desk on the table by the window, +and taking a saucer of Indian ink from the chimney-piece, laboriously +composed the following letter: + +‘My dear Mr Finsbury,’ it ran, ‘would it be presuming on your kindness +if I asked you to pay me a visit here this evening? It is in no trifling +matter that I invoke your valuable assistance, for need I say more than +it concerns the welfare of Mr Semitopolis’s statue of Hercules? I write +you in great agitation of mind; for I have made all enquiries, and +greatly fear that this work of ancient art has been mislaid. I labour +besides under another perplexity, not unconnected with the first. Pray +excuse the inelegance of this scrawl, and believe me yours in haste, +William D. Pitman.’ + +Armed with this he set forth and rang the bell of No. 233 King’s Road, +the private residence of Michael Finsbury. He had met the lawyer at a +time of great public excitement in Chelsea; Michael, who had a sense of +humour and a great deal of careless kindness in his nature, followed +the acquaintance up, and, having come to laugh, remained to drop into +a contemptuous kind of friendship. By this time, which was four years +after the first meeting, Pitman was the lawyer’s dog. + +‘No,’ said the elderly housekeeper, who opened the door in person, ‘Mr +Michael’s not in yet. But ye’re looking terribly poorly, Mr Pitman. Take +a glass of sherry, sir, to cheer ye up.’ + +‘No, I thank you, ma’am,’ replied the artist. ‘It is very good in you, +but I scarcely feel in sufficient spirits for sherry. Just give Mr +Finsbury this note, and ask him to look round--to the door in the lane, +you will please tell him; I shall be in the studio all evening.’ + +And he turned again into the street and walked slowly homeward. A +hairdresser’s window caught his attention, and he stared long and +earnestly at the proud, high--born, waxen lady in evening dress, who +circulated in the centre of the show. The artist woke in him, in spite +of his troubles. + +‘It is all very well to run down the men who make these things,’ +he cried, ‘but there’s a something--there’s a haughty, indefinable +something about that figure. It’s what I tried for in my “Empress +Eugenie”,’ he added, with a sigh. + +And he went home reflecting on the quality. ‘They don’t teach you that +direct appeal in Paris,’ he thought. ‘It’s British. Come, I am going to +sleep, I must wake up, I must aim higher--aim higher,’ cried the little +artist to himself. All through his tea and afterward, as he was giving +his eldest boy a lesson on the fiddle, his mind dwelt no longer on his +troubles, but he was rapt into the better land; and no sooner was he at +liberty than he hastened with positive exhilaration to his studio. + +Not even the sight of the barrel could entirely cast him down. He flung +himself with rising zest into his work--a bust of Mr Gladstone from a +photograph; turned (with extraordinary success) the difficulty of +the back of the head, for which he had no documents beyond a hazy +recollection of a public meeting; delighted himself by his treatment +of the collar; and was only recalled to the cares of life by Michael +Finsbury’s rattle at the door. + +‘Well, what’s wrong?’ said Michael, advancing to the grate, where, +knowing his friend’s delight in a bright fire, Mr Pitman had not spared +the fuel. ‘I suppose you have come to grief somehow.’ + +‘There is no expression strong enough,’ said the artist. ‘Mr +Semitopolis’s statue has not turned up, and I am afraid I shall be +answerable for the money; but I think nothing of that--what I fear, my +dear Mr Finsbury, what I fear--alas that I should have to say it! +is exposure. The Hercules was to be smuggled out of Italy; a thing +positively wrong, a thing of which a man of my principles and in my +responsible position should have taken (as I now see too late) no part +whatever.’ + +‘This sounds like very serious work,’ said the lawyer. ‘It will require +a great deal of drink, Pitman.’ + +‘I took the liberty of--in short, of being prepared for you,’ replied +the artist, pointing to a kettle, a bottle of gin, a lemon, and glasses. +Michael mixed himself a grog, and offered the artist a cigar. + +‘No, thank you,’ said Pitman. ‘I used occasionally to be rather partial +to it, but the smell is so disagreeable about the clothes.’ + +‘All right,’ said the lawyer. ‘I am comfortable now. Unfold your tale.’ + +At some length Pitman set forth his sorrows. He had gone today to +Waterloo, expecting to receive the colossal Hercules, and he had +received instead a barrel not big enough to hold Discobolus; yet +the barrel was addressed in the hand (with which he was perfectly +acquainted) of his Roman correspondent. What was stranger still, a case +had arrived by the same train, large enough and heavy enough to +contain the Hercules; and this case had been taken to an address now +undiscoverable. ‘The vanman (I regret to say it) had been drinking, and +his language was such as I could never bring myself to repeat. + +He was at once discharged by the superintendent of the line, who behaved +most properly throughout, and is to make enquiries at Southampton. +In the meanwhile, what was I to do? I left my address and brought the +barrel home; but, remembering an old adage, I determined not to open it +except in the presence of my lawyer.’ + +‘Is that all?’ asked Michael. ‘I don’t see any cause to worry. The +Hercules has stuck upon the road. It will drop in tomorrow or the day +after; and as for the barrel, depend upon it, it’s a testimonial from +one of your young ladies, and probably contains oysters.’ + +‘O, don’t speak so loud!’ cried the little artist. ‘It would cost me my +place if I were heard to speak lightly of the young ladies; and besides, +why oysters from Italy? and why should they come to me addressed in +Signor Ricardi’s hand?’ + +‘Well, let’s have a look at it,’ said Michael. ‘Let’s roll it forward to +the light.’ + +The two men rolled the barrel from the corner, and stood it on end +before the fire. + +‘It’s heavy enough to be oysters,’ remarked Michael judiciously. + +‘Shall we open it at once?’ enquired the artist, who had grown decidedly +cheerful under the combined effects of company and gin; and without +waiting for a reply, he began to strip as if for a prize-fight, tossed +his clerical collar in the wastepaper basket, hung his clerical coat +upon a nail, and with a chisel in one hand and a hammer in the other, +struck the first blow of the evening. + +‘That’s the style, William Dent’ cried Michael. ‘There’s fire for--your +money! It may be a romantic visit from one of the young ladies--a sort +of Cleopatra business. Have a care and don’t stave in Cleopatra’s head.’ + +But the sight of Pitman’s alacrity was infectious. The lawyer could +sit still no longer. Tossing his cigar into the fire, he snatched the +instrument from the unwilling hands of the artist, and fell to himself. +Soon the sweat stood in beads upon his large, fair brow; his stylish +trousers were defaced with iron rust, and the state of his chisel +testified to misdirected energies. + +A cask is not an easy thing to open, even when you set about it in the +right way; when you set about it wrongly, the whole structure must be +resolved into its elements. Such was the course pursued alike by the +artist and the lawyer. Presently the last hoop had been removed--a +couple of smart blows tumbled the staves upon the ground--and what +had once been a barrel was no more than a confused heap of broken and +distorted boards. + +In the midst of these, a certain dismal something, swathed in blankets, +remained for an instant upright, and then toppled to one side and +heavily collapsed before the fire. Even as the thing subsided, an +eye-glass tingled to the floor and rolled toward the screaming Pitman. + +‘Hold your tongue!’ said Michael. He dashed to the house door and locked +it; then, with a pale face and bitten lip, he drew near, pulled aside +a corner of the swathing blanket, and recoiled, shuddering. There was a +long silence in the studio. + +‘Now tell me,’ said Michael, in a low voice: ‘Had you any hand in it?’ +and he pointed to the body. + +The little artist could only utter broken and disjointed sounds. + +Michael poured some gin into a glass. ‘Drink that,’ he said. ‘Don’t be +afraid of me. I’m your friend through thick and thin.’ + +Pitman put the liquor down untasted. + +‘I swear before God,’ he said, ‘this is another mystery to me. In my +worst fears I never dreamed of such a thing. I would not lay a finger on +a sucking infant.’ + +‘That’s all square,’ said Michael, with a sigh of huge relief. ‘I +believe you, old boy.’ And he shook the artist warmly by the hand. ‘I +thought for a moment,’ he added with rather a ghastly smile, ‘I thought +for a moment you might have made away with Mr Semitopolis.’ + +‘It would make no difference if I had,’ groaned Pitman. ‘All is at an +end for me. There’s the writing on the wall.’ + +‘To begin with,’ said Michael, ‘let’s get him out of sight; for to be +quite plain with you, Pitman, I don’t like your friend’s appearance.’ +And with that the lawyer shuddered. ‘Where can we put it?’ + +‘You might put it in the closet there--if you could bear to touch it,’ +answered the artist. + +‘Somebody has to do it, Pitman,’ returned the lawyer; ‘and it seems as +if it had to be me. You go over to the table, turn your back, and mix me +a grog; that’s a fair division of labour.’ + +About ninety seconds later the closet-door was heard to shut. + +‘There,’ observed Michael, ‘that’s more homelike. You can turn now, my +pallid Pitman. Is this the grog?’ he ran on. ‘Heaven forgive you, it’s a +lemonade.’ + +‘But, O, Finsbury, what are we to do with it?’ walled the artist, laying +a clutching hand upon the lawyer’s arm. + +‘Do with it?’ repeated Michael. ‘Bury it in one of your flowerbeds, and +erect one of your own statues for a monument. I tell you we should look +devilish romantic shovelling out the sod by the moon’s pale ray. Here, +put some gin in this.’ + +‘I beg of you, Mr Finsbury, do not trifle with my misery,’ cried Pitman. +‘You see before you a man who has been all his life--I do not hesitate +to say it--imminently respectable. Even in this solemn hour I can lay my +hand upon my heart without a blush. Except on the really trifling point +of the smuggling of the Hercules (and even of that I now humbly repent), +my life has been entirely fit for publication. I never feared the +light,’ cried the little man; ‘and now--now--!’ + +‘Cheer up, old boy,’ said Michael. ‘I assure you we should count this +little contretemps a trifle at the office; it’s the sort of thing that +may occur to any one; and if you’re perfectly sure you had no hand in +it--’ + +‘What language am I to find--’ began Pitman. + +‘O, I’ll do that part of it,’ interrupted Michael, ‘you have no +experience.’ But the point is this: If--or rather since--you know +nothing of the crime, since the--the party in the closet--is +neither your father, nor your brother, nor your creditor, nor your +mother-in-law, nor what they call an injured husband--’ + +‘O, my dear sir!’ interjected Pitman, horrified. + +‘Since, in short,’ continued the lawyer, ‘you had no possible interest +in the crime, we have a perfectly free field before us and a safe game +to play. Indeed, the problem is really entertaining; it is one I have +long contemplated in the light of an A. B. case; here it is at last +under my hand in specie; and I mean to pull you through. Do you hear +that?--I mean to pull you through. Let me see: it’s a long time since I +have had what I call a genuine holiday; I’ll send an excuse tomorrow to +the office. We had best be lively,’ he added significantly; ‘for we must +not spoil the market for the other man.’ + +‘What do you mean?’ enquired Pitman. ‘What other man? The inspector of +police?’ + +‘Damn the inspector of police!’ remarked his companion. ‘If you won’t +take the short cut and bury this in your back garden, we must find some +one who will bury it in his. We must place the affair, in short, in the +hands of some one with fewer scruples and more resources.’ + +‘A private detective, perhaps?’ suggested Pitman. + +‘There are times when you fill me with pity,’ observed the lawyer. ‘By +the way, Pitman,’ he added in another key, ‘I have always regretted that +you have no piano in this den of yours. Even if you don’t play yourself, +your friends might like to entertain themselves with a little music +while you were mudding.’ + +‘I shall get one at once if you like,’ said Pitman nervously, anxious to +please. ‘I play the fiddle a little as it is.’ + +‘I know you do,’ said Michael; ‘but what’s the fiddle--above all as you +play it? What you want is polyphonic music. And I’ll tell you what it +is--since it’s too late for you to buy a piano I’ll give you mine.’ + +‘Thank you,’ said the artist blankly. ‘You will give me yours? I am sure +it’s very good in you.’ + +‘Yes, I’ll give you mine,’ continued Michael, ‘for the inspector of +police to play on while his men are digging up your back garden.’ Pitman +stared at him in pained amazement. + +‘No, I’m not insane,’ Michael went on. ‘I’m playful, but quite coherent. +See here, Pitman: follow me one half minute. I mean to profit by the +refreshing fact that we are really and truly innocent; nothing but the +presence of the--you know what--connects us with the crime; once let us +get rid of it, no matter how, and there is no possible clue to trace +us by. Well, I give you my piano; we’ll bring it round this very night. +Tomorrow we rip the fittings out, deposit the--our friend--inside, plump +the whole on a cart, and carry it to the chambers of a young gentleman +whom I know by sight.’ + +‘Whom do you know by sight?’ repeated Pitman. + +‘And what is more to the purpose,’ continued Michael, ‘whose chambers I +know better than he does himself. A friend of mine--I call him my friend +for brevity; he is now, I understand, in Demerara and (most likely) +in gaol--was the previous occupant. I defended him, and I got him off +too--all saved but honour; his assets were nil, but he gave me what he +had, poor gentleman, and along with the rest--the key of his chambers. +It’s there that I propose to leave the piano and, shall we say, +Cleopatra?’ + +‘It seems very wild,’ said Pitman. ‘And what will become of the poor +young gentleman whom you know by sight?’ + +‘It will do him good,’--said Michael cheerily. ‘Just what he wants to +steady him.’ + +‘But, my dear sir, he might be involved in a charge of--a charge of +murder,’ gulped the artist. + +‘Well, he’ll be just where we are,’ returned the lawyer. ‘He’s +innocent, you see. What hangs people, my dear Pitman, is the unfortunate +circumstance of guilt.’ + +‘But indeed, indeed,’ pleaded Pitman, ‘the whole scheme appears to me so +wild. Would it not be safer, after all, just to send for the police?’ + +‘And make a scandal?’ enquired Michael. ‘“The Chelsea Mystery; alleged +innocence of Pitman”? How would that do at the Seminary?’ + +‘It would imply my discharge,’ admitted the drawing--master. ‘I cannot +deny that.’ + +‘And besides,’ said Michael, ‘I am not going to embark in such a +business and have no fun for my money.’ + +‘O my dear sir, is that a proper spirit?’ cried Pitman. + +‘O, I only said that to cheer you up,’ said the unabashed Michael. +‘Nothing like a little judicious levity. But it’s quite needless to +discuss. If you mean to follow my advice, come on, and let us get the +piano at once. If you don’t, just drop me the word, and I’ll leave you +to deal with the whole thing according to your better judgement.’ + +‘You know perfectly well that I depend on you entirely,’ returned +Pitman. ‘But O, what a night is before me with that--horror in my +studio! How am I to think of it on my pillow?’ + +‘Well, you know, my piano will be there too,’ said Michael. ‘That’ll +raise the average.’ + +An hour later a cart came up the lane, and the lawyer’s piano--a +momentous Broadwood grand--was deposited in Mr Pitman’s studio. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. In Which Michael Finsbury Enjoys a Holiday + +Punctually at eight o’clock next morning the lawyer rattled (according +to previous appointment) on the studio door. He found the artist sadly +altered for the worse--bleached, bloodshot, and chalky--a man upon +wires, the tail of his haggard eye still wandering to the closet. Nor +was the professor of drawing less inclined to wonder at his friend. +Michael was usually attired in the height of fashion, with a certain +mercantile brilliancy best described perhaps as stylish; nor could +anything be said against him, as a rule, but that he looked a trifle +too like a wedding guest to be quite a gentleman. Today he had fallen +altogether from these heights. He wore a flannel shirt of washed-out +shepherd’s tartan, and a suit of reddish tweeds, of the colour known to +tailors as ‘heather mixture’; his neckcloth was black, and tied loosely +in a sailor’s knot; a rusty ulster partly concealed these advantages; +and his feet were shod with rough walking boots. His hat was an old soft +felt, which he removed with a flourish as he entered. + +‘Here I am, William Dent!’ he cried, and drawing from his pocket +two little wisps of reddish hair, he held them to his cheeks like +sidewhiskers and danced about the studio with the filmy graces of a +ballet-girl. + +Pitman laughed sadly. ‘I should never have known you,’ said he. + +‘Nor were you intended to,’ returned Michael, replacing his false +whiskers in his pocket. ‘Now we must overhaul you and your wardrobe, and +disguise you up to the nines.’ + +‘Disguise!’ cried the artist. ‘Must I indeed disguise myself. Has it +come to that?’ + +‘My dear creature,’ returned his companion, ‘disguise is the spice of +life. What is life, passionately exclaimed a French philosopher, without +the pleasures of disguise? I don’t say it’s always good taste, and +I know it’s unprofessional; but what’s the odds, downhearted +drawing-master? It has to be. We have to leave a false impression on +the minds of many persons, and in particular on the mind of Mr Gideon +Forsyth--the young gentleman I know by sight--if he should have the bad +taste to be at home.’ + +‘If he be at home?’ faltered the artist. ‘That would be the end of all.’ + +‘Won’t matter a d--,’ returned Michael airily. ‘Let me see your clothes, +and I’ll make a new man of you in a jiffy.’ + +In the bedroom, to which he was at once conducted, Michael examined +Pitman’s poor and scanty wardrobe with a humorous eye, picked out a +short jacket of black alpaca, and presently added to that a pair of +summer trousers which somehow took his fancy as incongruous. Then, with +the garments in his hand, he scrutinized the artist closely. + +‘I don’t like that clerical collar,’ he remarked. ‘Have you nothing +else?’ + +The professor of drawing pondered for a moment, and then brightened; +‘I have a pair of low-necked shirts,’ he said, ‘that I used to wear in +Paris as a student. They are rather loud.’ + +‘The very thing!’ ejaculated Michael. ‘You’ll look perfectly beastly. +Here are spats, too,’ he continued, drawing forth a pair of those +offensive little gaiters. ‘Must have spats! And now you jump into these, +and whistle a tune at the window for (say) three-quarters of an hour. +After that you can rejoin me on the field of glory.’ + +So saying, Michael returned to the studio. It was the morning of the +easterly gale; the wind blew shrilly among the statues in the garden, +and drove the rain upon the skylight in the studio ceiling; and at about +the same moment of the time when Morris attacked the hundredth version +of his uncle’s signature in Bloomsbury, Michael, in Chelsea, began to +rip the wires out of the Broadwood grand. + +Three-quarters of an hour later Pitman was admitted, to find the +closet-door standing open, the closet untenanted, and the piano +discreetly shut. + +‘It’s a remarkably heavy instrument,’ observed Michael, and turned +to consider his friend’s disguise. ‘You must shave off that beard of +yours,’ he said. + +‘My beard!’ cried Pitman. ‘I cannot shave my beard. I cannot tamper with +my appearance--my principals would object. They hold very strong views +as to the appearance of the professors--young ladies are considered so +romantic. My beard was regarded as quite a feature when I went about the +place. It was regarded,’ said the artist, with rising colour, ‘it was +regarded as unbecoming.’ + +‘You can let it grow again,’ returned Michael, ‘and then you’ll be so +precious ugly that they’ll raise your salary.’ + +‘But I don’t want to be ugly,’ cried the artist. + +‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Michael, who hated beards and was delighted to +destroy one. ‘Off with it like a man!’ + +‘Of course, if you insist,’ said Pitman; and then he sighed, fetched +some hot water from the kitchen, and setting a glass upon his easel, +first clipped his beard with scissors and then shaved his chin. He +could not conceal from himself, as he regarded the result, that his last +claims to manhood had been sacrificed, but Michael seemed delighted. + +‘A new man, I declare!’ he cried. ‘When I give you the windowglass +spectacles I have in my pocket, you’ll be the beau-ideal of a French +commercial traveller.’ + +Pitman did not reply, but continued to gaze disconsolately on his image +in the glass. + +‘Do you know,’ asked Michael, ‘what the Governor of South Carolina said +to the Governor of North Carolina? “It’s a long time between drinks,” + observed that powerful thinker; and if you will put your hand into the +top left-hand pocket of my ulster, I have an impression you will find a +flask of brandy. Thank you, Pitman,’ he added, as he filled out a glass +for each. ‘Now you will give me news of this.’ + +The artist reached out his hand for the water-jug, but Michael arrested +the movement. + +‘Not if you went upon your knees!’ he cried. ‘This is the finest liqueur +brandy in Great Britain.’ + +Pitman put his lips to it, set it down again, and sighed. + +‘Well, I must say you’re the poorest companion for a holiday!’ cried +Michael. ‘If that’s all you know of brandy, you shall have no more of +it; and while I finish the flask, you may as well begin business. Come +to think of it,’ he broke off, ‘I have made an abominable error: you +should have ordered the cart before you were disguised. Why, Pitman, +what the devil’s the use of you? why couldn’t you have reminded me of +that?’ + +‘I never even knew there was a cart to be ordered,’ said the artist. +‘But I can take off the disguise again,’ he suggested eagerly. + +‘You would find it rather a bother to put on your beard,’ observed the +lawyer. ‘No, it’s a false step; the sort of thing that hangs people,’ he +continued, with eminent cheerfulness, as he sipped his brandy; ‘and +it can’t be retraced now. Off to the mews with you, make all the +arrangements; they’re to take the piano from here, cart it to Victoria, +and dispatch it thence by rail to Cannon Street, to lie till called for +in the name of Fortune du Boisgobey.’ + +‘Isn’t that rather an awkward name?’ pleaded Pitman. + +‘Awkward?’ cried Michael scornfully. ‘It would hang us both! Brown is +both safer and easier to pronounce. Call it Brown.’ + +‘I wish,’ said Pitman, ‘for my sake, I wish you wouldn’t talk so much of +hanging.’ + +‘Talking about it’s nothing, my boy!’ returned Michael. ‘But take your +hat and be off, and mind and pay everything beforehand.’ + +Left to himself, the lawyer turned his attention for some time +exclusively to the liqueur brandy, and his spirits, which had been +pretty fair all morning, now prodigiously rose. He proceeded to adjust +his whiskers finally before the glass. ‘Devilish rich,’ he remarked, as +he contemplated his reflection. ‘I look like a purser’s mate.’ And at +that moment the window-glass spectacles (which he had hitherto destined +for Pitman) flashed into his mind; he put them on, and fell in love with +the effect. ‘Just what I required,’ he said. ‘I wonder what I look like +now? A humorous novelist, I should think,’ and he began to practise +divers characters of walk, naming them to himself as--he proceeded. +‘Walk of a humorous novelist--but that would require an umbrella. Walk +of a purser’s mate. Walk of an Australian colonist revisiting the scenes +of childhood. Walk of Sepoy colonel, ditto, ditto. And in the midst +of the Sepoy colonel (which was an excellent assumption, although +inconsistent with the style of his make-up), his eye lighted on the +piano. This instrument was made to lock both at the top and at the +keyboard, but the key of the latter had been mislaid. Michael opened +it and ran his fingers over the dumb keys. ‘Fine instrument--full, rich +tone,’ he observed, and he drew in a seat. + +When Mr Pitman returned to the studio, he was appalled to observe his +guide, philosopher, and friend performing miracles of execution on the +silent grand. + +‘Heaven help me!’ thought the little man, ‘I fear he has been drinking! +Mr Finsbury,’ he said aloud; and Michael, without rising, turned upon +him a countenance somewhat flushed, encircled with the bush of the red +whiskers, and bestridden by the spectacles. ‘Capriccio in B-flat on the +departure of a friend,’ said he, continuing his noiseless evolutions. + +Indignation awoke in the mind of Pitman. ‘Those spectacles were to be +mine,’ he cried. ‘They are an essential part of my disguise.’ + +‘I am going to wear them myself,’ replied Michael; and he added, with +some show of truth, ‘There would be a devil of a lot of suspicion +aroused if we both wore spectacles.’ + +‘O, well,’ said the assenting Pitman, ‘I rather counted on them; but of +course, if you insist. And at any rate, here is the cart at the door.’ + +While the men were at work, Michael concealed himself in the closet +among the debris of the barrel and the wires of the piano; and as soon +as the coast was clear the pair sallied forth by the lane, jumped into +a hansom in the King’s Road, and were driven rapidly toward town. It +was still cold and raw and boisterous; the rain beat strongly in their +faces, but Michael refused to have the glass let down; he had now +suddenly donned the character of cicerone, and pointed out and lucidly +commented on the sights of London, as they drove. ‘My dear fellow,’ he +said, ‘you don’t seem to know anything of your native city. Suppose we +visited the Tower? No? Well, perhaps it’s a trifle out of our way. +But, anyway--Here, cabby, drive round by Trafalgar Square!’ And on that +historic battlefield he insisted on drawing up, while he criticized the +statues and gave the artist many curious details (quite new to history) +of the lives of the celebrated men they represented. + +It would be difficult to express what Pitman suffered in the cab: cold, +wet, terror in the capital degree, a grounded distrust of the commander +under whom he served, a sense of imprudency in the matter of the +low-necked shirt, a bitter sense of the decline and fall involved in the +deprivation of his beard, all these were among the ingredients of the +bowl. To reach the restaurant, for which they were deviously steering, +was the first relief. To hear Michael bespeak a private room was a +second and a still greater. Nor, as they mounted the stair under the +guidance of an unintelligible alien, did he fail to note with gratitude +the fewness of the persons present, or the still more cheering fact that +the greater part of these were exiles from the land of France. It was +thus a blessed thought that none of them would be connected with the +Seminary; for even the French professor, though admittedly a Papist, he +could scarce imagine frequenting so rakish an establishment. + +The alien introduced them into a small bare room with a single table, +a sofa, and a dwarfish fire; and Michael called promptly for more coals +and a couple of brandies and sodas. + +‘O, no,’ said Pitman, ‘surely not--no more to drink.’ + +‘I don’t know what you would be at,’ said Michael plaintively. ‘It’s +positively necessary to do something; and one shouldn’t smoke before +meals. I thought that was understood. You seem to have no idea +of hygiene.’ And he compared his watch with the clock upon the +chimney-piece. + +Pitman fell into bitter musing; here he was, ridiculously shorn, +absurdly disguised, in the company of a drunken man in spectacles, and +waiting for a champagne luncheon in a restaurant painfully foreign. What +would his principals think, if they could see him? What if they knew his +tragic and deceitful errand? + +From these reflections he was aroused by the entrance of the alien with +the brandies and sodas. Michael took one and bade the waiter pass the +other to his friend. + +Pitman waved it from him with his hand. ‘Don’t let me lose all +self-respect,’ he said. + +‘Anything to oblige a friend,’ returned Michael. ‘But I’m not going to +drink alone. Here,’ he added to the waiter, ‘you take it.’ And, then, +touching glasses, ‘The health of Mr Gideon Forsyth,’ said he. + +‘Meestare Gidden Borsye,’ replied the waiter, and he tossed off the +liquor in four gulps. + +‘Have another?’ said Michael, with undisguised interest. ‘I never saw a +man drink faster. It restores one’s confidence in the human race. + +But the waiter excused himself politely, and, assisted by some one from +without, began to bring in lunch. + +Michael made an excellent meal, which he washed down with a bottle of +Heidsieck’s dry monopole. As for the artist, he was far too uneasy to +eat, and his companion flatly refused to let him share in the champagne +unless he did. + +‘One of us must stay sober,’ remarked the lawyer, ‘and I won’t give you +champagne on the strength of a leg of grouse. I have to be cautious,’ he +added confidentially. ‘One drunken man, excellent business--two drunken +men, all my eye.’ + +On the production of coffee and departure of the waiter, Michael might +have been observed to make portentous efforts after gravity of mien. +He looked his friend in the face (one eye perhaps a trifle off), and +addressed him thickly but severely. + +‘Enough of this fooling,’ was his not inappropriate exordium. ‘To +business. Mark me closely. I am an Australian. My name is John Dickson, +though you mightn’t think it from my unassuming appearance. You will be +relieved to hear that I am rich, sir, very rich. You can’t go into this +sort of thing too thoroughly, Pitman; the whole secret is preparation, +and I can get up my biography from the beginning, and I could tell it +you now, only I have forgotten it.’ + +‘Perhaps I’m stupid--’ began Pitman. + +‘That’s it!’ cried Michael. ‘Very stupid; but rich too--richer than I +am. I thought you would enjoy it, Pitman, so I’ve arranged that you were +to be literally wallowing in wealth. But then, on the other hand, you’re +only an American, and a maker of india-rubber overshoes at that. And the +worst of it is--why should I conceal it from you?--the worst of it +is that you’re called Ezra Thomas. Now,’ said Michael, with a really +appalling seriousness of manner, ‘tell me who we are.’ + +The unfortunate little man was cross-examined till he knew these facts +by heart. + +‘There!’ cried the lawyer. ‘Our plans are laid. Thoroughly +consistent--that’s the great thing.’ + +‘But I don’t understand,’ objected Pitman. + +‘O, you’ll understand right enough when it comes to the point,’ said +Michael, rising. + +‘There doesn’t seem any story to it,’ said the artist. + +‘We can invent one as we go along,’ returned the lawyer. + +‘But I can’t invent,’ protested Pitman. ‘I never could invent in all my +life.’ + +‘You’ll find you’ll have to, my boy,’ was Michael’s easy comment, and he +began calling for the waiter, with whom he at once resumed a sparkling +conversation. + +It was a downcast little man that followed him. ‘Of course he is very +clever, but can I trust him in such a state?’ he asked himself. And when +they were once more in a hansom, he took heart of grace. + +‘Don’t you think,’ he faltered, ‘it would be wiser, considering all +things, to put this business off?’ + +‘Put off till tomorrow what can be done today?’ cried Michael, with +indignation. ‘Never heard of such a thing! Cheer up, it’s all right, go +in and win--there’s a lion-hearted Pitman!’ + +At Cannon Street they enquired for Mr Brown’s piano, which had duly +arrived, drove thence to a neighbouring mews, where they contracted +for a cart, and while that was being got ready, took shelter in the +harness-room beside the stove. Here the lawyer presently toppled against +the wall and fell into a gentle slumber; so that Pitman found himself +launched on his own resources in the midst of several staring loafers, +such as love to spend unprofitable days about a stable. ‘Rough day, +sir,’ observed one. ‘Do you go far?’ + +‘Yes, it’s a--rather a rough day,’ said the artist; and then, feeling +that he must change the conversation, ‘My friend is an Australian; he is +very impulsive,’ he added. + +‘An Australian?’ said another. ‘I’ve a brother myself in Melbourne. Does +your friend come from that way at all?’ + +‘No, not exactly,’ replied the artist, whose ideas of the geography of +New Holland were a little scattered. ‘He lives immensely far inland, and +is very rich.’ + +The loafers gazed with great respect upon the slumbering colonist. + +‘Well,’ remarked the second speaker, ‘it’s a mighty big place, is +Australia. Do you come from thereaway too?’ + +‘No, I do not,’ said Pitman. ‘I do not, and I don’t want to,’ he added +irritably. And then, feeling some diversion needful, he fell upon +Michael and shook him up. + +‘Hullo,’ said the lawyer, ‘what’s wrong?’ + +‘The cart is nearly ready,’ said Pitman sternly. ‘I will not allow you +to sleep.’ + +‘All right--no offence, old man,’ replied Michael, yawning. ‘A little +sleep never did anybody any harm; I feel comparatively sober now. But +what’s all the hurry?’ he added, looking round him glassily. ‘I don’t +see the cart, and I’ve forgotten where we left the piano.’ + +What more the lawyer might have said, in the confidence of the moment, +is with Pitman a matter of tremulous conjecture to this day; but by the +most blessed circumstance the cart was then announced, and Michael must +bend the forces of his mind to the more difficult task of rising. + +‘Of course you’ll drive,’ he remarked to his companion, as he clambered +on the vehicle. + +‘I drive!’ cried Pitman. ‘I never did such a thing in my life. I cannot +drive.’ + +‘Very well,’ responded Michael with entire composure, ‘neither can I +see. But just as you like. Anything to oblige a friend.’ + +A glimpse of the ostler’s darkening countenance decided Pitman. ‘All +right,’ he said desperately, ‘you drive. I’ll tell you where to go.’ + +On Michael in the character of charioteer (since this is not intended +to be a novel of adventure) it would be superfluous to dwell at length. +Pitman, as he sat holding on and gasping counsels, sole witness of this +singular feat, knew not whether most to admire the driver’s valour or +his undeserved good fortune. But the latter at least prevailed, the +cart reached Cannon Street without disaster; and Mr Brown’s piano was +speedily and cleverly got on board. + +‘Well, sir,’ said the leading porter, smiling as he mentally reckoned up +a handful of loose silver, ‘that’s a mortal heavy piano.’ + +‘It’s the richness of the tone,’ returned Michael, as he drove away. + +It was but a little distance in the rain, which now fell thick and +quiet, to the neighbourhood of Mr Gideon Forsyth’s chambers in the +Temple. There, in a deserted by-street, Michael drew up the horses and +gave them in charge to a blighted shoe-black; and the pair descending +from the cart, whereon they had figured so incongruously, set forth +on foot for the decisive scene of their adventure. For the first time +Michael displayed a shadow of uneasiness. + +‘Are my whiskers right?’ he asked. ‘It would be the devil and all if I +was spotted.’ + +‘They are perfectly in their place,’ returned Pitman, with scant +attention. ‘But is my disguise equally effective? There is nothing more +likely than that I should meet some of my patrons.’ + +‘O, nobody could tell you without your beard,’ said Michael. ‘All you +have to do is to remember to speak slow; you speak through your nose +already.’ + +‘I only hope the young man won’t be at home,’ sighed Pitman. + +‘And I only hope he’ll be alone,’ returned the lawyer. ‘It will save a +precious sight of manoeuvring.’ + +And sure enough, when they had knocked at the door, Gideon admitted them +in person to a room, warmed by a moderate fire, framed nearly to the +roof in works connected with the bench of British Themis, and offering, +except in one particular, eloquent testimony to the legal zeal of the +proprietor. The one particular was the chimney-piece, which displayed +a varied assortment of pipes, tobacco, cigar-boxes, and yellow-backed +French novels. + +‘Mr Forsyth, I believe?’ It was Michael who thus opened the engagement. +‘We have come to trouble you with a piece of business. I fear it’s +scarcely professional--’ + +‘I am afraid I ought to be instructed through a solicitor,’ replied +Gideon. + +‘Well, well, you shall name your own, and the whole affair can be put +on a more regular footing tomorrow,’ replied Michael, taking a chair +and motioning Pitman to do the same. ‘But you see we didn’t know any +solicitors; we did happen to know of you, and time presses.’ + +‘May I enquire, gentlemen,’ asked Gideon, ‘to whom it was I am indebted +for a recommendation?’ + +‘You may enquire,’ returned the lawyer, with a foolish laugh; ‘but I was +invited not to tell you--till the thing was done.’ + +‘My uncle, no doubt,’ was the barrister’s conclusion. + +‘My name is John Dickson,’ continued Michael; ‘a pretty well-known name +in Ballarat; and my friend here is Mr Ezra Thomas, of the United States +of America, a wealthy manufacturer of india-rubber overshoes.’ + +‘Stop one moment till I make a note of that,’ said Gideon; any one might +have supposed he was an old practitioner. + +‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind my smoking a cigar?’ asked Michael. He had +pulled himself together for the entrance; now again there began to +settle on his mind clouds of irresponsible humour and incipient slumber; +and he hoped (as so many have hoped in the like case) that a cigar would +clear him. + +‘Oh, certainly,’ cried Gideon blandly. ‘Try one of mine; I can +confidently recommend them.’ And he handed the box to his client. + +‘In case I don’t make myself perfectly clear,’ observed the Australian, +‘it’s perhaps best to tell you candidly that I’ve been lunching. It’s a +thing that may happen to any one.’ + +‘O, certainly,’ replied the affable barrister. ‘But please be under no +sense of hurry. I can give you,’ he added, thoughtfully consulting his +watch--‘yes, I can give you the whole afternoon.’ + +‘The business that brings me here,’ resumed the Australian with gusto, +‘is devilish delicate, I can tell you. My friend Mr Thomas, being an +American of Portuguese extraction, unacquainted with our habits, and a +wealthy manufacturer of Broadwood pianos--’ + +‘Broadwood pianos?’ cried Gideon, with some surprise. ‘Dear me, do I +understand Mr Thomas to be a member of the firm?’ + +‘O, pirated Broadwoods,’ returned Michael. ‘My friend’s the American +Broadwood.’ + +‘But I understood you to say,’ objected Gideon, ‘I certainly have it +so in my notes--that your friend was a manufacturer of india--rubber +overshoes.’ + +‘I know it’s confusing at first,’ said the Australian, with a beaming +smile. ‘But he--in short, he combines the two professions. And many +others besides--many, many, many others,’ repeated Mr Dickson, with +drunken solemnity. ‘Mr Thomas’s cotton-mills are one of the sights of +Tallahassee; Mr Thomas’s tobacco-mills are the pride of Richmond, Va.; +in short, he’s one of my oldest friends, Mr Forsyth, and I lay his case +before you with emotion.’ + +The barrister looked at Mr Thomas and was agreeably prepossessed by his +open although nervous countenance, and the simplicity and timidity of +his manner. ‘What a people are these Americans!’ he thought. ‘Look at +this nervous, weedy, simple little bird in a lownecked shirt, and +think of him wielding and directing interests so extended and seemingly +incongruous! ‘But had we not better,’ he observed aloud, ‘had we not +perhaps better approach the facts?’ + +‘Man of business, I perceive, sir!’ said the Australian. ‘Let’s approach +the facts. It’s a breach of promise case.’ + +The unhappy artist was so unprepared for this view of his position that +he could scarce suppress a cry. + +‘Dear me,’ said Gideon, ‘they are apt to be very troublesome. Tell me +everything about it,’ he added kindly; ‘if you require my assistance, +conceal nothing.’ + +‘You tell him,’ said Michael, feeling, apparently, that he had done his +share. ‘My friend will tell you all about it,’ he added to Gideon, with +a yawn. ‘Excuse my closing my eyes a moment; I’ve been sitting up with a +sick friend.’ + +Pitman gazed blankly about the room; rage and despair seethed in his +innocent spirit; thoughts of flight, thoughts even of suicide, came and +went before him; and still the barrister patiently waited, and still the +artist groped in vain for any form of words, however insignificant. + +‘It’s a breach of promise case,’ he said at last, in a low voice. ‘I--I +am threatened with a breach of promise case.’ Here, in desperate quest +of inspiration, he made a clutch at his beard; his fingers closed upon +the unfamiliar smoothness of a shaven chin; and with that, hope and +courage (if such expressions could ever have been appropriate in the +case of Pitman) conjointly fled. He shook Michael roughly. ‘Wake up!’ +he cried, with genuine irritation in his tones. ‘I cannot do it, and you +know I can’t.’ + +‘You must excuse my friend,’ said Michael; ‘he’s no hand as a narrator +of stirring incident. The case is simple,’ he went on. ‘My friend is +a man of very strong passions, and accustomed to a simple, patriarchal +style of life. You see the thing from here: unfortunate visit to Europe, +followed by unfortunate acquaintance with sham foreign count, who has a +lovely daughter. Mr Thomas was quite carried away; he proposed, he was +accepted, and he wrote--wrote in a style which I am sure he must +regret today. If these letters are produced in court, sir, Mr Thomas’s +character is gone.’ + +‘Am I to understand--’ began Gideon. + +‘My dear sir,’ said the Australian emphatically, ‘it isn’t possible to +understand unless you saw them.’ + +‘That is a painful circumstance,’ said Gideon; he glanced pityingly in +the direction of the culprit, and, observing on his countenance every +mark of confusion, pityingly withdrew his eyes. + +‘And that would be nothing,’ continued Mr Dickson sternly, ‘but I +wish--I wish from my heart, sir, I could say that Mr Thomas’s hands were +clean. He has no excuse; for he was engaged at the time--and is still +engaged--to the belle of Constantinople, Ga. My friend’s conduct was +unworthy of the brutes that perish.’ + +‘Ga.?’ repeated Gideon enquiringly. + +‘A contraction in current use,’ said Michael. ‘Ga. for Georgia, in The +same way as Co. for Company.’ + +‘I was aware it was sometimes so written,’ returned the barrister, ‘but +not that it was so pronounced.’ + +‘Fact, I assure you,’ said Michael. ‘You now see for yourself, sir, that +if this unhappy person is to be saved, some devilish sharp practice will +be needed. There’s money, and no desire to spare it. Mr Thomas could +write a cheque tomorrow for a hundred thousand. And, Mr Forsyth, +there’s better than money. The foreign count--Count Tarnow, he calls +himself--was formerly a tobacconist in Bayswater, and passed under +the humble but expressive name of Schmidt; his daughter--if she is his +daughter--there’s another point--make a note of that, Mr Forsyth--his +daughter at that time actually served in the shop--and she now proposes +to marry a man of the eminence of Mr Thomas! Now do you see our game? We +know they contemplate a move; and we wish to forestall ‘em. Down you +go to Hampton Court, where they live, and threaten, or bribe, or both, +until you get the letters; if you can’t, God help us, we must go to +court and Thomas must be exposed. I’ll be done with him for one,’ added +the unchivalrous friend. + +‘There seem some elements of success,’ said Gideon. ‘Was Schmidt at all +known to the police?’ + +‘We hope so,’ said Michael. ‘We have every ground to think so. Mark +the neighbourhood--Bayswater! Doesn’t Bayswater occur to you as very +suggestive?’ + +For perhaps the sixth time during this remarkable interview, Gideon +wondered if he were not becoming light-headed. ‘I suppose it’s just +because he has been lunching,’ he thought; and then added aloud, ‘To +what figure may I go?’ + +‘Perhaps five thousand would be enough for today,’ said Michael. ‘And +now, sir, do not let me detain you any longer; the afternoon wears +on; there are plenty of trains to Hampton Court; and I needn’t try to +describe to you the impatience of my friend. Here is a five-pound note +for current expenses; and here is the address.’ And Michael began to +write, paused, tore up the paper, and put the pieces in his pocket. ‘I +will dictate,’ he said, ‘my writing is so uncertain.’ + +Gideon took down the address, ‘Count Tarnow, Kurnaul Villa, Hampton +Court.’ Then he wrote something else on a sheet of paper. ‘You said you +had not chosen a solicitor,’ he said. ‘For a case of this sort, here is +the best man in London.’ And he handed the paper to Michael. + +‘God bless me!’ ejaculated Michael, as he read his own address. + +‘O, I daresay you have seen his name connected with some rather painful +cases,’ said Gideon. ‘But he is himself a perfectly honest man, and his +capacity is recognized. And now, gentlemen, it only remains for me to +ask where I shall communicate with you.’ + +‘The Langham, of course,’ returned Michael. ‘Till tonight.’ + +‘Till tonight,’ replied Gideon, smiling. ‘I suppose I may knock you up +at a late hour?’ + +‘Any hour, any hour,’ cried the vanishing solicitor. + +‘Now there’s a young fellow with a head upon his shoulders,’ he said to +Pitman, as soon as they were in the street. + +Pitman was indistinctly heard to murmur, ‘Perfect fool.’ + +‘Not a bit of him,’ returned Michael. ‘He knows who’s the best solicitor +in London, and it’s not every man can say the same. But, I say, didn’t I +pitch it in hot?’ + +Pitman returned no answer. + +‘Hullo!’ said the lawyer, pausing, ‘what’s wrong with the long-suffering +Pitman?’ + +‘You had no right to speak of me as you did,’ the artist broke out; +‘your language was perfectly unjustifiable; you have wounded me deeply.’ + +‘I never said a word about you,’ replied Michael. ‘I spoke of Ezra +Thomas; and do please remember that there’s no such party.’ + +‘It’s just as hard to bear,’ said the artist. + +But by this time they had reached the corner of the by-street; and +there was the faithful shoeblack, standing by the horses’ heads with +a splendid assumption of dignity; and there was the piano, figuring +forlorn upon the cart, while the rain beat upon its unprotected sides +and trickled down its elegantly varnished legs. + +The shoeblack was again put in requisition to bring five or six strong +fellows from the neighbouring public-house; and the last battle of the +campaign opened. It is probable that Mr Gideon Forsyth had not yet taken +his seat in the train for Hampton Court, before Michael opened the door +of the chambers, and the grunting porters deposited the Broadwood grand +in the middle of the floor. + +‘And now,’ said the lawyer, after he had sent the men about their +business, ‘one more precaution. We must leave him the key of the piano, +and we must contrive that he shall find it. Let me see.’ And he built a +square tower of cigars upon the top of the instrument, and dropped the +key into the middle. + +‘Poor young man,’ said the artist, as they descended the stairs. + +‘He is in a devil of a position,’ assented Michael drily. ‘It’ll brace +him up.’ + +‘And that reminds me,’ observed the excellent Pitman, ‘that I fear I +displayed a most ungrateful temper. I had no right, I see, to resent +expressions, wounding as they were, which were in no sense directed.’ + +‘That’s all right,’ cried Michael, getting on the cart. ‘Not a word +more, Pitman. Very proper feeling on your part; no man of self-respect +can stand by and hear his alias insulted.’ + +The rain had now ceased, Michael was fairly sober, the body had been +disposed of, and the friends were reconciled. The return to the mews was +therefore (in comparison with previous stages of the day’s adventures) +quite a holiday outing; and when they had returned the cart and walked +forth again from the stable-yard, unchallenged, and even unsuspected, +Pitman drew a deep breath of joy. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘we can go home.’ + +‘Pitman,’ said the lawyer, stopping short, ‘your recklessness fills me +with concern. What! we have been wet through the greater part of the +day, and you propose, in cold blood, to go home! No, sir--hot Scotch.’ + +And taking his friend’s arm he led him sternly towards the nearest +public-house. Nor was Pitman (I regret to say) wholly unwilling. +Now that peace was restored and the body gone, a certain innocent +skittishness began to appear in the manners of the artist; and when +he touched his steaming glass to Michael’s, he giggled aloud like a +venturesome schoolgirl at a picnic. + + + +CHAPTER IX. Glorious Conclusion of Michael Finsbury’s Holiday + +I know Michael Finsbury personally; my business--I know the awkwardness +of having such a man for a lawyer--still it’s an old story now, and +there is such a thing as gratitude, and, in short, my legal business, +although now (I am thankful to say) of quite a placid character, remains +entirely in Michael’s hands. But the trouble is I have no natural talent +for addresses; I learn one for every man--that is friendship’s offering; +and the friend who subsequently changes his residence is dead to me, +memory refusing to pursue him. Thus it comes about that, as I always +write to Michael at his office, I cannot swear to his number in the +King’s Road. Of course (like my neighbours), I have been to dinner +there. Of late years, since his accession to wealth, neglect of +business, and election to the club, these little festivals have become +common. He picks up a few fellows in the smoking-room--all men of Attic +wit--myself, for instance, if he has the luck to find me disengaged; a +string of hansoms may be observed (by Her Majesty) bowling gaily through +St James’s Park; and in a quarter of an hour the party surrounds one of +the best appointed boards in London. + +But at the time of which we write the house in the King’s Road (let us +still continue to call it No. 233) was kept very quiet; when Michael +entertained guests it was at the halls of Nichol or Verrey that he would +convene them, and the door of his private residence remained closed +against his friends. The upper storey, which was sunny, was set apart +for his father; the drawing-room was never opened; the dining-room was +the scene of Michael’s life. It is in this pleasant apartment, +sheltered from the curiosity of King’s Road by wire blinds, and entirely +surrounded by the lawyer’s unrivalled library of poetry and criminal +trials, that we find him sitting down to his dinner after his holiday +with Pitman. A spare old lady, with very bright eyes and a mouth +humorously compressed, waited upon the lawyer’s needs; in every line of +her countenance she betrayed the fact that she was an old retainer; +in every word that fell from her lips she flaunted the glorious +circumstance of a Scottish origin; and the fear with which this powerful +combination fills the boldest was obviously no stranger to the bosom of +our friend. The hot Scotch having somewhat warmed up the embers of the +Heidsieck. It was touching to observe the master’s eagerness to pull +himself together under the servant’s eye; and when he remarked, ‘I +think, Teena, I’ll take a brandy and soda,’ he spoke like a man doubtful +of his elocution, and not half certain of obedience. + +‘No such a thing, Mr Michael,’ was the prompt return. ‘Clar’t and +water.’ + +‘Well, well, Teena, I daresay you know best,’ said the master. ‘Very +fatiguing day at the office, though.’ + +‘What?’ said the retainer, ‘ye never were near the office!’ + +‘O yes, I was though; I was repeatedly along Fleet Street,’ returned +Michael. + +‘Pretty pliskies ye’ve been at this day!’ cried the old lady, with +humorous alacrity; and then, ‘Take care--don’t break my crystal!’ she +cried, as the lawyer came within an ace of knocking the glasses off the +table. + +‘And how is he keeping?’ asked Michael. + +‘O, just the same, Mr Michael, just the way he’ll be till the end, +worthy man!’ was the reply. ‘But ye’ll not be the first that’s asked me +that the day.’ + +‘No?’ said the lawyer. ‘Who else?’ + +‘Ay, that’s a joke, too,’ said Teena grimly. ‘A friend of yours: Mr +Morris.’ + +‘Morris! What was the little beggar wanting here?’ enquired Michael. + +‘Wantin’? To see him,’ replied the housekeeper, completing her meaning +by a movement of the thumb toward the upper storey. ‘That’s by his way +of it; but I’ve an idee of my own. He tried to bribe me, Mr Michael. +Bribe--me!’ she repeated, with inimitable scorn. ‘That’s no’ kind of a +young gentleman.’ + +‘Did he so?’ said Michael. ‘I bet he didn’t offer much.’ + +‘No more he did,’ replied Teena; nor could any subsequent questioning +elicit from her the sum with which the thrifty leather merchant had +attempted to corrupt her. ‘But I sent him about his business,’ she said +gallantly. ‘He’ll not come here again in a hurry.’ + +‘He mustn’t see my father, you know; mind that!’ said Michael. ‘I’m not +going to have any public exhibition to a little beast like him.’ + +‘No fear of me lettin’ him,’ replied the trusty one. ‘But the joke +is this, Mr Michael--see, ye’re upsettin’ the sauce, that’s a clean +tablecloth--the best of the joke is that he thinks your father’s dead +and you’re keepin’ it dark.’ + +Michael whistled. ‘Set a thief to catch a thief,’ said he. + +‘Exac’ly what I told him!’ cried the delighted dame. + +‘I’ll make him dance for that,’ said Michael. + +‘Couldn’t ye get the law of him some way?’ suggested Teena truculently. + +‘No, I don’t think I could, and I’m quite sure I don’t want to,’ +replied Michael. ‘But I say, Teena, I really don’t believe this claret’s +wholesome; it’s not a sound, reliable wine. Give us a brandy and soda, +there’s a good soul.’ Teena’s face became like adamant. ‘Well, then,’ +said the lawyer fretfully, ‘I won’t eat any more dinner.’ + +‘Ye can please yourself about that, Mr Michael,’ said Teena, and began +composedly to take away. + +‘I do wish Teena wasn’t a faithful servant!’ sighed the lawyer, as he +issued into Kings’s Road. + +The rain had ceased; the wind still blew, but only with a pleasant +freshness; the town, in the clear darkness of the night, glittered with +street-lamps and shone with glancing rain-pools. ‘Come, this is better,’ +thought the lawyer to himself, and he walked on eastward, lending a +pleased ear to the wheels and the million footfalls of the city. + +Near the end of the King’s Road he remembered his brandy and soda, and +entered a flaunting public-house. A good many persons were present, a +waterman from a cab-stand, half a dozen of the chronically unemployed, a +gentleman (in one corner) trying to sell aesthetic photographs out of +a leather case to another and very youthful gentleman with a yellow +goatee, and a pair of lovers debating some fine shade (in the other). +But the centre-piece and great attraction was a little old man, in a +black, ready-made surtout, which was obviously a recent purchase. On +the marble table in front of him, beside a sandwich and a glass of +beer, there lay a battered forage cap. His hand fluttered abroad with +oratorical gestures; his voice, naturally shrill, was plainly tuned to +the pitch of the lecture room; and by arts, comparable to those of +the Ancient Mariner, he was now holding spellbound the barmaid, the +waterman, and four of the unemployed. + +‘I have examined all the theatres in London,’ he was saying; ‘and pacing +the principal entrances, I have ascertained them to be ridiculously +disproportionate to the requirements of their audiences. The doors +opened the wrong way--I forget at this moment which it is, but have a +note of it at home; they were frequently locked during the performance, +and when the auditorium was literally thronged with English people. You +have probably not had my opportunities of comparing distant lands; but +I can assure you this has been long ago recognized as a mark +of aristocratic government. Do you suppose, in a country really +self-governed, such abuses could exist? Your own intelligence, however +uncultivated, tells you they could not. Take Austria, a country even +possibly more enslaved than England. I have myself conversed with one of +the survivors of the Ring Theatre, and though his colloquial German +was not very good, I succeeded in gathering a pretty clear idea of his +opinion of the case. But, what will perhaps interest you still more, +here is a cutting on the subject from a Vienna newspaper, which I will +now read to you, translating as I go. You can see for yourselves; it +is printed in the German character.’ And he held the cutting out for +verification, much as a conjuror passes a trick orange along the front +bench. + +‘Hullo, old gentleman! Is this you?’ said Michael, laying his hand upon +the orator’s shoulder. + +The figure turned with a convulsion of alarm, and showed the countenance +of Mr Joseph Finsbury. ‘You, Michael!’ he cried. ‘There’s no one with +you, is there?’ + +‘No,’ replied Michael, ordering a brandy and soda, ‘there’s nobody with +me; whom do you expect?’ + +‘I thought of Morris or John,’ said the old gentleman, evidently greatly +relieved. + +‘What the devil would I be doing with Morris or John?’ cried the nephew. + +‘There is something in that,’ returned Joseph. ‘And I believe I can +trust you. I believe you will stand by me.’ + +‘I hardly know what you mean,’ said the lawyer, ‘but if you are in need +of money I am flush.’ + +‘It’s not that, my dear boy,’ said the uncle, shaking him by the hand. +‘I’ll tell you all about it afterwards.’ + +‘All right,’ responded the nephew. ‘I stand treat, Uncle Joseph; what +will you have?’ + +‘In that case,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘I’ll take another +sandwich. I daresay I surprise you,’ he went on, ‘with my presence in +a public-house; but the fact is, I act on a sound but little-known +principle of my own--’ + +‘O, it’s better known than you suppose,’ said Michael sipping his brandy +and soda. ‘I always act on it myself when I want a drink.’ + +The old gentleman, who was anxious to propitiate Michael, laughed a +cheerless laugh. ‘You have such a flow of spirits,’ said he, ‘I am sure +I often find it quite amusing. But regarding this principle of which +I was about to speak. It is that of accommodating one’s-self to the +manners of any land (however humble) in which our lot may be cast. Now, +in France, for instance, every one goes to a cafe for his meals; in +America, to what is called a “two-bit house”; in England the people +resort to such an institution as the present for refreshment. With +sandwiches, tea, and an occasional glass of bitter beer, a man can live +luxuriously in London for fourteen pounds twelve shillings per annum.’ + +‘Yes, I know,’ returned Michael, ‘but that’s not including clothes, +washing, or boots. The whole thing, with cigars and occasional sprees, +costs me over seven hundred a year.’ + +But this was Michael’s last interruption. He listened in good-humoured +silence to the remainder of his uncle’s lecture, which speedily branched +to political reform, thence to the theory of the weather-glass, with an +illustrative account of a bora in the Adriatic; thence again to the best +manner of teaching arithmetic to the deaf-and-dumb; and with that, the +sandwich being then no more, explicuit valde feliciter. A moment later +the pair issued forth on the King’s Road. + +‘Michael,’ said his uncle, ‘the reason that I am here is because I +cannot endure those nephews of mine. I find them intolerable.’ + +‘I daresay you do,’ assented Michael, ‘I never could stand them for a +moment.’ + +‘They wouldn’t let me speak,’ continued the old gentleman bitterly; ‘I +never was allowed to get a word in edgewise; I was shut up at once with +some impertinent remark. They kept me on short allowance of pencils, +when I wished to make notes of the most absorbing interest; the daily +newspaper was guarded from me like a young baby from a gorilla. Now, you +know me, Michael. I live for my calculations; I live for my manifold and +ever-changing views of life; pens and paper and the productions of the +popular press are to me as important as food and drink; and my life +was growing quite intolerable when, in the confusion of that fortunate +railway accident at Browndean, I made my escape. They must think +me dead, and are trying to deceive the world for the chance of the +tontine.’ + +‘By the way, how do you stand for money?’ asked Michael kindly. + +‘Pecuniarily speaking, I am rich,’ returned the old man with +cheerfulness. ‘I am living at present at the rate of one hundred a year, +with unlimited pens and paper; the British Museum at which to get books; +and all the newspapers I choose to read. But it’s extraordinary how +little a man of intellectual interest requires to bother with books in a +progressive age. The newspapers supply all the conclusions.’ + +‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Michael, ‘come and stay with me.’ + +‘Michael,’ said the old gentleman, ‘it’s very kind of you, but you +scarcely understand what a peculiar position I occupy. There are some +little financial complications; as a guardian, my efforts were not +altogether blessed; and not to put too fine a point upon the matter, I +am absolutely in the power of that vile fellow, Morris.’ + +‘You should be disguised,’ cried Michael eagerly; ‘I will lend you a +pair of window-glass spectacles and some red side-whiskers.’ + +‘I had already canvassed that idea,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘but +feared to awaken remark in my unpretentious lodgings. The aristocracy, I +am well aware--’ + +‘But see here,’ interrupted Michael, ‘how do you come to have any money +at all? Don’t make a stranger of me, Uncle Joseph; I know all about the +trust, and the hash you made of it, and the assignment you were forced +to make to Morris.’ + +Joseph narrated his dealings with the bank. + +‘O, but I say, this won’t do,’ cried the lawyer. ‘You’ve put your foot +in it. You had no right to do what you did.’ + +‘The whole thing is mine, Michael,’ protested the old gentleman. ‘I +founded and nursed that business on principles entirely of my own.’ + +‘That’s all very fine,’ said the lawyer; ‘but you made an assignment, +you were forced to make it, too; even then your position was extremely +shaky; but now, my dear sir, it means the dock.’ + +‘It isn’t possible,’ cried Joseph; ‘the law cannot be so unjust as +that?’ + +‘And the cream of the thing,’ interrupted Michael, with a sudden shout +of laughter, ‘the cream of the thing is this, that of course you’ve +downed the leather business! I must say, Uncle Joseph, you have strange +ideas of law, but I like your taste in humour.’ + +‘I see nothing to laugh at,’ observed Mr Finsbury tartly. + +‘And talking of that, has Morris any power to sign for the firm?’ asked +Michael. + +‘No one but myself,’ replied Joseph. + +‘Poor devil of a Morris! O, poor devil of a Morris!’ cried the lawyer in +delight. ‘And his keeping up the farce that you’re at home! O, Morris, +the Lord has delivered you into my hands! Let me see, Uncle Joseph, what +do you suppose the leather business worth?’ + +‘It was worth a hundred thousand,’ said Joseph bitterly, ‘when it was +in my hands. But then there came a Scotsman--it is supposed he had a +certain talent--it was entirely directed to bookkeeping--no accountant +in London could understand a word of any of his books; and then there +was Morris, who is perfectly incompetent. And now it is worth very +little. Morris tried to sell it last year; and Pogram and Jarris offered +only four thousand.’ + +‘I shall turn my attention to leather,’ said Michael with decision. + +‘You?’ asked Joseph. ‘I advise you not. There is nothing in the whole +field of commerce more surprising than the fluctuations of the leather +market. Its sensitiveness may be described as morbid.’ + +‘And now, Uncle Joseph, what have you done with all that money?’ asked +the lawyer. + +‘Paid it into a bank and drew twenty pounds,’ answered Mr Finsbury +promptly. ‘Why?’ + +‘Very well,’ said Michael. ‘Tomorrow I shall send down a clerk with a +cheque for a hundred, and he’ll draw out the original sum and return it +to the Anglo-Patagonian, with some sort of explanation which I will try +to invent for you. That will clear your feet, and as Morris can’t touch +a penny of it without forgery, it will do no harm to my little scheme.’ + +‘But what am I to do?’ asked Joseph; ‘I cannot live upon nothing.’ + +‘Don’t you hear?’ returned Michael. ‘I send you a cheque for a hundred; +which leaves you eighty to go along upon; and when that’s done, apply to +me again.’ + +‘I would rather not be beholden to your bounty all the same,’ said +Joseph, biting at his white moustache. ‘I would rather live on my own +money, since I have it.’ + +Michael grasped his arm. ‘Will nothing make you believe,’ he cried, +‘that I am trying to save you from Dartmoor?’ + +His earnestness staggered the old man. ‘I must turn my attention +to law,’ he said; ‘it will be a new field; for though, of course, I +understand its general principles, I have never really applied my +mind to the details, and this view of yours, for example, comes on me +entirely by surprise. But you may be right, and of course at my time +of life--for I am no longer young--any really long term of imprisonment +would be highly prejudicial. But, my dear nephew, I have no claim on +you; you have no call to support me.’ + +‘That’s all right,’ said Michael; ‘I’ll probably get it out of the +leather business.’ + +And having taken down the old gentleman’s address, Michael left him at +the corner of a street. + +‘What a wonderful old muddler!’ he reflected, ‘and what a singular thing +is life! I seem to be condemned to be the instrument of Providence. Let +me see; what have I done today? Disposed of a dead body, saved Pitman, +saved my Uncle Joseph, brightened up Forsyth, and drunk a devil of a lot +of most indifferent liquor. Let’s top off with a visit to my cousins, +and be the instrument of Providence in earnest. Tomorrow I can turn +my attention to leather; tonight I’ll just make it lively for ‘em in a +friendly spirit.’ + +About a quarter of an hour later, as the clocks were striking eleven, +the instrument of Providence descended from a hansom, and, bidding the +driver wait, rapped at the door of No. 16 John Street. + +It was promptly opened by Morris. + +‘O, it’s you, Michael,’ he said, carefully blocking up the narrow +opening: ‘it’s very late.’ + +Michael without a word reached forth, grasped Morris warmly by the hand, +and gave it so extreme a squeeze that the sullen householder fell back. +Profiting by this movement, the lawyer obtained a footing in the lobby +and marched into the dining-room, with Morris at his heels. + +‘Where’s my Uncle Joseph?’ demanded Michael, sitting down in the most +comfortable chair. + +‘He’s not been very well lately,’ replied Morris; ‘he’s staying at +Browndean; John is nursing him; and I am alone, as you see.’ + +Michael smiled to himself. ‘I want to see him on particular business,’ +he said. + +‘You can’t expect to see my uncle when you won’t let me see your +father,’ returned Morris. + +‘Fiddlestick,’ said Michael. ‘My father is my father; but Joseph is just +as much my uncle as he’s yours; and you have no right to sequestrate his +person.’ + +‘I do no such thing,’ said Morris doggedly. ‘He is not well, he is +dangerously ill and nobody can see him.’ + +‘I’ll tell you what, then,’ said Michael. ‘I’ll make a clean breast +of it. I have come down like the opossum, Morris; I have come to +compromise.’ + +Poor Morris turned as pale as death, and then a flush of wrath against +the injustice of man’s destiny dyed his very temples. ‘What do you +mean?’ he cried, ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’ And when Michael had +assured him of his seriousness, ‘Well, then,’ he cried, with another +deep flush, ‘I won’t; so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.’ + +‘Oho!’ said Michael queerly. ‘You say your uncle is dangerously ill, and +you won’t compromise? There’s something very fishy about that.’ + +‘What do you mean?’ cried Morris hoarsely. + +‘I only say it’s fishy,’ returned Michael, ‘that is, pertaining to the +finny tribe.’ + +‘Do you mean to insinuate anything?’ cried Morris stormily, trying the +high hand. + +‘Insinuate?’ repeated Michael. ‘O, don’t let’s begin to use awkward +expressions! Let us drown our differences in a bottle, like two affable +kinsmen. The Two Affable Kinsmen, sometimes attributed to Shakespeare,’ +he added. + +Morris’s mind was labouring like a mill. ‘Does he suspect? or is this +chance and stuff? Should I soap, or should I bully? Soap,’ he concluded. +‘It gains time.’ ‘Well,’ said he aloud, and with rather a painful +affectation of heartiness, ‘it’s long since we have had an evening +together, Michael; and though my habits (as you know) are very +temperate, I may as well make an exception. Excuse me one moment till I +fetch a bottle of whisky from the cellar.’ + +‘No whisky for me,’ said Michael; ‘a little of the old still champagne +or nothing.’ + +For a moment Morris stood irresolute, for the wine was very valuable: +the next he had quitted the room without a word. His quick mind had +perceived his advantage; in thus dunning him for the cream of the +cellar, Michael was playing into his hand. ‘One bottle?’ he thought. ‘By +George, I’ll give him two! this is no moment for economy; and once the +beast is drunk, it’s strange if I don’t wring his secret out of him.’ + +With two bottles, accordingly, he returned. Glasses were produced, and +Morris filled them with hospitable grace. + +‘I drink to you, cousin!’ he cried gaily. ‘Don’t spare the wine-cup in +my house.’ + +Michael drank his glass deliberately, standing at the table; filled it +again, and returned to his chair, carrying the bottle along with him. + +‘The spoils of war!’ he said apologetically. ‘The weakest goes to the +wall. Science, Morris, science.’ Morris could think of no reply, and for +an appreciable interval silence reigned. But two glasses of the still +champagne produced a rapid change in Michael. + +‘There’s a want of vivacity about you, Morris,’ he observed. ‘You may be +deep; but I’ll be hanged if you’re vivacious!’ + +‘What makes you think me deep?’ asked Morris with an air of pleased +simplicity. + +‘Because you won’t compromise,’ said the lawyer. ‘You’re deep dog, +Morris, very deep dog, not t’ compromise--remarkable deep dog. And +a very good glass of wine; it’s the only respectable feature in the +Finsbury family, this wine; rarer thing than a title--much rarer. Now a +man with glass wine like this in cellar, I wonder why won’t compromise?’ + +‘Well, YOU wouldn’t compromise before, you know,’ said the smiling +Morris. ‘Turn about is fair play.’ + +‘I wonder why _I_ wouldn’ compromise? I wonder why YOU wouldn’?’ +enquired Michael. ‘I wonder why we each think the other wouldn’? ‘S +quite a remarrable--remarkable problem,’ he added, triumphing over oral +obstacles, not without obvious pride. ‘Wonder what we each think--don’t +you?’ + +‘What do you suppose to have been my reason?’ asked Morris adroitly. + +Michael looked at him and winked. ‘That’s cool,’ said he. ‘Next thing, +you’ll ask me to help you out of the muddle. I know I’m emissary of +Providence, but not that kind! You get out of it yourself, like Aesop +and the other fellow. Must be dreadful muddle for young orphan o’ forty; +leather business and all!’ + +‘I am sure I don’t know what you mean,’ said Morris. + +‘Not sure I know myself,’ said Michael. ‘This is exc’lent vintage, +sir--exc’lent vintage. Nothing against the tipple. Only thing: here’s a +valuable uncle disappeared. Now, what I want to know: where’s valuable +uncle?’ + +‘I have told you: he is at Browndean,’ answered Morris, furtively wiping +his brow, for these repeated hints began to tell upon him cruelly. + +‘Very easy say Brown--Browndee--no’ so easy after all!’ cried Michael. +‘Easy say; anything’s easy say, when you can say it. What I don’ like’s +total disappearance of an uncle. Not businesslike.’ And he wagged his +head. + +‘It is all perfectly simple,’ returned Morris, with laborious calm. +‘There is no mystery. He stays at Browndean, where he got a shake in the +accident.’ + +‘Ah!’ said Michael, ‘got devil of a shake!’ + +‘Why do you say that?’ cried Morris sharply. + +‘Best possible authority. Told me so yourself,’ said the lawyer. ‘But if +you tell me contrary now, of course I’m bound to believe either the one +story or the other. Point is I’ve upset this bottle, still champagne’s +exc’lent thing carpet--point is, is valuable uncle dead--an’--bury?’ + +Morris sprang from his seat. ‘What’s that you say?’ he gasped. + +‘I say it’s exc’lent thing carpet,’ replied Michael, rising. ‘Exc’lent +thing promote healthy action of the skin. Well, it’s all one, anyway. +Give my love to Uncle Champagne.’ + +‘You’re not going away?’ said Morris. + +‘Awf’ly sorry, ole man. Got to sit up sick friend,’ said the wavering +Michael. + +‘You shall not go till you have explained your hints,’ returned Morris +fiercely. ‘What do you mean? What brought you here?’ + +‘No offence, I trust,’ said the lawyer, turning round as he opened the +door; ‘only doing my duty as shemishery of Providence.’ + +Groping his way to the front-door, he opened it with some difficulty, +and descended the steps to the hansom. The tired driver looked up as he +approached, and asked where he was to go next. + +Michael observed that Morris had followed him to the steps; a brilliant +inspiration came to him. ‘Anything t’ give pain,’ he reflected. . . . +‘Drive Shcotlan’ Yard,’ he added aloud, holding to the wheel to steady +himself; ‘there’s something devilish fishy, cabby, about those cousins. +Mush’ be cleared up! Drive Shcotlan’ Yard.’ + +‘You don’t mean that, sir,’ said the man, with the ready sympathy of the +lower orders for an intoxicated gentleman. ‘I had better take you home, +sir; you can go to Scotland Yard tomorrow.’ + +‘Is it as friend or as perfessional man you advise me not to go +Shcotlan’ Yard t’night?’ enquired Michael. ‘All righ’, never min’ +Shcotlan’ Yard, drive Gaiety bar.’ + +‘The Gaiety bar is closed,’ said the man. + +‘Then home,’ said Michael, with the same cheerfulness. + +‘Where to, sir?’ + +‘I don’t remember, I’m sure,’ said Michael, entering the vehicle, ‘drive +Shcotlan’ Yard and ask.’ + +‘But you’ll have a card,’ said the man, through the little aperture in +the top, ‘give me your card-case.’ + +‘What imagi--imagination in a cabby!’ cried the lawyer, producing his +card-case, and handing it to the driver. + +The man read it by the light of the lamp. ‘Mr Michael Finsbury, 233 +King’s Road, Chelsea. Is that it, sir?’ + +‘Right you are,’ cried Michael, ‘drive there if you can see way.’ + + + +CHAPTER X. Gideon Forsyth and the Broadwood Grand + +The reader has perhaps read that remarkable work, Who Put Back the +Clock? by E. H. B., which appeared for several days upon the railway +bookstalls and then vanished entirely from the face of the earth. +Whether eating Time makes the chief of his diet out of old editions; +whether Providence has passed a special enactment on behalf of authors; +or whether these last have taken the law into their own hand, bound +themselves into a dark conspiracy with a password, which I would +die rather than reveal, and night after night sally forth under some +vigorous leader, such as Mr James Payn or Mr Walter Besant, on their +task of secret spoliation--certain it is, at least, that the old +editions pass, giving place to new. To the proof, it is believed there +are now only three copies extant of Who Put Back the Clock? one in +the British Museum, successfully concealed by a wrong entry in the +catalogue; another in one of the cellars (the cellar where the music +accumulates) of the Advocates’ Library at Edinburgh; and a third, bound +in morocco, in the possession of Gideon Forsyth. To account for the very +different fate attending this third exemplar, the readiest theory is +to suppose that Gideon admired the tale. How to explain that admiration +might appear (to those who have perused the work) more difficult; but +the weakness of a parent is extreme, and Gideon (and not his uncle, +whose initials he had humorously borrowed) was the author of Who Put +Back the Clock? He had never acknowledged it, or only to some intimate +friends while it was still in proof; after its appearance and alarming +failure, the modesty of the novelist had become more pressing, and the +secret was now likely to be better kept than that of the authorship of +Waverley. + +A copy of the work (for the date of my tale is already yesterday) still +figured in dusty solitude in the bookstall at Waterloo; and Gideon, as +he passed with his ticket for Hampton Court, smiled contemptuously at +the creature of his thoughts. What an idle ambition was the author’s! +How far beneath him was the practice of that childish art! With his hand +closing on his first brief, he felt himself a man at last; and the +muse who presides over the police romance, a lady presumably of French +extraction, fled his neighbourhood, and returned to join the dance round +the springs of Helicon, among her Grecian sisters. + +Robust, practical reflection still cheered the young barrister upon his +journey. Again and again he selected the little country-house in its +islet of great oaks, which he was to make his future home. Like a +prudent householder, he projected improvements as he passed; to one he +added a stable, to another a tennis-court, a third he supplied with a +becoming rustic boat-house. + +‘How little a while ago,’ he could not but reflect, ‘I was a careless +young dog with no thought but to be comfortable! I cared for nothing +but boating and detective novels. I would have passed an old-fashioned +country-house with large kitchen-garden, stabling, boat-house, and +spacious offices, without so much as a look, and certainly would have +made no enquiry as to the drains. How a man ripens with the years!’ + +The intelligent reader will perceive the ravages of Miss Hazeltine. +Gideon had carried Julia straight to Mr Bloomfield’s house; and +that gentleman, having been led to understand she was the victim of +oppression, had noisily espoused her cause. He worked himself into +a fine breathing heat; in which, to a man of his temperament, action +became needful. + +‘I do not know which is the worse,’ he cried, ‘the fraudulent old +villain or the unmanly young cub. I will write to the Pall Mall and +expose them. Nonsense, sir; they must be exposed! It’s a public duty. +Did you not tell me the fellow was a Tory? O, the uncle is a Radical +lecturer, is he? No doubt the uncle has been grossly wronged. But of +course, as you say, that makes a change; it becomes scarce so much a +public duty.’ + +And he sought and instantly found a fresh outlet for his alacrity. Miss +Hazeltine (he now perceived) must be kept out of the way; his houseboat +was lying ready--he had returned but a day or two before from his usual +cruise; there was no place like a houseboat for concealment; and that +very morning, in the teeth of the easterly gale, Mr and Mrs Bloomfield +and Miss Julia Hazeltine had started forth on their untimely voyage. +Gideon pled in vain to be allowed to join the party. ‘No, Gid,’ said his +uncle. ‘You will be watched; you must keep away from us.’ Nor had the +barrister ventured to contest this strange illusion; for he feared if +he rubbed off any of the romance, that Mr Bloomfield might weary of the +whole affair. And his discretion was rewarded; for the Squirradical, +laying a heavy hand upon his nephew’s shoulder, had added these notable +expressions: ‘I see what you are after, Gid. But if you’re going to get +the girl, you have to work, sir.’ + +These pleasing sounds had cheered the barrister all day, as he sat +reading in chambers; they continued to form the ground-base of his manly +musings as he was whirled to Hampton Court; even when he landed at the +station, and began to pull himself together for his delicate interview, +the voice of Uncle Ned and the eyes of Julia were not forgotten. + +But now it began to rain surprises: in all Hampton Court there was no +Kurnaul Villa, no Count Tarnow, and no count. This was strange; but, +viewed in the light of the incoherency of his instructions, not perhaps +inexplicable; Mr Dickson had been lunching, and he might have made some +fatal oversight in the address. What was the thoroughly prompt, manly, +and businesslike step? thought Gideon; and he answered himself at +once: ‘A telegram, very laconic.’ Speedily the wires were flashing the +following very important missive: ‘Dickson, Langham Hotel. Villa and +persons both unknown here, suppose erroneous address; follow self next +train.--Forsyth.’ And at the Langham Hotel, sure enough, with a brow +expressive of dispatch and intellectual effort, Gideon descended not +long after from a smoking hansom. + +I do not suppose that Gideon will ever forget the Langham Hotel. No +Count Tarnow was one thing; no John Dickson and no Ezra Thomas, quite +another. How, why, and what next, danced in his bewildered brain; from +every centre of what we playfully call the human intellect incongruous +messages were telegraphed; and before the hubbub of dismay had quite +subsided, the barrister found himself driving furiously for his +chambers. There was at least a cave of refuge; it was at least a place +to think in; and he climbed the stair, put his key in the lock and +opened the door, with some approach to hope. + +It was all dark within, for the night had some time fallen; but Gideon +knew his room, he knew where the matches stood on the end of the +chimney-piece; and he advanced boldly, and in so doing dashed himself +against a heavy body; where (slightly altering the expressions of the +song) no heavy body should have been. There had been nothing there when +Gideon went out; he had locked the door behind him, he had found it +locked on his return, no one could have entered, the furniture could not +have changed its own position. And yet undeniably there was a something +there. He thrust out his hands in the darkness. Yes, there was +something, something large, something smooth, something cold. + +‘Heaven forgive me!’ said Gideon, ‘it feels like a piano.’ + +And the next moment he remembered the vestas in his waistcoat pocket and +had struck a light. + +It was indeed a piano that met his doubtful gaze; a vast and costly +instrument, stained with the rains of the afternoon and defaced +with recent scratches. The light of the vesta was reflected from the +varnished sides, like a staice in quiet water; and in the farther end of +the room the shadow of that strange visitor loomed bulkily and wavered +on the wall. + +Gideon let the match burn to his fingers, and the darkness closed once +more on his bewilderment. Then with trembling hands he lit the lamp and +drew near. Near or far, there was no doubt of the fact: the thing was +a piano. There, where by all the laws of God and man it was impossible +that it should be--there the thing impudently stood. Gideon threw open +the keyboard and struck a chord. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the +room. ‘Is there anything wrong with me?’ he thought, with a pang; and +drawing in a seat, obstinately persisted in his attempts to ravish +silence, now with sparkling arpeggios, now with a sonata of Beethoven’s +which (in happier days) he knew to be one of the loudest pieces of that +powerful composer. Still not a sound. He gave the Broadwood two great +bangs with his clenched first. All was still as the grave. The young +barrister started to his feet. + +‘I am stark-staring mad,’ he cried aloud, ‘and no one knows it but +myself. God’s worst curse has fallen on me.’ + +His fingers encountered his watch-chain; instantly he had plucked forth +his watch and held it to his ear. He could hear it ticking. + +‘I am not deaf,’ he said aloud. ‘I am only insane. My mind has quitted +me for ever.’ + +He looked uneasily about the room, and--gazed with lacklustre eyes at +the chair in which Mr Dickson had installed himself. The end of a cigar +lay near on the fender. + +‘No,’ he thought, ‘I don’t believe that was a dream; but God knows +my mind is failing rapidly. I seem to be hungry, for instance; it’s +probably another hallucination. Still I might try. I shall have one more +good meal; I shall go to the Cafe Royal, and may possibly be removed +from there direct to the asylum.’ + +He wondered with morbid interest, as he descended the stairs, how he +would first betray his terrible condition--would he attack a waiter? or +eat glass?--and when he had mounted into a cab, he bade the man drive to +Nichol’s, with a lurking fear that there was no such place. + +The flaring, gassy entrance of the cafe speedily set his mind at rest; +he was cheered besides to recognize his favourite waiter; his orders +appeared to be coherent; the dinner, when it came, was quite a sensible +meal, and he ate it with enjoyment. ‘Upon my word,’ he reflected, ‘I +am about tempted to indulge a hope. Have I been hasty? Have I done what +Robert Skill would have done?’ Robert Skill (I need scarcely mention) +was the name of the principal character in Who Put Back the Clock? It +had occurred to the author as a brilliant and probable invention; to +readers of a critical turn, Robert appeared scarce upon a level with his +surname; but it is the difficulty of the police romance, that the reader +is always a man of such vastly greater ingenuity than the writer. In the +eyes of his creator, however, Robert Skill was a word to conjure with; +the thought braced and spurred him; what that brilliant creature would +have done Gideon would do also. This frame of mind is not uncommon; the +distressed general, the baited divine, the hesitating author, decide +severally to do what Napoleon, what St Paul, what Shakespeare would +have done; and there remains only the minor question, What is that? In +Gideon’s case one thing was clear: Skill was a man of singular decision, +he would have taken some step (whatever it was) at once; and the only +step that Gideon could think of was to return to his chambers. + +This being achieved, all further inspiration failed him, and he stood +pitifully staring at the instrument of his confusion. To touch the keys +again was more than he durst venture on; whether they had maintained +their former silence, or responded with the tones of the last trump, +it would have equally dethroned his resolution. ‘It may be a practical +jest,’ he reflected, ‘though it seems elaborate and costly. And yet what +else can it be? It MUST be a practical jest.’ And just then his eye fell +upon a feature which seemed corroborative of that view: the pagoda of +cigars which Michael had erected ere he left the chambers. ‘Why that?’ +reflected Gideon. ‘It seems entirely irresponsible.’ And drawing near, +he gingerly demolished it. ‘A key,’ he thought. ‘Why that? And why +so conspicuously placed?’ He made the circuit of the instrument, and +perceived the keyhole at the back. ‘Aha! this is what the key is for,’ +said he. ‘They wanted me to look inside. Stranger and stranger.’ And +with that he turned the key and raised the lid. + +In what antics of agony, in what fits of flighty resolution, in what +collapses of despair, Gideon consumed the night, it would be ungenerous +to enquire too closely. + +That trill of tiny song with which the eaves-birds of London welcome +the approach of day found him limp and rumpled and bloodshot, and with a +mind still vacant of resource. He rose and looked forth unrejoicingly on +blinded windows, an empty street, and the grey daylight dotted with the +yellow lamps. There are mornings when the city seems to awake with a +sick headache; this was one of them; and still the twittering reveille +of the sparrows stirred in Gideon’s spirit. + +‘Day here,’ he thought, ‘and I still helpless! This must come to an +end.’ And he locked up the piano, put the key in his pocket, and set +forth in quest of coffee. As he went, his mind trudged for the hundredth +time a certain mill-road of terrors, misgivings, and regrets. To call +in the police, to give up the body, to cover London with handbills +describing John Dickson and Ezra Thomas, to fill the papers with +paragraphs, Mysterious Occurrence in the Temple--Mr Forsyth admitted to +bail, this was one course, an easy course, a safe course; but not, the +more he reflected on it, not a pleasant one. For, was it not to publish +abroad a number of singular facts about himself? A child ought to +have seen through the story of these adventurers, and he had gaped and +swallowed it. A barrister of the least self-respect should have refused +to listen to clients who came before him in a manner so irregular, and +he had listened. And O, if he had only listened; but he had gone upon +their errand--he, a barrister, uninstructed even by the shadow of +a solicitor--upon an errand fit only for a private detective; and +alas!--and for the hundredth time the blood surged to his brow--he had +taken their money! ‘No,’ said he, ‘the thing is as plain as St Paul’s. I +shall be dishonoured! I have smashed my career for a five-pound note.’ + +Between the possibility of being hanged in all innocence, and the +certainty of a public and merited disgrace, no gentleman of spirit +could long hesitate. After three gulps of that hot, snuffy, and muddy +beverage, that passes on the streets of London for a decoction of the +coffee berry, Gideon’s mind was made up. He would do without the police. +He must face the other side of the dilemma, and be Robert Skill in +earnest. What would Robert Skill have done? How does a gentleman dispose +of a dead body, honestly come by? He remembered the inimitable story +of the hunchback; reviewed its course, and dismissed it for a worthless +guide. It was impossible to prop a corpse on the corner of Tottenham +Court Road without arousing fatal curiosity in the bosoms of the +passers-by; as for lowering it down a London chimney, the physical +obstacles were insurmountable. To get it on board a train and drop it +out, or on the top of an omnibus and drop it off, were equally out +of the question. To get it on a yacht and drop it overboard, was more +conceivable; but for a man of moderate means it seemed extravagant. The +hire of the yacht was in itself a consideration; the subsequent support +of the whole crew (which seemed a necessary consequence) was simply +not to be thought of. His uncle and the houseboat here occurred in very +luminous colours to his mind. A musical composer (say, of the name of +Jimson) might very well suffer, like Hogarth’s musician before him, from +the disturbances of London. He might very well be pressed for time to +finish an opera--say the comic opera Orange Pekoe--Orange Pekoe, music +by Jimson--‘this young maestro, one of the most promising of our +recent English school’--vigorous entrance of the drums, etc.--the whole +character of Jimson and his music arose in bulk before the mind of +Gideon. What more likely than Jimson’s arrival with a grand piano (say, +at Padwick), and his residence in a houseboat alone with the unfinished +score of Orange Pekoe? His subsequent disappearance, leaving nothing +behind but an empty piano case, it might be more difficult to account +for. And yet even that was susceptible of explanation. For, suppose +Jimson had gone mad over a fugal passage, and had thereupon destroyed +the accomplice of his infamy, and plunged into the welcome river? What +end, on the whole, more probable for a modern musician? + +‘By Jove, I’ll do it,’ cried Gideon. ‘Jimson is the boy!’ + + + +CHAPTER XI. The Maestro Jimson + +Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield having announced his intention to stay in the +neighbourhood of Maidenhead, what more probable than that the Maestro +Jimson should turn his mind toward Padwick? Near this pleasant riverside +village he remembered to have observed an ancient, weedy houseboat lying +moored beside a tuft of willows. It had stirred in him, in his careless +hours, as he pulled down the river under a more familiar name, a certain +sense of the romantic; and when the nice contrivance of his story was +already complete in his mind, he had come near pulling it all down +again, like an ungrateful clock, in order to introduce a chapter in +which Richard Skill (who was always being decoyed somewhere) should +be decoyed on board that lonely hulk by Lord Bellew and the American +desperado Gin Sling. It was fortunate he had not done so, he reflected, +since the hulk was now required for very different purposes. + +Jimson, a man of inconspicuous costume, but insinuating manners, +had little difficulty in finding the hireling who had charge of the +houseboat, and still less in persuading him to resign his care. The rent +was almost nominal, the entry immediate, the key was exchanged against a +suitable advance in money, and Jimson returned to town by the afternoon +train to see about dispatching his piano. + +‘I will be down tomorrow,’ he had said reassuringly. ‘My opera is waited +for with such impatience, you know.’ + +And, sure enough, about the hour of noon on the following day, Jimson +might have been observed ascending the riverside road that goes from +Padwick to Great Haverham, carrying in one hand a basket of provisions, +and under the other arm a leather case containing (it is to be +conjectured) the score of Orange Pekoe. It was October weather; the +stone-grey sky was full of larks, the leaden mirror of the Thames +brightened with autumnal foliage, and the fallen leaves of the chestnuts +chirped under the composer’s footing. There is no time of the year +in England more courageous; and Jimson, though he was not without his +troubles, whistled as he went. + +A little above Padwick the river lies very solitary. On the opposite +shore the trees of a private park enclose the view, the chimneys of the +mansion just pricking forth above their clusters; on the near side the +path is bordered by willows. Close among these lay the houseboat, a +thing so soiled by the tears of the overhanging willows, so grown upon +with parasites, so decayed, so battered, so neglected, such a haunt of +rats, so advertised a storehouse of rheumatic agonies, that the heart +of an intending occupant might well recoil. A plank, by way of flying +drawbridge, joined it to the shore. And it was a dreary moment for +Jimson when he pulled this after him and found himself alone on this +unwholesome fortress. He could hear the rats scuttle and flop in the +abhorred interior; the key cried among the wards like a thing in pain; +the sitting-room was deep in dust, and smelt strong of bilge-water. It +could not be called a cheerful spot, even for a composer absorbed in +beloved toil; how much less for a young gentleman haunted by alarms and +awaiting the arrival of a corpse! + +He sat down, cleared away a piece of the table, and attacked the cold +luncheon in his basket. In case of any subsequent inquiry into the fate +of Jimson, It was desirable he should be little seen: in other words, +that he should spend the day entirely in the house. To this end, and +further to corroborate his fable, he had brought in the leather case not +only writing materials, but a ream of large-size music paper, such as he +considered suitable for an ambitious character like Jimson’s. ‘And now +to work,’ said he, when he had satisfied his appetite. ‘We must leave +traces of the wretched man’s activity.’ And he wrote in bold characters: + + ORANGE PEKOE. + Op. 17. + J. B. JIMSON. + Vocal and p. f. score. + +‘I suppose they never do begin like this,’ reflected Gideon; ‘but then +it’s quite out of the question for me to tackle a full score, and +Jimson was so unconventional. A dedication would be found convincing, I +believe. “Dedicated to” (let me see) “to William Ewart Gladstone, by his +obedient servant the composer.” And now some music: I had better avoid +the overture; it seems to present difficulties. Let’s give an air for +the tenor: key--O, something modern!--seven sharps.’ And he made a +businesslike signature across the staves, and then paused and browsed +for a while on the handle of his pen. Melody, with no better inspiration +than a sheet of paper, is not usually found to spring unbidden in the +mind of the amateur; nor is the key of seven sharps a place of much +repose to the untried. He cast away that sheet. ‘It will help to build +up the character of Jimson,’ Gideon remarked, and again waited on +the muse, in various keys and on divers sheets of paper, but all with +results so inconsiderable that he stood aghast. ‘It’s very odd,’ thought +he. ‘I seem to have less fancy than I thought, or this is an off-day +with me; yet Jimson must leave something.’ And again he bent himself to +the task. + +Presently the penetrating chill of the houseboat began to attack the +very seat of life. He desisted from his unremunerative trial, and, to +the audible annoyance of the rats, walked briskly up and down the cabin. +Still he was cold. ‘This is all nonsense,’ said he. ‘I don’t care about +the risk, but I will not catch a catarrh. I must get out of this den.’ + +He stepped on deck, and passing to the bow of his embarkation, looked +for the first time up the river. He started. Only a few hundred yards +above another houseboat lay moored among the willows. It was very +spick-and-span, an elegant canoe hung at the stern, the windows were +concealed by snowy curtains, a flag floated from a staff. The more +Gideon looked at it, the more there mingled with his disgust a sense +of impotent surprise. It was very like his uncle’s houseboat; it was +exceedingly like--it was identical. But for two circumstances, he +could have sworn it was the same. The first, that his uncle had gone to +Maidenhead, might be explained away by that flightiness of purpose which +is so common a trait among the more than usually manly. The second, +however, was conclusive: it was not in the least like Mr Bloomfield to +display a banner on his floating residence; and if he ever did, it +would certainly be dyed in hues of emblematical propriety. Now the +Squirradical, like the vast majority of the more manly, had drawn +knowledge at the wells of Cambridge--he was wooden spoon in the year +1850; and the flag upon the houseboat streamed on the afternoon air with +the colours of that seat of Toryism, that cradle of Puseyism, that +home of the inexact and the effete Oxford. Still it was strangely like, +thought Gideon. + +And as he thus looked and thought, the door opened, and a young lady +stepped forth on deck. The barrister dropped and fled into his cabin--it +was Julia Hazeltine! Through the window he watched her draw in the +canoe, get on board of it, cast off, and come dropping downstream in his +direction. + +‘Well, all is up now,’ said he, and he fell on a seat. + +‘Good-afternoon, miss,’ said a voice on the water. Gideon knew it for +the voice of his landlord. + +‘Good-afternoon,’ replied Julia, ‘but I don’t know who you are; do I? O +yes, I do though. You are the nice man that gave us leave to sketch from +the old houseboat.’ + +Gideon’s heart leaped with fear. + +‘That’s it,’ returned the man. ‘And what I wanted to say was as you +couldn’t do it any more. You see I’ve let it.’ + +‘Let it!’ cried Julia. + +‘Let it for a month,’ said the man. ‘Seems strange, don’t it? Can’t see +what the party wants with it?’ + +‘It seems very romantic of him, I think,’ said Julia, ‘What sort of a +person is he?’ + +Julia in her canoe, the landlord in his wherry, were close alongside, +and holding on by the gunwale of the houseboat; so that not a word was +lost on Gideon. + +‘He’s a music-man,’ said the landlord, ‘or at least that’s what he told +me, miss; come down here to write an op’ra.’ + +‘Really!’ cried Julia, ‘I never heard of anything so delightful! Why, we +shall be able to slip down at night and hear him improvise! What is his +name?’ + +‘Jimson,’ said the man. + +‘Jimson?’ repeated Julia, and interrogated her memory in vain. But +indeed our rising school of English music boasts so many professors that +we rarely hear of one till he is made a baronet. ‘Are you sure you have +it right?’ + +‘Made him spell it to me,’ replied the landlord. ‘J-I-M-S-O-N--Jimson; +and his op’ra’s called--some kind of tea.’ + +‘SOME KIND OF TEA!’ cried the girl. ‘What a very singular name for an +opera! What can it be about?’ And Gideon heard her pretty laughter flow +abroad. ‘We must try to get acquainted with this Mr Jimson; I feel sure +he must be nice.’ + +‘Well, miss, I’m afraid I must be going on. I’ve got to be at Haverham, +you see.’ + +‘O, don’t let me keep you, you kind man!’ said Julia. ‘Good afternoon.’ + +‘Good afternoon to you, miss.’ + +Gideon sat in the cabin a prey to the most harrowing thoughts. Here he +was anchored to a rotting houseboat, soon to be anchored to it still +more emphatically by the presence of the corpse, and here was the +country buzzing about him, and young ladies already proposing pleasure +parties to surround his house at night. Well, that meant the gallows; +and much he cared for that. What troubled him now was Julia’s +indescribable levity. That girl would scrape acquaintance with anybody; +she had no reserve, none of the enamel of the lady. She was familiar +with a brute like his landlord; she took an immediate interest (which +she lacked even the delicacy to conceal) in a creature like Jimson! He +could conceive her asking Jimson to have tea with her! And it was for a +girl like this that a man like Gideon--Down, manly heart! + +He was interrupted by a sound that sent him whipping behind the door in +a trice. Miss Hazeltine had stepped on board the houseboat. Her sketch +was promising; judging from the stillness, she supposed Jimson not yet +come; and she had decided to seize occasion and complete the work +of art. Down she sat therefore in the bow, produced her block and +water-colours, and was soon singing over (what used to be called) the +ladylike accomplishment. Now and then indeed her song was interrupted, +as she searched in her memory for some of the odious little receipts +by means of which the game is practised--or used to be practised in the +brave days of old; they say the world, and those ornaments of the world, +young ladies, are become more sophisticated now; but Julia had probably +studied under Pitman, and she stood firm in the old ways. + +Gideon, meanwhile, stood behind the door, afraid to move, afraid to +breathe, afraid to think of what must follow, racked by confinement and +borne to the ground with tedium. This particular phase, he felt with +gratitude, could not last for ever; whatever impended (even the gallows, +he bitterly and perhaps erroneously reflected) could not fail to be +a relief. To calculate cubes occurred to him as an ingenious and even +profitable refuge from distressing thoughts, and he threw his manhood +into that dreary exercise. + +Thus, then, were these two young persons occupied--Gideon attacking the +perfect number with resolution; Julia vigorously stippling incongruous +colours on her block, when Providence dispatched into these waters a +steam-launch asthmatically panting up the Thames. All along the banks +the water swelled and fell, and the reeds rustled. The houseboat itself, +that ancient stationary creature, became suddenly imbued with life, and +rolled briskly at her moorings, like a sea-going ship when she begins +to smell the harbour bar. The wash had nearly died away, and the quick +panting of the launch sounded already faint and far off, when Gideon was +startled by a cry from Julia. Peering through the window, he beheld +her staring disconsolately downstream at the fast-vanishing canoe. +The barrister (whatever were his faults) displayed on this occasion a +promptitude worthy of his hero, Robert Skill; with one effort of his +mind he foresaw what was about to follow; with one movement of his body +he dropped to the floor and crawled under the table. + +Julia, on her part, was not yet alive to her position. She saw she had +lost the canoe, and she looked forward with something less than avidity +to her next interview with Mr Bloomfield; but she had no idea that she +was imprisoned, for she knew of the plank bridge. + +She made the circuit of the house, and found the door open and the +bridge withdrawn. It was plain, then, that Jimson must have come; +plain, too, that he must be on board. He must be a very shy man to +have suffered this invasion of his residence, and made no sign; and her +courage rose higher at the thought. He must come now, she must force him +from his privacy, for the plank was too heavy for her single strength; +so she tapped upon the open door. Then she tapped again. + +‘Mr Jimson,’ she cried, ‘Mr Jimson! here, come!--you must come, you +know, sooner or later, for I can’t get off without you. O, don’t be so +exceedingly silly! O, please, come!’ + +Still there was no reply. + +‘If he is here he must be mad,’ she thought, with a little fear. And the +next moment she remembered he had probably gone aboard like herself in +a boat. In that case she might as well see the houseboat, and she pushed +open the door and stepped in. Under the table, where he lay smothered +with dust, Gideon’s heart stood still. + +There were the remains of Jimson’s lunch. ‘He likes rather nice things +to eat,’ she thought. ‘O, I am sure he is quite a delightful man. I +wonder if he is as good-looking as Mr Forsyth. Mrs Jimson--I don’t +believe it sounds as nice as Mrs Forsyth; but then “Gideon” is so really +odious! And here is some of his music too; this is delightful. Orange +Pekoe--O, that’s what he meant by some kind of tea.’ And she trilled +with laughter. ‘Adagio molto espressivo, sempre legato,’ she read +next. (For the literary part of a composer’s business Gideon was well +equipped.) ‘How very strange to have all these directions, and +only three or four notes! O, here’s another with some more. Andante +patetico.’ And she began to glance over the music. ‘O dear me,’ she +thought, ‘he must be terribly modern! It all seems discords to me. Let’s +try the air. It is very strange, it seems familiar.’ She began to sing +it, and suddenly broke off with laughter. ‘Why, it’s “Tommy make room +for your Uncle!”’ she cried aloud, so that the soul of Gideon was filled +with bitterness. ‘Andante patetico, indeed! The man must be a mere +impostor.’ + +And just at this moment there came a confused, scuffling sound from +underneath the table; a strange note, like that of a barn-door fowl, +ushered in a most explosive sneeze; the head of the sufferer was at +the same time brought smartly in contact with the boards above; and the +sneeze was followed by a hollow groan. + +Julia fled to the door, and there, with the salutary instinct of the +brave, turned and faced the danger. There was no pursuit. The sounds +continued; below the table a crouching figure was indistinctly to be +seen jostled by the throes of a sneezing-fit; and that was all. + +‘Surely,’ thought Julia, ‘this is most unusual behaviour. He cannot be a +man of the world!’ + +Meanwhile the dust of years had been disturbed by the young barrister’s +convulsions; and the sneezing-fit was succeeded by a passionate access +of coughing. + +Julia began to feel a certain interest. ‘I am afraid you are really +quite ill,’ she said, drawing a little nearer. ‘Please don’t let me put +you out, and do not stay under that table, Mr Jimson. Indeed it cannot +be good for you.’ + +Mr Jimson only answered by a distressing cough; and the next moment +the girl was on her knees, and their faces had almost knocked together +under the table. + +‘O, my gracious goodness!’ exclaimed Miss Hazeltine, and sprang to her +feet. ‘Mr Forsyth gone mad!’ + +‘I am not mad,’ said the gentleman ruefully, extricating himself from +his position. ‘Dearest. Miss Hazeltine, I vow to you upon my knees I am +not mad!’ + +‘You are not!’ she cried, panting. + +‘I know,’ he said, ‘that to a superficial eye my conduct may appear +unconventional.’ + +‘If you are not mad, it was no conduct at all,’ cried the girl, with +a flash of colour, ‘and showed you did not care one penny for my +feelings!’ + +‘This is the very devil and all. I know--I admit that,’ cried Gideon, +with a great effort of manly candour. + +‘It was abominable conduct!’ said Julia, with energy. + +‘I know it must have shaken your esteem,’ said the barrister. ‘But, +dearest Miss Hazeltine, I beg of you to hear me out; my behaviour, +strange as it may seem, is not unsusceptible of explanation; and I +positively cannot and will not consent to continue to try to exist +without--without the esteem of one whom I admire--the moment is ill +chosen, I am well aware of that; but I repeat the expression--one whom I +admire.’ + +A touch of amusement appeared on Miss Hazeltine’s face. ‘Very well,’ +said she, ‘come out of this dreadfully cold place, and let us sit down +on deck.’ The barrister dolefully followed her. ‘Now,’ said she, making +herself comfortable against the end of the house, ‘go on. I will hear +you out.’ And then, seeing him stand before her with so much obvious +disrelish to the task, she was suddenly overcome with laughter. Julia’s +laugh was a thing to ravish lovers; she rolled her mirthful descant with +the freedom and the melody of a blackbird’s song upon the river, and +repeated by the echoes of the farther bank. It seemed a thing in its own +place and a sound native to the open air. There was only one creature +who heard it without joy, and that was her unfortunate admirer. + +‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he said, in a voice that tottered with annoyance, ‘I +speak as your sincere well-wisher, but this can only be called levity.’ + +Julia made great eyes at him. + +‘I can’t withdraw the word,’ he said: ‘already the freedom with which I +heard you hobnobbing with a boatman gave me exquisite pain. Then there +was a want of reserve about Jimson--’ + +‘But Jimson appears to be yourself,’ objected Julia. + +‘I am far from denying that,’ cried the barrister, ‘but you did not +know it at the time. What could Jimson be to you? Who was Jimson? Miss +Hazeltine, it cut me to the heart.’ + +‘Really this seems to me to be very silly,’ returned Julia, with severe +decision. ‘You have behaved in the most extraordinary manner; you +pretend you are able to explain your conduct, and instead of doing so +you begin to attack me.’ + +‘I am well aware of that,’ replied Gideon. ‘I--I will make a clean +breast of it. When you know all the circumstances you will be able to +excuse me. + +And sitting down beside her on the deck, he poured forth his miserable +history. + +‘O, Mr Forsyth,’ she cried, when he had done, ‘I am--so--sorry! wish +I hadn’t laughed at you--only you know you really were so exceedingly +funny. But I wish I hadn’t, and I wouldn’t either if I had only known.’ +And she gave him her hand. + +Gideon kept it in his own. ‘You do not think the worse of me for this?’ +he asked tenderly. + +‘Because you have been so silly and got into such dreadful trouble? you +poor boy, no!’ cried Julia; and, in the warmth of the moment, reached +him her other hand; ‘you may count on me,’ she added. + +‘Really?’ said Gideon. + +‘Really and really!’ replied the girl. + +‘I do then, and I will,’ cried the young man. ‘I admit the moment is not +well chosen; but I have no friends--to speak of.’ + +‘No more have I,’ said Julia. ‘But don’t you think it’s perhaps time you +gave me back my hands?’ + +‘La ci darem la mano,’ said the barrister, ‘the merest moment more! I +have so few friends,’ he added. + +‘I thought it was considered such a bad account of a young man to have +no friends,’ observed Julia. + +‘O, but I have crowds of FRIENDS!’ cried Gideon. ‘That’s not what I +mean. I feel the moment is ill chosen; but O, Julia, if you could only +see yourself!’ + +‘Mr Forsyth--’ + +‘Don’t call me by that beastly name!’ cried the youth. ‘Call me Gideon!’ + +‘O, never that,’ from Julia. ‘Besides, we have known each other such a +short time.’ + +‘Not at all!’ protested Gideon. ‘We met at Bournemouth ever so long ago. +I never forgot you since. Say you never forgot me. Say you never forgot +me, and call me Gideon!’ + +‘Isn’t this rather--a want of reserve about Jimson?’ enquired the girl. + +‘O, I know I am an ass,’ cried the barrister, ‘and I don’t care a +halfpenny! I know I’m an ass, and you may laugh at me to your heart’s +delight.’ And as Julia’s lips opened with a smile, he once more dropped +into music. ‘There’s the Land of Cherry Isle!’ he sang, courting her +with his eyes. + +‘It’s like an opera,’ said Julia, rather faintly. + +‘What should it be?’ said Gideon. ‘Am I not Jimson? It would be strange +if I did not serenade my love. O yes, I mean the word, my Julia; and I +mean to win you. I am in dreadful trouble, and I have not a penny of +my own, and I have cut the silliest figure; and yet I mean to win you, +Julia. Look at me, if you can, and tell me no!’ + +She looked at him; and whatever her eyes may have told him, it is to be +supposed he took a pleasure in the message, for he read it a long while. + +‘And Uncle Ned will give us some money to go on upon in the meanwhile,’ +he said at last. + +‘Well, I call that cool!’ said a cheerful voice at his elbow. + +Gideon and Julia sprang apart with wonderful alacrity; the latter +annoyed to observe that although they had never moved since they sat +down, they were now quite close together; both presenting faces of a +very heightened colour to the eyes of Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield. That +gentleman, coming up the river in his boat, had captured the truant +canoe, and divining what had happened, had thought to steal a march upon +Miss Hazeltine at her sketch. He had unexpectedly brought down two birds +with one stone; and as he looked upon the pair of flushed and breathless +culprits, the pleasant human instinct of the matchmaker softened his +heart. + +‘Well, I call that cool,’ he repeated; ‘you seem to count very securely +upon Uncle Ned. But look here, Gid, I thought I had told you to keep +away?’ + +‘To keep away from Maidenhead,’ replied Gid. ‘But how should I expect to +find you here?’ + +‘There is something in that,’ Mr Bloomfield admitted. ‘You see I thought +it better that even you should be ignorant of my address; those rascals, +the Finsburys, would have wormed it out of you. And just to put them off +the scent I hoisted these abominable colours. But that is not all, +Gid; you promised me to work, and here I find you playing the fool at +Padwick.’ + +‘Please, Mr Bloomfield, you must not be hard on Mr Forsyth,’ said Julia. +‘Poor boy, he is in dreadful straits.’ + +‘What’s this, Gid?’ enquired the uncle. ‘Have you been fighting? or is +it a bill?’ + +These, in the opinion of the Squirradical, were the two misfortunes +incident to gentlemen; and indeed both were culled from his own career. +He had once put his name (as a matter of form) on a friend’s paper; it +had cost him a cool thousand; and the friend had gone about with the +fear of death upon him ever since, and never turned a corner without +scouting in front of him for Mr Bloomfield and the oaken staff. As for +fighting, the Squirradical was always on the brink of it; and once, when +(in the character of president of a Radical club) he had cleared out +the hall of his opponents, things had gone even further. Mr Holtum, +the Conservative candidate, who lay so long on the bed of sickness, was +prepared to swear to Mr Bloomfield. ‘I will swear to it in any court--it +was the hand of that brute that struck me down,’ he was reported to have +said; and when he was thought to be sinking, it was known that he had +made an ante-mortem statement in that sense. It was a cheerful day for +the Squirradical when Holtum was restored to his brewery. + +‘It’s much worse than that,’ said Gideon; ‘a combination of +circumstances really providentially unjust--a--in fact, a syndicate of +murderers seem to have perceived my latent ability to rid them of the +traces of their crime. It’s a legal study after all, you see!’ And with +these words, Gideon, for the second time that day, began to describe the +adventures of the Broadwood Grand. + +‘I must write to The Times,’ cried Mr Bloomfield. + +‘Do you want to get me disbarred?’ asked Gideon. + +‘Disbarred! Come, it can’t be as bad as that,’ said his uncle. ‘It’s +a good, honest, Liberal Government that’s in, and they would certainly +move at my request. Thank God, the days of Tory jobbery are at an end.’ + +‘It wouldn’t do, Uncle Ned,’ said Gideon. + +‘But you’re not mad enough,’ cried Mr Bloomfield, ‘to persist in trying +to dispose of it yourself?’ + +‘There is no other path open to me,’ said Gideon. + +‘It’s not common sense, and I will not hear of it,’ cried Mr Bloomfield. +‘I command you, positively, Gid, to desist from this criminal +interference.’ + +‘Very well, then, I hand it over to you,’ said Gideon, ‘and you can do +what you like with the dead body.’ + +‘God forbid!’ ejaculated the president of the Radical Club, ‘I’ll have +nothing to do with it.’ + +‘Then you must allow me to do the best I can,’ returned his nephew. +‘Believe me, I have a distinct talent for this sort of difficulty.’ + +‘We might forward it to that pest-house, the Conservative Club,’ +observed Mr Bloomfield. ‘It might damage them in the eyes of their +constituents; and it could be profitably worked up in the local +journal.’ + +‘If you see any political capital in the thing,’ said Gideon, ‘you may +have it for me.’ + +‘No, no, Gid--no, no, I thought you might. I will have no hand in the +thing. On reflection, it’s highly undesirable that either I or Miss +Hazeltine should linger here. We might be observed,’ said the +president, looking up and down the river; ‘and in my public position +the consequences would be painful for the party. And, at any rate, it’s +dinner-time.’ + +‘What?’ cried Gideon, plunging for his watch. ‘And so it is! Great +heaven, the piano should have been here hours ago!’ + +Mr Bloomfield was clambering back into his boat; but at these words he +paused. + +‘I saw it arrive myself at the station; I hired a carrier man; he had a +round to make, but he was to be here by four at the latest,’ cried the +barrister. ‘No doubt the piano is open, and the body found.’ + +‘You must fly at once,’ cried Mr Bloomfield, ‘it’s the only manly step.’ + +‘But suppose it’s all right?’ wailed Gideon. ‘Suppose the piano comes, +and I am not here to receive it? I shall have hanged myself by my +cowardice. No, Uncle Ned, enquiries must be made in Padwick; I dare +not go, of course; but you may--you could hang about the police office, +don’t you see?’ + +‘No, Gid--no, my dear nephew,’ said Mr Bloomfield, with the voice of one +on the rack. ‘I regard you with the most sacred affection; and I thank +God I am an Englishman--and all that. But not--not the police, Gid.’ + +‘Then you desert me?’ said Gideon. ‘Say it plainly.’ + +‘Far from it! far from it!’ protested Mr Bloomfield. ‘I only propose +caution. Common sense, Gid, should always be an Englishman’s guide.’ + +‘Will you let me speak?’ said Julia. ‘I think Gideon had better leave +this dreadful houseboat, and wait among the willows over there. If the +piano comes, then he could step out and take it in; and if the police +come, he could slip into our houseboat, and there needn’t be any +more Jimson at all. He could go to bed, and we could burn his clothes +(couldn’t we?) in the steam-launch; and then really it seems as if it +would be all right. Mr Bloomfield is so respectable, you know, and such +a leading character, it would be quite impossible even to fancy that he +could be mixed up with it.’ + +‘This young lady has strong common sense,’ said the Squirradical. + +‘O, I don’t think I’m at all a fool,’ said Julia, with conviction. + +‘But what if neither of them come?’ asked Gideon; ‘what shall I do +then?’ + +‘Why then,’ said she, ‘you had better go down to the village after dark; +and I can go with you, and then I am sure you could never be suspected; +and even if you were, I could tell them it was altogether a mistake.’ + +‘I will not permit that--I will not suffer Miss Hazeltine to go,’ cried +Mr Bloomfield. + +‘Why?’ asked Julia. + +Mr Bloomfield had not the least desire to tell her why, for it was +simply a craven fear of being drawn himself into the imbroglio; but with +the usual tactics of a man who is ashamed of himself, he took the high +hand. ‘God forbid, my dear Miss Hazeltine, that I should dictate to a +lady on the question of propriety--’ he began. + +‘O, is that all?’ interrupted Julia. ‘Then we must go all three.’ + +‘Caught!’ thought the Squirradical. + + + +CHAPTER XII. Positively the Last Appearance of the Broadwood Grand + +England is supposed to be unmusical; but without dwelling on the +patronage extended to the organ-grinder, without seeking to found any +argument on the prevalence of the jew’s trump, there is surely one +instrument that may be said to be national in the fullest acceptance +of the word. The herdboy in the broom, already musical in the days of +Father Chaucer, startles (and perhaps pains) the lark with this exiguous +pipe; and in the hands of the skilled bricklayer, + +‘The thing becomes a trumpet, whence he blows’ + +(as a general rule) either ‘The British Grenadiers’ or ‘Cherry Ripe’. +The latter air is indeed the shibboleth and diploma piece of the +penny whistler; I hazard a guess it was originally composed for this +instrument. It is singular enough that a man should be able to gain +a livelihood, or even to tide over a period of unemployment, by the +display of his proficiency upon the penny whistle; still more so, that +the professional should almost invariably confine himself to ‘Cherry +Ripe’. But indeed, singularities surround the subject, thick like +blackberries. Why, for instance, should the pipe be called a penny +whistle? I think no one ever bought it for a penny. Why should the +alternative name be tin whistle? I am grossly deceived if it be made +of tin. Lastly, in what deaf catacomb, in what earless desert, does the +beginner pass the excruciating interval of his apprenticeship? We have +all heard people learning the piano, the fiddle, and the cornet; but +the young of the penny whistler (like that of the salmon) is occult from +observation; he is never heard until proficient; and providence (perhaps +alarmed by the works of Mr Mallock) defends human hearing from his first +attempts upon the upper octave. + +A really noteworthy thing was taking place in a green lane, not far from +Padwick. On the bench of a carrier’s cart there sat a tow-headed, lanky, +modest-looking youth; the reins were on his lap; the whip lay behind +him in the interior of the cart; the horse proceeded without guidance +or encouragement; the carrier (or the carrier’s man), rapt into a higher +sphere than that of his daily occupations, his looks dwelling on the +skies, devoted himself wholly to a brand-new D penny whistle, whence he +diffidently endeavoured to elicit that pleasing melody ‘The Ploughboy’. +To any observant person who should have chanced to saunter in that lane, +the hour would have been thrilling. ‘Here at last,’ he would have said, +‘is the beginner.’ + +The tow-headed youth (whose name was Harker) had just encored himself +for the nineteenth time, when he was struck into the extreme of +confusion by the discovery that he was not alone. + +‘There you have it!’ cried a manly voice from the side of the road. + +‘That’s as good as I want to hear. Perhaps a leetle oilier in the run,’ +the voice suggested, with meditative gusto. ‘Give it us again.’ + +Harker glanced, from the depths of his humiliation, at the speaker. He +beheld a powerful, sun-brown, clean-shaven fellow, about forty years of +age, striding beside the cart with a non-commissioned military bearing, +and (as he strode) spinning in the air a cane. The fellow’s clothes were +very bad, but he looked clean and self-reliant. + +‘I’m only a beginner,’ gasped the blushing Harker, ‘I didn’t think +anybody could hear me.’ + +‘Well, I like that!’ returned the other. ‘You’re a pretty old beginner. +Come, I’ll give you a lead myself. Give us a seat here beside you.’ + +The next moment the military gentleman was perched on the cart, pipe in +hand. He gave the instrument a knowing rattle on the shaft, mouthed it, +appeared to commune for a moment with the muse, and dashed into ‘The +girl I left behind me’. He was a great, rather than a fine, performer; +he lacked the bird-like richness; he could scarce have extracted all +the honey out of ‘Cherry Ripe’; he did not fear--he even ostentatiously +displayed and seemed to revel in he shrillness of the instrument; but +in fire, speed, precision, evenness, and fluency; in linked agility of +jimmy--a technical expression, by your leave, answering to warblers on +the bagpipe; and perhaps, above all, in that inspiring side-glance of +the eye, with which he followed the effect and (as by a human appeal) +eked out the insufficiency of his performance: in these, the fellow +stood without a rival. Harker listened: ‘The girl I left behind me’ +filled him with despair; ‘The Soldier’s Joy’ carried him beyond jealousy +into generous enthusiasm. + +‘Turn about,’ said the military gentleman, offering the pipe. + +‘O, not after you!’ cried Harker; ‘you’re a professional.’ + +‘No,’ said his companion; ‘an amatyure like yourself. That’s one style +of play, yours is the other, and I like it best. But I began when I was +a boy, you see, before my taste was formed. When you’re my age you’ll +play that thing like a cornet-a-piston. Give us that air again; how does +it go?’ and he affected to endeavour to recall ‘The Ploughboy’. + +A timid, insane hope sprang in the breast of Harker. Was it possible? +Was there something in his playing? It had, indeed, seemed to him at +times as if he got a kind of a richness out of it. Was he a genius? +Meantime the military gentleman stumbled over the air. + +‘No,’ said the unhappy Harker, ‘that’s not quite it. It goes this +way--just to show you.’ + +And, taking the pipe between his lips, he sealed his doom. When he had +played the air, and then a second time, and a third; when the military +gentleman had tried it once more, and once more failed; when it became +clear to Harker that he, the blushing debutant, was actually giving a +lesson to this full-grown flutist--and the flutist under his care was +not very brilliantly progressing--how am I to tell what floods of glory +brightened the autumnal countryside; how, unless the reader were an +amateur himself, describe the heights of idiotic vanity to which +the carrier climbed? One significant fact shall paint the situation: +thenceforth it was Harker who played, and the military gentleman +listened and approved. + +As he listened, however, he did not forget the habit of soldierly +precaution, looking both behind and before. He looked behind and +computed the value of the carrier’s load, divining the contents of the +brown-paper parcels and the portly hamper, and briefly setting down the +grand piano in the brand-new piano-case as ‘difficult to get rid of’. +He looked before, and spied at the corner of the green lane a little +country public-house embowered in roses. ‘I’ll have a shy at it,’ +concluded the military gentleman, and roundly proposed a glass. ‘Well, +I’m not a drinking man,’ said Harker. + +‘Look here, now,’ cut in the other, ‘I’ll tell you who I am: I’m +Colour-Sergeant Brand of the Blankth. That’ll tell you if I’m a drinking +man or not.’ It might and it might not, thus a Greek chorus would have +intervened, and gone on to point out how very far it fell short of +telling why the sergeant was tramping a country lane in tatters; or even +to argue that he must have pretermitted some while ago his labours for +the general defence, and (in the interval) possibly turned his attention +to oakum. But there was no Greek chorus present; and the man of war went +on to contend that drinking was one thing and a friendly glass another. + +In the Blue Lion, which was the name of the country public-house, +Colour-Sergeant Brand introduced his new friend, Mr Harker, to a +number of ingenious mixtures, calculated to prevent the approaches of +intoxication. These he explained to be ‘rekisite’ in the service, so +that a self-respecting officer should always appear upon parade in a +condition honourable to his corps. The most efficacious of these devices +was to lace a pint of mild ale with twopenceworth of London gin. I am +pleased to hand in this recipe to the discerning reader, who may find +it useful even in civil station; for its effect upon Mr Harker was +revolutionary. He must be helped on board his own waggon, where he +proceeded to display a spirit entirely given over to mirth and music, +alternately hooting with laughter, to which the sergeant hastened to +bear chorus, and incoherently tootling on the pipe. The man of war, +meantime, unostentatiously possessed himself of the reins. It was plain +he had a taste for the secluded beauties of an English landscape; for +the cart, although it wandered under his guidance for some time, was +never observed to issue on the dusty highway, journeying between hedge +and ditch, and for the most part under overhanging boughs. It was plain, +besides, he had an eye to the true interests of Mr Harker; for though +the cart drew up more than once at the doors of public-houses, it was +only the sergeant who set foot to ground, and, being equipped himself +with a quart bottle, once more proceeded on his rural drive. + +To give any idea of the complexity of the sergeant’s course, a map of +that part of Middlesex would be required, and my publisher is averse +from the expense. Suffice it, that a little after the night had closed, +the cart was brought to a standstill in a woody road; where the sergeant +lifted from among the parcels, and tenderly deposited upon the wayside, +the inanimate form of Harker. + +‘If you come-to before daylight,’ thought the sergeant, ‘I shall be +surprised for one.’ + +From the various pockets of the slumbering carrier he gently collected +the sum of seventeen shillings and eightpence sterling; and, getting +once more into the cart, drove thoughtfully away. + +‘If I was exactly sure of where I was, it would be a good job,’ he +reflected. ‘Anyway, here’s a corner.’ + +He turned it, and found himself upon the riverside. A little above him +the lights of a houseboat shone cheerfully; and already close at hand, +so close that it was impossible to avoid their notice, three persons, a +lady and two gentlemen, were deliberately drawing near. The sergeant put +his trust in the convenient darkness of the night, and drove on to meet +them. One of the gentlemen, who was of a portly figure, walked in the +midst of the fairway, and presently held up a staff by way of signal. + +‘My man, have you seen anything of a carrier’s cart?’ he cried. + +Dark as it was, it seemed to the sergeant as though the slimmer of +the two gentlemen had made a motion to prevent the other speaking, and +(finding himself too late) had skipped aside with some alacrity. At +another season, Sergeant Brand would have paid more attention to the +fact; but he was then immersed in the perils of his own predicament. + +‘A carrier’s cart?’ said he, with a perceptible uncertainty of voice. +‘No, sir.’ + +‘Ah!’ said the portly gentleman, and stood aside to let the sergeant +pass. The lady appeared to bend forward and study the cart with every +mark of sharpened curiosity, the slimmer gentleman still keeping in the +rear. + +‘I wonder what the devil they would be at,’ thought Sergeant Brand; and, +looking fearfully back, he saw the trio standing together in the midst +of the way, like folk consulting. The bravest of military heroes are +not always equal to themselves as to their reputation; and fear, on some +singular provocation, will find a lodgment in the most unfamiliar bosom. +The word ‘detective’ might have been heard to gurgle in the sergeant’s +throat; and vigorously applying the whip, he fled up the riverside road +to Great Haverham, at the gallop of the carrier’s horse. The lights of +the houseboat flashed upon the flying waggon as it passed; the beat of +hoofs and the rattle of the vehicle gradually coalesced and died away; +and presently, to the trio on the riverside, silence had redescended. + +‘It’s the most extraordinary thing,’ cried the slimmer of the two +gentlemen, ‘but that’s the cart.’ + +‘And I know I saw a piano,’ said the girl. + +‘O, it’s the cart, certainly; and the extraordinary thing is, it’s not +the man,’ added the first. + +‘It must be the man, Gid, it must be,’ said the portly one. + +‘Well, then, why is he running away?’ asked Gideon. + +‘His horse bolted, I suppose,’ said the Squirradical. + +‘Nonsense! I heard the whip going like a flail,’ said Gideon. ‘It simply +defies the human reason.’ + +‘I’ll tell you,’ broke in the girl, ‘he came round that corner. Suppose +we went and--what do you call it in books?--followed his trail? There +may be a house there, or somebody who saw him, or something.’ + +‘Well, suppose we did, for the fun of the thing,’ said Gideon. + +The fun of the thing (it would appear) consisted in the extremely close +juxtaposition of himself and Miss Hazeltine. To Uncle Ned, who was +excluded from these simple pleasures, the excursion appeared hopeless +from the first; and when a fresh perspective of darkness opened up, +dimly contained between park palings on the one side and a hedge and +ditch upon the other, the whole without the smallest signal of human +habitation, the Squirradical drew up. + +‘This is a wild-goose chase,’ said he. + +With the cessation of the footfalls, another sound smote upon their +ears. + +‘O, what’s that?’ cried Julia. + +‘I can’t think,’ said Gideon. + +The Squirradical had his stick presented like a sword. ‘Gid,’ he began, +‘Gid, I--’ + +‘O Mr Forsyth!’ cried the girl. ‘O don’t go forward, you don’t know what +it might be--it might be something perfectly horrid.’ + +‘It may be the devil itself,’ said Gideon, disengaging himself, ‘but I +am going to see it.’ + +‘Don’t be rash, Gid,’ cried his uncle. + +The barrister drew near to the sound, which was certainly of a +portentous character. In quality it appeared to blend the strains of +the cow, the fog-horn, and the mosquito; and the startling manner of its +enunciation added incalculably to its terrors. A dark object, not unlike +the human form divine, appeared on the brink of the ditch. + +‘It’s a man,’ said Gideon, ‘it’s only a man; he seems to be asleep and +snoring. Hullo,’ he added, a moment after, ‘there must be something +wrong with him, he won’t waken.’ + +Gideon produced his vestas, struck one, and by its light recognized the +tow head of Harker. + +‘This is the man,’ said he, ‘as drunk as Belial. I see the whole story’; +and to his two companions, who had now ventured to rejoin him, he set +forth a theory of the divorce between the carrier and his cart, which +was not unlike the truth. + +‘Drunken brute!’ said Uncle Ned, ‘let’s get him to a pump and give him +what he deserves.’ + +‘Not at all!’ said Gideon. ‘It is highly undesirable he should see us +together; and really, do you know, I am very much obliged to him, for +this is about the luckiest thing that could have possibly occurred. It +seems to me--Uncle Ned, I declare to heaven it seems to me--I’m clear of +it!’ + +‘Clear of what?’ asked the Squirradical. + +‘The whole affair!’ cried Gideon. ‘That man has been ass enough to steal +the cart and the dead body; what he hopes to do with it I neither know +nor care. My hands are free, Jimson ceases; down with Jimson. Shake +hands with me, Uncle Ned--Julia, darling girl, Julia, I--’ + +‘Gideon, Gideon!’ said his uncle. ‘O, it’s all right, uncle, when +we’re going to be married so soon,’ said Gideon. ‘You know you said so +yourself in the houseboat.’ + +‘Did I?’ said Uncle Ned; ‘I am certain I said no such thing.’ + +‘Appeal to him, tell him he did, get on his soft side,’ cried Gideon. +‘He’s a real brick if you get on his soft side.’ + +‘Dear Mr Bloomfield,’ said Julia, ‘I know Gideon will be such a very +good boy, and he has promised me to do such a lot of law, and I will +see that he does too. And you know it is so very steadying to young men, +everybody admits that; though, of course, I know I have no money, Mr +Bloomfield,’ she added. + +‘My dear young lady, as this rapscallion told you today on the boat, +Uncle Ned has plenty,’ said the Squirradical, ‘and I can never forget +that you have been shamefully defrauded. So as there’s nobody looking, +you had better give your Uncle Ned a kiss. There, you rogue,’ resumed +Mr Bloomfield, when the ceremony had been daintily performed, ‘this very +pretty young lady is yours, and a vast deal more than you deserve. But +now, let us get back to the houseboat, get up steam on the launch, and +away back to town.’ + +‘That’s the thing!’ cried Gideon; ‘and tomorrow there will be no +houseboat, and no Jimson, and no carrier’s cart, and no piano; and when +Harker awakes on the ditchside, he may tell himself the whole affair has +been a dream.’ + +‘Aha!’ said Uncle Ned, ‘but there’s another man who will have a +different awakening. That fellow in the cart will find he has been too +clever by half.’ + +‘Uncle Ned and Julia,’ said Gideon, ‘I am as happy as the King of +Tartary, my heart is like a threepenny-bit, my heels are like feathers; +I am out of all my troubles, Julia’s hand is in mine. Is this a time +for anything but handsome sentiments? Why, there’s not room in me for +anything that’s not angelic! And when I think of that poor unhappy devil +in the cart, I stand here in the night and cry with a single heart God +help him!’ + +‘Amen,’ said Uncle Ned. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the Second + +In a really polite age of literature I would have scorned to cast my eye +again on the contortions of Morris. But the study is in the spirit of +the day; it presents, besides, features of a high, almost a repulsive, +morality; and if it should prove the means of preventing any respectable +and inexperienced gentleman from plunging light-heartedly into crime, +even political crime, this work will not have been penned in vain. + +He rose on the morrow of his night with Michael, rose from the leaden +slumber of distress, to find his hand tremulous, his eyes closed with +rheum, his throat parched, and his digestion obviously paralysed. +‘Lord knows it’s not from eating!’ Morris thought; and as he dressed +he reconsidered his position under several heads. Nothing will so well +depict the troubled seas in which he was now voyaging as a review +of these various anxieties. I have thrown them (for the reader’s +convenience) into a certain order; but in the mind of one poor human +equal they whirled together like the dust of hurricanes. With the same +obliging preoccupation, I have put a name to each of his distresses; +and it will be observed with pity that every individual item would have +graced and commended the cover of a railway novel. + +Anxiety the First: Where is the Body? or, The Mystery of Bent Pitman. It +was now manifestly plain that Bent Pitman (as was to be looked for from +his ominous appellation) belonged to the darker order of the criminal +class. An honest man would not have cashed the bill; a humane man would +not have accepted in silence the tragic contents of the water-butt; a +man, who was not already up to the hilts in gore, would have lacked +the means of secretly disposing them. This process of reasoning left a +horrid image of the monster, Pitman. Doubtless he had long ago disposed +of the body--dropping it through a trapdoor in his back kitchen, Morris +supposed, with some hazy recollection of a picture in a penny dreadful; +and doubtless the man now lived in wanton splendour on the proceeds of +the bill. So far, all was peace. But with the profligate habits of a man +like Bent Pitman (who was no doubt a hunchback in the bargain), eight +hundred pounds could be easily melted in a week. When they were gone, +what would he be likely to do next? A hell-like voice in Morris’s own +bosom gave the answer: ‘Blackmail me.’ + +Anxiety the Second: The Fraud of the Tontine; or, Is my Uncle dead? +This, on which all Morris’s hopes depended, was yet a question. He had +tried to bully Teena; he had tried to bribe her; and nothing came of +it. He had his moral conviction still; but you cannot blackmail a sharp +lawyer on a moral conviction. And besides, since his interview with +Michael, the idea wore a less attractive countenance. Was Michael +the man to be blackmailed? and was Morris the man to do it? Grave +considerations. ‘It’s not that I’m afraid of him,’ Morris so far +condescended to reassure himself; ‘but I must be very certain of my +ground, and the deuce of it is, I see no way. How unlike is life to +novels! I wouldn’t have even begun this business in a novel, but what +I’d have met a dark, slouching fellow in the Oxford Road, who’d have +become my accomplice, and known all about how to do it, and probably +broken into Michael’s house at night and found nothing but a waxwork +image; and then blackmailed or murdered me. But here, in real life, I +might walk the streets till I dropped dead, and none of the criminal +classes would look near me. Though, to be sure, there is always Pitman,’ +he added thoughtfully. + +Anxiety the Third: The Cottage at Browndean; or, The Underpaid +Accomplice. For he had an accomplice, and that accomplice was blooming +unseen in a damp cottage in Hampshire with empty pockets. What could be +done about that? He really ought to have sent him something; if it was +only a post-office order for five bob, enough to prove that he was kept +in mind, enough to keep him in hope, beer, and tobacco. ‘But what +would you have?’ thought Morris; and ruefully poured into his hand +a half-crown, a florin, and eightpence in small change. For a man in +Morris’s position, at war with all society, and conducting, with the +hand of inexperience, a widely ramified intrigue, the sum was already a +derision. John would have to be doing; no mistake of that. ‘But then,’ +asked the hell-like voice, ‘how long is John likely to stand it?’ + +Anxiety the Fourth: The Leather Business; or, The Shutters at Last: a +Tale of the City. On this head Morris had no news. He had not yet dared +to visit the family concern; yet he knew he must delay no longer, and +if anything had been wanted to sharpen this conviction, Michael’s +references of the night before rang ambiguously in his ear. Well and +good. To visit the city might be indispensable; but what was he to do +when he was there? He had no right to sign in his own name; and, with +all the will in the world, he seemed to lack the art of signing with +his uncle’s. Under these circumstances, Morris could do nothing to +procrastinate the crash; and, when it came, when prying eyes began to be +applied to every joint of his behaviour, two questions could not fail to +be addressed, sooner or later, to a speechless and perspiring insolvent. +Where is Mr Joseph Finsbury? and how about your visit to the bank? +Questions, how easy to put!--ye gods, how impossible to answer! The man +to whom they should be addressed went certainly to gaol, and--eh! what +was this?--possibly to the gallows. Morris was trying to shave when this +idea struck him, and he laid the razor down. Here (in Michael’s words) +was the total disappearance of a valuable uncle; here was a time of +inexplicable conduct on the part of a nephew who had been in bad +blood with the old man any time these seven years; what a chance for a +judicial blunder! ‘But no,’ thought Morris, ‘they cannot, they dare not, +make it murder. Not that. But honestly, and speaking as a man to a man, +I don’t see any other crime in the calendar (except arson) that I don’t +seem somehow to have committed. And yet I’m a perfectly respectable man, +and wished nothing but my due. Law is a pretty business.’ + +With this conclusion firmly seated in his mind, Morris Finsbury +descended to the hall of the house in John Street, still half-shaven. +There was a letter in the box; he knew the handwriting: John at last! + +‘Well, I think I might have been spared this,’ he said bitterly, and +tore it open. + +Dear Morris [it ran], what the dickens do you mean by it? I’m in an +awful hole down here; I have to go on tick, and the parties on the spot +don’t cotton to the idea; they couldn’t, because it is so plain I’m in a +stait of Destitution. I’ve got no bedclothes, think of that, I must have +coins, the hole thing’s a Mockry, I wont stand it, nobody would. I would +have come away before, only I have no money for the railway fare. Don’t +be a lunatic, Morris, you don’t seem to understand my dredful situation. +I have to get the stamp on tick. A fact. + +--Ever your affte. Brother, + +J. FINSBURY + +‘Can’t even spell!’ Morris reflected, as he crammed the letter in his +pocket, and left the house. ‘What can I do for him? I have to go to the +expense of a barber, I’m so shattered! How can I send anybody coins? +It’s hard lines, I daresay; but does he think I’m living on hot muffins? +One comfort,’ was his grim reflection, ‘he can’t cut and run--he’s got +to stay; he’s as helpless as the dead.’ And then he broke forth again: +‘Complains, does he? and he’s never even heard of Bent Pitman! If he had +what I have on my mind, he might complain with a good grace.’ + +But these were not honest arguments, or not wholly honest; there was a +struggle in the mind of Morris; he could not disguise from himself that +his brother John was miserably situated at Browndean, without news, +without money, without bedclothes, without society or any entertainment; +and by the time he had been shaved and picked a hasty breakfast at a +coffee tavern, Morris had arrived at a compromise. + +‘Poor Johnny,’ he said to himself, ‘he’s in an awful box! I can’t +send him coins, but I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll send him the Pink +Un--it’ll cheer John up; and besides, it’ll do his credit good getting +anything by post.’ + +Accordingly, on his way to the leather business, whither he proceeded +(according to his thrifty habit) on foot, Morris purchased and +dispatched a single copy of that enlivening periodical, to which (in +a sudden pang of remorse) he added at random the Athenaeum, the +Revivalist, and the Penny Pictorial Weekly. So there was John set up +with literature, and Morris had laid balm upon his conscience. + +As if to reward him, he was received in his place of business with good +news. Orders were pouring in; there was a run on some of the back stock, +and the figure had gone up. Even the manager appeared elated. As for +Morris, who had almost forgotten the meaning of good news, he longed to +sob like a little child; he could have caught the manager (a pallid +man with startled eyebrows) to his bosom; he could have found it in +his generosity to give a cheque (for a small sum) to every clerk in +the counting-house. As he sat and opened his letters a chorus of airy +vocalists sang in his brain, to most exquisite music, ‘This whole +concern may be profitable yet, profitable yet, profitable yet.’ + +To him, in this sunny moment of relief, enter a Mr Rodgerson, a +creditor, but not one who was expected to be pressing, for his +connection with the firm was old and regular. + +‘O, Finsbury,’ said he, not without embarrassment, ‘it’s of course only +fair to let you know--the fact is, money is a trifle tight--I have some +paper out--for that matter, every one’s complaining--and in short--’ + +‘It has never been our habit, Rodgerson,’ said Morris, turning pale. +‘But give me time to turn round, and I’ll see what I can do; I daresay +we can let you have something to account.’ + +‘Well, that’s just where is,’ replied Rodgerson. ‘I was tempted; I’ve +let the credit out of MY hands.’ + +‘Out of your hands?’ repeated Morris. ‘That’s playing rather fast and +loose with us, Mr Rodgerson.’ + +‘Well, I got cent. for cent. for it,’ said the other, ‘on the nail, in a +certified cheque.’ + +‘Cent. for cent.!’ cried Morris. ‘Why, that’s something like thirty per +cent. bonus; a singular thing! Who’s the party?’ + +‘Don’t know the man,’ was the reply. ‘Name of Moss.’ + +‘A Jew,’ Morris reflected, when his visitor was gone. And what could a +Jew want with a claim of--he verified the amount in the books--a claim +of three five eight, nineteen, ten, against the house of Finsbury? And +why should he pay cent. for cent.? The figure proved the loyalty of +Rodgerson--even Morris admitted that. But it proved unfortunately +something else--the eagerness of Moss. The claim must have been wanted +instantly, for that day, for that morning even. Why? The mystery of Moss +promised to be a fit pendant to the mystery of Pitman. ‘And just when +all was looking well too!’ cried Morris, smiting his hand upon the desk. +And almost at the same moment Mr Moss was announced. + +Mr Moss was a radiant Hebrew, brutally handsome, and offensively polite. +He was acting, it appeared, for a third party; he understood nothing of +the circumstances; his client desired to have his position regularized; +but he would accept an antedated cheque--antedated by two months, if Mr +Finsbury chose. + +‘But I don’t understand this,’ said Morris. ‘What made you pay cent. per +cent. for it today?’ + +Mr Moss had no idea; only his orders. + +‘The whole thing is thoroughly irregular,’ said Morris. ‘It is not the +custom of the trade to settle at this time of the year. What are your +instructions if I refuse?’ + +‘I am to see Mr Joseph Finsbury, the head of the firm,’ said Mr Moss. +‘I was directed to insist on that; it was implied you had no status +here--the expressions are not mine.’ + +‘You cannot see Mr Joseph; he is unwell,’ said Morris. + +‘In that case I was to place the matter in the hands of a lawyer. Let +me see,’ said Mr Moss, opening a pocket-book with, perhaps, suspicious +care, at the right place--‘Yes--of Mr Michael Finsbury. A relation, +perhaps? In that case, I presume, the matter will be pleasantly +arranged.’ + +To pass into the hands of Michael was too much for Morris. He struck his +colours. A cheque at two months was nothing, after all. In two months +he would probably be dead, or in a gaol at any rate. He bade the manager +give Mr Moss a chair and the paper. ‘I’m going over to get a cheque +signed by Mr Finsbury,’ said he, ‘who is lying ill at John Street.’ + +A cab there and a cab back; here were inroads on his wretched capital! +He counted the cost; when he was done with Mr Moss he would be left with +twelvepence-halfpenny in the world. What was even worse, he had now been +forced to bring his uncle up to Bloomsbury. ‘No use for poor Johnny +in Hampshire now,’ he reflected. ‘And how the farce is to be kept up +completely passes me. At Browndean it was just possible; in Bloomsbury +it seems beyond human ingenuity--though I suppose it’s what Michael +does. But then he has accomplices--that Scotsman and the whole gang. Ah, +if I had accomplices!’ + +Necessity is the mother of the arts. Under a spur so immediate, Morris +surprised himself by the neatness and dispatch of his new forgery, and +within three-fourths of an hour had handed it to Mr Moss. + +‘That is very satisfactory,’ observed that gentleman, rising. ‘I was to +tell you it will not be presented, but you had better take care.’ + +The room swam round Morris. ‘What--what’s that?’ he cried, grasping the +table. He was miserably conscious the next moment of his shrill tongue +and ashen face. ‘What do you mean--it will not be presented? Why am I to +take care? What is all this mummery?’ + +‘I have no idea, Mr Finsbury,’ replied the smiling Hebrew. ‘It was a +message I was to deliver. The expressions were put into my mouth.’ + +‘What is your client’s name?’ asked Morris. + +‘That is a secret for the moment,’ answered Mr Moss. Morris bent toward +him. ‘It’s not the bank?’ he asked hoarsely. + +‘I have no authority to say more, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Mr Moss. ‘I +will wish you a good morning, if you please.’ + +‘Wish me a good morning!’ thought Morris; and the next moment, seizing +his hat, he fled from his place of business like a madman. Three streets +away he stopped and groaned. ‘Lord! I should have borrowed from the +manager!’ he cried. ‘But it’s too late now; it would look dicky to go +back; I’m penniless--simply penniless--like the unemployed.’ + +He went home and sat in the dismantled dining-room with his head in his +hands. Newton never thought harder than this victim of circumstances, +and yet no clearness came. ‘It may be a defect in my intelligence,’ he +cried, rising to his feet, ‘but I cannot see that I am fairly used. The +bad luck I’ve had is a thing to write to The Times about; it’s enough to +breed a revolution. And the plain English of the whole thing is that I +must have money at once. I’m done with all morality now; I’m long past +that stage; money I must have, and the only chance I see is Bent Pitman. +Bent Pitman is a criminal, and therefore his position’s weak. He must +have some of that eight hundred left; if he has I’ll force him to go +shares; and even if he hasn’t, I’ll tell him the tontine affair, and +with a desperate man like Pitman at my back, it’ll be strange if I don’t +succeed.’ + +Well and good. But how to lay hands upon Bent Pitman, except by +advertisement, was not so clear. And even so, in what terms to ask a +meeting? on what grounds? and where? Not at John Street, for it would +never do to let a man like Bent Pitman know your real address; nor yet +at Pitman’s house, some dreadful place in Holloway, with a trapdoor +in the back kitchen; a house which you might enter in a light summer +overcoat and varnished boots, to come forth again piecemeal in a +market-basket. That was the drawback of a really efficient accomplice, +Morris felt, not without a shudder. ‘I never dreamed I should come to +actually covet such society,’ he thought. And then a brilliant idea +struck him. Waterloo Station, a public place, yet at certain hours of +the day a solitary; a place, besides, the very name of which must knock +upon the heart of Pitman, and at once suggest a knowledge of the latest +of his guilty secrets. Morris took a piece of paper and sketched his +advertisement. + + +WILLIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of +SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE on the far end of the main line departure +platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M., Sunday next. + +Morris reperused this literary trifle with approbation. ‘Terse,’ he +reflected. ‘Something to his advantage is not strictly true; but it’s +taking and original, and a man is not on oath in an advertisement. +All that I require now is the ready cash for my own meals and for the +advertisement, and--no, I can’t lavish money upon John, but I’ll give +him some more papers. How to raise the wind?’ + +He approached his cabinet of signets, and the collector suddenly +revolted in his blood. ‘I will not!’ he cried; ‘nothing shall induce me +to massacre my collection--rather theft!’ And dashing upstairs to the +drawing-room, he helped himself to a few of his uncle’s curiosities: +a pair of Turkish babooshes, a Smyrna fan, a water-cooler, a musket +guaranteed to have been seized from an Ephesian bandit, and a pocketful +of curious but incomplete seashells. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. William Bent Pitman Hears of Something to his Advantage + +On the morning of Sunday, William Dent Pitman rose at his usual hour, +although with something more than the usual reluctance. The day before +(it should be explained) an addition had been made to his family in the +person of a lodger. Michael Finsbury had acted sponsor in the business, +and guaranteed the weekly bill; on the other hand, no doubt with a spice +of his prevailing jocularity, he had drawn a depressing portrait of the +lodger’s character. Mr Pitman had been led to understand his guest was +not good company; he had approached the gentleman with fear, and had +rejoiced to find himself the entertainer of an angel. At tea he had been +vastly pleased; till hard on one in the morning he had sat entranced by +eloquence and progressively fortified with information in the studio; +and now, as he reviewed over his toilet the harmless pleasures of +the evening, the future smiled upon him with revived attractions. ‘Mr +Finsbury is indeed an acquisition,’ he remarked to himself; and as +he entered the little parlour, where the table was already laid for +breakfast, the cordiality of his greeting would have befitted an +acquaintanceship already old. + +‘I am delighted to see you, sir’--these were his expressions--‘and I +trust you have slept well.’ + +‘Accustomed as I have been for so long to a life of almost perpetual +change,’ replied the guest, ‘the disturbance so often complained of by +the more sedentary, as attending their first night in (what is called) a +new bed, is a complaint from which I am entirely free.’ + +‘I am delighted to hear it,’ said the drawing-master warmly. ‘But I see +I have interrupted you over the paper.’ + +‘The Sunday paper is one of the features of the age,’ said Mr Finsbury. +‘In America, I am told, it supersedes all other literature, the bone and +sinew of the nation finding their requirements catered for; hundreds of +columns will be occupied with interesting details of the world’s +doings, such as water-spouts, elopements, conflagrations, and public +entertainments; there is a corner for politics, ladies’ work, chess, +religion, and even literature; and a few spicy editorials serve to +direct the course of public thought. It is difficult to estimate the +part played by such enormous and miscellaneous repositories in the +education of the people. But this (though interesting in itself) +partakes of the nature of a digression; and what I was about to ask you +was this: Are you yourself a student of the daily press?’ + +‘There is not much in the papers to interest an artist,’ returned +Pitman. + +‘In that case,’ resumed Joseph, ‘an advertisement which has appeared +the last two days in various journals, and reappears this morning, +may possibly have failed to catch your eye. The name, with a trifling +variation, bears a strong resemblance to your own. Ah, here it is. If +you please, I will read it to you: + +WILIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of +SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at the far end of the main line departure +platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M. today. + +‘Is that in print?’ cried Pitman. ‘Let me see it! Bent? It must be Dent! +SOMETHING TO MY ADVANTAGE? Mr Finsbury, excuse me offering a word of +caution; I am aware how strangely this must sound in your ears, but +there are domestic reasons why this little circumstance might perhaps +be better kept between ourselves. Mrs Pitman--my dear Sir, I assure you +there is nothing dishonourable in my secrecy; the reasons are domestic, +merely domestic; and I may set your conscience at rest when I assure +you all the circumstances are known to our common friend, your excellent +nephew, Mr Michael, who has not withdrawn from me his esteem.’ + +‘A word is enough, Mr Pitman,’ said Joseph, with one of his Oriental +reverences. + +Half an hour later, the drawing-master found Michael in bed and reading +a book, the picture of good-humour and repose. + +‘Hillo, Pitman,’ he said, laying down his book, ‘what brings you here at +this inclement hour? Ought to be in church, my boy!’ + +‘I have little thought of church today, Mr Finsbury,’ said the +drawing-master. ‘I am on the brink of something new, Sir.’ And he +presented the advertisement. + +‘Why, what is this?’ cried Michael, sitting suddenly up. He studied +it for half a minute with a frown. ‘Pitman, I don’t care about this +document a particle,’ said he. + +‘It will have to be attended to, however,’ said Pitman. + +‘I thought you’d had enough of Waterloo,’ returned the lawyer. ‘Have you +started a morbid craving? You’ve never been yourself anyway since you +lost that beard. I believe now it was where you kept your senses.’ + +‘Mr Finsbury,’ said the drawing-master, ‘I have tried to reason this +matter out, and, with your permission, I should like to lay before you +the results.’ + +‘Fire away,’ said Michael; ‘but please, Pitman, remember it’s Sunday, +and let’s have no bad language.’ + +‘There are three views open to us,’ began Pitman. ‘First this may +be connected with the barrel; second, it may be connected with Mr +Semitopolis’s statue; and third, it may be from my wife’s brother, who +went to Australia. In the first case, which is of course possible, I +confess the matter would be best allowed to drop.’ + +‘The court is with you there, Brother Pitman,’ said Michael. + +‘In the second,’ continued the other, ‘it is plainly my duty to leave no +stone unturned for the recovery of the lost antique.’ + +‘My dear fellow, Semitopolis has come down like a trump; he has pocketed +the loss and left you the profit. What more would you have?’ enquired +the lawyer. + +‘I conceive, sir, under correction, that Mr Semitopolis’s generosity +binds me to even greater exertion,’ said the drawing-master. ‘The whole +business was unfortunate; it was--I need not disguise it from you--it +was illegal from the first: the more reason that I should try to behave +like a gentleman,’ concluded Pitman, flushing. + +‘I have nothing to say to that,’ returned the lawyer. ‘I have sometimes +thought I should like to try to behave like a gentleman myself; only +it’s such a one-sided business, with the world and the legal profession +as they are.’ + +‘Then, in the third,’ resumed the drawing-master, ‘if it’s Uncle Tim, of +course, our fortune’s made.’ + +‘It’s not Uncle Tim, though,’ said the lawyer. + +‘Have you observed that very remarkable expression: SOMETHING TO HIS +ADVANTAGE?’ enquired Pitman shrewdly. + +‘You innocent mutton,’ said Michael, ‘it’s the seediest commonplace in +the English language, and only proves the advertiser is an ass. Let me +demolish your house of cards for you at once. Would Uncle Tim make +that blunder in your name?--in itself, the blunder is delicious, a huge +improvement on the gross reality, and I mean to adopt it in the future; +but is it like Uncle Tim?’ + +‘No, it’s not like him,’ Pitman admitted. ‘But his mind may have become +unhinged at Ballarat.’ + +‘If you come to that, Pitman,’ said Michael, ‘the advertiser may be +Queen Victoria, fired with the desire to make a duke of you. I put it +to yourself if that’s probable; and yet it’s not against the laws of +nature. But we sit here to consider probabilities; and with your genteel +permission, I eliminate her Majesty and Uncle Tim on the threshold. To +proceed, we have your second idea, that this has some connection with +the statue. Possible; but in that case who is the advertiser? Not +Ricardi, for he knows your address; not the person who got the box, for +he doesn’t know your name. The vanman, I hear you suggest, in a lucid +interval. He might have got your name, and got it incorrectly, at the +station; and he might have failed to get your address. I grant the +vanman. But a question: Do you really wish to meet the vanman?’ + +‘Why should I not?’ asked Pitman. + +‘If he wants to meet you,’ replied Michael, ‘observe this: it is because +he has found his address-book, has been to the house that got the +statue, and-mark my words!--is moving at the instigation of the +murderer.’ + +‘I should be very sorry to think so,’ said Pitman; ‘but I still consider +it my duty to Mr Sernitopolis. . .’ + +‘Pitman,’ interrupted Michael, ‘this will not do. Don’t seek to impose +on your legal adviser; don’t try to pass yourself off for the Duke of +Wellington, for that is not your line. Come, I wager a dinner I can read +your thoughts. You still believe it’s Uncle Tim.’ + +‘Mr Finsbury,’ said the drawing-master, colouring, ‘you are not a man in +narrow circumstances, and you have no family. Guendolen is growing up, +a very promising girl--she was confirmed this year; and I think you will +be able to enter into my feelings as a parent when I tell you she is +quite ignorant of dancing. The boys are at the board school, which is +all very well in its way; at least, I am the last man in the world to +criticize the institutions of my native land. But I had fondly hoped +that Harold might become a professional musician; and little Otho +shows a quite remarkable vocation for the Church. I am not exactly an +ambitious man...’ + +‘Well, well,’ interrupted Michael. ‘Be explicit; you think it’s Uncle +Tim?’ + +‘It might be Uncle Tim,’ insisted Pitman, ‘and if it were, and I +neglected the occasion, how could I ever look my children in the face? I +do not refer to Mrs Pitman. . .’ + +‘No, you never do,’ said Michael. + +‘. . . but in the case of her own brother returning from Ballarat. . .’ +continued Pitman. + +‘. . . with his mind unhinged,’ put in the lawyer. + +‘. . . returning from Ballarat with a large fortune, her impatience may +be more easily imagined than described,’ concluded Pitman. + +‘All right,’ said Michael, ‘be it so. And what do you propose to do?’ + +‘I am going to Waterloo,’ said Pitman, ‘in disguise.’ + +‘All by your little self?’ enquired the lawyer. ‘Well, I hope you think +it safe. Mind and send me word from the police cells.’ + +‘O, Mr Finsbury, I had ventured to hope--perhaps you might be induced +to--to make one of us,’ faltered Pitman. + +‘Disguise myself on Sunday?’ cried Michael. ‘How little you understand +my principles!’ + +‘Mr Finsbury, I have no means of showing you my gratitude; but let me +ask you one question,’ said Pitman. ‘If I were a very rich client, would +you not take the risk?’ + +‘Diamond, Diamond, you know not what you do!’ cried Michael. ‘Why, man, +do you suppose I make a practice of cutting about London with my clients +in disguise? Do you suppose money would induce me to touch this business +with a stick? I give you my word of honour, it would not. But I own I +have a real curiosity to see how you conduct this interview--that tempts +me; it tempts me, Pitman, more than gold--it should be exquisitely +rich.’ And suddenly Michael laughed. ‘Well, Pitman,’ said he, ‘have all +the truck ready in the studio. I’ll go.’ + +About twenty minutes after two, on this eventful day, the vast and +gloomy shed of Waterloo lay, like the temple of a dead religion, silent +and deserted. Here and there at one of the platforms, a train lay +becalmed; here and there a wandering footfall echoed; the cab-horses +outside stamped with startling reverberations on the stones; or from the +neighbouring wilderness of railway an engine snorted forth a whistle. +The main-line departure platform slumbered like the rest; the +booking-hutches closed; the backs of Mr Haggard’s novels, with which +upon a weekday the bookstall shines emblazoned, discreetly hidden behind +dingy shutters; the rare officials, undisguisedly somnambulant; and the +customary loiterers, even to the middle-aged woman with the ulster and +the handbag, fled to more congenial scenes. As in the inmost dells of +some small tropic island the throbbing of the ocean lingers, so here a +faint pervading hum and trepidation told in every corner of surrounding +London. + +At the hour already named, persons acquainted with John Dickson, of +Ballarat, and Ezra Thomas, of the United States of America, would have +been cheered to behold them enter through the booking-office. + +‘What names are we to take?’ enquired the latter, anxiously adjusting +the window-glass spectacles which he had been suffered on this occasion +to assume. + +‘There’s no choice for you, my boy,’ returned Michael. ‘Bent Pitman +or nothing. As for me, I think I look as if I might be called Appleby; +something agreeably old-world about Appleby--breathes of Devonshire +cider. Talking of which, suppose you wet your whistle? the interview is +likely to be trying.’ + +‘I think I’ll wait till afterwards,’ returned Pitman; ‘on the whole, I +think I’ll wait till the thing’s over. I don’t know if it strikes you +as it does me; but the place seems deserted and silent, Mr Finsbury, and +filled with very singular echoes.’ + +‘Kind of Jack-in-the-box feeling?’ enquired Michael, ‘as if all these +empty trains might be filled with policemen waiting for a signal? and +Sir Charles Warren perched among the girders with a silver whistle to +his lips? It’s guilt, Pitman.’ + +In this uneasy frame of mind they walked nearly the whole length of +the departure platform, and at the western extremity became aware of a +slender figure standing back against a pillar. The figure was plainly +sunk into a deep abstraction; he was not aware of their approach, but +gazed far abroad over the sunlit station. Michael stopped. + +‘Holloa!’ said he, ‘can that be your advertiser? If so, I’m done with +it.’ And then, on second thoughts: ‘Not so, either,’ he resumed more +cheerfully. ‘Here, turn your back a moment. So. Give me the specs.’ + +‘But you agreed I was to have them,’ protested Pitman. + +‘Ah, but that man knows me,’ said Michael. + +‘Does he? what’s his name?’ cried Pitman. + +‘O, he took me into his confidence,’ returned the lawyer. ‘But I may say +one thing: if he’s your advertiser (and he may be, for he seems to +have been seized with criminal lunacy) you can go ahead with a clear +conscience, for I hold him in the hollow of my hand.’ + +The change effected, and Pitman comforted with this good news, the pair +drew near to Morris. + +‘Are you looking for Mr William Bent Pitman?’ enquired the +drawing-master. ‘I am he.’ + +Morris raised his head. He saw before him, in the speaker, a person +of almost indescribable insignificance, in white spats and a shirt cut +indecently low. A little behind, a second and more burly figure +offered little to criticism, except ulster, whiskers, spectacles, +and deerstalker hat. Since he had decided to call up devils from the +underworld of London, Morris had pondered deeply on the probabilities +of their appearance. His first emotion, like that of Charoba when she +beheld the sea, was one of disappointment; his second did more justice +to the case. Never before had he seen a couple dressed like these; he +had struck a new stratum. + +‘I must speak with you alone,’ said he. + +‘You need not mind Mr Appleby,’ returned Pitman. ‘He knows all.’ + +‘All? Do you know what I am here to speak of?’ enquired Morris--. ‘The +barrel.’ + +Pitman turned pale, but it was with manly indignation. ‘You are the +man!’ he cried. ‘You very wicked person.’ + +‘Am I to speak before him?’ asked Morris, disregarding these severe +expressions. + +‘He has been present throughout,’ said Pitman. ‘He opened the barrel; +your guilty secret is already known to him, as well as to your Maker and +myself.’ + +‘Well, then,’ said Morris, ‘what have you done with the money?’ + +‘I know nothing about any money,’ said Pitman. + +‘You needn’t try that on,’ said Morris. ‘I have tracked you down; you +came to the station sacrilegiously disguised as a clergyman, procured my +barrel, opened it, rifled the body, and cashed the bill. I have been to +the bank, I tell you! I have followed you step by step, and your denials +are childish and absurd.’ + +‘Come, come, Morris, keep your temper,’ said Mr Appleby. + +‘Michael!’ cried Morris, ‘Michael here too!’ + +‘Here too,’ echoed the lawyer; ‘here and everywhere, my good fellow; +every step you take is counted; trained detectives follow you like your +shadow; they report to me every three-quarters of an hour; no expense is +spared.’ + +Morris’s face took on a hue of dirty grey. ‘Well, I don’t care; I have +the less reserve to keep,’ he cried. ‘That man cashed my bill; it’s a +theft, and I want the money back.’ + +‘Do you think I would lie to you, Morris?’ asked Michael. + +‘I don’t know,’ said his cousin. ‘I want my money.’ + +‘It was I alone who touched the body,’ began Michael. + +‘You? Michael!’ cried Morris, starting back. ‘Then why haven’t you +declared the death?’ ‘What the devil do you mean?’ asked Michael. + +‘Am I mad? or are you?’ cried Morris. + +‘I think it must be Pitman,’ said Michael. + +The three men stared at each other, wild-eyed. + +‘This is dreadful,’ said Morris, ‘dreadful. I do not understand one word +that is addressed to me.’ + +‘I give you my word of honour, no more do I,’ said Michael. + +‘And in God’s name, why whiskers?’ cried Morris, pointing in a ghastly +manner at his cousin. ‘Does my brain reel? How whiskers?’ + +‘O, that’s a matter of detail,’ said Michael. + +There was another silence, during which Morris appeared to himself to +be shot in a trapeze as high as St Paul’s, and as low as Baker Street +Station. + +‘Let us recapitulate,’ said Michael, ‘unless it’s really a dream, in +which case I wish Teena would call me for breakfast. My friend Pitman, +here, received a barrel which, it now appears, was meant for you. The +barrel contained the body of a man. How or why you killed him...’ + +‘I never laid a hand on him,’ protested Morris. ‘This is what I have +dreaded all along. But think, Michael! I’m not that kind of man; with +all my faults, I wouldn’t touch a hair of anybody’s head, and it was all +dead loss to me. He got killed in that vile accident.’ + +Suddenly Michael was seized by mirth so prolonged and excessive that his +companions supposed beyond a doubt his reason had deserted him. Again +and again he struggled to compose himself, and again and again laughter +overwhelmed him like a tide. In all this maddening interview there had +been no more spectral feature than this of Michael’s merriment; and +Pitman and Morris, drawn together by the common fear, exchanged glances +of anxiety. + +‘Morris,’ gasped the lawyer, when he was at last able to articulate, +‘hold on, I see it all now. I can make it clear in one word. Here’s the +key: I NEVER GUESSED IT WAS UNCLE JOSEPH TILL THIS MOMENT.’ + +This remark produced an instant lightening of the tension for Morris. +For Pitman it quenched the last ray of hope and daylight. Uncle Joseph, +whom he had left an hour ago in Norfolk Street, pasting newspaper +cuttings?--it?--the dead body?--then who was he, Pitman? and was this +Waterloo Station or Colney Hatch? + +‘To be sure!’ cried Morris; ‘it was badly smashed, I know. How stupid +not to think of that! Why, then, all’s clear; and, my dear Michael, I’ll +tell you what--we’re saved, both saved. You get the tontine--I don’t +grudge it you the least--and I get the leather business, which is really +beginning to look up. Declare the death at once, don’t mind me in the +smallest, don’t consider me; declare the death, and we’re all right.’ + +‘Ah, but I can’t declare it,’ said Michael. + +‘Why not?’ cried Morris. + +‘I can’t produce the corpus, Morris. I’ve lost it,’ said the lawyer. + +‘Stop a bit,’ ejaculated the leather merchant. ‘How is this? It’s not +possible. I lost it.’ + +‘Well, I’ve lost it too, my son,’ said Michael, with extreme serenity. +‘Not recognizing it, you see, and suspecting something irregular in its +origin, I got rid of--what shall we say?--got rid of the proceeds at +once.’ + +‘You got rid of the body? What made you do that?’ walled Morris. ‘But +you can get it again? You know where it is?’ + +‘I wish I did, Morris, and you may believe me there, for it would be a +small sum in my pocket; but the fact is, I don’t,’ said Michael. + +‘Good Lord,’ said Morris, addressing heaven and earth, ‘good Lord, I’ve +lost the leather business!’ + +Michael was once more shaken with laughter. + +‘Why do you laugh, you fool?’ cried his cousin, ‘you lose more than I. +You’ve bungled it worse than even I did. If you had a spark of feeling, +you would be shaking in your boots with vexation. But I’ll tell you one +thing--I’ll have that eight hundred pound--I’ll have that and go to Swan +River--that’s mine, anyway, and your friend must have forged to cash it. +Give me the eight hundred, here, upon this platform, or I go straight to +Scotland Yard and turn the whole disreputable story inside out.’ + +‘Morris,’ said Michael, laying his hand upon his shoulder, ‘hear reason. +It wasn’t us, it was the other man. We never even searched the body.’ + +‘The other man?’ repeated Morris. + +‘Yes, the other man. We palmed Uncle Joseph off upon another man,’ said +Michael. + +‘You what? You palmed him off? That’s surely a singular expression,’ +said Morris. + +‘Yes, palmed him off for a piano,’ said Michael with perfect simplicity. +‘Remarkably full, rich tone,’ he added. + +Morris carried his hand to his brow and looked at it; it was wet with +sweat. ‘Fever,’ said he. + +‘No, it was a Broadwood grand,’ said Michael. ‘Pitman here will tell you +if it was genuine or not.’ + +‘Eh? O! O yes, I believe it was a genuine Broadwood; I have played upon +it several times myself,’ said Pitman. ‘The three-letter E was broken.’ + +‘Don’t say anything more about pianos,’ said Morris, with a strong +shudder; ‘I’m not the man I used to be! This--this other man--let’s come +to him, if I can only manage to follow. Who is he? Where can I get hold +of him?’ + +‘Ah, that’s the rub,’ said Michael. ‘He’s been in possession of the +desired article, let me see--since Wednesday, about four o’clock, and is +now, I should imagine, on his way to the isles of Javan and Gadire.’ + +‘Michael,’ said Morris pleadingly, ‘I am in a very weak state, and I beg +your consideration for a kinsman. Say it slowly again, and be sure you +are correct. When did he get it?’ + +Michael repeated his statement. + +‘Yes, that’s the worst thing yet,’ said Morris, drawing in his breath. + +‘What is?’ asked the lawyer. + +‘Even the dates are sheer nonsense,’ said the leather merchant. + +‘The bill was cashed on Tuesday. There’s not a gleam of reason in the +whole transaction.’ + +A young gentleman, who had passed the trio and suddenly started and +turned back, at this moment laid a heavy hand on Michael’s shoulder. + +‘Aha! so this is Mr Dickson?’ said he. + +The trump of judgement could scarce have rung with a more dreadful note +in the ears of Pitman and the lawyer. To Morris this erroneous name +seemed a legitimate enough continuation of the nightmare in which he +had so long been wandering. And when Michael, with his brand-new bushy +whiskers, broke from the grasp of the stranger and turned to run, and +the weird little shaven creature in the low-necked shirt followed his +example with a bird-like screech, and the stranger (finding the rest of +his prey escape him) pounced with a rude grasp on Morris himself, +that gentleman’s frame of mind might be very nearly expressed in the +colloquial phrase: ‘I told you so!’ + +‘I have one of the gang,’ said Gideon Forsyth. + +‘I do not understand,’ said Morris dully. + +‘O, I will make you understand,’ returned Gideon grimly. + +‘You will be a good friend to me if you can make me understand +anything,’ cried Morris, with a sudden energy of conviction. + +‘I don’t know you personally, do I?’ continued Gideon, examining his +unresisting prisoner. ‘Never mind, I know your friends. They are your +friends, are they not?’ + +‘I do not understand you,’ said Morris. + +‘You had possibly something to do with a piano?’ suggested Gideon. + +‘A piano!’ cried Morris, convulsively clasping Gideon by the arm. ‘Then +you’re the other man! Where is it? Where is the body? And did you cash +the draft?’ + +‘Where is the body? This is very strange,’ mused Gideon. ‘Do you want +the body?’ + +‘Want it?’ cried Morris. ‘My whole fortune depends upon it! I lost it. +Where is it? Take me to it? + +‘O, you want it, do you? And the other man, Dickson--does he want it?’ +enquired Gideon. + +‘Who do you mean by Dickson? O, Michael Finsbury! Why, of course he +does! He lost it too. If he had it, he’d have won the tontine tomorrow.’ + +‘Michael Finsbury! Not the solicitor?’ cried Gideon. ‘Yes, the +solicitor,’ said Morris. ‘But where is the body?’ + +‘Then that is why he sent the brief! What is Mr Finsbury’s private +address?’ asked Gideon. + +‘233 King’s Road. What brief? Where are you going? Where is the body?’ +cried Morris, clinging to Gideon’s arm. + +‘I have lost it myself,’ returned Gideon, and ran out of the station. + + + +CHAPTER XV. The Return of the Great Vance + +Morris returned from Waterloo in a frame of mind that baffles +description. He was a modest man; he had never conceived an overweening +notion of his own powers; he knew himself unfit to write a book, turn a +table napkin-ring, entertain a Christmas party with legerdemain--grapple +(in short) any of those conspicuous accomplishments that are usually +classed under the head of genius. He knew--he admitted--his parts to be +pedestrian, but he had considered them (until quite lately) fully equal +to the demands of life. And today he owned himself defeated: life had +the upper hand; if there had been any means of flight or place to flee +to, if the world had been so ordered that a man could leave it like a +place of entertainment, Morris would have instantly resigned all further +claim on its rewards and pleasures, and, with inexpressible contentment, +ceased to be. As it was, one aim shone before him: he could get home. +Even as the sick dog crawls under the sofa, Morris could shut the door +of John Street and be alone. + +The dusk was falling when he drew near this place of refuge; and the +first thing that met his eyes was the figure of a man upon the step, +alternately plucking at the bell-handle and pounding on the panels. The +man had no hat, his clothes were hideous with filth, he had the air of a +hop-picker. Yet Morris knew him; it was John. + +The first impulse of flight was succeeded, in the elder brother’s +bosom, by the empty quiescence of despair. ‘What does it matter now?’ he +thought, and drawing forth his latchkey ascended the steps. + +John turned about; his face was ghastly with weariness and dirt and +fury; and as he recognized the head of his family, he drew in a long +rasping breath, and his eyes glittered. + +‘Open that door,’ he said, standing back. + +‘I am going to,’ said Morris, and added mentally, ‘He looks like +murder!’ + +The brothers passed into the hall, the door closed behind them; and +suddenly John seized Morris by the shoulders and shook him as a terrier +shakes a rat. ‘You mangy little cad,’ he said, ‘I’d serve you right to +smash your skull!’ And shook him again, so that his teeth rattled and +his head smote upon the wall. + +‘Don’t be violent, Johnny,’ said Morris. ‘It can’t do any good now.’ + +‘Shut your mouth,’ said John, ‘your time’s come to listen.’ + +He strode into the dining-room, fell into the easy-chair, and taking off +one of his burst walking-shoes, nursed for a while his foot like one in +agony. ‘I’m lame for life,’ he said. ‘What is there for dinner?’ + +‘Nothing, Johnny,’ said Morris. + +‘Nothing? What do you mean by that?’ enquired the Great Vance. ‘Don’t +set up your chat to me!’ + +‘I mean simply nothing,’ said his brother. ‘I have nothing to eat, and +nothing to buy it with. I’ve only had a cup of tea and a sandwich all +this day myself.’ + +‘Only a sandwich?’ sneered Vance. ‘I suppose YOU’RE going to complain +next. But you had better take care: I’ve had all I mean to take; and +I can tell you what it is, I mean to dine and to dine well. Take your +signets and sell them.’ + +‘I can’t today,’ objected Morris; ‘it’s Sunday.’ + +‘I tell you I’m going to dine!’ cried the younger brother. + +‘But if it’s not possible, Johnny?’ pleaded the other. + +‘You nincompoop!’ cried Vance. ‘Ain’t we householders? Don’t they know +us at that hotel where Uncle Parker used to come. Be off with you; and +if you ain’t back in half an hour, and if the dinner ain’t good, first +I’ll lick you till you don’t want to breathe, and then I’ll go straight +to the police and blow the gaff. Do you understand that, Morris +Finsbury? Because if you do, you had better jump.’ + +The idea smiled even upon the wretched Morris, who was sick with famine. +He sped upon his errand, and returned to find John still nursing his +foot in the armchair. + +‘What would you like to drink, Johnny?’ he enquired soothingly. + +‘Fizz,’ said John. ‘Some of the poppy stuff from the end bin; a bottle +of the old port that Michael liked, to follow; and see and don’t shake +the port. And look here, light the fire--and the gas, and draw down the +blinds; it’s cold and it’s getting dark. And then you can lay the cloth. +And, I say--here, you! bring me down some clothes.’ + +The room looked comparatively habitable by the time the dinner came; and +the dinner itself was good: strong gravy soup, fillets of sole, mutton +chops and tomato sauce, roast beef done rare with roast potatoes, +cabinet pudding, a piece of Chester cheese, and some early celery: a +meal uncompromisingly British, but supporting. + +‘Thank God!’ said John, his nostrils sniffing wide, surprised by joy +into the unwonted formality of grace. ‘Now I’m going to take this chair +with my back to the fire--there’s been a strong frost these two last +nights, and I can’t get it out of my bones; the celery will be just the +ticket--I’m going to sit here, and you are going to stand there, Morris +Finsbury, and play butler.’ + +‘But, Johnny, I’m so hungry myself,’ pleaded Morris. + +‘You can have what I leave,’ said Vance. ‘You’re just beginning to +pay your score, my daisy; I owe you one-pound-ten; don’t you rouse the +British lion!’ There was something indescribably menacing in the face +and voice of the Great Vance as he uttered these words, at which the +soul of Morris withered. ‘There!’ resumed the feaster, ‘give us a glass +of the fizz to start with. Gravy soup! And I thought I didn’t like gravy +soup! Do you know how I got here?’ he asked, with another explosion of +wrath. + +‘No, Johnny; how could I?’ said the obsequious Morris. + +‘I walked on my ten toes!’ cried John; ‘tramped the whole way from +Browndean; and begged! I would like to see you beg. It’s not so easy +as you might suppose. I played it on being a shipwrecked mariner from +Blyth; I don’t know where Blyth is, do you? but I thought it sounded +natural. I begged from a little beast of a schoolboy, and he forked out +a bit of twine, and asked me to make a clove hitch; I did, too, I know I +did, but he said it wasn’t, he said it was a granny’s knot, and I was a +what-d’ye-call-’em, and he would give me in charge. Then I begged from +a naval officer--he never bothered me with knots, but he only gave me +a tract; there’s a nice account of the British navy!--and then from a +widow woman that sold lollipops, and I got a hunch of bread from her. +Another party I fell in with said you could generally always get bread; +and the thing to do was to break a plateglass window and get into gaol; +seemed rather a brilliant scheme. Pass the beef.’ + +‘Why didn’t you stay at Browndean?’ Morris ventured to enquire. + +‘Skittles!’ said John. ‘On what? The Pink Un and a measly religious +paper? I had to leave Browndean; I had to, I tell you. I got tick at +a public, and set up to be the Great Vance; so would you, if you were +leading such a beastly existence! And a card stood me a lot of ale and +stuff, and we got swipey, talking about music-halls and the piles of tin +I got for singing; and then they got me on to sing “Around her splendid +form I weaved the magic circle,” and then he said I couldn’t be Vance, +and I stuck to it like grim death I was. It was rot of me to sing, of +course, but I thought I could brazen it out with a set of yokels. It +settled my hash at the public,’ said John, with a sigh. ‘And then the +last thing was the carpenter--’ + +‘Our landlord?’ enquired Morris. + +‘That’s the party,’ said John. ‘He came nosing about the place, and then +wanted to know where the water-butt was, and the bedclothes. I told him +to go to the devil; so would you too, when there was no possible thing +to say! And then he said I had pawned them, and did I know it was +felony? Then I made a pretty neat stroke. I remembered he was deaf, and +talked a whole lot of rot, very politely, just so low he couldn’t hear +a word. “I don’t hear you,” says he. “I know you don’t, my buck, and I +don’t mean you to,” says I, smiling away like a haberdasher. “I’m hard +of hearing,” he roars. “I’d be in a pretty hot corner if you weren’t,” + says I, making signs as if I was explaining everything. It was tip-top +as long as it lasted. “Well,” he said, “I’m deaf, worse luck, but I +bet the constable can hear you.” And off he started one way, and I the +other. They got a spirit-lamp and the Pink Un, and that old religious +paper, and another periodical you sent me. I think you must have been +drunk--it had a name like one of those spots that Uncle Joseph used to +hold forth at, and it was all full of the most awful swipes about poetry +and the use of the globes. It was the kind of thing that nobody could +read out of a lunatic asylum. The Athaeneum, that was the name! Golly, +what a paper!’ + +‘Athenaeum, you mean,’ said Morris. + +‘I don’t care what you call it,’ said John, ‘so as I don’t require to +take it in! There, I feel better. Now I’m going to sit by the fire in +the easy-chair; pass me the cheese, and the celery, and the bottle of +port--no, a champagne glass, it holds more. And now you can pitch in; +there’s some of the fish left and a chop, and some fizz. Ah,’ sighed the +refreshed pedestrian, ‘Michael was right about that port; there’s old +and vatted for you! Michael’s a man I like; he’s clever and reads books, +and the Athaeneum, and all that; but he’s not dreary to meet, he don’t +talk Athaeneum like the other parties; why, the most of them would throw +a blight over a skittle alley! Talking of Michael, I ain’t bored myself +to put the question, because of course I knew it from the first. You’ve +made a hash of it, eh?’ + +‘Michael made a hash of it,’ said Morris, flushing dark. + +‘What have we got to do with that?’ enquired John. + +‘He has lost the body, that’s what we have to do with it,’ cried Morris. +‘He has lost the body, and the death can’t be established.’ + +‘Hold on,’ said John. ‘I thought you didn’t want to?’ + +‘O, we’re far past that,’ said his brother. ‘It’s not the tontine now, +it’s the leather business, Johnny; it’s the clothes upon our back.’ + +‘Stow the slow music,’ said John, ‘and tell your story from beginning to +end.’ Morris did as he was bid. + +‘Well, now, what did I tell you?’ cried the Great Vance, when the other +had done. ‘But I know one thing: I’m not going to be humbugged out of my +property.’ + +‘I should like to know what you mean to do,’ said Morris. + +‘I’ll tell you that,’ responded John with extreme decision. ‘I’m going +to put my interests in the hands of the smartest lawyer in London; and +whether you go to quod or not is a matter of indifference to me.’ + +‘Why, Johnny, we’re in the same boat!’ expostulated Morris. + +‘Are we?’ cried his brother. ‘I bet we’re not! Have I committed forgery? +have I lied about Uncle Joseph? have I put idiotic advertisements in the +comic papers? have I smashed other people’s statues? I like your cheek, +Morris Finsbury. No, I’ve let you run my affairs too long; now they +shall go to Michael. I like Michael, anyway; and it’s time I understood +my situation.’ + +At this moment the brethren were interrupted by a ring at the bell, +and Morris, going timorously to the door, received from the hands of a +commissionaire a letter addressed in the hand of Michael. Its contents +ran as follows: + +MORRIS FINSBURY, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of +SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at my office, in Chancery Lane, at 10 A.M. +tomorrow. + +MICHAEL FINSBURY + + +So utter was Morris’s subjection that he did not wait to be asked, but +handed the note to John as soon as he had glanced at it himself. + +‘That’s the way to write a letter,’ cried John. ‘Nobody but Michael +could have written that.’ + +And Morris did not even claim the credit of priority. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. Final Adjustment of the Leather Business + +Finsbury brothers were ushered, at ten the next morning, into a large +apartment in Michael’s office; the Great Vance, somewhat restored from +yesterday’s exhaustion, but with one foot in a slipper; Morris, not +positively damaged, but a man ten years older than he who had left +Bournemouth eight days before, his face ploughed full of anxious +wrinkles, his dark hair liberally grizzled at the temples. + +Three persons were seated at a table to receive them: Michael in +the midst, Gideon Forsyth on his right hand, on his left an ancient +gentleman with spectacles and silver hair. ‘By Jingo, it’s Uncle Joe!’ +cried John. + +But Morris approached his uncle with a pale countenance and glittering +eyes. + +‘I’ll tell you what you did!’ he cried. ‘You absconded!’ + +‘Good morning, Morris Finsbury,’ returned Joseph, with no less asperity; +‘you are looking seriously ill.’ + +‘No use making trouble now,’ remarked Michael. ‘Look the facts in the +face. Your uncle, as you see, was not so much as shaken in the accident; +a man of your humane disposition ought to be delighted.’ + +‘Then, if that’s so,’ Morris broke forth, ‘how about the body? You don’t +mean to insinuate that thing I schemed and sweated for, and colported +with my own hands, was the body of a total stranger?’ + +‘O no, we can’t go as far as that,’ said Michael soothingly; ‘you may +have met him at the club.’ + +Morris fell into a chair. ‘I would have found it out if it had come to +the house,’ he complained. ‘And why didn’t it? why did it go to Pitman? +what right had Pitman to open it?’ + +‘If you come to that, Morris, what have you done with the colossal +Hercules?’ asked Michael. + +‘He went through it with the meat-axe,’ said John. ‘It’s all in +spillikins in the back garden.’ + +‘Well, there’s one thing,’ snapped Morris; ‘there’s my uncle again, my +fraudulent trustee. He’s mine, anyway. And the tontine too. I claim the +tontine; I claim it now. I believe Uncle Masterman’s dead.’ + +‘I must put a stop to this nonsense,’ said Michael, ‘and that for ever. +You say too near the truth. In one sense your uncle is dead, and has +been so long; but not in the sense of the tontine, which it is even on +the cards he may yet live to win. Uncle Joseph saw him this morning; he +will tell you he still lives, but his mind is in abeyance.’ + +‘He did not know me,’ said Joseph; to do him justice, not without +emotion. + +‘So you’re out again there, Morris,’ said John. ‘My eye! what a fool +you’ve made of yourself!’ + +‘And that was why you wouldn’t compromise,’ said Morris. + +‘As for the absurd position in which you and Uncle Joseph have been +making yourselves an exhibition,’ resumed Michael, ‘it is more than time +it came to an end. I have prepared a proper discharge in full, which you +shall sign as a preliminary.’ + +‘What?’ cried Morris, ‘and lose my seven thousand eight hundred pounds, +and the leather business, and the contingent interest, and get nothing? +Thank you.’ + +‘It’s like you to feel gratitude, Morris,’ began Michael. + +‘O, I know it’s no good appealing to you, you sneering devil!’ cried +Morris. ‘But there’s a stranger present, I can’t think why, and I appeal +to him. I was robbed of that money when I was an orphan, a mere child, +at a commercial academy. Since then, I’ve never had a wish but to get +back my own. You may hear a lot of stuff about me; and there’s no doubt +at times I have been ill-advised. But it’s the pathos of my situation; +that’s what I want to show you.’ + +‘Morris,’ interrupted Michael, ‘I do wish you would let me add one +point, for I think it will affect your judgement. It’s pathetic too +since that’s your taste in literature.’ + +‘Well, what is it?’ said Morris. + +‘It’s only the name of one of the persons who’s to witness your +signature, Morris,’ replied Michael. ‘His name’s Moss, my dear.’ + +There was a long silence. ‘I might have been sure it was you!’ cried +Morris. + +‘You’ll sign, won’t you?’ said Michael. + +‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ cried Morris. ‘You’re compounding a +felony.’ + +‘Very well, then, we won’t compound it, Morris,’ returned Michael. ‘See +how little I understood the sterling integrity of your character! I +thought you would prefer it so.’ + +‘Look here, Michael,’ said John, ‘this is all very fine and large; but +how about me? Morris is gone up, I see that; but I’m not. And I was +robbed, too, mind you; and just as much an orphan, and at the blessed +same academy as himself.’ + +‘Johnny,’ said Michael, ‘don’t you think you’d better leave it to me?’ + +‘I’m your man,’ said John. ‘You wouldn’t deceive a poor orphan, I’ll +take my oath. Morris, you sign that document, or I’ll start in and +astonish your weak mind.’ + +With a sudden alacrity, Morris proffered his willingness. Clerks were +brought in, the discharge was executed, and there was Joseph a free man +once more. + +‘And now,’ said Michael, ‘hear what I propose to do. Here, John +and Morris, is the leather business made over to the pair of you in +partnership. I have valued it at the lowest possible figure, Pogram and +Jarris’s. And here is a cheque for the balance of your fortune. Now, you +see, Morris, you start fresh from the commercial academy; and, as you +said yourself the leather business was looking up, I suppose you’ll +probably marry before long. Here’s your marriage present--from a Mr +Moss.’ + +Morris bounded on his cheque with a crimsoned countenance. + +‘I don’t understand the performance,’ remarked John. ‘It seems too good +to be true.’ + +‘It’s simply a readjustment,’ Michael explained. ‘I take up Uncle +Joseph’s liabilities; and if he gets the tontine, it’s to be mine; if +my father gets it, it’s mine anyway, you see. So that I’m rather +advantageously placed.’ + +‘Morris, my unconverted friend, you’ve got left,’ was John’s comment. + +‘And now, Mr Forsyth,’ resumed Michael, turning to his silent guest, +‘here are all the criminals before you, except Pitman. I really didn’t +like to interrupt his scholastic career; but you can have him arrested +at the seminary--I know his hours. Here we are then; we’re not pretty to +look at: what do you propose to do with us?’ + +‘Nothing in the world, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Gideon. ‘I seem to +understand that this gentleman’---indicating Morris--‘is the fons et +origo of the trouble; and, from what I gather, he has already paid +through the nose. And really, to be quite frank, I do not see who is to +gain by any scandal; not me, at least. And besides, I have to thank you +for that brief.’ + +Michael blushed. ‘It was the least I could do to let you have some +business,’ he said. ‘But there’s one thing more. I don’t want you to +misjudge poor Pitman, who is the most harmless being upon earth. I +wish you would dine with me tonight, and see the creature on his native +heath--say at Verrey’s?’ + +‘I have no engagement, Mr Finsbury,’ replied Gideon. ‘I shall be +delighted. But subject to your judgement, can we do nothing for the man +in the cart? I have qualms of conscience.’ + +‘Nothing but sympathize,’ said Michael. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wrong Box, by +Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WRONG BOX *** + +***** This file should be named 1585-0.txt or 1585-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/8/1585/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/2021-01-27/1585-h/1585-h.htm b/old/2021-01-27/1585-h/1585-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d776ee4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2021-01-27/1585-h/1585-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8491 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Wrong Box, by Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wrong Box, by +Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wrong Box + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + +Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #1585] +Last Updated: September 14, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WRONG BOX *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE WRONG BOX + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON<br /> and<br /> LLOYD OSBOURNE + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h4> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </h4> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + In Which Morris Suspects + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + In Which Morris takes Action + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Lecturer at Large + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Magistrate in the Luggage Van + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + Mr Gideon Forsyth and the Gigantic Box + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Tribulations of Morris: Part the First + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + In Which William Dent Pitman takes Legal Advice + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + In Which Michael Finsbury Enjoys a Holiday + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + Glorious Conclusion of Michael Finsbury’s Holiday + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + Gideon Forsyth and the Broadwood Grand + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Maestro Jimson + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + Positively the Last Appearance of the Broadwood Grand + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Tribulations of Morris: Part the Second + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + William Bent Pitman Hears of Something to his Advantage + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Return of the Great Vance + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + Final Adjustment of the Leather Business + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + ‘Nothing like a little judicious levity,’ says Michael Finsbury in the + text: nor can any better excuse be found for the volume in the reader’s + hand. The authors can but add that one of them is old enough to be ashamed + of himself, and the other young enough to learn better. + </p> + <p> + R. L. S. L. O. <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. In Which Morris Suspects + </h2> + <p> + How very little does the amateur, dwelling at home at ease, comprehend the + labours and perils of the author, and, when he smilingly skims the surface + of a work of fiction, how little does he consider the hours of toil, + consultation of authorities, researches in the Bodleian, correspondence + with learned and illegible Germans—in one word, the vast scaffolding + that was first built up and then knocked down, to while away an hour for + him in a railway train! Thus I might begin this tale with a biography of + Tonti—birthplace, parentage, genius probably inherited from his + mother, remarkable instance of precocity, etc—and a complete + treatise on the system to which he bequeathed his name. The material is + all beside me in a pigeon-hole, but I scorn to appear vainglorious. Tonti + is dead, and I never saw anyone who even pretended to regret him; and, as + for the tontine system, a word will suffice for all the purposes of this + unvarnished narrative. + </p> + <p> + A number of sprightly youths (the more the merrier) put up a certain sum + of money, which is then funded in a pool under trustees; coming on for a + century later, the proceeds are fluttered for a moment in the face of the + last survivor, who is probably deaf, so that he cannot even hear of his + success—and who is certainly dying, so that he might just as well + have lost. The peculiar poetry and even humour of the scheme is now + apparent, since it is one by which nobody concerned can possibly profit; + but its fine, sportsmanlike character endeared it to our grandparents. + </p> + <p> + When Joseph Finsbury and his brother Masterman were little lads in + white-frilled trousers, their father—a well-to-do merchant in + Cheapside—caused them to join a small but rich tontine of + seven-and-thirty lives. A thousand pounds was the entrance fee; and Joseph + Finsbury can remember to this day the visit to the lawyer’s, where the + members of the tontine—all children like himself—were + assembled together, and sat in turn in the big office chair, and signed + their names with the assistance of a kind old gentleman in spectacles and + Wellington boots. He remembers playing with the children afterwards on the + lawn at the back of the lawyer’s house, and a battle-royal that he had + with a brother tontiner who had kicked his shins. The sound of war called + forth the lawyer from where he was dispensing cake and wine to the + assembled parents in the office, and the combatants were separated, and + Joseph’s spirit (for he was the smaller of the two) commended by the + gentleman in the Wellington boots, who vowed he had been just such another + at the same age. Joseph wondered to himself if he had worn at that time + little Wellingtons and a little bald head, and when, in bed at night, he + grew tired of telling himself stories of sea-fights, he used to dress + himself up as the old gentleman, and entertain other little boys and girls + with cake and wine. + </p> + <p> + In the year 1840 the thirty-seven were all alive; in 1850 their number had + decreased by six; in 1856 and 1857 business was more lively, for the + Crimea and the Mutiny carried off no less than nine. There remained in + 1870 but five of the original members, and at the date of my story, + including the two Finsburys, but three. + </p> + <p> + By this time Masterman was in his seventy-third year; he had long + complained of the effects of age, had long since retired from business, + and now lived in absolute seclusion under the roof of his son Michael, the + well-known solicitor. Joseph, on the other hand, was still up and about, + and still presented but a semi-venerable figure on the streets in which he + loved to wander. This was the more to be deplored because Masterman had + led (even to the least particular) a model British life. Industry, + regularity, respectability, and a preference for the four per cents are + understood to be the very foundations of a green old age. All these + Masterman had eminently displayed, and here he was, ab agendo, at + seventy-three; while Joseph, barely two years younger, and in the most + excellent preservation, had disgraced himself through life by idleness and + eccentricity. Embarked in the leather trade, he had early wearied of + business, for which he was supposed to have small parts. A taste for + general information, not promptly checked, had soon begun to sap his + manhood. There is no passion more debilitating to the mind, unless, + perhaps, it be that itch of public speaking which it not infrequently + accompanies or begets. The two were conjoined in the case of Joseph; the + acute stage of this double malady, that in which the patient delivers + gratuitous lectures, soon declared itself with severity, and not many + years had passed over his head before he would have travelled thirty miles + to address an infant school. He was no student; his reading was confined + to elementary textbooks and the daily papers; he did not even fly as high + as cyclopedias; life, he would say, was his volume. His lectures were not + meant, he would declare, for college professors; they were addressed + direct to ‘the great heart of the people’, and the heart of the people + must certainly be sounder than its head, for his lucubrations were + received with favour. That entitled ‘How to Live Cheerfully on Forty + Pounds a Year’, created a sensation among the unemployed. ‘Education: Its + Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability’, gained him the respect of the + shallow-minded. As for his celebrated essay on ‘Life Insurance Regarded in + its Relation to the Masses’, read before the Working Men’s Mutual + Improvement Society, Isle of Dogs, it was received with a ‘literal + ovation’ by an unintelligent audience of both sexes, and so marked was the + effect that he was next year elected honorary president of the + institution, an office of less than no emolument—since the holder + was expected to come down with a donation—but one which highly + satisfied his self-esteem. + </p> + <p> + While Joseph was thus building himself up a reputation among the more + cultivated portion of the ignorant, his domestic life was suddenly + overwhelmed by orphans. The death of his younger brother Jacob saddled him + with the charge of two boys, Morris and John; and in the course of the + same year his family was still further swelled by the addition of a little + girl, the daughter of John Henry Hazeltine, Esq., a gentleman of small + property and fewer friends. He had met Joseph only once, at a lecture-hall + in Holloway; but from that formative experience he returned home to make a + new will, and consign his daughter and her fortune to the lecturer. Joseph + had a kindly disposition; and yet it was not without reluctance that he + accepted this new responsibility, advertised for a nurse, and purchased a + second-hand perambulator. Morris and John he made more readily welcome; + not so much because of the tie of consanguinity as because the leather + business (in which he hastened to invest their fortune of thirty thousand + pounds) had recently exhibited inexplicable symptoms of decline. A young + but capable Scot was chosen as manager to the enterprise, and the cares of + business never again afflicted Joseph Finsbury. Leaving his charges in the + hands of the capable Scot (who was married), he began his extensive + travels on the Continent and in Asia Minor. + </p> + <p> + With a polyglot Testament in one hand and a phrase-book in the other, he + groped his way among the speakers of eleven European languages. The first + of these guides is hardly applicable to the purposes of the philosophic + traveller, and even the second is designed more expressly for the tourist + than for the expert in life. But he pressed interpreters into his service—whenever + he could get their services for nothing—and by one means and another + filled many notebooks with the results of his researches. + </p> + <p> + In these wanderings he spent several years, and only returned to England + when the increasing age of his charges needed his attention. The two lads + had been placed in a good but economical school, where they had received a + sound commercial education; which was somewhat awkward, as the leather + business was by no means in a state to court enquiry. In fact, when Joseph + went over his accounts preparatory to surrendering his trust, he was + dismayed to discover that his brother’s fortune had not increased by his + stewardship; even by making over to his two wards every penny he had in + the world, there would still be a deficit of seven thousand eight hundred + pounds. When these facts were communicated to the two brothers in the + presence of a lawyer, Morris Finsbury threatened his uncle with all the + terrors of the law, and was only prevented from taking extreme steps by + the advice of the professional man. ‘You cannot get blood from a stone,’ + observed the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + And Morris saw the point and came to terms with his uncle. On the one + side, Joseph gave up all that he possessed, and assigned to his nephew his + contingent interest in the tontine, already quite a hopeful speculation. + On the other, Morris agreed to harbour his uncle and Miss Hazeltine (who + had come to grief with the rest), and to pay to each of them one pound a + month as pocket-money. The allowance was amply sufficient for the old man; + it scarce appears how Miss Hazeltine contrived to dress upon it; but she + did, and, what is more, she never complained. She was, indeed, sincerely + attached to her incompetent guardian. He had never been unkind; his age + spoke for him loudly; there was something appealing in his whole-souled + quest of knowledge and innocent delight in the smallest mark of + admiration; and, though the lawyer had warned her she was being + sacrificed, Julia had refused to add to the perplexities of Uncle Joseph. + </p> + <p> + In a large, dreary house in John Street, Bloomsbury, these four dwelt + together; a family in appearance, in reality a financial association. + Julia and Uncle Joseph were, of course, slaves; John, a gentle man with a + taste for the banjo, the music-hall, the Gaiety bar, and the sporting + papers, must have been anywhere a secondary figure; and the cares and + delights of empire devolved entirely upon Morris. That these are + inextricably intermixed is one of the commonplaces with which the bland + essayist consoles the incompetent and the obscure, but in the case of + Morris the bitter must have largely outweighed the sweet. He grudged no + trouble to himself, he spared none to others; he called the servants in + the morning, he served out the stores with his own hand, he took soundings + of the sherry, he numbered the remainder biscuits; painful scenes took + place over the weekly bills, and the cook was frequently impeached, and + the tradespeople came and hectored with him in the back parlour upon a + question of three farthings. The superficial might have deemed him a + miser; in his own eyes he was simply a man who had been defrauded; the + world owed him seven thousand eight hundred pounds, and he intended that + the world should pay. + </p> + <p> + But it was in his dealings with Joseph that Morris’s character + particularly shone. His uncle was a rather gambling stock in which he had + invested heavily; and he spared no pains in nursing the security. The old + man was seen monthly by a physician, whether he was well or ill. His diet, + his raiment, his occasional outings, now to Brighton, now to Bournemouth, + were doled out to him like pap to infants. In bad weather he must keep the + house. In good weather, by half-past nine, he must be ready in the hall; + Morris would see that he had gloves and that his shoes were sound; and the + pair would start for the leather business arm in arm. The way there was + probably dreary enough, for there was no pretence of friendly feeling; + Morris had never ceased to upbraid his guardian with his defalcation and + to lament the burthen of Miss Hazeltine; and Joseph, though he was a mild + enough soul, regarded his nephew with something very near akin to hatred. + But the way there was nothing to the journey back; for the mere sight of + the place of business, as well as every detail of its transactions, was + enough to poison life for any Finsbury. + </p> + <p> + Joseph’s name was still over the door; it was he who still signed the + cheques; but this was only policy on the part of Morris, and designed to + discourage other members of the tontine. In reality the business was + entirely his; and he found it an inheritance of sorrows. He tried to sell + it, and the offers he received were quite derisory. He tried to extend it, + and it was only the liabilities he succeeded in extending; to restrict it, + and it was only the profits he managed to restrict. Nobody had ever made + money out of that concern except the capable Scot, who retired (after his + discharge) to the neighbourhood of Banff and built a castle with his + profits. The memory of this fallacious Caledonian Morris would revile + daily, as he sat in the private office opening his mail, with old Joseph + at another table, sullenly awaiting orders, or savagely affixing + signatures to he knew not what. And when the man of the heather pushed + cynicism so far as to send him the announcement of his second marriage (to + Davida, eldest daughter of the Revd. Alexander McCraw), it was really + supposed that Morris would have had a fit. + </p> + <p> + Business hours, in the Finsbury leather trade, had been cut to the quick; + even Morris’s strong sense of duty to himself was not strong enough to + dally within those walls and under the shadow of that bankruptcy; and + presently the manager and the clerks would draw a long breath, and compose + themselves for another day of procrastination. Raw Haste, on the authority + of my Lord Tennyson, is half-sister to Delay; but the Business Habits are + certainly her uncles. Meanwhile, the leather merchant would lead his + living investment back to John Street like a puppy dog; and, having there + immured him in the hall, would depart for the day on the quest of seal + rings, the only passion of his life. Joseph had more than the vanity of + man, he had that of lecturers. He owned he was in fault, although more + sinned against (by the capable Scot) than sinning; but had he steeped his + hands in gore, he would still not deserve to be thus dragged at the + chariot-wheels of a young man, to sit a captive in the halls of his own + leather business, to be entertained with mortifying comments on his whole + career—to have his costume examined, his collar pulled up, the + presence of his mittens verified, and to be taken out and brought home in + custody, like an infant with a nurse. At the thought of it his soul would + swell with venom, and he would make haste to hang up his hat and coat and + the detested mittens, and slink upstairs to Julia and his notebooks. The + drawing-room at least was sacred from Morris; it belonged to the old man + and the young girl; it was there that she made her dresses; it was there + that he inked his spectacles over the registration of disconnected facts + and the calculation of insignificant statistics. + </p> + <p> + Here he would sometimes lament his connection with the tontine. ‘If it + were not for that,’ he cried one afternoon, ‘he would not care to keep me. + I might be a free man, Julia. And I could so easily support myself by + giving lectures.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To be sure you could,’ said she; ‘and I think it one of the meanest + things he ever did to deprive you of that amusement. There were those nice + people at the Isle of Cats (wasn’t it?) who wrote and asked you so very + kindly to give them an address. I did think he might have let you go to + the Isle of Cats.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is a man of no intelligence,’ cried Joseph. ‘He lives here literally + surrounded by the absorbing spectacle of life, and for all the good it + does him, he might just as well be in his coffin. Think of his + opportunities! The heart of any other young man would burn within him at + the chance. The amount of information that I have it in my power to + convey, if he would only listen, is a thing that beggars language, Julia.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whatever you do, my dear, you mustn’t excite yourself,’ said Julia; ‘for + you know, if you look at all ill, the doctor will be sent for.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very true,’ returned the old man humbly, ‘I will compose myself + with a little study.’ He thumbed his gallery of notebooks. ‘I wonder,’ he + said, ‘I wonder (since I see your hands are occupied) whether it might not + interest you—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, of course it would,’ cried Julia. ‘Read me one of your nice stories, + there’s a dear.’ + </p> + <p> + He had the volume down and his spectacles upon his nose instanter, as + though to forestall some possible retractation. ‘What I propose to read to + you,’ said he, skimming through the pages, ‘is the notes of a highly + important conversation with a Dutch courier of the name of David Abbas, + which is the Latin for abbot. Its results are well worth the money it cost + me, for, as Abbas at first appeared somewhat impatient, I was induced to + (what is, I believe, singularly called) stand him drink. It runs only to + about five-and-twenty pages. Yes, here it is.’ He cleared his throat, and + began to read. + </p> + <p> + Mr Finsbury (according to his own report) contributed about four hundred + and ninety-nine five-hundredths of the interview, and elicited from Abbas + literally nothing. It was dull for Julia, who did not require to listen; + for the Dutch courier, who had to answer, it must have been a perfect + nightmare. It would seem as if he had consoled himself by frequent + appliances to the bottle; it would even seem that (toward the end) he had + ceased to depend on Joseph’s frugal generosity and called for the flagon + on his own account. The effect, at least, of some mellowing influence was + visible in the record: Abbas became suddenly a willing witness; he began + to volunteer disclosures; and Julia had just looked up from her seam with + something like a smile, when Morris burst into the house, eagerly calling + for his uncle, and the next instant plunged into the room, waving in the + air the evening paper. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed with great news that he came charged. The demise was + announced of Lieutenant-General Sir Glasgow Biggar, KCSI, KCMG, etc., and + the prize of the tontine now lay between the Finsbury brothers. Here was + Morris’s opportunity at last. The brothers had never, it is true, been + cordial. When word came that Joseph was in Asia Minor, Masterman had + expressed himself with irritation. ‘I call it simply indecent,’ he had + said. ‘Mark my words—we shall hear of him next at the North Pole.’ + And these bitter expressions had been reported to the traveller on his + return. What was worse, Masterman had refused to attend the lecture on + ‘Education: Its Aims, Objects, Purposes, and Desirability’, although + invited to the platform. Since then the brothers had not met. On the other + hand, they never had openly quarrelled; Joseph (by Morris’s orders) was + prepared to waive the advantage of his juniority; Masterman had enjoyed + all through life the reputation of a man neither greedy nor unfair. Here, + then, were all the elements of compromise assembled; and Morris, suddenly + beholding his seven thousand eight hundred pounds restored to him, and + himself dismissed from the vicissitudes of the leather trade, hastened the + next morning to the office of his cousin Michael. + </p> + <p> + Michael was something of a public character. Launched upon the law at a + very early age, and quite without protectors, he had become a trafficker + in shady affairs. He was known to be the man for a lost cause; it was + known he could extract testimony from a stone, and interest from a + gold-mine; and his office was besieged in consequence by all that numerous + class of persons who have still some reputation to lose, and find + themselves upon the point of losing it; by those who have made undesirable + acquaintances, who have mislaid a compromising correspondence, or who are + blackmailed by their own butlers. In private life Michael was a man of + pleasure; but it was thought his dire experience at the office had gone + far to sober him, and it was known that (in the matter of investments) he + preferred the solid to the brilliant. What was yet more to the purpose, he + had been all his life a consistent scoffer at the Finsbury tontine. + </p> + <p> + It was therefore with little fear for the result that Morris presented + himself before his cousin, and proceeded feverishly to set forth his + scheme. For near upon a quarter of an hour the lawyer suffered him to + dwell upon its manifest advantages uninterrupted. Then Michael rose from + his seat, and, ringing for his clerk, uttered a single clause: ‘It won’t + do, Morris.’ + </p> + <p> + It was in vain that the leather merchant pleaded and reasoned, and + returned day after day to plead and reason. It was in vain that he offered + a bonus of one thousand, of two thousand, of three thousand pounds; in + vain that he offered, in Joseph’s name, to be content with only one-third + of the pool. Still there came the same answer: ‘It won’t do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t see the bottom of this,’ he said at last. ‘You answer none of my + arguments; you haven’t a word to say. For my part, I believe it’s malice.’ + </p> + <p> + The lawyer smiled at him benignly. ‘You may believe one thing,’ said he. + ‘Whatever else I do, I am not going to gratify any of your curiosity. You + see I am a trifle more communicative today, because this is our last + interview upon the subject.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Our last interview!’ cried Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘The stirrup-cup, dear boy,’ returned Michael. ‘I can’t have my business + hours encroached upon. And, by the by, have you no business of your own? + Are there no convulsions in the leather trade?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe it to be malice,’ repeated Morris doggedly. ‘You always hated + and despised me from a boy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no—not hated,’ returned Michael soothingly. ‘I rather like you + than otherwise; there’s such a permanent surprise about you, you look so + dark and attractive from a distance. Do you know that to the naked eye you + look romantic?—like what they call a man with a history? And indeed, + from all that I can hear, the history of the leather trade is full of + incident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Morris, disregarding these remarks, ‘it’s no use coming here. + I shall see your father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O no, you won’t,’ said Michael. ‘Nobody shall see my father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like to know why,’ cried his cousin. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never make any secret of that,’ replied the lawyer. ‘He is too ill.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If he is as ill as you say,’ cried the other, ‘the more reason for + accepting my proposal. I will see him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you?’ said Michael, and he rose and rang for his clerk. + </p> + <p> + It was now time, according to Sir Faraday Bond, the medical baronet whose + name is so familiar at the foot of bulletins, that Joseph (the poor Golden + Goose) should be removed into the purer air of Bournemouth; and for that + uncharted wilderness of villas the family now shook off the dust of + Bloomsbury; Julia delighted, because at Bournemouth she sometimes made + acquaintances; John in despair, for he was a man of city tastes; Joseph + indifferent where he was, so long as there was pen and ink and daily + papers, and he could avoid martyrdom at the office; Morris himself, + perhaps, not displeased to pretermit these visits to the city, and have a + quiet time for thought. He was prepared for any sacrifice; all he desired + was to get his money again and clear his feet of leather; and it would be + strange, since he was so modest in his desires, and the pool amounted to + upward of a hundred and sixteen thousand pounds—it would be strange + indeed if he could find no way of influencing Michael. ‘If I could only + guess his reason,’ he repeated to himself; and by day, as he walked in + Branksome Woods, and by night, as he turned upon his bed, and at + meal-times, when he forgot to eat, and in the bathing machine, when he + forgot to dress himself, that problem was constantly before him: Why had + Michael refused? + </p> + <p> + At last, one night, he burst into his brother’s room and woke him. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s all this?’ asked John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Julia leaves this place tomorrow,’ replied Morris. ‘She must go up to + town and get the house ready, and find servants. We shall all follow in + three days.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, brayvo!’ cried John. ‘But why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve found it out, John,’ returned his brother gently. + </p> + <p> + ‘It? What?’ enquired John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why Michael won’t compromise,’ said Morris. ‘It’s because he can’t. It’s + because Masterman’s dead, and he’s keeping it dark.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Golly!’ cried the impressionable John. ‘But what’s the use? Why does he + do it, anyway?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To defraud us of the tontine,’ said his brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘He couldn’t; you have to have a doctor’s certificate,’ objected John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you never hear of venal doctors?’ enquired Morris. ‘They’re as common + as blackberries: you can pick ‘em up for three-pound-ten a head.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wouldn’t do it under fifty if I were a sawbones,’ ejaculated John. + </p> + <p> + ‘And then Michael,’ continued Morris, ‘is in the very thick of it. All his + clients have come to grief; his whole business is rotten eggs. If any man + could arrange it, he could; and depend upon it, he has his plan all + straight; and depend upon it, it’s a good one, for he’s clever, and be + damned to him! But I’m clever too; and I’m desperate. I lost seven + thousand eight hundred pounds when I was an orphan at school.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, don’t be tedious,’ interrupted John. ‘You’ve lost far more already + trying to get it back.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. In Which Morris takes Action + </h2> + <p> + Some days later, accordingly, the three males of this depressing family + might have been observed (by a reader of G. P. R. James) taking their + departure from the East Station of Bournemouth. The weather was raw and + changeable, and Joseph was arrayed in consequence according to the + principles of Sir Faraday Bond, a man no less strict (as is well known) on + costume than on diet. There are few polite invalids who have not lived, or + tried to live, by that punctilious physician’s orders. ‘Avoid tea, madam,’ + the reader has doubtless heard him say, ‘avoid tea, fried liver, + antimonial wine, and bakers’ bread. Retire nightly at 10.45; and clothe + yourself (if you please) throughout in hygienic flannel. Externally, the + fur of the marten is indicated. Do not forget to procure a pair of health + boots at Messrs Dail and Crumbie’s.’ And he has probably called you back, + even after you have paid your fee, to add with stentorian emphasis: ‘I had + forgotten one caution: avoid kippered sturgeon as you would the very + devil.’ The unfortunate Joseph was cut to the pattern of Sir Faraday in + every button; he was shod with the health boot; his suit was of genuine + ventilating cloth; his shirt of hygienic flannel, a somewhat dingy fabric; + and he was draped to the knees in the inevitable greatcoat of marten’s + fur. The very railway porters at Bournemouth (which was a favourite + station of the doctor’s) marked the old gentleman for a creature of Sir + Faraday. There was but one evidence of personal taste, a vizarded forage + cap; from this form of headpiece, since he had fled from a dying jackal on + the plains of Ephesus, and weathered a bora in the Adriatic, nothing could + divorce our traveller. + </p> + <p> + The three Finsburys mounted into their compartment, and fell immediately + to quarrelling, a step unseemly in itself and (in this case) highly + unfortunate for Morris. Had he lingered a moment longer by the window, + this tale need never have been written. For he might then have observed + (as the porters did not fail to do) the arrival of a second passenger in + the uniform of Sir Faraday Bond. But he had other matters on hand, which + he judged (God knows how erroneously) to be more important. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never heard of such a thing,’ he cried, resuming a discussion which had + scarcely ceased all morning. ‘The bill is not yours; it is mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is payable to me,’ returned the old gentleman, with an air of bitter + obstinacy. ‘I will do what I please with my own property.’ + </p> + <p> + The bill was one for eight hundred pounds, which had been given him at + breakfast to endorse, and which he had simply pocketed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hear him, Johnny!’ cried Morris. ‘His property! the very clothes upon his + back belong to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let him alone,’ said John. ‘I am sick of both of you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is no way to speak of your uncle, sir,’ cried Joseph. ‘I will not + endure this disrespect. You are a pair of exceedingly forward, impudent, + and ignorant young men, and I have quite made up my mind to put an end to + the whole business.’. + </p> + <p> + ‘O skittles!’ said the graceful John. + </p> + <p> + But Morris was not so easy in his mind. This unusual act of + insubordination had already troubled him; and these mutinous words now + sounded ominously in his ears. He looked at the old gentleman uneasily. + Upon one occasion, many years before, when Joseph was delivering a + lecture, the audience had revolted in a body; finding their entertainer + somewhat dry, they had taken the question of amusement into their own + hands; and the lecturer (along with the board schoolmaster, the Baptist + clergyman, and a working-man’s candidate, who made up his bodyguard) was + ultimately driven from the scene. Morris had not been present on that + fatal day; if he had, he would have recognized a certain fighting glitter + in his uncle’s eye, and a certain chewing movement of his lips, as old + acquaintances. But even to the inexpert these symptoms breathed of + something dangerous. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ said Morris. ‘I have no wish to bother you further till we + get to London.’ + </p> + <p> + Joseph did not so much as look at him in answer; with tremulous hands he + produced a copy of the British Mechanic, and ostentatiously buried himself + in its perusal. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder what can make him so cantankerous?’ reflected the nephew. ‘I + don’t like the look of it at all.’ And he dubiously scratched his nose. + </p> + <p> + The train travelled forth into the world, bearing along with it the + customary freight of obliterated voyagers, and along with these old + Joseph, affecting immersion in his paper, and John slumbering over the + columns of the Pink Un, and Morris revolving in his mind a dozen grudges, + and suspicions, and alarms. It passed Christchurch by the sea, Herne with + its pinewoods, Ringwood on its mazy river. A little behind time, but not + much for the South-Western, it drew up at the platform of a station, in + the midst of the New Forest, the real name of which (in case the railway + company ‘might have the law of me’) I shall veil under the alias of + Browndean. + </p> + <p> + Many passengers put their heads to the window, and among the rest an old + gentleman on whom I willingly dwell, for I am nearly done with him now, + and (in the whole course of the present narrative) I am not in the least + likely to meet another character so decent. His name is immaterial, not so + his habits. He had passed his life wandering in a tweed suit on the + continent of Europe; and years of Galignani’s Messenger having at length + undermined his eyesight, he suddenly remembered the rivers of Assyria and + came to London to consult an oculist. From the oculist to the dentist, and + from both to the physician, the step appears inevitable; presently he was + in the hands of Sir Faraday, robed in ventilating cloth and sent to + Bournemouth; and to that domineering baronet (who was his only friend upon + his native soil) he was now returning to report. The case of these + tweedsuited wanderers is unique. We have all seen them entering the table + d’hote (at Spezzia, or Grdtz, or Venice) with a genteel melancholy and a + faint appearance of having been to India and not succeeded. In the offices + of many hundred hotels they are known by name; and yet, if the whole of + this wandering cohort were to disappear tomorrow, their absence would be + wholly unremarked. How much more, if only one—say this one in the + ventilating cloth—should vanish! He had paid his bills at + Bournemouth; his worldly effects were all in the van in two portmanteaux, + and these after the proper interval would be sold as unclaimed baggage to + a Jew; Sir Faraday’s butler would be a half-crown poorer at the year’s + end, and the hotelkeepers of Europe about the same date would be mourning + a small but quite observable decline in profits. And that would be + literally all. Perhaps the old gentleman thought something of the sort, + for he looked melancholy enough as he pulled his bare, grey head back into + the carriage, and the train smoked under the bridge, and forth, with ever + quickening speed, across the mingled heaths and woods of the New Forest. + </p> + <p> + Not many hundred yards beyond Browndean, however, a sudden jarring of + brakes set everybody’s teeth on edge, and there was a brutal stoppage. + Morris Finsbury was aware of a confused uproar of voices, and sprang to + the window. Women were screaming, men were tumbling from the windows on + the track, the guard was crying to them to stay where they were; at the + same time the train began to gather way and move very slowly backward + toward Browndean; and the next moment—, all these various sounds + were blotted out in the apocalyptic whistle and the thundering onslaught + of the down express. + </p> + <p> + The actual collision Morris did not hear. Perhaps he fainted. He had a + wild dream of having seen the carriage double up and fall to pieces like a + pantomime trick; and sure enough, when he came to himself, he was lying on + the bare earth and under the open sky. His head ached savagely; he carried + his hand to his brow, and was not surprised to see it red with blood. The + air was filled with an intolerable, throbbing roar, which he expected to + find die away with the return of consciousness; and instead of that it + seemed but to swell the louder and to pierce the more cruelly through his + ears. It was a raging, bellowing thunder, like a boiler-riveting factory. + </p> + <p> + And now curiosity began to stir, and he sat up and looked about him. The + track at this point ran in a sharp curve about a wooded hillock; all of + the near side was heaped with the wreckage of the Bournemouth train; that + of the express was mostly hidden by the trees; and just at the turn, under + clouds of vomiting steam and piled about with cairns of living coal, lay + what remained of the two engines, one upon the other. On the heathy margin + of the line were many people running to and fro, and crying aloud as they + ran, and many others lying motionless like sleeping tramps. + </p> + <p> + Morris suddenly drew an inference. ‘There has been an accident’ thought + he, and was elated at his perspicacity. Almost at the same time his eye + lighted on John, who lay close by as white as paper. ‘Poor old John! poor + old cove!’ he thought, the schoolboy expression popping forth from some + forgotten treasury, and he took his brother’s hand in his with childish + tenderness. It was perhaps the touch that recalled him; at least John + opened his eyes, sat suddenly up, and after several ineffectual movements + of his lips, ‘What’s the row?’ said he, in a phantom voice. + </p> + <p> + The din of that devil’s smithy still thundered in their ears. ‘Let us get + away from that,’ Morris cried, and pointed to the vomit of steam that + still spouted from the broken engines. And the pair helped each other up, + and stood and quaked and wavered and stared about them at the scene of + death. + </p> + <p> + Just then they were approached by a party of men who had already organized + themselves for the purposes of rescue. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you hurt?’ cried one of these, a young fellow with the sweat + streaming down his pallid face, and who, by the way he was treated, was + evidently the doctor. + </p> + <p> + Morris shook his head, and the young man, nodding grimly, handed him a + bottle of some spirit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Take a drink of that,’ he said; ‘your friend looks as if he needed it + badly. We want every man we can get,’ he added; ‘there’s terrible work + before us, and nobody should shirk. If you can do no more, you can carry a + stretcher.’ + </p> + <p> + The doctor was hardly gone before Morris, under the spur of the dram, + awoke to the full possession of his wits. + </p> + <p> + ‘My God!’ he cried. ‘Uncle Joseph!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said John, ‘where can he be? He can’t be far off. I hope the old + party isn’t damaged.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come and help me to look,’ said Morris, with a snap of savage + determination strangely foreign to his ordinary bearing; and then, for one + moment, he broke forth. ‘If he’s dead!’ he cried, and shook his fist at + heaven. + </p> + <p> + To and fro the brothers hurried, staring in the faces of the wounded, or + turning the dead upon their backs. They must have thus examined forty + people, and still there was no word of Uncle Joseph. But now the course of + their search brought them near the centre of the collision, where the + boilers were still blowing off steam with a deafening clamour. It was a + part of the field not yet gleaned by the rescuing party. The ground, + especially on the margin of the wood, was full of inequalities—here + a pit, there a hillock surmounted with a bush of furze. It was a place + where many bodies might lie concealed, and they beat it like pointers + after game. Suddenly Morris, who was leading, paused and reached forth his + index with a tragic gesture. John followed the direction of his brother’s + hand. + </p> + <p> + In the bottom of a sandy hole lay something that had once been human. The + face had suffered severely, and it was unrecognizable; but that was not + required. The snowy hair, the coat of marten, the ventilating cloth, the + hygienic flannel—everything down to the health boots from Messrs + Dail and Crumbie’s, identified the body as that of Uncle Joseph. Only the + forage cap must have been lost in the convulsion, for the dead man was + bareheaded. + </p> + <p> + ‘The poor old beggar!’ said John, with a touch of natural feeling; ‘I + would give ten pounds if we hadn’t chivvied him in the train!’ + </p> + <p> + But there was no sentiment in the face of Morris as he gazed upon the + dead. Gnawing his nails, with introverted eyes, his brow marked with the + stamp of tragic indignation and tragic intellectual effort, he stood there + silent. Here was a last injustice; he had been robbed while he was an + orphan at school, he had been lashed to a decadent leather business, he + had been saddled with Miss Hazeltine, his cousin had been defrauding him + of the tontine, and he had borne all this, we might almost say, with + dignity, and now they had gone and killed his uncle! + </p> + <p> + ‘Here!’ he said suddenly, ‘take his heels, we must get him into the woods. + I’m not going to have anybody find this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, fudge!’ said John, ‘where’s the use?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do what I tell you,’ spirted Morris, as he took the corpse by the + shoulders. ‘Am I to carry him myself?’ + </p> + <p> + They were close upon the borders of the wood; in ten or twelve paces they + were under cover; and a little further back, in a sandy clearing of the + trees, they laid their burthen down, and stood and looked at it with + loathing. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean to do?’ whispered John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bury him, to be sure,’ responded Morris, and he opened his pocket-knife + and began feverishly to dig. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll never make a hand of it with that,’ objected the other. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you won’t help me, you cowardly shirk,’ screamed Morris, ‘you can go + to the devil!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the childishest folly,’ said John; ‘but no man shall call me a + coward,’ and he began to help his brother grudgingly. + </p> + <p> + The soil was sandy and light, but matted with the roots of the surrounding + firs. Gorse tore their hands; and as they baled the sand from the grave, + it was often discoloured with their blood. An hour passed of unremitting + energy upon the part of Morris, of lukewarm help on that of John; and + still the trench was barely nine inches in depth. Into this the body was + rudely flung: sand was piled upon it, and then more sand must be dug, and + gorse had to be cut to pile on that; and still from one end of the sordid + mound a pair of feet projected and caught the light upon their + patent-leather toes. But by this time the nerves of both were shaken; even + Morris had enough of his grisly task; and they skulked off like animals + into the thickest of the neighbouring covert. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the best that we can do,’ said Morris, sitting down. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now,’ said John, ‘perhaps you’ll have the politeness to tell me what + it’s all about.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my word,’ cried Morris, ‘if you do not understand for yourself, I + almost despair of telling you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, of course it’s some rot about the tontine,’ returned the other. ‘But + it’s the merest nonsense. We’ve lost it, and there’s an end.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you,’ said Morris, ‘Uncle Masterman is dead. I know it, there’s a + voice that tells me so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, and so is Uncle Joseph,’ said John. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s not dead, unless I choose,’ returned Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘And come to that,’ cried John, ‘if you’re right, and Uncle Masterman’s + been dead ever so long, all we have to do is to tell the truth and expose + Michael.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You seem to think Michael is a fool,’ sneered Morris. ‘Can’t you + understand he’s been preparing this fraud for years? He has the whole + thing ready: the nurse, the doctor, the undertaker, all bought, the + certificate all ready but the date! Let him get wind of this business, and + you mark my words, Uncle Masterman will die in two days and be buried in a + week. But see here, Johnny; what Michael can do, I can do. If he plays a + game of bluff, so can I. If his father is to live for ever, by God, so + shall my uncle!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s illegal, ain’t it?’ said John. + </p> + <p> + ‘A man must have SOME moral courage,’ replied Morris with dignity. + </p> + <p> + ‘And then suppose you’re wrong? Suppose Uncle Masterman’s alive and + kicking?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, even then,’ responded the plotter, ‘we are no worse off than we + were before; in fact, we’re better. Uncle Masterman must die some day; as + long as Uncle Joseph was alive, he might have died any day; but we’re out + of all that trouble now: there’s no sort of limit to the game that I + propose—it can be kept up till Kingdom Come.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If I could only see how you meant to set about it’ sighed John. ‘But you + know, Morris, you always were such a bungler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’d like to know what I ever bungled,’ cried Morris; ‘I have the best + collection of signet rings in London.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you know, there’s the leather business,’ suggested the other. + ‘That’s considered rather a hash.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a mark of singular self-control in Morris that he suffered this to + pass unchallenged, and even unresented. + </p> + <p> + ‘About the business in hand,’ said he, ‘once we can get him up to + Bloomsbury, there’s no sort of trouble. We bury him in the cellar, which + seems made for it; and then all I have to do is to start out and find a + venal doctor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why can’t we leave him where he is?’ asked John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because we know nothing about the country,’ retorted Morris. ‘This wood + may be a regular lovers’ walk. Turn your mind to the real difficulty. How + are we to get him up to Bloomsbury?’ + </p> + <p> + Various schemes were mooted and rejected. The railway station at Browndean + was, of course, out of the question, for it would now be a centre of + curiosity and gossip, and (of all things) they would be least able to + dispatch a dead body without remark. John feebly proposed getting an + ale-cask and sending it as beer, but the objections to this course were so + overwhelming that Morris scorned to answer. The purchase of a packing-case + seemed equally hopeless, for why should two gentlemen without baggage of + any kind require a packing-case? They would be more likely to require + clean linen. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are working on wrong lines,’ cried Morris at last. ‘The thing must be + gone about more carefully. Suppose now,’ he added excitedly, speaking by + fits and starts, as if he were thinking aloud, ‘suppose we rent a cottage + by the month. A householder can buy a packing-case without remark. Then + suppose we clear the people out today, get the packing-case tonight, and + tomorrow I hire a carriage or a cart that we could drive ourselves—and + take the box, or whatever we get, to Ringwood or Lyndhurst or somewhere; + we could label it “specimens”, don’t you see? Johnny, I believe I’ve hit + the nail at last.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it sounds more feasible,’ admitted John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course we must take assumed names,’ continued Morris. ‘It would never + do to keep our own. What do you say to “Masterman” itself? It sounds quiet + and dignified.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will NOT take the name of Masterman,’ returned his brother; ‘you may, + if you like. I shall call myself Vance—the Great Vance; positively + the last six nights. There’s some go in a name like that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Vance?’ cried Morris. ‘Do you think we are playing a pantomime for our + amusement? There was never anybody named Vance who wasn’t a music-hall + singer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the beauty of it,’ returned John; ‘it gives you some standing at + once. You may call yourself Fortescue till all’s blue, and nobody cares; + but to be Vance gives a man a natural nobility.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But there’s lots of other theatrical names,’ cried Morris. ‘Leybourne, + Irving, Brough, Toole—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Devil a one will I take!’ returned his brother. ‘I am going to have my + little lark out of this as well as you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ said Morris, who perceived that John was determined to carry + his point, ‘I shall be Robert Vance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I shall be George Vance,’ cried John, ‘the only original George + Vance! Rally round the only original!’ + </p> + <p> + Repairing as well as they were able the disorder of their clothes, the + Finsbury brothers returned to Browndean by a circuitous route in quest of + luncheon and a suitable cottage. It is not always easy to drop at a + moment’s notice on a furnished residence in a retired locality; but + fortune presently introduced our adventurers to a deaf carpenter, a man + rich in cottages of the required description, and unaffectedly eager to + supply their wants. The second place they visited, standing, as it did, + about a mile and a half from any neighbours, caused them to exchange a + glance of hope. On a nearer view, the place was not without depressing + features. It stood in a marshy-looking hollow of a heath; tall trees + obscured its windows; the thatch visibly rotted on the rafters; and the + walls were stained with splashes of unwholesome green. The rooms were + small, the ceilings low, the furniture merely nominal; a strange chill and + a haunting smell of damp pervaded the kitchen; and the bedroom boasted + only of one bed. + </p> + <p> + Morris, with a view to cheapening the place, remarked on this defect. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ returned the man; ‘if you can’t sleep two abed, you’d better take + a villa residence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And then,’ pursued Morris, ‘there’s no water. How do you get your water?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We fill THAT from the spring,’ replied the carpenter, pointing to a big + barrel that stood beside the door. ‘The spring ain’t so VERY far off, + after all, and it’s easy brought in buckets. There’s a bucket there.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris nudged his brother as they examined the water-butt. It was new, and + very solidly constructed for its office. If anything had been wanting to + decide them, this eminently practical barrel would have turned the scale. + A bargain was promptly struck, the month’s rent was paid upon the nail, + and about an hour later the Finsbury brothers might have been observed + returning to the blighted cottage, having along with them the key, which + was the symbol of their tenancy, a spirit-lamp, with which they fondly + told themselves they would be able to cook, a pork pie of suitable + dimensions, and a quart of the worst whisky in Hampshire. Nor was this all + they had effected; already (under the plea that they were + landscape-painters) they had hired for dawn on the morrow a light but + solid two-wheeled cart; so that when they entered in their new character, + they were able to tell themselves that the back of the business was + already broken. + </p> + <p> + John proceeded to get tea; while Morris, foraging about the house, was + presently delighted by discovering the lid of the water-butt upon the + kitchen shelf. Here, then, was the packing-case complete; in the absence + of straw, the blankets (which he himself, at least, had not the smallest + intention of using for their present purpose) would exactly take the place + of packing; and Morris, as the difficulties began to vanish from his path, + rose almost to the brink of exultation. There was, however, one difficulty + not yet faced, one upon which his whole scheme depended. Would John + consent to remain alone in the cottage? He had not yet dared to put the + question. + </p> + <p> + It was with high good-humour that the pair sat down to the deal table, and + proceeded to fall-to on the pork pie. Morris retailed the discovery of the + lid, and the Great Vance was pleased to applaud by beating on the table + with his fork in true music-hall style. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the dodge,’ he cried. ‘I always said a water-butt was what you + wanted for this business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ said Morris, thinking this a favourable opportunity to + prepare his brother, ‘of course you must stay on in this place till I give + the word; I’ll give out that uncle is resting in the New Forest. It would + not do for both of us to appear in London; we could never conceal the + absence of the old man.’ + </p> + <p> + John’s jaw dropped. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, come!’ he cried. ‘You can stay in this hole yourself. I won’t.’ + </p> + <p> + The colour came into Morris’s cheeks. He saw that he must win his brother + at any cost. + </p> + <p> + ‘You must please remember, Johnny,’ he said, ‘the amount of the tontine. + If I succeed, we shall have each fifty thousand to place to our bank + account; ay, and nearer sixty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But if you fail,’ returned John, ‘what then? What’ll be the colour of our + bank account in that case?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will pay all expenses,’ said Morris, with an inward struggle; ‘you + shall lose nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said John, with a laugh, ‘if the ex-s are yours, and half-profits + mine, I don’t mind remaining here for a couple of days.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A couple of days!’ cried Morris, who was beginning to get angry and + controlled himself with difficulty; ‘why, you would do more to win five + pounds on a horse-race!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I would,’ returned the Great Vance; ‘it’s the artistic + temperament.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is monstrous!’ burst out Morris. ‘I take all risks; I pay all + expenses; I divide profits; and you won’t take the slightest pains to help + me. It’s not decent; it’s not honest; it’s not even kind.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But suppose,’ objected John, who was considerably impressed by his + brother’s vehemence, ‘suppose that Uncle Masterman is alive after all, and + lives ten years longer; must I rot here all that time?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course not,’ responded Morris, in a more conciliatory tone; ‘I only + ask a month at the outside; and if Uncle Masterman is not dead by that + time you can go abroad.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go abroad?’ repeated John eagerly. ‘Why shouldn’t I go at once? Tell ‘em + that Joseph and I are seeing life in Paris.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, but look here,’ said John; ‘it’s this house, it’s such a pig-sty, + it’s so dreary and damp. You said yourself that it was damp.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only to the carpenter,’ Morris distinguished, ‘and that was to reduce the + rent. But really, you know, now we’re in it, I’ve seen worse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what am I to do?’ complained the victim. ‘How can I entertain a + friend?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Johnny, if you don’t think the tontine worth a little trouble, + say so, and I’ll give the business up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re dead certain of the figures, I suppose?’ asked John. ‘Well’—with + a deep sigh—‘send me the Pink Un and all the comic papers regularly. + I’ll face the music.’ + </p> + <p> + As afternoon drew on, the cottage breathed more thrillingly of its native + marsh; a creeping chill inhabited its chambers; the fire smoked, and a + shower of rain, coming up from the channel on a slant of wind, tingled on + the window-panes. At intervals, when the gloom deepened toward despair, + Morris would produce the whisky-bottle, and at first John welcomed the + diversion—not for long. It has been said this spirit was the worst + in Hampshire; only those acquainted with the county can appreciate the + force of that superlative; and at length even the Great Vance (who was no + connoisseur) waved the decoction from his lips. The approach of dusk, + feebly combated with a single tallow candle, added a touch of tragedy; and + John suddenly stopped whistling through his fingers—an art to the + practice of which he had been reduced—and bitterly lamented his + concessions. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t stay here a month,’ he cried. ‘No one could. The thing’s + nonsense, Morris. The parties that lived in the Bastille would rise + against a place like this.’ + </p> + <p> + With an admirable affectation of indifference, Morris proposed a game of + pitch-and-toss. To what will not the diplomatist condescend! It was John’s + favourite game; indeed his only game—he had found all the rest too + intellectual—and he played it with equal skill and good fortune. To + Morris himself, on the other hand, the whole business was detestable; he + was a bad pitcher, he had no luck in tossing, and he was one who suffered + torments when he lost. But John was in a dangerous humour, and his brother + was prepared for any sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + By seven o’clock, Morris, with incredible agony, had lost a couple of + half-crowns. Even with the tontine before his eyes, this was as much as he + could bear; and, remarking that he would take his revenge some other time, + he proposed a bit of supper and a grog. + </p> + <p> + Before they had made an end of this refreshment it was time to be at work. + A bucket of water for present necessities was withdrawn from the + water-butt, which was then emptied and rolled before the kitchen fire to + dry; and the two brothers set forth on their adventure under a starless + heaven. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. The Lecturer at Large + </h2> + <p> + Whether mankind is really partial to happiness is an open question. Not a + month passes by but some cherished son runs off into the merchant service, + or some valued husband decamps to Texas with a lady help; clergymen have + fled from their parishioners; and even judges have been known to retire. + To an open mind, it will appear (upon the whole) less strange that Joseph + Finsbury should have been led to entertain ideas of escape. His lot (I + think we may say) was not a happy one. My friend, Mr Morris, with whom I + travel up twice or thrice a week from Snaresbrook Park, is certainly a + gentleman whom I esteem; but he was scarce a model nephew. As for John, he + is of course an excellent fellow; but if he was the only link that bound + one to a home, I think the most of us would vote for foreign travel. In + the case of Joseph, John (if he were a link at all) was not the only one; + endearing bonds had long enchained the old gentleman to Bloomsbury; and by + these expressions I do not in the least refer to Julia Hazeltine (of whom, + however, he was fond enough), but to that collection of manuscript + notebooks in which his life lay buried. That he should ever have made up + his mind to separate himself from these collections, and go forth upon the + world with no other resources than his memory supplied, is a circumstance + highly pathetic in itself, and but little creditable to the wisdom of his + nephews. + </p> + <p> + The design, or at least the temptation, was already some months old; and + when a bill for eight hundred pounds, payable to himself, was suddenly + placed in Joseph’s hand, it brought matters to an issue. He retained that + bill, which, to one of his frugality, meant wealth; and he promised + himself to disappear among the crowds at Waterloo, or (if that should + prove impossible) to slink out of the house in the course of the evening + and melt like a dream into the millions of London. By a peculiar + interposition of Providence and railway mismanagement he had not so long + to wait. + </p> + <p> + He was one of the first to come to himself and scramble to his feet after + the Browndean catastrophe, and he had no sooner remarked his prostrate + nephews than he understood his opportunity and fled. A man of upwards of + seventy, who has just met with a railway accident, and who is cumbered + besides with the full uniform of Sir Faraday Bond, is not very likely to + flee far, but the wood was close at hand and offered the fugitive at least + a temporary covert. Hither, then, the old gentleman skipped with + extraordinary expedition, and, being somewhat winded and a good deal + shaken, here he lay down in a convenient grove and was presently + overwhelmed by slumber. The way of fate is often highly entertaining to + the looker-on, and it is certainly a pleasant circumstance, that while + Morris and John were delving in the sand to conceal the body of a total + stranger, their uncle lay in dreamless sleep a few hundred yards deeper in + the wood. + </p> + <p> + He was awakened by the jolly note of a bugle from the neighbouring high + road, where a char-a-banc was bowling by with some belated tourists. The + sound cheered his old heart, it directed his steps into the bargain, and + soon he was on the highway, looking east and west from under his vizor, + and doubtfully revolving what he ought to do. A deliberate sound of wheels + arose in the distance, and then a cart was seen approaching, well filled + with parcels, driven by a good-natured looking man on a double bench, and + displaying on a board the legend, ‘I Chandler, carrier’. In the infamously + prosaic mind of Mr Finsbury, certain streaks of poetry survived and were + still efficient; they had carried him to Asia Minor as a giddy youth of + forty, and now, in the first hours of his recovered freedom, they + suggested to him the idea of continuing his flight in Mr Chandler’s cart. + It would be cheap; properly broached, it might even cost nothing, and, + after years of mittens and hygienic flannel, his heart leaped out to meet + the notion of exposure. + </p> + <p> + Mr Chandler was perhaps a little puzzled to find so old a gentleman, so + strangely clothed, and begging for a lift on so retired a roadside. But he + was a good-natured man, glad to do a service, and so he took the stranger + up; and he had his own idea of civility, and so he asked no questions. + Silence, in fact, was quite good enough for Mr Chandler; but the cart had + scarcely begun to move forward ere he found himself involved in a + one-sided conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can see,’ began Mr Finsbury, ‘by the mixture of parcels and boxes that + are contained in your cart, each marked with its individual label, and by + the good Flemish mare you drive, that you occupy the post of carrier in + that great English system of transport which, with all its defects, is the + pride of our country.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir,’ returned Mr Chandler vaguely, for he hardly knew what to + reply; ‘them parcels posts has done us carriers a world of harm.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not a prejudiced man,’ continued Joseph Finsbury. ‘As a young man I + travelled much. Nothing was too small or too obscure for me to acquire. At + sea I studied seamanship, learned the complicated knots employed by + mariners, and acquired the technical terms. At Naples, I would learn the + art of making macaroni; at Nice, the principles of making candied fruit. I + never went to the opera without first buying the book of the piece, and + making myself acquainted with the principal airs by picking them out on + the piano with one finger.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You must have seen a deal, sir,’ remarked the carrier, touching up his + horse; ‘I wish I could have had your advantages.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know how often the word whip occurs in the Old Testament?’ + continued the old gentleman. ‘One hundred and (if I remember exactly) + forty-seven times.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do it indeed, sir?’ said Mr Chandler. ‘I never should have thought it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Bible contains three million five hundred and one thousand two + hundred and forty-nine letters. Of verses I believe there are upward of + eighteen thousand. There have been many editions of the Bible; Wycliff was + the first to introduce it into England about the year 1300. The “Paragraph + Bible”, as it is called, is a well-known edition, and is so called because + it is divided into paragraphs. The “Breeches Bible” is another well-known + instance, and gets its name either because it was printed by one Breeches, + or because the place of publication bore that name.’ + </p> + <p> + The carrier remarked drily that he thought that was only natural, and + turned his attention to the more congenial task of passing a cart of hay; + it was a matter of some difficulty, for the road was narrow, and there was + a ditch on either hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘I perceive,’ began Mr Finsbury, when they had successfully passed the + cart, ‘that you hold your reins with one hand; you should employ two.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I like that!’ cried the carrier contemptuously. ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You do not understand,’ continued Mr Finsbury. ‘What I tell you is a + scientific fact, and reposes on the theory of the lever, a branch of + mechanics. There are some very interesting little shilling books upon the + field of study, which I should think a man in your station would take a + pleasure to read. But I am afraid you have not cultivated the art of + observation; at least we have now driven together for some time, and I + cannot remember that you have contributed a single fact. This is a very + false principle, my good man. For instance, I do not know if you observed + that (as you passed the hay-cart man) you took your left?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I did,’ cried the carrier, who was now getting belligerent; + ‘he’d have the law on me if I hadn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In France, now,’ resumed the old man, ‘and also, I believe, in the + </p> + <p> + United States of America, you would have taken the right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would not,’ cried Mr Chandler indignantly. ‘I would have taken the + left.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I observe again,’ continued Mr Finsbury, scorning to reply, ‘that you + mend the dilapidated parts of your harness with string. I have always + protested against this carelessness and slovenliness of the English poor. + In an essay that I once read before an appreciative audience—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It ain’t string,’ said the carrier sullenly, ‘it’s pack-thread.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have always protested,’ resumed the old man, ‘that in their private and + domestic life, as well as in their labouring career, the lower classes of + this country are improvident, thriftless, and extravagant. A stitch in + time—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who the devil ARE the lower classes?’ cried the carrier. ‘You are the + lower classes yourself! If I thought you were a blooming aristocrat, I + shouldn’t have given you a lift.’ + </p> + <p> + The words were uttered with undisguised ill-feeling; it was plain the pair + were not congenial, and further conversation, even to one of Mr Finsbury’s + pathetic loquacity, was out of the question. With an angry gesture, he + pulled down the brim of the forage-cap over his eyes, and, producing a + notebook and a blue pencil from one of his innermost pockets, soon became + absorbed in calculations. + </p> + <p> + On his part the carrier fell to whistling with fresh zest; and if (now and + again) he glanced at the companion of his drive, it was with mingled + feelings of triumph and alarm—triumph because he had succeeded in + arresting that prodigy of speech, and alarm lest (by any accident) it + should begin again. Even the shower, which presently overtook and passed + them, was endured by both in silence; and it was still in silence that + they drove at length into Southampton. + </p> + <p> + Dusk had fallen; the shop windows glimmered forth into the streets of the + old seaport; in private houses lights were kindled for the evening meal; + and Mr Finsbury began to think complacently of his night’s lodging. He put + his papers by, cleared his throat, and looked doubtfully at Mr Chandler. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you be civil enough,’ said he, ‘to recommend me to an inn?’ Mr + Chandler pondered for a moment. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘I wonder how about the “Tregonwell Arms”.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The “Tregonwell Arms” will do very well,’ returned the old man, ‘if it’s + clean and cheap, and the people civil.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wasn’t thinking so much of you,’ returned Mr Chandler thoughtfully. ‘I + was thinking of my friend Watts as keeps the ‘ouse; he’s a friend of mine, + you see, and he helped me through my trouble last year. And I was + thinking, would it be fair-like on Watts to saddle him with an old party + like you, who might be the death of him with general information. Would it + be fair to the ‘ouse?’ enquired Mr Chandler, with an air of candid appeal. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mark me,’ cried the old gentleman with spirit. ‘It was kind in you to + bring me here for nothing, but it gives you no right to address me in such + terms. Here’s a shilling for your trouble; and, if you do not choose to + set me down at the “Tregonwell Arms”, I can find it for myself.’ + </p> + <p> + Chandler was surprised and a little startled; muttering something + apologetic, he returned the shilling, drove in silence through several + intricate lanes and small streets, drew up at length before the bright + windows of an inn, and called loudly for Mr Watts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that you, Jem?’ cried a hearty voice from the stableyard. ‘Come in and + warm yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I only stopped here,’ Mr Chandler explained, ‘to let down an old gent + that wants food and lodging. Mind, I warn you agin him; he’s worse nor a + temperance lecturer.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Finsbury dismounted with difficulty, for he was cramped with his long + drive, and the shaking he had received in the accident. The friendly Mr + Watts, in spite of the carter’s scarcely agreeable introduction, treated + the old gentleman with the utmost courtesy, and led him into the back + parlour, where there was a big fire burning in the grate. Presently a + table was spread in the same room, and he was invited to seat himself + before a stewed fowl—somewhat the worse for having seen service + before—and a big pewter mug of ale from the tap. + </p> + <p> + He rose from supper a giant refreshed; and, changing his seat to one + nearer the fire, began to examine the other guests with an eye to the + delights of oratory. There were near a dozen present, all men, and (as + Joseph exulted to perceive) all working men. Often already had he seen + cause to bless that appetite for disconnected fact and rotatory argument + which is so marked a character of the mechanic. But even an audience of + working men has to be courted, and there was no man more deeply versed in + the necessary arts than Joseph Finsbury. He placed his glasses on his + nose, drew from his pocket a bundle of papers, and spread them before him + on a table. He crumpled them, he smoothed them out; now he skimmed them + over, apparently well pleased with their contents; now, with tapping + pencil and contracted brows, he seemed maturely to consider some + particular statement. A stealthy glance about the room assured him of the + success of his manoeuvres; all eyes were turned on the performer, mouths + were open, pipes hung suspended; the birds were charmed. At the same + moment the entrance of Mr Watts afforded him an opportunity. + </p> + <p> + ‘I observe,’ said he, addressing the landlord, but taking at the same time + the whole room into his confidence with an encouraging look, ‘I observe + that some of these gentlemen are looking with curiosity in my direction; + and certainly it is unusual to see anyone immersed in literary and + scientific labours in the public apartment of an inn. I have here some + calculations I made this morning upon the cost of living in this and other + countries—a subject, I need scarcely say, highly interesting to the + working classes. I have calculated a scale of living for incomes of + eighty, one hundred and sixty, two hundred, and two hundred and forty + pounds a year. I must confess that the income of eighty pounds has + somewhat baffled me, and the others are not so exact as I could wish; for + the price of washing varies largely in foreign countries, and the + different cokes, coals and firewoods fluctuate surprisingly. I will read + my researches, and I hope you won’t scruple to point out to me any little + errors that I may have committed either from oversight or ignorance. I + will begin, gentlemen, with the income of eighty pounds a year.’ + </p> + <p> + Whereupon the old gentleman, with less compassion than he would have had + for brute beasts, delivered himself of all his tedious calculations. As he + occasionally gave nine versions of a single income, placing the imaginary + person in London, Paris, Bagdad, Spitzbergen, Bassorah, Heligoland, the + Scilly Islands, Brighton, Cincinnati, and Nijni-Novgorod, with an + appropriate outfit for each locality, it is no wonder that his hearers + look back on that evening as the most tiresome they ever spent. + </p> + <p> + Long before Mr Finsbury had reached Nijni-Novgorod with the income of one + hundred and sixty pounds, the company had dwindled and faded away to a few + old topers and the bored but affable Watts. There was a constant stream of + customers from the outer world, but so soon as they were served they drank + their liquor quickly and departed with the utmost celerity for the next + public-house. + </p> + <p> + By the time the young man with two hundred a year was vegetating in the + Scilly Islands, Mr Watts was left alone with the economist; and that + imaginary person had scarce commenced life at Brighton before the last of + his pursuers desisted from the chase. + </p> + <p> + Mr Finsbury slept soundly after the manifold fatigues of the day. He rose + late, and, after a good breakfast, ordered the bill. Then it was that he + made a discovery which has been made by many others, both before and + since: that it is one thing to order your bill, and another to discharge + it. The items were moderate and (what does not always follow) the total + small; but, after the most sedulous review of all his pockets, one and + nine pence halfpenny appeared to be the total of the old gentleman’s + available assets. He asked to see Mr Watts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here is a bill on London for eight hundred pounds,’ said Mr Finsbury, as + that worthy appeared. ‘I am afraid, unless you choose to discount it + yourself, it may detain me a day or two till I can get it cashed.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Watts looked at the bill, turned it over, and dogs-eared it with his + fingers. ‘It will keep you a day or two?’ he said, repeating the old man’s + words. ‘You have no other money with you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Some trifling change,’ responded Joseph. ‘Nothing to speak of.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you can send it me; I should be pleased to trust you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To tell the truth,’ answered the old gentleman, ‘I am more than half + inclined to stay; I am in need of funds.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If a loan of ten shillings would help you, it is at your service,’ + responded Watts, with eagerness. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I think I would rather stay,’ said the old man, ‘and get my bill + discounted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You shall not stay in my house,’ cried Mr Watts. ‘This is the last time + you shall have a bed at the “Tregonwell Arms”.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I insist upon remaining,’ replied Mr Finsbury, with spirit; ‘I remain by + Act of Parliament; turn me out if you dare.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then pay your bill,’ said Mr Watts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Take that,’ cried the old man, tossing him the negotiable bill. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not legal tender,’ replied Mr Watts. ‘You must leave my house at + once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You cannot appreciate the contempt I feel for you, Mr Watts,’ said the + old gentleman, resigning himself to circumstances. ‘But you shall feel it + in one way: I refuse to pay my bill.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care for your bill,’ responded Mr Watts. ‘What I want is your + absence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That you shall have!’ said the old gentleman, and, taking up his forage + cap as he spoke, he crammed it on his head. ‘Perhaps you are too + insolent,’ he added, ‘to inform me of the time of the next London train?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It leaves in three-quarters of an hour,’ returned the innkeeper with + alacrity. ‘You can easily catch it.’ + </p> + <p> + Joseph’s position was one of considerable weakness. On the one hand, it + would have been well to avoid the direct line of railway, since it was + there he might expect his nephews to lie in wait for his recapture; on the + other, it was highly desirable, it was even strictly needful, to get the + bill discounted ere it should be stopped. To London, therefore, he decided + to proceed on the first train; and there remained but one point to be + considered, how to pay his fare. + </p> + <p> + Joseph’s nails were never clean; he ate almost entirely with his knife. I + doubt if you could say he had the manners of a gentleman; but he had + better than that, a touch of genuine dignity. Was it from his stay in Asia + Minor? Was it from a strain in the Finsbury blood sometimes alluded to by + customers? At least, when he presented himself before the station-master, + his salaam was truly Oriental, palm-trees appeared to crowd about the + little office, and the simoom or the bulbul—but I leave this image + to persons better acquainted with the East. His appearance, besides, was + highly in his favour; the uniform of Sir Faraday, however inconvenient and + conspicuous, was, at least, a costume in which no swindler could have + hoped to prosper; and the exhibition of a valuable watch and a bill for + eight hundred pounds completed what deportment had begun. A quarter of an + hour later, when the train came up, Mr Finsbury was introduced to the + guard and installed in a first-class compartment, the station-master + smilingly assuming all responsibility. + </p> + <p> + As the old gentleman sat waiting the moment of departure, he was the + witness of an incident strangely connected with the fortunes of his house. + A packing-case of cyclopean bulk was borne along the platform by some + dozen of tottering porters, and ultimately, to the delight of a + considerable crowd, hoisted on board the van. It is often the cheering + task of the historian to direct attention to the designs and (if it may be + reverently said) the artifices of Providence. In the luggage van, as + Joseph was borne out of the station of Southampton East upon his way to + London, the egg of his romance lay (so to speak) unhatched. The huge + packing-case was directed to lie at Waterloo till called for, and + addressed to one ‘William Dent Pitman’; and the very next article, a + goodly barrel jammed into the corner of the van, bore the superscription, + ‘M. Finsbury, 16 John Street, Bloomsbury. Carriage paid.’ + </p> + <p> + In this juxtaposition, the train of powder was prepared; and there was now + wanting only an idle hand to fire it off. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. The Magistrate in the Luggage Van + </h2> + <p> + The city of Winchester is famed for a cathedral, a bishop—but he was + unfortunately killed some years ago while riding—a public school, a + considerable assortment of the military, and the deliberate passage of the + trains of the London and South-Western line. These and many similar + associations would have doubtless crowded on the mind of Joseph Finsbury; + but his spirit had at that time flitted from the railway compartment to a + heaven of populous lecture-halls and endless oratory. His body, in the + meanwhile, lay doubled on the cushions, the forage-cap rakishly tilted + back after the fashion of those that lie in wait for nursery-maids, the + poor old face quiescent, one arm clutching to his heart Lloyd’s Weekly + Newspaper. + </p> + <p> + To him, thus unconscious, enter and exeunt again a pair of voyagers. These + two had saved the train and no more. A tandem urged to its last speed, an + act of something closely bordering on brigandage at the ticket office, and + a spasm of running, had brought them on the platform just as the engine + uttered its departing snort. There was but one carriage easily within + their reach; and they had sprung into it, and the leader and elder already + had his feet upon the floor, when he observed Mr Finsbury. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good God!’ he cried. ‘Uncle Joseph! This’ll never do.’ + </p> + <p> + And he backed out, almost upsetting his companion, and once more closed + the door upon the sleeping patriarch. + </p> + <p> + The next moment the pair had jumped into the baggage van. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the row about your Uncle Joseph?’ enquired the younger traveller, + mopping his brow. ‘Does he object to smoking?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know that there’s anything the row with him,’ returned the other. + ‘He’s by no means the first comer, my Uncle Joseph, I can tell you! Very + respectable old gentleman; interested in leather; been to Asia Minor; no + family, no assets—and a tongue, my dear Wickham, sharper than a + serpent’s tooth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cantankerous old party, eh?’ suggested Wickham. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least,’ cried the other; ‘only a man with a solid talent for + being a bore; rather cheery I dare say, on a desert island, but on a + railway journey insupportable. You should hear him on Tonti, the ass that + started tontines. He’s incredible on Tonti.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove!’ cried Wickham, ‘then you’re one of these Finsbury tontine + fellows. I hadn’t a guess of that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said the other, ‘do you know that old boy in the carriage is worth a + hundred thousand pounds to me? There he was asleep, and nobody there but + you! But I spared him, because I’m a Conservative in politics.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Wickham, pleased to be in a luggage van, was flitting to and fro like a + gentlemanly butterfly. + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jingo!’ he cried, ‘here’s something for you! “M. Finsbury, 16 John + Street, Bloomsbury, London.” M. stands for Michael, you sly dog; you keep + two establishments, do you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, that’s Morris,’ responded Michael from the other end of the van, where + he had found a comfortable seat upon some sacks. ‘He’s a little cousin of + mine. I like him myself, because he’s afraid of me. He’s one of the + ornaments of Bloomsbury, and has a collection of some kind—birds’ + eggs or something that’s supposed to be curious. I bet it’s nothing to my + clients!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a lark it would be to play billy with the labels!’ chuckled Mr + Wickham. ‘By George, here’s a tack-hammer! We might send all these things + skipping about the premises like what’s-his-name!’ + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the guard, surprised by the sound of voices, opened the + door of his little cabin. + </p> + <p> + ‘You had best step in here, gentlemen,’ said he, when he had heard their + story. + </p> + <p> + ‘Won’t you come, Wickham?’ asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Catch me—I want to travel in a van,’ replied the youth. + </p> + <p> + And so the door of communication was closed; and for the rest of the run + Mr Wickham was left alone over his diversions on the one side, and on the + other Michael and the guard were closeted together in familiar talk. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can get you a compartment here, sir,’ observed the official, as the + train began to slacken speed before Bishopstoke station. ‘You had best get + out at my door, and I can bring your friend.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Wickham, whom we left (as the reader has shrewdly suspected) beginning + to ‘play billy’ with the labels in the van, was a young gentleman of much + wealth, a pleasing but sandy exterior, and a highly vacant mind. Not many + months before, he had contrived to get himself blackmailed by the family + of a Wallachian Hospodar, resident for political reasons in the gay city + of Paris. A common friend (to whom he had confided his distress) + recommended him to Michael; and the lawyer was no sooner in possession of + the facts than he instantly assumed the offensive, fell on the flank of + the Wallachian forces, and, in the inside of three days, had the + satisfaction to behold them routed and fleeing for the Danube. It is no + business of ours to follow them on this retreat, over which the police + were so obliging as to preside paternally. Thus relieved from what he + loved to refer to as the Bulgarian Atrocity, Mr Wickham returned to London + with the most unbounded and embarrassing gratitude and admiration for his + saviour. These sentiments were not repaid either in kind or degree; + indeed, Michael was a trifle ashamed of his new client’s friendship; it + had taken many invitations to get him to Winchester and Wickham Manor; but + he had gone at last, and was now returning. It has been remarked by some + judicious thinker (possibly J. F. Smith) that Providence despises to + employ no instrument, however humble; and it is now plain to the dullest + that both Mr Wickham and the Wallachian Hospodar were liquid lead and + wedges in the hand of Destiny. + </p> + <p> + Smitten with the desire to shine in Michael’s eyes and show himself a + person of original humour and resources, the young gentleman (who was a + magistrate, more by token, in his native county) was no sooner alone in + the van than he fell upon the labels with all the zeal of a reformer; and, + when he rejoined the lawyer at Bishopstoke, his face was flushed with his + exertions, and his cigar, which he had suffered to go out was almost + bitten in two. + </p> + <p> + ‘By George, but this has been a lark!’ he cried. ‘I’ve sent the wrong + thing to everybody in England. These cousins of yours have a packing-case + as big as a house. I’ve muddled the whole business up to that extent, + Finsbury, that if it were to get out it’s my belief we should get + lynched.’ + </p> + <p> + It was useless to be serious with Mr Wickham. ‘Take care,’ said Michael. + ‘I am getting tired of your perpetual scrapes; my reputation is beginning + to suffer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your reputation will be all gone before you finish with me,’ replied his + companion with a grin. ‘Clap it in the bill, my boy. “For total loss of + reputation, six and eightpence.” But,’ continued Mr Wickham with more + seriousness, ‘could I be bowled out of the Commission for this little + jest? I know it’s small, but I like to be a JP. Speaking as a professional + man, do you think there’s any risk?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What does it matter?’ responded Michael, ‘they’ll chuck you out sooner or + later. Somehow you don’t give the effect of being a good magistrate.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I only wish I was a solicitor,’ retorted his companion, ‘instead of a + poor devil of a country gentleman. Suppose we start one of those tontine + affairs ourselves; I to pay five hundred a year, and you to guarantee me + against every misfortune except illness or marriage.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It strikes me,’ remarked the lawyer with a meditative laugh, as he + lighted a cigar, ‘it strikes me that you must be a cursed nuisance in this + world of ours.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you really think so, Finsbury?’ responded the magistrate, leaning back + in his cushions, delighted with the compliment. ‘Yes, I suppose I am a + nuisance. But, mind you, I have a stake in the country: don’t forget that, + dear boy.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. Mr Gideon Forsyth and the Gigantic Box + </h2> + <p> + It has been mentioned that at Bournemouth Julia sometimes made + acquaintances; it is true she had but a glimpse of them before the doors + of John Street closed again upon its captives, but the glimpse was + sometimes exhilarating, and the consequent regret was tempered with hope. + Among those whom she had thus met a year before was a young barrister of + the name of Gideon Forsyth. + </p> + <p> + About three o’clock of the eventful day when the magistrate tampered with + the labels, a somewhat moody and distempered ramble had carried Mr Forsyth + to the corner of John Street; and about the same moment Miss Hazeltine was + called to the door of No. 16 by a thundering double knock. + </p> + <p> + Mr Gideon Forsyth was a happy enough young man; he would have been happier + if he had had more money and less uncle. One hundred and twenty pounds a + year was all his store; but his uncle, Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield, + supplemented this with a handsome allowance and a great deal of advice, + couched in language that would probably have been judged intemperate on + board a pirate ship. Mr Bloomfield was indeed a figure quite peculiar to + the days of Mr Gladstone; what we may call (for the lack of an accepted + expression) a Squirradical. Having acquired years without experience, he + carried into the Radical side of politics those noisy, after-dinner-table + passions, which we are more accustomed to connect with Toryism in its + severe and senile aspects. To the opinions of Mr Bradlaugh, in fact, he + added the temper and the sympathies of that extinct animal, the Squire; he + admired pugilism, he carried a formidable oaken staff, he was a reverent + churchman, and it was hard to know which would have more volcanically + stirred his choler—a person who should have defended the established + church, or one who should have neglected to attend its celebrations. He + had besides some levelling catchwords, justly dreaded in the family + circle; and when he could not go so far as to declare a step un-English, + he might still (and with hardly less effect) denounce it as unpractical. + It was under the ban of this lesser excommunication that Gideon had + fallen. His views on the study of law had been pronounced unpractical; and + it had been intimated to him, in a vociferous interview punctuated with + the oaken staff, that he must either take a new start and get a brief or + two, or prepare to live on his own money. + </p> + <p> + No wonder if Gideon was moody. He had not the slightest wish to modify his + present habits; but he would not stand on that, since the recall of Mr + Bloomfield’s allowance would revolutionize them still more radically. He + had not the least desire to acquaint himself with law; he had looked into + it already, and it seemed not to repay attention; but upon this also he + was ready to give way. In fact, he would go as far as he could to meet the + views of his uncle, the Squirradical. But there was one part of the + programme that appeared independent of his will. How to get a brief? there + was the question. And there was another and a worse. Suppose he got one, + should he prove the better man? + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd. A garishly illuminated van + was backed against the kerb; from its open stern, half resting on the + street, half supported by some glistening athletes, the end of the largest + packing-case in the county of Middlesex might have been seen protruding; + while, on the steps of the house, the burly person of the driver and the + slim figure of a young girl stood as upon a stage, disputing. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not for us,’ the girl was saying. ‘I beg you to take it away; it + couldn’t get into the house, even if you managed to get it out of the + van.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M. Finsbury can arrange with + the Vestry as he likes,’ said the vanman. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am not M. Finsbury,’ expostulated the girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘It doesn’t matter who you are,’ said the vanman. + </p> + <p> + ‘You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,’ said Gideon, putting out + his hand. + </p> + <p> + Julia gave a little cry of pleasure. ‘O, Mr Forsyth,’ she cried, ‘I am so + glad to see you; we must get this horrid thing, which can only have come + here by mistake, into the house. The man says we’ll have to take off the + door, or knock two of our windows into one, or be fined by the Vestry or + Custom House or something for leaving our parcels on the pavement.’ + </p> + <p> + The men by this time had successfully removed the box from the van, had + plumped it down on the pavement, and now stood leaning against it, or + gazing at the door of No. 16, in visible physical distress and mental + embarrassment. The windows of the whole street had filled, as if by magic, + with interested and entertained spectators. + </p> + <p> + With as thoughtful and scientific an expression as he could assume, Gideon + measured the doorway with his cane, while Julia entered his observations + in a drawing-book. He then measured the box, and, upon comparing his data, + found that there was just enough space for it to enter. Next, throwing off + his coat and waistcoat, he assisted the men to take the door from its + hinges. And lastly, all bystanders being pressed into the service, the + packing-case mounted the steps upon some fifteen pairs of wavering legs—scraped, + loudly grinding, through the doorway—and was deposited at length, + with a formidable convulsion, in the far end of the lobby, which it almost + blocked. The artisans of this victory smiled upon each other as the dust + subsided. It was true they had smashed a bust of Apollo and ploughed the + wall into deep ruts; but, at least, they were no longer one of the public + spectacles of London. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ said the vanman, ‘I never see such a job.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon eloquently expressed his concurrence in this sentiment by pressing + a couple of sovereigns in the man’s hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Make it three, sir, and I’ll stand Sam to everybody here!’ cried the + latter, and, this having been done, the whole body of volunteer porters + swarmed into the van, which drove off in the direction of the nearest + reliable public-house. Gideon closed the door on their departure, and + turned to Julia; their eyes met; the most uncontrollable mirth seized upon + them both, and they made the house ring with their laughter. Then + curiosity awoke in Julia’s mind, and she went and examined the box, and + more especially the label. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is the strangest thing that ever happened,’ she said, with another + burst of laughter. ‘It is certainly Morris’s handwriting, and I had a + letter from him only this morning, telling me to expect a barrel. Is there + a barrel coming too, do you think, Mr Forsyth?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Statuary with Care, Fragile,’” read Gideon aloud from the painted + warning on the box. ‘Then you were told nothing about this?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ responded Julia. ‘O, Mr Forsyth, don’t you think we might take a + peep at it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, indeed,’ cried Gideon. ‘Just let me have a hammer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come down, and I’ll show you where it is,’ cried Julia. ‘The shelf is too + high for me to reach’; and, opening the door of the kitchen stair, she + bade Gideon follow her. They found both the hammer and a chisel; but + Gideon was surprised to see no sign of a servant. He also discovered that + Miss Hazeltine had a very pretty little foot and ankle; and the discovery + embarrassed him so much that he was glad to fall at once upon the + packing-case. + </p> + <p> + He worked hard and earnestly, and dealt his blows with the precision of a + blacksmith; Julia the while standing silently by his side, and regarding + rather the workman than the work. He was a handsome fellow; she told + herself she had never seen such beautiful arms. And suddenly, as though he + had overheard these thoughts, Gideon turned and smiled to her. She, too, + smiled and coloured; and the double change became her so prettily that + Gideon forgot to turn away his eyes, and, swinging the hammer with a will, + discharged a smashing blow on his own knuckles. With admirable presence of + mind he crushed down an oath and substituted the harmless comment, ‘Butter + fingers!’ But the pain was sharp, his nerve was shaken, and after an + abortive trial he found he must desist from further operations. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Julia was off to the pantry; in a moment she was back again + with a basin of water and a sponge, and had begun to bathe his wounded + hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am dreadfully sorry!’ said Gideon apologetically. ‘If I had had any + manners I should have opened the box first and smashed my hand afterward. + It feels much better,’ he added. ‘I assure you it does.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And now I think you are well enough to direct operations,’ said she. + ‘Tell me what to do, and I’ll be your workman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A very pretty workman,’ said Gideon, rather forgetting himself. She + turned and looked at him, with a suspicion of a frown; and the indiscreet + young man was glad to direct her attention to the packing-case. The bulk + of the work had been accomplished; and presently Julia had burst through + the last barrier and disclosed a zone of straw. in a moment they were + kneeling side by side, engaged like haymakers; the next they were rewarded + with a glimpse of something white and polished; and the next again laid + bare an unmistakable marble leg. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is surely a very athletic person,’ said Julia. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never saw anything like it,’ responded Gideon. ‘His muscles stand out + like penny rolls.’ + </p> + <p> + Another leg was soon disclosed, and then what seemed to be a third. This + resolved itself, however, into a knotted club resting upon a pedestal. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a Hercules,’ cried Gideon; ‘I might have guessed that from his + calf. I’m supposed to be rather partial to statuary, but when it comes to + Hercules, the police should interfere. I should say,’ he added, glancing + with disaffection at the swollen leg, ‘that this was about the biggest and + the worst in Europe. What in heaven’s name can have induced him to come + here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose nobody else would have a gift of him,’ said Julia. ‘And for + that matter, I think we could have done without the monster very well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, don’t say that,’ returned Gideon. ‘This has been one of the most + amusing experiences of my life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think you’ll forget it very soon,’ said Julia. ‘Your hand will + remind you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I suppose I must be going,’ said Gideon reluctantly. ‘No,’ pleaded + Julia. ‘Why should you? Stay and have tea with me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If I thought you really wished me to stay,’ said Gideon, looking at his + hat, ‘of course I should only be too delighted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a silly person you must take me for!’ returned the girl. ‘Why, of + course I do; and, besides, I want some cakes for tea, and I’ve nobody to + send. Here is the latchkey.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon put on his hat with alacrity, and casting one look at Miss + Hazeltine, and another at the legs of Hercules, threw open the door and + departed on his errand. + </p> + <p> + He returned with a large bag of the choicest and most tempting of cakes + and tartlets, and found Julia in the act of spreading a small tea-table in + the lobby. + </p> + <p> + ‘The rooms are all in such a state,’ she cried, ‘that I thought we should + be more cosy and comfortable in our own lobby, and under our own vine and + statuary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ever so much better,’ cried Gideon delightedly. + </p> + <p> + ‘O what adorable cream tarts!’ said Julia, opening the bag, ‘and the + dearest little cherry tartlets, with all the cherries spilled out into the + cream!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Gideon, concealing his dismay, ‘I knew they would mix + beautifully; the woman behind the counter told me so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Julia, as they began their little festival, ‘I am going to + show you Morris’s letter; read it aloud, please; perhaps there’s something + I have missed.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon took the letter, and spreading it out on his knee, read as follows: + </p> + <p> + DEAR JULIA, I write you from Browndean, where we are stopping over for a + few days. Uncle was much shaken in that dreadful accident, of which, I + dare say, you have seen the account. Tomorrow I leave him here with John, + and come up alone; but before that, you will have received a barrel + CONTAINING SPECIMENS FOR A FRIEND. Do not open it on any account, but + leave it in the lobby till I come. + </p> + <p> + Yours in haste, + </p> + <p> + M. FINSBURY. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Be sure and leave the barrel in the lobby. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Gideon, ‘there seems to be nothing about the monument,’ and he + nodded, as he spoke, at the marble legs. ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he continued, + ‘would you mind me asking a few questions?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly not,’ replied Julia; ‘and if you can make me understand why + Morris has sent a statue of Hercules instead of a barrel containing + specimens for a friend, I shall be grateful till my dying day. And what + are specimens for a friend?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t a guess,’ said Gideon. ‘Specimens are usually bits of stone, + but rather smaller than our friend the monument. Still, that is not the + point. Are you quite alone in this big house?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I am at present,’ returned Julia. ‘I came up before them to prepare + the house, and get another servant. But I couldn’t get one I liked.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you are utterly alone,’ said Gideon in amazement. ‘Are you not + afraid?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ responded Julia stoutly. ‘I don’t see why I should be more afraid + than you would be; I am weaker, of course, but when I found I must sleep + alone in the house I bought a revolver wonderfully cheap, and made the man + show me how to use it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And how do you use it?’ demanded Gideon, much amused at her courage. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ said she, with a smile, ‘you pull the little trigger thing on top, + and then pointing it very low, for it springs up as you fire, you pull the + underneath little trigger thing, and it goes off as well as if a man had + done it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And how often have you used it?’ asked Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I have not used it yet,’ said the determined young lady; ‘but I know + how, and that makes me wonderfully courageous, especially when I barricade + my door with a chest of drawers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m awfully glad they are coming back soon,’ said Gideon. ‘This business + strikes me as excessively unsafe; if it goes on much longer, I could + provide you with a maiden aunt of mine, or my landlady if you preferred.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lend me an aunt!’ cried Julia. ‘O, what generosity! I begin to think it + must have been you that sent the Hercules.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Believe me,’ cried the young man, ‘I admire you too much to send you such + an infamous work of art..’ + </p> + <p> + Julia was beginning to reply, when they were both startled by a knocking + at the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, Mr Forsyth!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be afraid, my dear girl,’ said Gideon, laying his hand tenderly on + her arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it’s the police,’ she whispered. ‘They are coming to complain + about the statue.’ + </p> + <p> + The knock was repeated. It was louder than before, and more impatient. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s Morris,’ cried Julia, in a startled voice, and she ran to the door + and opened it. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed Morris that stood before them; not the Morris of ordinary + days, but a wild-looking fellow, pale and haggard, with bloodshot eyes, + and a two-days’ beard upon his chin. + </p> + <p> + ‘The barrel!’ he cried. ‘Where’s the barrel that came this morning?’ And + he stared about the lobby, his eyes, as they fell upon the legs of + Hercules, literally goggling in his head. ‘What is that?’ he screamed. + ‘What is that waxwork? Speak, you fool! What is that? And where’s the + barrel—the water-butt?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No barrel came, Morris,’ responded Julia coldly. ‘This is the only thing + that has arrived.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This!’ shrieked the miserable man. ‘I never heard of it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It came addressed in your hand,’ replied Julia; ‘we had nearly to pull + the house down to get it in, that is all that I can tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris gazed at her in utter bewilderment. He passed his hand over his + forehead; he leaned against the wall like a man about to faint. Then his + tongue was loosed, and he overwhelmed the girl with torrents of abuse. + Such fire, such directness, such a choice of ungentlemanly language, none + had ever before suspected Morris to possess; and the girl trembled and + shrank before his fury. + </p> + <p> + ‘You shall not speak to Miss Hazeltine in that way,’ said Gideon sternly. + ‘It is what I will not suffer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall speak to the girl as I like,’ returned Morris, with a fresh + outburst of anger. ‘I’ll speak to the hussy as she deserves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a word more, sir, not one word,’ cried Gideon. ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he + continued, addressing the young girl, ‘you cannot stay a moment longer in + the same house with this unmanly fellow. Here is my arm; let me take you + where you will be secure from insult.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Forsyth,’ returned Julia, ‘you are right; I cannot stay here longer, + and I am sure I trust myself to an honourable gentleman.’ + </p> + <p> + Pale and resolute, Gideon offered her his arm, and the pair descended the + steps, followed by Morris clamouring for the latchkey. + </p> + <p> + Julia had scarcely handed the key to Morris before an empty hansom drove + smartly into John Street. It was hailed by both men, and as the cabman + drew up his restive horse, Morris made a dash into the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sixpence above fare,’ he cried recklessly. ‘Waterloo Station for your + life. Sixpence for yourself!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Make it a shilling, guv’ner,’ said the man, with a grin; ‘the other + parties were first.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A shilling then,’ cried Morris, with the inward reflection that he would + reconsider it at Waterloo. The man whipped up his horse, and the hansom + vanished from John Street. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the First + </h2> + <p> + As the hansom span through the streets of London, Morris sought to rally + the forces of his mind. The water-butt with the dead body had miscarried, + and it was essential to recover it. So much was clear; and if, by some + blest good fortune, it was still at the station, all might be well. If it + had been sent out, however, if it were already in the hands of some wrong + person, matters looked more ominous. People who receive unexplained + packages are usually keen to have them open; the example of Miss Hazeltine + (whom he cursed again) was there to remind him of the circumstance; and if + anyone had opened the water-butt—‘O Lord!’ cried Morris at the + thought, and carried his hand to his damp forehead. The private conception + of any breach of law is apt to be inspiriting, for the scheme (while yet + inchoate) wears dashing and attractive colours. Not so in the least that + part of the criminal’s later reflections which deal with the police. That + useful corps (as Morris now began to think) had scarce been kept + sufficiently in view when he embarked upon his enterprise. ‘I must play + devilish close,’ he reflected, and he was aware of an exquisite thrill of + fear in the region of the spine. + </p> + <p> + ‘Main line or loop?’ enquired the cabman, through the scuttle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Main line,’ replied Morris, and mentally decided that the man should have + his shilling after all. ‘It would be madness to attract attention,’ + thought he. ‘But what this thing will cost me, first and last, begins to + be a nightmare!’ + </p> + <p> + He passed through the booking-office and wandered disconsolately on the + platform. It was a breathing-space in the day’s traffic. There were few + people there, and these for the most part quiescent on the benches. Morris + seemed to attract no remark, which was a good thing; but, on the other + hand, he was making no progress in his quest. Something must be done, + something must be risked. Every passing instant only added to his dangers. + Summoning all his courage, he stopped a porter, and asked him if he + remembered receiving a barrel by the morning train. He was anxious to get + information, for the barrel belonged to a friend. ‘It is a matter of some + moment,’ he added, ‘for it contains specimens.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was not here this morning, sir,’ responded the porter, somewhat + reluctantly, ‘but I’ll ask Bill. Do you recollect, Bill, to have got a + barrel from Bournemouth this morning containing specimens?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know about specimens,’ replied Bill; ‘but the party as received + the barrel I mean raised a sight of trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s that?’ cried Morris, in the agitation of the moment pressing a + penny into the man’s hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see, sir, the barrel arrived at one-thirty. No one claimed it till + about three, when a small, sickly—looking gentleman (probably a + curate) came up, and sez he, “Have you got anything for Pitman?” or + “Wili’m Bent Pitman,” if I recollect right. “I don’t exactly know,” sez I, + “but I rather fancy that there barrel bears that name.” The little man + went up to the barrel, and seemed regularly all took aback when he saw the + address, and then he pitched into us for not having brought what he + wanted. “I don’t care a damn what you want,” sez I to him, “but if you are + Will’m Bent Pitman, there’s your barrel.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, and did he take it?’ cried the breathless Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ returned Bill, ‘it appears it was a packing-case he was + after. The packing-case came; that’s sure enough, because it was about the + biggest packing-case ever I clapped eyes on. And this Pitman he seemed a + good deal cut up, and he had the superintendent out, and they got hold of + the vanman—him as took the packing-case. Well, sir,’ continued Bill, + with a smile, ‘I never see a man in such a state. Everybody about that van + was mortal, bar the horses. Some gen’leman (as well as I could make out) + had given the vanman a sov.; and so that was where the trouble come in, + you see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what did he say?’ gasped Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know as he SAID much, sir,’ said Bill. ‘But he offered to fight + this Pitman for a pot of beer. He had lost his book, too, and the + receipts, and his men were all as mortal as himself. O, they were all + like’—and Bill paused for a simile—‘like lords! The + superintendent sacked them on the spot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, come, but that’s not so bad,’ said Morris, with a bursting sigh. ‘He + couldn’t tell where he took the packing-case, then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not he,’ said Bill, ‘nor yet nothink else.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what—what did Pitman do?’ asked Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, he went off with the barrel in a four-wheeler, very trembling like,’ + replied Bill. ‘I don’t believe he’s a gentleman as has good health.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, so the barrel’s gone,’ said Morris, half to himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘You may depend on that, sir,’ returned the porter. ‘But you had better + see the superintendent.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least; it’s of no account,’ said Morris. ‘It only contained + specimens.’ And he walked hastily away. + </p> + <p> + Ensconced once more in a hansom, he proceeded to reconsider his position. + Suppose (he thought), suppose he should accept defeat and declare his + uncle’s death at once? He should lose the tontine, and with that the last + hope of his seven thousand eight hundred pounds. But on the other hand, + since the shilling to the hansom cabman, he had begun to see that crime + was expensive in its course, and, since the loss of the water-butt, that + it was uncertain in its consequences. Quietly at first, and then with + growing heat, he reviewed the advantages of backing out. It involved a + loss; but (come to think of it) no such great loss after all; only that of + the tontine, which had been always a toss-up, which at bottom he had never + really expected. He reminded himself of that eagerly; he congratulated + himself upon his constant moderation. He had never really expected the + tontine; he had never even very definitely hoped to recover his seven + thousand eight hundred pounds; he had been hurried into the whole thing by + Michael’s obvious dishonesty. Yes, it would probably be better to draw + back from this high-flying venture, settle back on the leather business— + </p> + <p> + ‘Great God!’ cried Morris, bounding in the hansom like a Jack-in-a-box. ‘I + have not only not gained the tontine—I have lost the leather + business!’ + </p> + <p> + Such was the monstrous fact. He had no power to sign; he could not draw a + cheque for thirty shillings. Until he could produce legal evidence of his + uncle’s death, he was a penniless outcast—and as soon as he produced + it he had lost the tontine! There was no hesitation on the part of Morris; + to drop the tontine like a hot chestnut, to concentrate all his forces on + the leather business and the rest of his small but legitimate inheritance, + was the decision of a single instant. And the next, the full extent of his + calamity was suddenly disclosed to him. Declare his uncle’s death? He + couldn’t! Since the body was lost Joseph had (in a legal sense) become + immortal. + </p> + <p> + There was no created vehicle big enough to contain Morris and his woes. He + paid the hansom off and walked on he knew not whither. + </p> + <p> + ‘I seem to have gone into this business with too much precipitation,’ he + reflected, with a deadly sigh. ‘I fear it seems too ramified for a person + of my powers of mind.’ + </p> + <p> + And then a remark of his uncle’s flashed into his memory: If you want to + think clearly, put it all down on paper. ‘Well, the old boy knew a thing + or two,’ said Morris. ‘I will try; but I don’t believe the paper was ever + made that will clear my mind.’ + </p> + <p> + He entered a place of public entertainment, ordered bread and cheese, and + writing materials, and sat down before them heavily. He tried the pen. It + was an excellent pen, but what was he to write? ‘I have it,’ cried Morris. + ‘Robinson Crusoe and the double columns!’ He prepared his paper after that + classic model, and began as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bad. —— Good. + + 1. I have lost my uncle’s body. + + 1. But then Pitman has found it. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Stop a bit,’ said Morris. ‘I am letting the spirit of antithesis run away + with me. Let’s start again.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bad. —— Good. + + 1. I have lost my uncle’s body. + + 1. But then I no longer require to bury it. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 2. I have lost the tontine. + + 2.But I may still save that if Pitman disposes of the body, and + if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle’s + succession. + + 3. But not if Pitman gives the body up to the police. +</pre> + <p> + ‘O, but in that case I go to gaol; I had forgot that,’ thought Morris. + ‘Indeed, I don’t know that I had better dwell on that hypothesis at all; + it’s all very well to talk of facing the worst; but in a case of this kind + a man’s first duty is to his own nerve. Is there any answer to No. 3? Is + there any possible good side to such a beastly bungle? There must be, of + course, or where would be the use of this double-entry business? And—by + George, I have it!’ he exclaimed; ‘it’s exactly the same as the last!’ And + he hastily re-wrote the passage: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bad. —— Good. + + 3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle’s + succession. + + 3. But not if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. +</pre> + <p> + ‘This venal doctor seems quite a desideratum,’ he reflected. ‘I want him + first to give me a certificate that my uncle is dead, so that I may get + the leather business; and then that he’s alive—but here we are again + at the incompatible interests!’ And he returned to his tabulation: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Bad. —— Good. + + 4. I have almost no money. + + 4. But there is plenty in the bank. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 5. Yes, but I can’t get the money in the bank. + + 5. But—well, that seems unhappily to be the case. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 6. I have left the bill for eight hundred pounds in Uncle + Joseph’s pocket. + + 6. But if Pitman is only a dishonest man, the presence of this + bill may lead him to keep the whole thing dark and throw the body + into the New Cut. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 7. Yes, but if Pitman is dishonest and finds the bill, he will + know who Joseph is, and he may blackmail me. + + 7. Yes, but if I am right about Uncle Masterman, I can blackmail + Michael. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 8. But I can’t blackmail Michael (which is, besides, a very + dangerous thing to do) until I find out. + + 8. Worse luck! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 9. The leather business will soon want money for current + expenses, and I have none to give. + + 9. But the leather business is a sinking ship. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 10. Yes, but it’s all the ship I have. + + 10. A fact. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 11. John will soon want money, and I have none to give. + + 11. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 12. And the venal doctor will want money down. + + 12. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 13. And if Pitman is dishonest and don’t send me to gaol, he will + want a fortune. + + 13. +</pre> + <p> + ‘O, this seems to be a very one-sided business,’ exclaimed Morris. + ‘There’s not so much in this method as I was led to think.’ He crumpled + the paper up and threw it down; and then, the next moment, picked it up + again and ran it over. ‘It seems it’s on the financial point that my + position is weakest,’ he reflected. ‘Is there positively no way of raising + the wind? In a vast city like this, and surrounded by all the resources of + civilization, it seems not to be conceived! Let us have no more + precipitation. Is there nothing I can sell? My collection of signet—’ + But at the thought of scattering these loved treasures the blood leaped + into Morris’s check. ‘I would rather die!’ he exclaimed, and, cramming his + hat upon his head, strode forth into the streets. + </p> + <p> + ‘I MUST raise funds,’ he thought. ‘My uncle being dead, the money in the + bank is mine, or would be mine but for the cursed injustice that has + pursued me ever since I was an orphan in a commercial academy. I know what + any other man would do; any other man in Christendom would forge; although + I don’t know why I call it forging, either, when Joseph’s dead, and the + funds are my own. When I think of that, when I think that my uncle is + really as dead as mutton, and that I can’t prove it, my gorge rises at the + injustice of the whole affair. I used to feel bitterly about that seven + thousand eight hundred pounds; it seems a trifle now! Dear me, why, the + day before yesterday I was comparatively happy.’ + </p> + <p> + And Morris stood on the sidewalk and heaved another sobbing sigh. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then there’s another thing,’ he resumed; ‘can I? Am I able? Why didn’t I + practise different handwritings while I was young? How a fellow regrets + those lost opportunities when he grows up! But there’s one comfort: it’s + not morally wrong; I can try it on with a clear conscience, and even if I + was found out, I wouldn’t greatly care—morally, I mean. And then, if + I succeed, and if Pitman is staunch, there’s nothing to do but find a + venal doctor; and that ought to be simple enough in a place like London. + By all accounts the town’s alive with them. It wouldn’t do, of course, to + advertise for a corrupt physician; that would be impolitic. No, I suppose + a fellow has simply to spot along the streets for a red lamp and herbs in + the window, and then you go in and—and—and put it to him + plainly; though it seems a delicate step.’ + </p> + <p> + He was near home now, after many devious wanderings, and turned up John + Street. As he thrust his latchkey in the lock, another mortifying + reflection struck him to the heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not even this house is mine till I can prove him dead,’ he snarled, and + slammed the door behind him so that the windows in the attic rattled. + </p> + <p> + Night had long fallen; long ago the lamps and the shop-fronts had begun to + glitter down the endless streets; the lobby was pitch—dark; and, as + the devil would have it, Morris barked his shins and sprawled all his + length over the pedestal of Hercules. The pain was sharp; his temper was + already thoroughly undermined; by a last misfortune his hand closed on the + hammer as he fell; and, in a spasm of childish irritation, he turned and + struck at the offending statue. There was a splintering crash. + </p> + <p> + ‘O Lord, what have I done next?’ wailed Morris; and he groped his way to + find a candle. ‘Yes,’ he reflected, as he stood with the light in his hand + and looked upon the mutilated leg, from which about a pound of muscle was + detached. ‘Yes, I have destroyed a genuine antique; I may be in for + thousands!’ And then there sprung up in his bosom a sort of angry hope. + ‘Let me see,’ he thought. ‘Julia’s got rid of—, there’s nothing to + connect me with that beast Forsyth; the men were all drunk, and (what’s + better) they’ve been all discharged. O, come, I think this is another case + of moral courage! I’ll deny all knowledge of the thing.’ + </p> + <p> + A moment more, and he stood again before the Hercules, his lips sternly + compressed, the coal-axe and the meat-cleaver under his arm. The next, he + had fallen upon the packing-case. This had been already seriously + undermined by the operations of Gideon; a few well-directed blows, and it + already quaked and gaped; yet a few more, and it fell about Morris in a + shower of boards followed by an avalanche of straw. + </p> + <p> + And now the leather-merchant could behold the nature of his task: and at + the first sight his spirit quailed. It was, indeed, no more ambitious a + task for De Lesseps, with all his men and horses, to attack the hills of + Panama, than for a single, slim young gentleman, with no previous + experience of labour in a quarry, to measure himself against that bloated + monster on his pedestal. And yet the pair were well encountered: on the + one side, bulk—on the other, genuine heroic fire. + </p> + <p> + ‘Down you shall come, you great big, ugly brute!’ cried Morris aloud, with + something of that passion which swept the Parisian mob against the walls + of the Bastille. ‘Down you shall come, this night. I’ll have none of you + in my lobby.’ + </p> + <p> + The face, from its indecent expression, had particularly animated the zeal + of our iconoclast; and it was against the face that he began his + operations. The great height of the demigod—for he stood a fathom + and half in his stocking-feet—offered a preliminary obstacle to this + attack. But here, in the first skirmish of the battle, intellect already + began to triumph over matter. By means of a pair of library steps, the + injured householder gained a posture of advantage; and, with great swipes + of the coal-axe, proceeded to decapitate the brute. + </p> + <p> + Two hours later, what had been the erect image of a gigantic coal-porter + turned miraculously white, was now no more than a medley of disjected + members; the quadragenarian torso prone against the pedestal; the + lascivious countenance leering down the kitchen stair; the legs, the arms, + the hands, and even the fingers, scattered broadcast on the lobby floor. + Half an hour more, and all the debris had been laboriously carted to the + kitchen; and Morris, with a gentle sentiment of triumph, looked round upon + the scene of his achievements. Yes, he could deny all knowledge of it now: + the lobby, beyond the fact that it was partly ruinous, betrayed no trace + of the passage of Hercules. But it was a weary Morris that crept up to + bed; his arms and shoulders ached, the palms of his hands burned from the + rough kisses of the coal-axe, and there was one smarting finger that stole + continually to his mouth. Sleep long delayed to visit the dilapidated + hero, and with the first peep of day it had again deserted him. + </p> + <p> + The morning, as though to accord with his disastrous fortunes, dawned + inclemently. An easterly gale was shouting in the streets; flaws of rain + angrily assailed the windows; and as Morris dressed, the draught from the + fireplace vividly played about his legs. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he could not help observing bitterly, ‘that with all I have to + bear, they might have given me decent weather.’ + </p> + <p> + There was no bread in the house, for Miss Hazeltine (like all women left + to themselves) had subsisted entirely upon cake. But some of this was + found, and (along with what the poets call a glass of fair, cold water) + made up a semblance of a morning meal, and then down he sat undauntedly to + his delicate task. + </p> + <p> + Nothing can be more interesting than the study of signatures, written (as + they are) before meals and after, during indigestion and intoxication; + written when the signer is trembling for the life of his child or has come + from winning the Derby, in his lawyer’s office, or under the bright eyes + of his sweetheart. To the vulgar, these seem never the same; but to the + expert, the bank clerk, or the lithographer, they are constant quantities, + and as recognizable as the North Star to the night-watch on deck. + </p> + <p> + To all this Morris was alive. In the theory of that graceful art in which + he was now embarking, our spirited leather-merchant was beyond all + reproach. But, happily for the investor, forgery is an affair of practice. + And as Morris sat surrounded by examples of his uncle’s signature and of + his own incompetence, insidious depression stole upon his spirits. From + time to time the wind wuthered in the chimney at his back; from time to + time there swept over Bloomsbury a squall so dark that he must rise and + light the gas; about him was the chill and the mean disorder of a house + out of commission—the floor bare, the sofa heaped with books and + accounts enveloped in a dirty table-cloth, the pens rusted, the paper + glazed with a thick film of dust; and yet these were but adminicles of + misery, and the true root of his depression lay round him on the table in + the shape of misbegotten forgeries. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s one of the strangest things I ever heard of,’ he complained. ‘It + almost seems as if it was a talent that I didn’t possess.’ He went once + more minutely through his proofs. ‘A clerk would simply gibe at them,’ + said he. ‘Well, there’s nothing else but tracing possible.’ + </p> + <p> + He waited till a squall had passed and there came a blink of scowling + daylight. Then he went to the window, and in the face of all John Street + traced his uncle’s signature. It was a poor thing at the best. ‘But it + must do,’ said he, as he stood gazing woefully on his handiwork. ‘He’s + dead, anyway.’ And he filled up the cheque for a couple of hundred and + sallied forth for the Anglo-Patagonian Bank. + </p> + <p> + There, at the desk at which he was accustomed to transact business, and + with as much indifference as he could assume, Morris presented the forged + cheque to the big, red-bearded Scots teller. The teller seemed to view it + with surprise; and as he turned it this way and that, and even scrutinized + the signature with a magnifying-glass, his surprise appeared to warm into + disfavour. Begging to be excused for a moment, he passed away into the + rearmost quarters of the bank; whence, after an appreciable interval, he + returned again in earnest talk with a superior, an oldish and a baldish, + but a very gentlemanly man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Morris Finsbury, I believe,’ said the gentlemanly man, fixing Morris + with a pair of double eye-glasses. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is my name,’ said Morris, quavering. ‘Is there anything wrong. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, the fact is, Mr Finsbury, you see we are rather surprised at + receiving this,’ said the other, flicking at the cheque. ‘There are no + effects.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No effects?’ cried Morris. ‘Why, I know myself there must be + eight-and-twenty hundred pounds, if there’s a penny.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Two seven six four, I think,’ replied the gentlemanly man; ‘but it was + drawn yesterday.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Drawn!’ cried Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘By your uncle himself, sir,’ continued the other. ‘Not only that, but we + discounted a bill for him for—let me see—how much was it for, + Mr Bell?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eight hundred, Mr Judkin,’ replied the teller. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bent Pitman!’ cried Morris, staggering back. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Mr Judkin. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s—it’s only an expletive,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope there’s nothing wrong, Mr Finsbury,’ said Mr Bell. + </p> + <p> + ‘All I can tell you,’ said Morris, with a harsh laugh,’ is that the whole + thing’s impossible. My uncle is at Bournemouth, unable to move.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really!’ cried Mr Bell, and he recovered the cheque from Mr Judkin. ‘But + this cheque is dated in London, and today,’ he observed. ‘How d’ye account + for that, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, that was a mistake,’ said Morris, and a deep tide of colour dyed his + face and neck. + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt, no doubt,’ said Mr Judkin, but he looked at his customer + enquiringly. + </p> + <p> + ‘And—and—’ resumed Morris, ‘even if there were no effects—this + is a very trifling sum to overdraw—our firm—the name of + Finsbury, is surely good enough for such a wretched sum as this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Mr Judkin; ‘and if you insist I will + take it into consideration; but I hardly think—in short, Mr + Finsbury, if there had been nothing else, the signature seems hardly all + that we could wish.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s of no consequence,’ replied Morris nervously. ‘I’ll get my uncle + to sign another. The fact is,’ he went on, with a bold stroke, ‘my uncle + is so far from well at present that he was unable to sign this cheque + without assistance, and I fear that my holding the pen for him may have + made the difference in the signature.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Judkin shot a keen glance into Morris’s face; and then turned and + looked at Mr Bell. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it seems as if we had been victimized by a swindler. + Pray tell Mr Finsbury we shall put detectives on at once. As for this + cheque of yours, I regret that, owing to the way it was signed, the bank + can hardly consider it—what shall I say?—businesslike,’ and he + returned the cheque across the counter. + </p> + <p> + Morris took it up mechanically; he was thinking of something very + different. + </p> + <p> + ‘In a—case of this kind,’ he began, ‘I believe the loss falls on us; + I mean upon my uncle and myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It does not, sir,’ replied Mr Bell; ‘the bank is responsible, and the + bank will either recover the money or refund it, you may depend on that.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris’s face fell; then it was visited by another gleam of hope. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said, ‘you leave this entirely in my hands. I’ll + sift the matter. I’ve an idea, at any rate; and detectives,’ he added + appealingly, ‘are so expensive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The bank would not hear of it,’ returned Mr Judkin. ‘The bank stands to + lose between three and four thousand pounds; it will spend as much more if + necessary. An undiscovered forger is a permanent danger. We shall clear it + up to the bottom, Mr Finsbury; set your mind at rest on that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I’ll stand the loss,’ said Morris boldly. ‘I order you to abandon + the search.’ He was determined that no enquiry should be made. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ returned Mr Judkin, ‘but we have nothing to do with + you in this matter, which is one between your uncle and ourselves. If he + should take this opinion, and will either come here himself or let me see + him in his sick-room—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite impossible,’ cried Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, you see,’ said Mr Judkin, ‘how my hands are tied. The whole + affair must go at once into the hands of the police.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris mechanically folded the cheque and restored it to his pocket—book. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good—morning,’ said he, and scrambled somehow out of the bank. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know what they suspect,’ he reflected; ‘I can’t make them out, + their whole behaviour is thoroughly unbusinesslike. But it doesn’t matter; + all’s up with everything. The money has been paid; the police are on the + scent; in two hours that idiot Pitman will be nabbed—and the whole + story of the dead body in the evening papers.’ + </p> + <p> + If he could have heard what passed in the bank after his departure he + would have been less alarmed, perhaps more mortified. + </p> + <p> + ‘That was a curious affair, Mr Bell,’ said Mr Judkin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir,’ said Mr Bell, ‘but I think we have given him a fright.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, we shall hear no more of Mr Morris Finsbury,’ returned the other; ‘it + was a first attempt, and the house have dealt with us so long that I was + anxious to deal gently. But I suppose, Mr Bell, there can be no mistake + about yesterday? It was old Mr Finsbury himself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There could be no possible doubt of that,’ said Mr Bell with a chuckle. + ‘He explained to me the principles of banking.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ said Mr Judkin. ‘The next time he calls ask him to step into + my room. It is only proper he should be warned.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. In Which William Dent Pitman takes Legal Advice + </h2> + <p> + Norfolk Street, King’s Road—jocularly known among Mr Pitman’s + lodgers as ‘Norfolk Island’—is neither a long, a handsome, nor a + pleasing thoroughfare. Dirty, undersized maids-of-all-work issue from it + in pursuit of beer, or linger on its sidewalk listening to the voice of + love. The cat’s-meat man passes twice a day. An occasional organ-grinder + wanders in and wanders out again, disgusted. In holiday-time the street is + the arena of the young bloods of the neighbourhood, and the householders + have an opportunity of studying the manly art of self-defence. And yet + Norfolk Street has one claim to be respectable, for it contains not a + single shop—unless you count the public-house at the corner, which + is really in the King’s Road. + </p> + <p> + The door of No. 7 bore a brass plate inscribed with the legend ‘W. D. + Pitman, Artist’. It was not a particularly clean brass plate, nor was No. + 7 itself a particularly inviting place of residence. And yet it had a + character of its own, such as may well quicken the pulse of the reader’s + curiosity. For here was the home of an artist—and a distinguished + artist too, highly distinguished by his ill-success—which had never + been made the subject of an article in the illustrated magazines. No + wood-engraver had ever reproduced ‘a corner in the back drawing-room’ or + ‘the studio mantelpiece’ of No. 7; no young lady author had ever commented + on ‘the unaffected simplicity’ with which Mr Pitman received her in the + midst of his ‘treasures’. It is an omission I would gladly supply, but our + business is only with the backward parts and ‘abject rear’ of this + aesthetic dwelling. + </p> + <p> + Here was a garden, boasting a dwarf fountain (that never played) in the + centre, a few grimy-looking flowers in pots, two or three newly planted + trees which the spring of Chelsea visited without noticeable consequence, + and two or three statues after the antique, representing satyrs and nymphs + in the worst possible style of sculptured art. On one side the garden was + overshadowed by a pair of crazy studios, usually hired out to the more + obscure and youthful practitioners of British art. Opposite these another + lofty out-building, somewhat more carefully finished, and boasting of a + communication with the house and a private door on the back lane, + enshrined the multifarious industry of Mr Pitman. All day, it is true, he + was engaged in the work of education at a seminary for young ladies; but + the evenings at least were his own, and these he would prolong far into + the night, now dashing off ‘A landscape with waterfall’ in oil, now a + volunteer bust (‘in marble’, as he would gently but proudly observe) of + some public character, now stooping his chisel to a mere ‘nymph’ for a + gasbracket on a stair, sir’, or a life-size ‘Infant Samuel’ for a + religious nursery. Mr Pitman had studied in Paris, and he had studied in + Rome, supplied with funds by a fond parent who went subsequently bankrupt + in consequence of a fall in corsets; and though he was never thought to + have the smallest modicum of talent, it was at one time supposed that he + had learned his business. Eighteen years of what is called ‘tuition’ had + relieved him of the dangerous knowledge. His artist lodgers would + sometimes reason with him; they would point out to him how impossible it + was to paint by gaslight, or to sculpture life-sized nymphs without a + model. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know that,’ he would reply. ‘No one in Norfolk Street knows it better; + and if I were rich I should certainly employ the best models in London; + but, being poor, I have taught myself to do without them. An occasional + model would only disturb my ideal conception of the figure, and be a + positive impediment in my career. As for painting by an artificial light,’ + he would continue, ‘that is simply a knack I have found it necessary to + acquire, my days being engrossed in the work of tuition.’ + </p> + <p> + At the moment when we must present him to our readers, Pitman was in his + studio alone, by the dying light of the October day. He sat (sure enough + with ‘unaffected simplicity’) in a Windsor chair, his low-crowned black + felt hat by his side; a dark, weak, harmless, pathetic little man, clad in + the hue of mourning, his coat longer than is usual with the laity, his + neck enclosed in a collar without a parting, his neckcloth pale in hue and + simply tied; the whole outward man, except for a pointed beard, + tentatively clerical. There was a thinning on the top of Pitman’s head, + there were silver hairs at Pitman’s temple. Poor gentleman, he was no + longer young; and years, and poverty, and humble ambition thwarted, make a + cheerless lot. + </p> + <p> + In front of him, in the corner by the door, there stood a portly barrel; + and let him turn them where he might, it was always to the barrel that his + eyes and his thoughts returned. + </p> + <p> + ‘Should I open it? Should I return it? Should I communicate with Mr + Sernitopolis at once?’ he wondered. ‘No,’ he concluded finally, ‘nothing + without Mr Finsbury’s advice.’ And he arose and produced a shabby leathern + desk. It opened without the formality of unlocking, and displayed the + thick cream-coloured notepaper on which Mr Pitman was in the habit of + communicating with the proprietors of schools and the parents of his + pupils. He placed the desk on the table by the window, and taking a saucer + of Indian ink from the chimney-piece, laboriously composed the following + letter: + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Mr Finsbury,’ it ran, ‘would it be presuming on your kindness if + I asked you to pay me a visit here this evening? It is in no trifling + matter that I invoke your valuable assistance, for need I say more than it + concerns the welfare of Mr Semitopolis’s statue of Hercules? I write you + in great agitation of mind; for I have made all enquiries, and greatly + fear that this work of ancient art has been mislaid. I labour besides + under another perplexity, not unconnected with the first. Pray excuse the + inelegance of this scrawl, and believe me yours in haste, William D. + Pitman.’ + </p> + <p> + Armed with this he set forth and rang the bell of No. 233 King’s Road, the + private residence of Michael Finsbury. He had met the lawyer at a time of + great public excitement in Chelsea; Michael, who had a sense of humour and + a great deal of careless kindness in his nature, followed the acquaintance + up, and, having come to laugh, remained to drop into a contemptuous kind + of friendship. By this time, which was four years after the first meeting, + Pitman was the lawyer’s dog. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the elderly housekeeper, who opened the door in person, ‘Mr + Michael’s not in yet. But ye’re looking terribly poorly, Mr Pitman. Take a + glass of sherry, sir, to cheer ye up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I thank you, ma’am,’ replied the artist. ‘It is very good in you, but + I scarcely feel in sufficient spirits for sherry. Just give Mr Finsbury + this note, and ask him to look round—to the door in the lane, you + will please tell him; I shall be in the studio all evening.’ + </p> + <p> + And he turned again into the street and walked slowly homeward. A + hairdresser’s window caught his attention, and he stared long and + earnestly at the proud, high—born, waxen lady in evening dress, who + circulated in the centre of the show. The artist woke in him, in spite of + his troubles. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is all very well to run down the men who make these things,’ he cried, + ‘but there’s a something—there’s a haughty, indefinable something + about that figure. It’s what I tried for in my “Empress Eugenie”,’ he + added, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + And he went home reflecting on the quality. ‘They don’t teach you that + direct appeal in Paris,’ he thought. ‘It’s British. Come, I am going to + sleep, I must wake up, I must aim higher—aim higher,’ cried the + little artist to himself. All through his tea and afterward, as he was + giving his eldest boy a lesson on the fiddle, his mind dwelt no longer on + his troubles, but he was rapt into the better land; and no sooner was he + at liberty than he hastened with positive exhilaration to his studio. + </p> + <p> + Not even the sight of the barrel could entirely cast him down. He flung + himself with rising zest into his work—a bust of Mr Gladstone from a + photograph; turned (with extraordinary success) the difficulty of the back + of the head, for which he had no documents beyond a hazy recollection of a + public meeting; delighted himself by his treatment of the collar; and was + only recalled to the cares of life by Michael Finsbury’s rattle at the + door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what’s wrong?’ said Michael, advancing to the grate, where, knowing + his friend’s delight in a bright fire, Mr Pitman had not spared the fuel. + ‘I suppose you have come to grief somehow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no expression strong enough,’ said the artist. ‘Mr Semitopolis’s + statue has not turned up, and I am afraid I shall be answerable for the + money; but I think nothing of that—what I fear, my dear Mr Finsbury, + what I fear—alas that I should have to say it! is exposure. The + Hercules was to be smuggled out of Italy; a thing positively wrong, a + thing of which a man of my principles and in my responsible position + should have taken (as I now see too late) no part whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This sounds like very serious work,’ said the lawyer. ‘It will require a + great deal of drink, Pitman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I took the liberty of—in short, of being prepared for you,’ replied + the artist, pointing to a kettle, a bottle of gin, a lemon, and glasses. + Michael mixed himself a grog, and offered the artist a cigar. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, thank you,’ said Pitman. ‘I used occasionally to be rather partial to + it, but the smell is so disagreeable about the clothes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ said the lawyer. ‘I am comfortable now. Unfold your tale.’ + </p> + <p> + At some length Pitman set forth his sorrows. He had gone today to + Waterloo, expecting to receive the colossal Hercules, and he had received + instead a barrel not big enough to hold Discobolus; yet the barrel was + addressed in the hand (with which he was perfectly acquainted) of his + Roman correspondent. What was stranger still, a case had arrived by the + same train, large enough and heavy enough to contain the Hercules; and + this case had been taken to an address now undiscoverable. ‘The vanman (I + regret to say it) had been drinking, and his language was such as I could + never bring myself to repeat. + </p> + <p> + He was at once discharged by the superintendent of the line, who behaved + most properly throughout, and is to make enquiries at Southampton. In the + meanwhile, what was I to do? I left my address and brought the barrel + home; but, remembering an old adage, I determined not to open it except in + the presence of my lawyer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that all?’ asked Michael. ‘I don’t see any cause to worry. The + Hercules has stuck upon the road. It will drop in tomorrow or the day + after; and as for the barrel, depend upon it, it’s a testimonial from one + of your young ladies, and probably contains oysters.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, don’t speak so loud!’ cried the little artist. ‘It would cost me my + place if I were heard to speak lightly of the young ladies; and besides, + why oysters from Italy? and why should they come to me addressed in Signor + Ricardi’s hand?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, let’s have a look at it,’ said Michael. ‘Let’s roll it forward to + the light.’ + </p> + <p> + The two men rolled the barrel from the corner, and stood it on end before + the fire. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s heavy enough to be oysters,’ remarked Michael judiciously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall we open it at once?’ enquired the artist, who had grown decidedly + cheerful under the combined effects of company and gin; and without + waiting for a reply, he began to strip as if for a prize-fight, tossed his + clerical collar in the wastepaper basket, hung his clerical coat upon a + nail, and with a chisel in one hand and a hammer in the other, struck the + first blow of the evening. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the style, William Dent’ cried Michael. ‘There’s fire for—your + money! It may be a romantic visit from one of the young ladies—a + sort of Cleopatra business. Have a care and don’t stave in Cleopatra’s + head.’ + </p> + <p> + But the sight of Pitman’s alacrity was infectious. The lawyer could sit + still no longer. Tossing his cigar into the fire, he snatched the + instrument from the unwilling hands of the artist, and fell to himself. + Soon the sweat stood in beads upon his large, fair brow; his stylish + trousers were defaced with iron rust, and the state of his chisel + testified to misdirected energies. + </p> + <p> + A cask is not an easy thing to open, even when you set about it in the + right way; when you set about it wrongly, the whole structure must be + resolved into its elements. Such was the course pursued alike by the + artist and the lawyer. Presently the last hoop had been removed—a + couple of smart blows tumbled the staves upon the ground—and what + had once been a barrel was no more than a confused heap of broken and + distorted boards. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these, a certain dismal something, swathed in blankets, + remained for an instant upright, and then toppled to one side and heavily + collapsed before the fire. Even as the thing subsided, an eye-glass + tingled to the floor and rolled toward the screaming Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold your tongue!’ said Michael. He dashed to the house door and locked + it; then, with a pale face and bitten lip, he drew near, pulled aside a + corner of the swathing blanket, and recoiled, shuddering. There was a long + silence in the studio. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now tell me,’ said Michael, in a low voice: ‘Had you any hand in it?’ and + he pointed to the body. + </p> + <p> + The little artist could only utter broken and disjointed sounds. + </p> + <p> + Michael poured some gin into a glass. ‘Drink that,’ he said. ‘Don’t be + afraid of me. I’m your friend through thick and thin.’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman put the liquor down untasted. + </p> + <p> + ‘I swear before God,’ he said, ‘this is another mystery to me. In my worst + fears I never dreamed of such a thing. I would not lay a finger on a + sucking infant.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all square,’ said Michael, with a sigh of huge relief. ‘I believe + you, old boy.’ And he shook the artist warmly by the hand. ‘I thought for + a moment,’ he added with rather a ghastly smile, ‘I thought for a moment + you might have made away with Mr Semitopolis.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It would make no difference if I had,’ groaned Pitman. ‘All is at an end + for me. There’s the writing on the wall.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To begin with,’ said Michael, ‘let’s get him out of sight; for to be + quite plain with you, Pitman, I don’t like your friend’s appearance.’ And + with that the lawyer shuddered. ‘Where can we put it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You might put it in the closet there—if you could bear to touch + it,’ answered the artist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Somebody has to do it, Pitman,’ returned the lawyer; ‘and it seems as if + it had to be me. You go over to the table, turn your back, and mix me a + grog; that’s a fair division of labour.’ + </p> + <p> + About ninety seconds later the closet-door was heard to shut. + </p> + <p> + ‘There,’ observed Michael, ‘that’s more homelike. You can turn now, my + pallid Pitman. Is this the grog?’ he ran on. ‘Heaven forgive you, it’s a + lemonade.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, O, Finsbury, what are we to do with it?’ walled the artist, laying a + clutching hand upon the lawyer’s arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do with it?’ repeated Michael. ‘Bury it in one of your flowerbeds, and + erect one of your own statues for a monument. I tell you we should look + devilish romantic shovelling out the sod by the moon’s pale ray. Here, put + some gin in this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg of you, Mr Finsbury, do not trifle with my misery,’ cried Pitman. + ‘You see before you a man who has been all his life—I do not + hesitate to say it—imminently respectable. Even in this solemn hour + I can lay my hand upon my heart without a blush. Except on the really + trifling point of the smuggling of the Hercules (and even of that I now + humbly repent), my life has been entirely fit for publication. I never + feared the light,’ cried the little man; ‘and now—now—!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cheer up, old boy,’ said Michael. ‘I assure you we should count this + little contretemps a trifle at the office; it’s the sort of thing that may + occur to any one; and if you’re perfectly sure you had no hand in it—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What language am I to find—’ began Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I’ll do that part of it,’ interrupted Michael, ‘you have no + experience.’ But the point is this: If—or rather since—you + know nothing of the crime, since the—the party in the closet—is + neither your father, nor your brother, nor your creditor, nor your + mother-in-law, nor what they call an injured husband—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, my dear sir!’ interjected Pitman, horrified. + </p> + <p> + ‘Since, in short,’ continued the lawyer, ‘you had no possible interest in + the crime, we have a perfectly free field before us and a safe game to + play. Indeed, the problem is really entertaining; it is one I have long + contemplated in the light of an A. B. case; here it is at last under my + hand in specie; and I mean to pull you through. Do you hear that?—I + mean to pull you through. Let me see: it’s a long time since I have had + what I call a genuine holiday; I’ll send an excuse tomorrow to the office. + We had best be lively,’ he added significantly; ‘for we must not spoil the + market for the other man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean?’ enquired Pitman. ‘What other man? The inspector of + police?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Damn the inspector of police!’ remarked his companion. ‘If you won’t take + the short cut and bury this in your back garden, we must find some one who + will bury it in his. We must place the affair, in short, in the hands of + some one with fewer scruples and more resources.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A private detective, perhaps?’ suggested Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘There are times when you fill me with pity,’ observed the lawyer. ‘By the + way, Pitman,’ he added in another key, ‘I have always regretted that you + have no piano in this den of yours. Even if you don’t play yourself, your + friends might like to entertain themselves with a little music while you + were mudding.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall get one at once if you like,’ said Pitman nervously, anxious to + please. ‘I play the fiddle a little as it is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know you do,’ said Michael; ‘but what’s the fiddle—above all as + you play it? What you want is polyphonic music. And I’ll tell you what it + is—since it’s too late for you to buy a piano I’ll give you mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said the artist blankly. ‘You will give me yours? I am sure + it’s very good in you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I’ll give you mine,’ continued Michael, ‘for the inspector of police + to play on while his men are digging up your back garden.’ Pitman stared + at him in pained amazement. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I’m not insane,’ Michael went on. ‘I’m playful, but quite coherent. + See here, Pitman: follow me one half minute. I mean to profit by the + refreshing fact that we are really and truly innocent; nothing but the + presence of the—you know what—connects us with the crime; once + let us get rid of it, no matter how, and there is no possible clue to + trace us by. Well, I give you my piano; we’ll bring it round this very + night. Tomorrow we rip the fittings out, deposit the—our friend—inside, + plump the whole on a cart, and carry it to the chambers of a young + gentleman whom I know by sight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whom do you know by sight?’ repeated Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what is more to the purpose,’ continued Michael, ‘whose chambers I + know better than he does himself. A friend of mine—I call him my + friend for brevity; he is now, I understand, in Demerara and (most likely) + in gaol—was the previous occupant. I defended him, and I got him off + too—all saved but honour; his assets were nil, but he gave me what + he had, poor gentleman, and along with the rest—the key of his + chambers. It’s there that I propose to leave the piano and, shall we say, + Cleopatra?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems very wild,’ said Pitman. ‘And what will become of the poor young + gentleman whom you know by sight?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It will do him good,’—said Michael cheerily. ‘Just what he wants to + steady him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, my dear sir, he might be involved in a charge of—a charge of + murder,’ gulped the artist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, he’ll be just where we are,’ returned the lawyer. ‘He’s innocent, + you see. What hangs people, my dear Pitman, is the unfortunate + circumstance of guilt.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But indeed, indeed,’ pleaded Pitman, ‘the whole scheme appears to me so + wild. Would it not be safer, after all, just to send for the police?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And make a scandal?’ enquired Michael. ‘“The Chelsea Mystery; alleged + innocence of Pitman”? How would that do at the Seminary?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It would imply my discharge,’ admitted the drawing—master. ‘I + cannot deny that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And besides,’ said Michael, ‘I am not going to embark in such a business + and have no fun for my money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O my dear sir, is that a proper spirit?’ cried Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I only said that to cheer you up,’ said the unabashed Michael. + ‘Nothing like a little judicious levity. But it’s quite needless to + discuss. If you mean to follow my advice, come on, and let us get the + piano at once. If you don’t, just drop me the word, and I’ll leave you to + deal with the whole thing according to your better judgement.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know perfectly well that I depend on you entirely,’ returned Pitman. + ‘But O, what a night is before me with that—horror in my studio! How + am I to think of it on my pillow?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you know, my piano will be there too,’ said Michael. ‘That’ll raise + the average.’ + </p> + <p> + An hour later a cart came up the lane, and the lawyer’s piano—a + momentous Broadwood grand—was deposited in Mr Pitman’s studio. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. In Which Michael Finsbury Enjoys a Holiday + </h2> + <p> + Punctually at eight o’clock next morning the lawyer rattled (according to + previous appointment) on the studio door. He found the artist sadly + altered for the worse—bleached, bloodshot, and chalky—a man + upon wires, the tail of his haggard eye still wandering to the closet. Nor + was the professor of drawing less inclined to wonder at his friend. + Michael was usually attired in the height of fashion, with a certain + mercantile brilliancy best described perhaps as stylish; nor could + anything be said against him, as a rule, but that he looked a trifle too + like a wedding guest to be quite a gentleman. Today he had fallen + altogether from these heights. He wore a flannel shirt of washed-out + shepherd’s tartan, and a suit of reddish tweeds, of the colour known to + tailors as ‘heather mixture’; his neckcloth was black, and tied loosely in + a sailor’s knot; a rusty ulster partly concealed these advantages; and his + feet were shod with rough walking boots. His hat was an old soft felt, + which he removed with a flourish as he entered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here I am, William Dent!’ he cried, and drawing from his pocket two + little wisps of reddish hair, he held them to his cheeks like sidewhiskers + and danced about the studio with the filmy graces of a ballet-girl. + </p> + <p> + Pitman laughed sadly. ‘I should never have known you,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor were you intended to,’ returned Michael, replacing his false whiskers + in his pocket. ‘Now we must overhaul you and your wardrobe, and disguise + you up to the nines.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Disguise!’ cried the artist. ‘Must I indeed disguise myself. Has it come + to that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear creature,’ returned his companion, ‘disguise is the spice of + life. What is life, passionately exclaimed a French philosopher, without + the pleasures of disguise? I don’t say it’s always good taste, and I know + it’s unprofessional; but what’s the odds, downhearted drawing-master? It + has to be. We have to leave a false impression on the minds of many + persons, and in particular on the mind of Mr Gideon Forsyth—the + young gentleman I know by sight—if he should have the bad taste to + be at home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If he be at home?’ faltered the artist. ‘That would be the end of all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Won’t matter a d—,’ returned Michael airily. ‘Let me see your + clothes, and I’ll make a new man of you in a jiffy.’ + </p> + <p> + In the bedroom, to which he was at once conducted, Michael examined + Pitman’s poor and scanty wardrobe with a humorous eye, picked out a short + jacket of black alpaca, and presently added to that a pair of summer + trousers which somehow took his fancy as incongruous. Then, with the + garments in his hand, he scrutinized the artist closely. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t like that clerical collar,’ he remarked. ‘Have you nothing else?’ + </p> + <p> + The professor of drawing pondered for a moment, and then brightened; ‘I + have a pair of low-necked shirts,’ he said, ‘that I used to wear in Paris + as a student. They are rather loud.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The very thing!’ ejaculated Michael. ‘You’ll look perfectly beastly. Here + are spats, too,’ he continued, drawing forth a pair of those offensive + little gaiters. ‘Must have spats! And now you jump into these, and whistle + a tune at the window for (say) three-quarters of an hour. After that you + can rejoin me on the field of glory.’ + </p> + <p> + So saying, Michael returned to the studio. It was the morning of the + easterly gale; the wind blew shrilly among the statues in the garden, and + drove the rain upon the skylight in the studio ceiling; and at about the + same moment of the time when Morris attacked the hundredth version of his + uncle’s signature in Bloomsbury, Michael, in Chelsea, began to rip the + wires out of the Broadwood grand. + </p> + <p> + Three-quarters of an hour later Pitman was admitted, to find the + closet-door standing open, the closet untenanted, and the piano discreetly + shut. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a remarkably heavy instrument,’ observed Michael, and turned to + consider his friend’s disguise. ‘You must shave off that beard of yours,’ + he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘My beard!’ cried Pitman. ‘I cannot shave my beard. I cannot tamper with + my appearance—my principals would object. They hold very strong + views as to the appearance of the professors—young ladies are + considered so romantic. My beard was regarded as quite a feature when I + went about the place. It was regarded,’ said the artist, with rising + colour, ‘it was regarded as unbecoming.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You can let it grow again,’ returned Michael, ‘and then you’ll be so + precious ugly that they’ll raise your salary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I don’t want to be ugly,’ cried the artist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Michael, who hated beards and was delighted to + destroy one. ‘Off with it like a man!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course, if you insist,’ said Pitman; and then he sighed, fetched some + hot water from the kitchen, and setting a glass upon his easel, first + clipped his beard with scissors and then shaved his chin. He could not + conceal from himself, as he regarded the result, that his last claims to + manhood had been sacrificed, but Michael seemed delighted. + </p> + <p> + ‘A new man, I declare!’ he cried. ‘When I give you the windowglass + spectacles I have in my pocket, you’ll be the beau-ideal of a French + commercial traveller.’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman did not reply, but continued to gaze disconsolately on his image in + the glass. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know,’ asked Michael, ‘what the Governor of South Carolina said to + the Governor of North Carolina? “It’s a long time between drinks,” + observed that powerful thinker; and if you will put your hand into the top + left-hand pocket of my ulster, I have an impression you will find a flask + of brandy. Thank you, Pitman,’ he added, as he filled out a glass for + each. ‘Now you will give me news of this.’ + </p> + <p> + The artist reached out his hand for the water-jug, but Michael arrested + the movement. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not if you went upon your knees!’ he cried. ‘This is the finest liqueur + brandy in Great Britain.’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman put his lips to it, set it down again, and sighed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I must say you’re the poorest companion for a holiday!’ cried + Michael. ‘If that’s all you know of brandy, you shall have no more of it; + and while I finish the flask, you may as well begin business. Come to + think of it,’ he broke off, ‘I have made an abominable error: you should + have ordered the cart before you were disguised. Why, Pitman, what the + devil’s the use of you? why couldn’t you have reminded me of that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never even knew there was a cart to be ordered,’ said the artist. ‘But + I can take off the disguise again,’ he suggested eagerly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You would find it rather a bother to put on your beard,’ observed the + lawyer. ‘No, it’s a false step; the sort of thing that hangs people,’ he + continued, with eminent cheerfulness, as he sipped his brandy; ‘and it + can’t be retraced now. Off to the mews with you, make all the + arrangements; they’re to take the piano from here, cart it to Victoria, + and dispatch it thence by rail to Cannon Street, to lie till called for in + the name of Fortune du Boisgobey.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t that rather an awkward name?’ pleaded Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Awkward?’ cried Michael scornfully. ‘It would hang us both! Brown is both + safer and easier to pronounce. Call it Brown.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish,’ said Pitman, ‘for my sake, I wish you wouldn’t talk so much of + hanging.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Talking about it’s nothing, my boy!’ returned Michael. ‘But take your hat + and be off, and mind and pay everything beforehand.’ + </p> + <p> + Left to himself, the lawyer turned his attention for some time exclusively + to the liqueur brandy, and his spirits, which had been pretty fair all + morning, now prodigiously rose. He proceeded to adjust his whiskers + finally before the glass. ‘Devilish rich,’ he remarked, as he contemplated + his reflection. ‘I look like a purser’s mate.’ And at that moment the + window-glass spectacles (which he had hitherto destined for Pitman) + flashed into his mind; he put them on, and fell in love with the effect. + ‘Just what I required,’ he said. ‘I wonder what I look like now? A + humorous novelist, I should think,’ and he began to practise divers + characters of walk, naming them to himself as—he proceeded. ‘Walk of + a humorous novelist—but that would require an umbrella. Walk of a + purser’s mate. Walk of an Australian colonist revisiting the scenes of + childhood. Walk of Sepoy colonel, ditto, ditto. And in the midst of the + Sepoy colonel (which was an excellent assumption, although inconsistent + with the style of his make-up), his eye lighted on the piano. This + instrument was made to lock both at the top and at the keyboard, but the + key of the latter had been mislaid. Michael opened it and ran his fingers + over the dumb keys. ‘Fine instrument—full, rich tone,’ he observed, + and he drew in a seat. + </p> + <p> + When Mr Pitman returned to the studio, he was appalled to observe his + guide, philosopher, and friend performing miracles of execution on the + silent grand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Heaven help me!’ thought the little man, ‘I fear he has been drinking! Mr + Finsbury,’ he said aloud; and Michael, without rising, turned upon him a + countenance somewhat flushed, encircled with the bush of the red whiskers, + and bestridden by the spectacles. ‘Capriccio in B-flat on the departure of + a friend,’ said he, continuing his noiseless evolutions. + </p> + <p> + Indignation awoke in the mind of Pitman. ‘Those spectacles were to be + mine,’ he cried. ‘They are an essential part of my disguise.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to wear them myself,’ replied Michael; and he added, with some + show of truth, ‘There would be a devil of a lot of suspicion aroused if we + both wore spectacles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, well,’ said the assenting Pitman, ‘I rather counted on them; but of + course, if you insist. And at any rate, here is the cart at the door.’ + </p> + <p> + While the men were at work, Michael concealed himself in the closet among + the debris of the barrel and the wires of the piano; and as soon as the + coast was clear the pair sallied forth by the lane, jumped into a hansom + in the King’s Road, and were driven rapidly toward town. It was still cold + and raw and boisterous; the rain beat strongly in their faces, but Michael + refused to have the glass let down; he had now suddenly donned the + character of cicerone, and pointed out and lucidly commented on the sights + of London, as they drove. ‘My dear fellow,’ he said, ‘you don’t seem to + know anything of your native city. Suppose we visited the Tower? No? Well, + perhaps it’s a trifle out of our way. But, anyway—Here, cabby, drive + round by Trafalgar Square!’ And on that historic battlefield he insisted + on drawing up, while he criticized the statues and gave the artist many + curious details (quite new to history) of the lives of the celebrated men + they represented. + </p> + <p> + It would be difficult to express what Pitman suffered in the cab: cold, + wet, terror in the capital degree, a grounded distrust of the commander + under whom he served, a sense of imprudency in the matter of the + low-necked shirt, a bitter sense of the decline and fall involved in the + deprivation of his beard, all these were among the ingredients of the + bowl. To reach the restaurant, for which they were deviously steering, was + the first relief. To hear Michael bespeak a private room was a second and + a still greater. Nor, as they mounted the stair under the guidance of an + unintelligible alien, did he fail to note with gratitude the fewness of + the persons present, or the still more cheering fact that the greater part + of these were exiles from the land of France. It was thus a blessed + thought that none of them would be connected with the Seminary; for even + the French professor, though admittedly a Papist, he could scarce imagine + frequenting so rakish an establishment. + </p> + <p> + The alien introduced them into a small bare room with a single table, a + sofa, and a dwarfish fire; and Michael called promptly for more coals and + a couple of brandies and sodas. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, no,’ said Pitman, ‘surely not—no more to drink.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know what you would be at,’ said Michael plaintively. ‘It’s + positively necessary to do something; and one shouldn’t smoke before meals. I thought that was understood. You seem to have no idea of hygiene.’ And + he compared his watch with the clock upon the chimney-piece. + </p> + <p> + Pitman fell into bitter musing; here he was, ridiculously shorn, absurdly + disguised, in the company of a drunken man in spectacles, and waiting for + a champagne luncheon in a restaurant painfully foreign. What would his + principals think, if they could see him? What if they knew his tragic and + deceitful errand? + </p> + <p> + From these reflections he was aroused by the entrance of the alien with + the brandies and sodas. Michael took one and bade the waiter pass the + other to his friend. + </p> + <p> + Pitman waved it from him with his hand. ‘Don’t let me lose all + self-respect,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Anything to oblige a friend,’ returned Michael. ‘But I’m not going to + drink alone. Here,’ he added to the waiter, ‘you take it.’ And, then, + touching glasses, ‘The health of Mr Gideon Forsyth,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Meestare Gidden Borsye,’ replied the waiter, and he tossed off the liquor + in four gulps. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have another?’ said Michael, with undisguised interest. ‘I never saw a + man drink faster. It restores one’s confidence in the human race. + </p> + <p> + But the waiter excused himself politely, and, assisted by some one from + without, began to bring in lunch. + </p> + <p> + Michael made an excellent meal, which he washed down with a bottle of + Heidsieck’s dry monopole. As for the artist, he was far too uneasy to eat, + and his companion flatly refused to let him share in the champagne unless + he did. + </p> + <p> + ‘One of us must stay sober,’ remarked the lawyer, ‘and I won’t give you + champagne on the strength of a leg of grouse. I have to be cautious,’ he + added confidentially. ‘One drunken man, excellent business—two + drunken men, all my eye.’ + </p> + <p> + On the production of coffee and departure of the waiter, Michael might + have been observed to make portentous efforts after gravity of mien. He + looked his friend in the face (one eye perhaps a trifle off), and + addressed him thickly but severely. + </p> + <p> + ‘Enough of this fooling,’ was his not inappropriate exordium. ‘To + business. Mark me closely. I am an Australian. My name is John Dickson, + though you mightn’t think it from my unassuming appearance. You will be + relieved to hear that I am rich, sir, very rich. You can’t go into this + sort of thing too thoroughly, Pitman; the whole secret is preparation, and + I can get up my biography from the beginning, and I could tell it you now, + only I have forgotten it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I’m stupid—’ began Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s it!’ cried Michael. ‘Very stupid; but rich too—richer than I + am. I thought you would enjoy it, Pitman, so I’ve arranged that you were + to be literally wallowing in wealth. But then, on the other hand, you’re + only an American, and a maker of india-rubber overshoes at that. And the + worst of it is—why should I conceal it from you?—the worst of + it is that you’re called Ezra Thomas. Now,’ said Michael, with a really + appalling seriousness of manner, ‘tell me who we are.’ + </p> + <p> + The unfortunate little man was cross-examined till he knew these facts by + heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘There!’ cried the lawyer. ‘Our plans are laid. Thoroughly consistent—that’s + the great thing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I don’t understand,’ objected Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, you’ll understand right enough when it comes to the point,’ said + Michael, rising. + </p> + <p> + ‘There doesn’t seem any story to it,’ said the artist. + </p> + <p> + ‘We can invent one as we go along,’ returned the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I can’t invent,’ protested Pitman. ‘I never could invent in all my + life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll find you’ll have to, my boy,’ was Michael’s easy comment, and he + began calling for the waiter, with whom he at once resumed a sparkling + conversation. + </p> + <p> + It was a downcast little man that followed him. ‘Of course he is very + clever, but can I trust him in such a state?’ he asked himself. And when + they were once more in a hansom, he took heart of grace. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you think,’ he faltered, ‘it would be wiser, considering all + things, to put this business off?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Put off till tomorrow what can be done today?’ cried Michael, with + indignation. ‘Never heard of such a thing! Cheer up, it’s all right, go in + and win—there’s a lion-hearted Pitman!’ + </p> + <p> + At Cannon Street they enquired for Mr Brown’s piano, which had duly + arrived, drove thence to a neighbouring mews, where they contracted for a + cart, and while that was being got ready, took shelter in the harness-room + beside the stove. Here the lawyer presently toppled against the wall and + fell into a gentle slumber; so that Pitman found himself launched on his + own resources in the midst of several staring loafers, such as love to + spend unprofitable days about a stable. ‘Rough day, sir,’ observed one. + ‘Do you go far?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, it’s a—rather a rough day,’ said the artist; and then, feeling + that he must change the conversation, ‘My friend is an Australian; he is + very impulsive,’ he added. + </p> + <p> + ‘An Australian?’ said another. ‘I’ve a brother myself in Melbourne. Does + your friend come from that way at all?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, not exactly,’ replied the artist, whose ideas of the geography of New + Holland were a little scattered. ‘He lives immensely far inland, and is + very rich.’ + </p> + <p> + The loafers gazed with great respect upon the slumbering colonist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ remarked the second speaker, ‘it’s a mighty big place, is + Australia. Do you come from thereaway too?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I do not,’ said Pitman. ‘I do not, and I don’t want to,’ he added + irritably. And then, feeling some diversion needful, he fell upon Michael + and shook him up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hullo,’ said the lawyer, ‘what’s wrong?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The cart is nearly ready,’ said Pitman sternly. ‘I will not allow you to + sleep.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right—no offence, old man,’ replied Michael, yawning. ‘A little + sleep never did anybody any harm; I feel comparatively sober now. But + what’s all the hurry?’ he added, looking round him glassily. ‘I don’t see + the cart, and I’ve forgotten where we left the piano.’ + </p> + <p> + What more the lawyer might have said, in the confidence of the moment, is + with Pitman a matter of tremulous conjecture to this day; but by the most + blessed circumstance the cart was then announced, and Michael must bend + the forces of his mind to the more difficult task of rising. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course you’ll drive,’ he remarked to his companion, as he clambered on + the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + ‘I drive!’ cried Pitman. ‘I never did such a thing in my life. I cannot + drive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ responded Michael with entire composure, ‘neither can I see. + But just as you like. Anything to oblige a friend.’ + </p> + <p> + A glimpse of the ostler’s darkening countenance decided Pitman. ‘All + right,’ he said desperately, ‘you drive. I’ll tell you where to go.’ + </p> + <p> + On Michael in the character of charioteer (since this is not intended to + be a novel of adventure) it would be superfluous to dwell at length. + Pitman, as he sat holding on and gasping counsels, sole witness of this + singular feat, knew not whether most to admire the driver’s valour or his + undeserved good fortune. But the latter at least prevailed, the cart + reached Cannon Street without disaster; and Mr Brown’s piano was speedily + and cleverly got on board. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ said the leading porter, smiling as he mentally reckoned up a + handful of loose silver, ‘that’s a mortal heavy piano.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the richness of the tone,’ returned Michael, as he drove away. + </p> + <p> + It was but a little distance in the rain, which now fell thick and quiet, + to the neighbourhood of Mr Gideon Forsyth’s chambers in the Temple. There, + in a deserted by-street, Michael drew up the horses and gave them in + charge to a blighted shoe-black; and the pair descending from the cart, + whereon they had figured so incongruously, set forth on foot for the + decisive scene of their adventure. For the first time Michael displayed a + shadow of uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are my whiskers right?’ he asked. ‘It would be the devil and all if I was + spotted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They are perfectly in their place,’ returned Pitman, with scant + attention. ‘But is my disguise equally effective? There is nothing more + likely than that I should meet some of my patrons.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, nobody could tell you without your beard,’ said Michael. ‘All you have + to do is to remember to speak slow; you speak through your nose already.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I only hope the young man won’t be at home,’ sighed Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I only hope he’ll be alone,’ returned the lawyer. ‘It will save a + precious sight of manoeuvring.’ + </p> + <p> + And sure enough, when they had knocked at the door, Gideon admitted them + in person to a room, warmed by a moderate fire, framed nearly to the roof + in works connected with the bench of British Themis, and offering, except + in one particular, eloquent testimony to the legal zeal of the proprietor. + The one particular was the chimney-piece, which displayed a varied + assortment of pipes, tobacco, cigar-boxes, and yellow-backed French + novels. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Forsyth, I believe?’ It was Michael who thus opened the engagement. + ‘We have come to trouble you with a piece of business. I fear it’s + scarcely professional—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid I ought to be instructed through a solicitor,’ replied + Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well, you shall name your own, and the whole affair can be put on a + more regular footing tomorrow,’ replied Michael, taking a chair and + motioning Pitman to do the same. ‘But you see we didn’t know any + solicitors; we did happen to know of you, and time presses.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I enquire, gentlemen,’ asked Gideon, ‘to whom it was I am indebted + for a recommendation?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may enquire,’ returned the lawyer, with a foolish laugh; ‘but I was + invited not to tell you—till the thing was done.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My uncle, no doubt,’ was the barrister’s conclusion. + </p> + <p> + ‘My name is John Dickson,’ continued Michael; ‘a pretty well-known name in + Ballarat; and my friend here is Mr Ezra Thomas, of the United States of + America, a wealthy manufacturer of india-rubber overshoes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop one moment till I make a note of that,’ said Gideon; any one might + have supposed he was an old practitioner. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind my smoking a cigar?’ asked Michael. He had + pulled himself together for the entrance; now again there began to settle + on his mind clouds of irresponsible humour and incipient slumber; and he + hoped (as so many have hoped in the like case) that a cigar would clear + him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, certainly,’ cried Gideon blandly. ‘Try one of mine; I can confidently + recommend them.’ And he handed the box to his client. + </p> + <p> + ‘In case I don’t make myself perfectly clear,’ observed the Australian, + ‘it’s perhaps best to tell you candidly that I’ve been lunching. It’s a + thing that may happen to any one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, certainly,’ replied the affable barrister. ‘But please be under no + sense of hurry. I can give you,’ he added, thoughtfully consulting his + watch—‘yes, I can give you the whole afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The business that brings me here,’ resumed the Australian with gusto, ‘is + devilish delicate, I can tell you. My friend Mr Thomas, being an American + of Portuguese extraction, unacquainted with our habits, and a wealthy + manufacturer of Broadwood pianos—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Broadwood pianos?’ cried Gideon, with some surprise. ‘Dear me, do I + understand Mr Thomas to be a member of the firm?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, pirated Broadwoods,’ returned Michael. ‘My friend’s the American + Broadwood.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I understood you to say,’ objected Gideon, ‘I certainly have it so in + my notes—that your friend was a manufacturer of india—rubber + overshoes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it’s confusing at first,’ said the Australian, with a beaming + smile. ‘But he—in short, he combines the two professions. And many + others besides—many, many, many others,’ repeated Mr Dickson, with + drunken solemnity. ‘Mr Thomas’s cotton-mills are one of the sights of + Tallahassee; Mr Thomas’s tobacco-mills are the pride of Richmond, Va.; in + short, he’s one of my oldest friends, Mr Forsyth, and I lay his case + before you with emotion.’ + </p> + <p> + The barrister looked at Mr Thomas and was agreeably prepossessed by his + open although nervous countenance, and the simplicity and timidity of his + manner. ‘What a people are these Americans!’ he thought. ‘Look at this + nervous, weedy, simple little bird in a lownecked shirt, and think of him + wielding and directing interests so extended and seemingly incongruous! + ‘But had we not better,’ he observed aloud, ‘had we not perhaps better + approach the facts?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Man of business, I perceive, sir!’ said the Australian. ‘Let’s approach + the facts. It’s a breach of promise case.’ + </p> + <p> + The unhappy artist was so unprepared for this view of his position that he + could scarce suppress a cry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me,’ said Gideon, ‘they are apt to be very troublesome. Tell me + everything about it,’ he added kindly; ‘if you require my assistance, + conceal nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You tell him,’ said Michael, feeling, apparently, that he had done his + share. ‘My friend will tell you all about it,’ he added to Gideon, with a + yawn. ‘Excuse my closing my eyes a moment; I’ve been sitting up with a + sick friend.’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman gazed blankly about the room; rage and despair seethed in his + innocent spirit; thoughts of flight, thoughts even of suicide, came and + went before him; and still the barrister patiently waited, and still the + artist groped in vain for any form of words, however insignificant. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a breach of promise case,’ he said at last, in a low voice. ‘I—I + am threatened with a breach of promise case.’ Here, in desperate quest of + inspiration, he made a clutch at his beard; his fingers closed upon the + unfamiliar smoothness of a shaven chin; and with that, hope and courage + (if such expressions could ever have been appropriate in the case of + Pitman) conjointly fled. He shook Michael roughly. ‘Wake up!’ he cried, + with genuine irritation in his tones. ‘I cannot do it, and you know I + can’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You must excuse my friend,’ said Michael; ‘he’s no hand as a narrator of + stirring incident. The case is simple,’ he went on. ‘My friend is a man of + very strong passions, and accustomed to a simple, patriarchal style of + life. You see the thing from here: unfortunate visit to Europe, followed + by unfortunate acquaintance with sham foreign count, who has a lovely + daughter. Mr Thomas was quite carried away; he proposed, he was accepted, + and he wrote—wrote in a style which I am sure he must regret today. + If these letters are produced in court, sir, Mr Thomas’s character is + gone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I to understand—’ began Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear sir,’ said the Australian emphatically, ‘it isn’t possible to + understand unless you saw them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is a painful circumstance,’ said Gideon; he glanced pityingly in the + direction of the culprit, and, observing on his countenance every mark of + confusion, pityingly withdrew his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘And that would be nothing,’ continued Mr Dickson sternly, ‘but I wish—I + wish from my heart, sir, I could say that Mr Thomas’s hands were clean. He + has no excuse; for he was engaged at the time—and is still engaged—to + the belle of Constantinople, Ga. My friend’s conduct was unworthy of the + brutes that perish.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ga.?’ repeated Gideon enquiringly. + </p> + <p> + ‘A contraction in current use,’ said Michael. ‘Ga. for Georgia, in The + same way as Co. for Company.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was aware it was sometimes so written,’ returned the barrister, ‘but + not that it was so pronounced.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fact, I assure you,’ said Michael. ‘You now see for yourself, sir, that + if this unhappy person is to be saved, some devilish sharp practice will + be needed. There’s money, and no desire to spare it. Mr Thomas could write + a cheque tomorrow for a hundred thousand. And, Mr Forsyth, there’s better + than money. The foreign count—Count Tarnow, he calls himself—was + formerly a tobacconist in Bayswater, and passed under the humble but + expressive name of Schmidt; his daughter—if she is his daughter—there’s + another point—make a note of that, Mr Forsyth—his daughter at + that time actually served in the shop—and she now proposes to marry + a man of the eminence of Mr Thomas! Now do you see our game? We know they + contemplate a move; and we wish to forestall ‘em. Down you go to Hampton + Court, where they live, and threaten, or bribe, or both, until you get the + letters; if you can’t, God help us, we must go to court and Thomas must be + exposed. I’ll be done with him for one,’ added the unchivalrous friend. + </p> + <p> + ‘There seem some elements of success,’ said Gideon. ‘Was Schmidt at all + known to the police?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We hope so,’ said Michael. ‘We have every ground to think so. Mark the + neighbourhood—Bayswater! Doesn’t Bayswater occur to you as very + suggestive?’ + </p> + <p> + For perhaps the sixth time during this remarkable interview, Gideon + wondered if he were not becoming light-headed. ‘I suppose it’s just + because he has been lunching,’ he thought; and then added aloud, ‘To what + figure may I go?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps five thousand would be enough for today,’ said Michael. ‘And now, + sir, do not let me detain you any longer; the afternoon wears on; there + are plenty of trains to Hampton Court; and I needn’t try to describe to + you the impatience of my friend. Here is a five-pound note for current + expenses; and here is the address.’ And Michael began to write, paused, + tore up the paper, and put the pieces in his pocket. ‘I will dictate,’ he + said, ‘my writing is so uncertain.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon took down the address, ‘Count Tarnow, Kurnaul Villa, Hampton + Court.’ Then he wrote something else on a sheet of paper. ‘You said you + had not chosen a solicitor,’ he said. ‘For a case of this sort, here is + the best man in London.’ And he handed the paper to Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘God bless me!’ ejaculated Michael, as he read his own address. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I daresay you have seen his name connected with some rather painful + cases,’ said Gideon. ‘But he is himself a perfectly honest man, and his + capacity is recognized. And now, gentlemen, it only remains for me to ask + where I shall communicate with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Langham, of course,’ returned Michael. ‘Till tonight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Till tonight,’ replied Gideon, smiling. ‘I suppose I may knock you up at + a late hour?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Any hour, any hour,’ cried the vanishing solicitor. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now there’s a young fellow with a head upon his shoulders,’ he said to + Pitman, as soon as they were in the street. + </p> + <p> + Pitman was indistinctly heard to murmur, ‘Perfect fool.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a bit of him,’ returned Michael. ‘He knows who’s the best solicitor + in London, and it’s not every man can say the same. But, I say, didn’t I + pitch it in hot?’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman returned no answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hullo!’ said the lawyer, pausing, ‘what’s wrong with the long-suffering + Pitman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You had no right to speak of me as you did,’ the artist broke out; ‘your + language was perfectly unjustifiable; you have wounded me deeply.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never said a word about you,’ replied Michael. ‘I spoke of Ezra Thomas; + and do please remember that there’s no such party.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s just as hard to bear,’ said the artist. + </p> + <p> + But by this time they had reached the corner of the by-street; and there + was the faithful shoeblack, standing by the horses’ heads with a splendid + assumption of dignity; and there was the piano, figuring forlorn upon the + cart, while the rain beat upon its unprotected sides and trickled down its + elegantly varnished legs. + </p> + <p> + The shoeblack was again put in requisition to bring five or six strong + fellows from the neighbouring public-house; and the last battle of the + campaign opened. It is probable that Mr Gideon Forsyth had not yet taken + his seat in the train for Hampton Court, before Michael opened the door of + the chambers, and the grunting porters deposited the Broadwood grand in + the middle of the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now,’ said the lawyer, after he had sent the men about their + business, ‘one more precaution. We must leave him the key of the piano, + and we must contrive that he shall find it. Let me see.’ And he built a + square tower of cigars upon the top of the instrument, and dropped the key + into the middle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor young man,’ said the artist, as they descended the stairs. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is in a devil of a position,’ assented Michael drily. ‘It’ll brace him + up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And that reminds me,’ observed the excellent Pitman, ‘that I fear I + displayed a most ungrateful temper. I had no right, I see, to resent + expressions, wounding as they were, which were in no sense directed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all right,’ cried Michael, getting on the cart. ‘Not a word more, + Pitman. Very proper feeling on your part; no man of self-respect can stand + by and hear his alias insulted.’ + </p> + <p> + The rain had now ceased, Michael was fairly sober, the body had been + disposed of, and the friends were reconciled. The return to the mews was + therefore (in comparison with previous stages of the day’s adventures) + quite a holiday outing; and when they had returned the cart and walked + forth again from the stable-yard, unchallenged, and even unsuspected, + Pitman drew a deep breath of joy. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘we can go home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pitman,’ said the lawyer, stopping short, ‘your recklessness fills me + with concern. What! we have been wet through the greater part of the day, + and you propose, in cold blood, to go home! No, sir—hot Scotch.’ + </p> + <p> + And taking his friend’s arm he led him sternly towards the nearest + public-house. Nor was Pitman (I regret to say) wholly unwilling. Now that + peace was restored and the body gone, a certain innocent skittishness + began to appear in the manners of the artist; and when he touched his + steaming glass to Michael’s, he giggled aloud like a venturesome + schoolgirl at a picnic. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. Glorious Conclusion of Michael Finsbury’s Holiday + </h2> + <p> + I know Michael Finsbury personally; my business—I know the + awkwardness of having such a man for a lawyer—still it’s an old + story now, and there is such a thing as gratitude, and, in short, my legal + business, although now (I am thankful to say) of quite a placid character, + remains entirely in Michael’s hands. But the trouble is I have no natural + talent for addresses; I learn one for every man—that is friendship’s + offering; and the friend who subsequently changes his residence is dead to + me, memory refusing to pursue him. Thus it comes about that, as I always + write to Michael at his office, I cannot swear to his number in the King’s + Road. Of course (like my neighbours), I have been to dinner there. Of late + years, since his accession to wealth, neglect of business, and election to + the club, these little festivals have become common. He picks up a few + fellows in the smoking-room—all men of Attic wit—myself, for + instance, if he has the luck to find me disengaged; a string of hansoms + may be observed (by Her Majesty) bowling gaily through St James’s Park; + and in a quarter of an hour the party surrounds one of the best appointed + boards in London. + </p> + <p> + But at the time of which we write the house in the King’s Road (let us + still continue to call it No. 233) was kept very quiet; when Michael + entertained guests it was at the halls of Nichol or Verrey that he would + convene them, and the door of his private residence remained closed + against his friends. The upper storey, which was sunny, was set apart for + his father; the drawing-room was never opened; the dining-room was the + scene of Michael’s life. It is in this pleasant apartment, sheltered from + the curiosity of King’s Road by wire blinds, and entirely surrounded by + the lawyer’s unrivalled library of poetry and criminal trials, that we + find him sitting down to his dinner after his holiday with Pitman. A spare + old lady, with very bright eyes and a mouth humorously compressed, waited + upon the lawyer’s needs; in every line of her countenance she betrayed the + fact that she was an old retainer; in every word that fell from her lips + she flaunted the glorious circumstance of a Scottish origin; and the fear + with which this powerful combination fills the boldest was obviously no + stranger to the bosom of our friend. The hot Scotch having somewhat warmed + up the embers of the Heidsieck. It was touching to observe the master’s + eagerness to pull himself together under the servant’s eye; and when he + remarked, ‘I think, Teena, I’ll take a brandy and soda,’ he spoke like a + man doubtful of his elocution, and not half certain of obedience. + </p> + <p> + ‘No such a thing, Mr Michael,’ was the prompt return. ‘Clar’t and water.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well, Teena, I daresay you know best,’ said the master. ‘Very + fatiguing day at the office, though.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What?’ said the retainer, ‘ye never were near the office!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O yes, I was though; I was repeatedly along Fleet Street,’ returned + Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pretty pliskies ye’ve been at this day!’ cried the old lady, with + humorous alacrity; and then, ‘Take care—don’t break my crystal!’ she + cried, as the lawyer came within an ace of knocking the glasses off the + table. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how is he keeping?’ asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, just the same, Mr Michael, just the way he’ll be till the end, worthy + man!’ was the reply. ‘But ye’ll not be the first that’s asked me that the + day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No?’ said the lawyer. ‘Who else?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, that’s a joke, too,’ said Teena grimly. ‘A friend of yours: Mr + Morris.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Morris! What was the little beggar wanting here?’ enquired Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wantin’? To see him,’ replied the housekeeper, completing her meaning by + a movement of the thumb toward the upper storey. ‘That’s by his way of it; + but I’ve an idee of my own. He tried to bribe me, Mr Michael. Bribe—me!’ + she repeated, with inimitable scorn. ‘That’s no’ kind of a young + gentleman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did he so?’ said Michael. ‘I bet he didn’t offer much.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No more he did,’ replied Teena; nor could any subsequent questioning + elicit from her the sum with which the thrifty leather merchant had + attempted to corrupt her. ‘But I sent him about his business,’ she said + gallantly. ‘He’ll not come here again in a hurry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He mustn’t see my father, you know; mind that!’ said Michael. ‘I’m not + going to have any public exhibition to a little beast like him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No fear of me lettin’ him,’ replied the trusty one. ‘But the joke is + this, Mr Michael—see, ye’re upsettin’ the sauce, that’s a clean + tablecloth—the best of the joke is that he thinks your father’s dead + and you’re keepin’ it dark.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael whistled. ‘Set a thief to catch a thief,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Exac’ly what I told him!’ cried the delighted dame. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll make him dance for that,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t ye get the law of him some way?’ suggested Teena truculently. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I don’t think I could, and I’m quite sure I don’t want to,’ replied + Michael. ‘But I say, Teena, I really don’t believe this claret’s + wholesome; it’s not a sound, reliable wine. Give us a brandy and soda, + there’s a good soul.’ Teena’s face became like adamant. ‘Well, then,’ said + the lawyer fretfully, ‘I won’t eat any more dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ye can please yourself about that, Mr Michael,’ said Teena, and began + composedly to take away. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do wish Teena wasn’t a faithful servant!’ sighed the lawyer, as he + issued into Kings’s Road. + </p> + <p> + The rain had ceased; the wind still blew, but only with a pleasant + freshness; the town, in the clear darkness of the night, glittered with + street-lamps and shone with glancing rain-pools. ‘Come, this is better,’ + thought the lawyer to himself, and he walked on eastward, lending a + pleased ear to the wheels and the million footfalls of the city. + </p> + <p> + Near the end of the King’s Road he remembered his brandy and soda, and + entered a flaunting public-house. A good many persons were present, a + waterman from a cab-stand, half a dozen of the chronically unemployed, a + gentleman (in one corner) trying to sell aesthetic photographs out of a + leather case to another and very youthful gentleman with a yellow goatee, + and a pair of lovers debating some fine shade (in the other). But the + centre-piece and great attraction was a little old man, in a black, + ready-made surtout, which was obviously a recent purchase. On the marble + table in front of him, beside a sandwich and a glass of beer, there lay a + battered forage cap. His hand fluttered abroad with oratorical gestures; + his voice, naturally shrill, was plainly tuned to the pitch of the lecture + room; and by arts, comparable to those of the Ancient Mariner, he was now + holding spellbound the barmaid, the waterman, and four of the unemployed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have examined all the theatres in London,’ he was saying; ‘and pacing + the principal entrances, I have ascertained them to be ridiculously + disproportionate to the requirements of their audiences. The doors opened + the wrong way—I forget at this moment which it is, but have a note + of it at home; they were frequently locked during the performance, and + when the auditorium was literally thronged with English people. You have + probably not had my opportunities of comparing distant lands; but I can + assure you this has been long ago recognized as a mark of aristocratic + government. Do you suppose, in a country really self-governed, such abuses + could exist? Your own intelligence, however uncultivated, tells you they + could not. Take Austria, a country even possibly more enslaved than + England. I have myself conversed with one of the survivors of the Ring + Theatre, and though his colloquial German was not very good, I succeeded + in gathering a pretty clear idea of his opinion of the case. But, what + will perhaps interest you still more, here is a cutting on the subject + from a Vienna newspaper, which I will now read to you, translating as I + go. You can see for yourselves; it is printed in the German character.’ + And he held the cutting out for verification, much as a conjuror passes a + trick orange along the front bench. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hullo, old gentleman! Is this you?’ said Michael, laying his hand upon + the orator’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The figure turned with a convulsion of alarm, and showed the countenance + of Mr Joseph Finsbury. ‘You, Michael!’ he cried. ‘There’s no one with you, + is there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ replied Michael, ordering a brandy and soda, ‘there’s nobody with + me; whom do you expect?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought of Morris or John,’ said the old gentleman, evidently greatly + relieved. + </p> + <p> + ‘What the devil would I be doing with Morris or John?’ cried the nephew. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is something in that,’ returned Joseph. ‘And I believe I can trust + you. I believe you will stand by me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hardly know what you mean,’ said the lawyer, ‘but if you are in need of + money I am flush.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not that, my dear boy,’ said the uncle, shaking him by the hand. + ‘I’ll tell you all about it afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ responded the nephew. ‘I stand treat, Uncle Joseph; what will + you have?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In that case,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘I’ll take another sandwich. I + daresay I surprise you,’ he went on, ‘with my presence in a public-house; + but the fact is, I act on a sound but little-known principle of my own—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, it’s better known than you suppose,’ said Michael sipping his brandy + and soda. ‘I always act on it myself when I want a drink.’ + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman, who was anxious to propitiate Michael, laughed a + cheerless laugh. ‘You have such a flow of spirits,’ said he, ‘I am sure I + often find it quite amusing. But regarding this principle of which I was + about to speak. It is that of accommodating one’s-self to the manners of + any land (however humble) in which our lot may be cast. Now, in France, + for instance, every one goes to a cafe for his meals; in America, to what + is called a “two-bit house”; in England the people resort to such an + institution as the present for refreshment. With sandwiches, tea, and an + occasional glass of bitter beer, a man can live luxuriously in London for + fourteen pounds twelve shillings per annum.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I know,’ returned Michael, ‘but that’s not including clothes, + washing, or boots. The whole thing, with cigars and occasional sprees, + costs me over seven hundred a year.’ + </p> + <p> + But this was Michael’s last interruption. He listened in good-humoured + silence to the remainder of his uncle’s lecture, which speedily branched + to political reform, thence to the theory of the weather-glass, with an + illustrative account of a bora in the Adriatic; thence again to the best + manner of teaching arithmetic to the deaf-and-dumb; and with that, the + sandwich being then no more, explicuit valde feliciter. A moment later the + pair issued forth on the King’s Road. + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael,’ said his uncle, ‘the reason that I am here is because I cannot + endure those nephews of mine. I find them intolerable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay you do,’ assented Michael, ‘I never could stand them for a + moment.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They wouldn’t let me speak,’ continued the old gentleman bitterly; ‘I + never was allowed to get a word in edgewise; I was shut up at once with + some impertinent remark. They kept me on short allowance of pencils, when + I wished to make notes of the most absorbing interest; the daily newspaper + was guarded from me like a young baby from a gorilla. Now, you know me, + Michael. I live for my calculations; I live for my manifold and + ever-changing views of life; pens and paper and the productions of the + popular press are to me as important as food and drink; and my life was + growing quite intolerable when, in the confusion of that fortunate railway + accident at Browndean, I made my escape. They must think me dead, and are + trying to deceive the world for the chance of the tontine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By the way, how do you stand for money?’ asked Michael kindly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pecuniarily speaking, I am rich,’ returned the old man with cheerfulness. + ‘I am living at present at the rate of one hundred a year, with unlimited + pens and paper; the British Museum at which to get books; and all the + newspapers I choose to read. But it’s extraordinary how little a man of + intellectual interest requires to bother with books in a progressive age. + The newspapers supply all the conclusions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Michael, ‘come and stay with me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael,’ said the old gentleman, ‘it’s very kind of you, but you + scarcely understand what a peculiar position I occupy. There are some + little financial complications; as a guardian, my efforts were not + altogether blessed; and not to put too fine a point upon the matter, I am + absolutely in the power of that vile fellow, Morris.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You should be disguised,’ cried Michael eagerly; ‘I will lend you a pair + of window-glass spectacles and some red side-whiskers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I had already canvassed that idea,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘but + feared to awaken remark in my unpretentious lodgings. The aristocracy, I + am well aware—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But see here,’ interrupted Michael, ‘how do you come to have any money at + all? Don’t make a stranger of me, Uncle Joseph; I know all about the + trust, and the hash you made of it, and the assignment you were forced to + make to Morris.’ + </p> + <p> + Joseph narrated his dealings with the bank. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, but I say, this won’t do,’ cried the lawyer. ‘You’ve put your foot in + it. You had no right to do what you did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The whole thing is mine, Michael,’ protested the old gentleman. ‘I + founded and nursed that business on principles entirely of my own.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all very fine,’ said the lawyer; ‘but you made an assignment, you + were forced to make it, too; even then your position was extremely shaky; + but now, my dear sir, it means the dock.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t possible,’ cried Joseph; ‘the law cannot be so unjust as that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the cream of the thing,’ interrupted Michael, with a sudden shout of + laughter, ‘the cream of the thing is this, that of course you’ve downed + the leather business! I must say, Uncle Joseph, you have strange ideas of + law, but I like your taste in humour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I see nothing to laugh at,’ observed Mr Finsbury tartly. + </p> + <p> + ‘And talking of that, has Morris any power to sign for the firm?’ asked + Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘No one but myself,’ replied Joseph. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor devil of a Morris! O, poor devil of a Morris!’ cried the lawyer in + delight. ‘And his keeping up the farce that you’re at home! O, Morris, the + Lord has delivered you into my hands! Let me see, Uncle Joseph, what do + you suppose the leather business worth?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was worth a hundred thousand,’ said Joseph bitterly, ‘when it was in + my hands. But then there came a Scotsman—it is supposed he had a + certain talent—it was entirely directed to bookkeeping—no + accountant in London could understand a word of any of his books; and then + there was Morris, who is perfectly incompetent. And now it is worth very + little. Morris tried to sell it last year; and Pogram and Jarris offered + only four thousand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall turn my attention to leather,’ said Michael with decision. + </p> + <p> + ‘You?’ asked Joseph. ‘I advise you not. There is nothing in the whole + field of commerce more surprising than the fluctuations of the leather + market. Its sensitiveness may be described as morbid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And now, Uncle Joseph, what have you done with all that money?’ asked the + lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Paid it into a bank and drew twenty pounds,’ answered Mr Finsbury + promptly. ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ said Michael. ‘Tomorrow I shall send down a clerk with a + cheque for a hundred, and he’ll draw out the original sum and return it to + the Anglo-Patagonian, with some sort of explanation which I will try to + invent for you. That will clear your feet, and as Morris can’t touch a + penny of it without forgery, it will do no harm to my little scheme.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what am I to do?’ asked Joseph; ‘I cannot live upon nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you hear?’ returned Michael. ‘I send you a cheque for a hundred; + which leaves you eighty to go along upon; and when that’s done, apply to + me again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would rather not be beholden to your bounty all the same,’ said Joseph, + biting at his white moustache. ‘I would rather live on my own money, since + I have it.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael grasped his arm. ‘Will nothing make you believe,’ he cried, ‘that + I am trying to save you from Dartmoor?’ + </p> + <p> + His earnestness staggered the old man. ‘I must turn my attention to law,’ + he said; ‘it will be a new field; for though, of course, I understand its + general principles, I have never really applied my mind to the details, + and this view of yours, for example, comes on me entirely by surprise. But + you may be right, and of course at my time of life—for I am no + longer young—any really long term of imprisonment would be highly + prejudicial. But, my dear nephew, I have no claim on you; you have no call + to support me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all right,’ said Michael; ‘I’ll probably get it out of the leather + business.’ + </p> + <p> + And having taken down the old gentleman’s address, Michael left him at the + corner of a street. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a wonderful old muddler!’ he reflected, ‘and what a singular thing + is life! I seem to be condemned to be the instrument of Providence. Let me + see; what have I done today? Disposed of a dead body, saved Pitman, saved + my Uncle Joseph, brightened up Forsyth, and drunk a devil of a lot of most + indifferent liquor. Let’s top off with a visit to my cousins, and be the + instrument of Providence in earnest. Tomorrow I can turn my attention to + leather; tonight I’ll just make it lively for ‘em in a friendly spirit.’ + </p> + <p> + About a quarter of an hour later, as the clocks were striking eleven, the + instrument of Providence descended from a hansom, and, bidding the driver + wait, rapped at the door of No. 16 John Street. + </p> + <p> + It was promptly opened by Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, it’s you, Michael,’ he said, carefully blocking up the narrow opening: + ‘it’s very late.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael without a word reached forth, grasped Morris warmly by the hand, + and gave it so extreme a squeeze that the sullen householder fell back. + Profiting by this movement, the lawyer obtained a footing in the lobby and + marched into the dining-room, with Morris at his heels. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where’s my Uncle Joseph?’ demanded Michael, sitting down in the most + comfortable chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s not been very well lately,’ replied Morris; ‘he’s staying at + Browndean; John is nursing him; and I am alone, as you see.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael smiled to himself. ‘I want to see him on particular business,’ he + said. + </p> + <p> + ‘You can’t expect to see my uncle when you won’t let me see your father,’ + returned Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fiddlestick,’ said Michael. ‘My father is my father; but Joseph is just + as much my uncle as he’s yours; and you have no right to sequestrate his + person.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do no such thing,’ said Morris doggedly. ‘He is not well, he is + dangerously ill and nobody can see him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what, then,’ said Michael. ‘I’ll make a clean breast of it. + I have come down like the opossum, Morris; I have come to compromise.’ + </p> + <p> + Poor Morris turned as pale as death, and then a flush of wrath against the + injustice of man’s destiny dyed his very temples. ‘What do you mean?’ he + cried, ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’ And when Michael had assured him of + his seriousness, ‘Well, then,’ he cried, with another deep flush, ‘I + won’t; so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oho!’ said Michael queerly. ‘You say your uncle is dangerously ill, and + you won’t compromise? There’s something very fishy about that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean?’ cried Morris hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + ‘I only say it’s fishy,’ returned Michael, ‘that is, pertaining to the + finny tribe.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean to insinuate anything?’ cried Morris stormily, trying the + high hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Insinuate?’ repeated Michael. ‘O, don’t let’s begin to use awkward + expressions! Let us drown our differences in a bottle, like two affable + kinsmen. The Two Affable Kinsmen, sometimes attributed to Shakespeare,’ he + added. + </p> + <p> + Morris’s mind was labouring like a mill. ‘Does he suspect? or is this + chance and stuff? Should I soap, or should I bully? Soap,’ he concluded. + ‘It gains time.’ ‘Well,’ said he aloud, and with rather a painful + affectation of heartiness, ‘it’s long since we have had an evening + together, Michael; and though my habits (as you know) are very temperate, + I may as well make an exception. Excuse me one moment till I fetch a + bottle of whisky from the cellar.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No whisky for me,’ said Michael; ‘a little of the old still champagne or + nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment Morris stood irresolute, for the wine was very valuable: the + next he had quitted the room without a word. His quick mind had perceived + his advantage; in thus dunning him for the cream of the cellar, Michael + was playing into his hand. ‘One bottle?’ he thought. ‘By George, I’ll give + him two! this is no moment for economy; and once the beast is drunk, it’s + strange if I don’t wring his secret out of him.’ + </p> + <p> + With two bottles, accordingly, he returned. Glasses were produced, and + Morris filled them with hospitable grace. + </p> + <p> + ‘I drink to you, cousin!’ he cried gaily. ‘Don’t spare the wine-cup in my + house.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael drank his glass deliberately, standing at the table; filled it + again, and returned to his chair, carrying the bottle along with him. + </p> + <p> + ‘The spoils of war!’ he said apologetically. ‘The weakest goes to the + wall. Science, Morris, science.’ Morris could think of no reply, and for + an appreciable interval silence reigned. But two glasses of the still + champagne produced a rapid change in Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s a want of vivacity about you, Morris,’ he observed. ‘You may be + deep; but I’ll be hanged if you’re vivacious!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What makes you think me deep?’ asked Morris with an air of pleased + simplicity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because you won’t compromise,’ said the lawyer. ‘You’re deep dog, Morris, + very deep dog, not t’ compromise—remarkable deep dog. And a very + good glass of wine; it’s the only respectable feature in the Finsbury + family, this wine; rarer thing than a title—much rarer. Now a man + with glass wine like this in cellar, I wonder why won’t compromise?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, YOU wouldn’t compromise before, you know,’ said the smiling Morris. + ‘Turn about is fair play.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder why <i>I</i> wouldn’ compromise? I wonder why YOU wouldn’?’ + enquired Michael. ‘I wonder why we each think the other wouldn’? ‘S quite + a remarrable—remarkable problem,’ he added, triumphing over oral + obstacles, not without obvious pride. ‘Wonder what we each think—don’t + you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you suppose to have been my reason?’ asked Morris adroitly. + </p> + <p> + Michael looked at him and winked. ‘That’s cool,’ said he. ‘Next thing, + you’ll ask me to help you out of the muddle. I know I’m emissary of + Providence, but not that kind! You get out of it yourself, like Aesop and + the other fellow. Must be dreadful muddle for young orphan o’ forty; + leather business and all!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure I don’t know what you mean,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not sure I know myself,’ said Michael. ‘This is exc’lent vintage, sir—exc’lent + vintage. Nothing against the tipple. Only thing: here’s a valuable uncle + disappeared. Now, what I want to know: where’s valuable uncle?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have told you: he is at Browndean,’ answered Morris, furtively wiping + his brow, for these repeated hints began to tell upon him cruelly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very easy say Brown—Browndee—no’ so easy after all!’ cried + Michael. ‘Easy say; anything’s easy say, when you can say it. What I don’ + like’s total disappearance of an uncle. Not businesslike.’ And he wagged + his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is all perfectly simple,’ returned Morris, with laborious calm. ‘There + is no mystery. He stays at Browndean, where he got a shake in the + accident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Michael, ‘got devil of a shake!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you say that?’ cried Morris sharply. + </p> + <p> + ‘Best possible authority. Told me so yourself,’ said the lawyer. ‘But if + you tell me contrary now, of course I’m bound to believe either the one + story or the other. Point is I’ve upset this bottle, still champagne’s + exc’lent thing carpet—point is, is valuable uncle dead—an’—bury?’ + </p> + <p> + Morris sprang from his seat. ‘What’s that you say?’ he gasped. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say it’s exc’lent thing carpet,’ replied Michael, rising. ‘Exc’lent + thing promote healthy action of the skin. Well, it’s all one, anyway. Give + my love to Uncle Champagne.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not going away?’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Awf’ly sorry, ole man. Got to sit up sick friend,’ said the wavering + Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘You shall not go till you have explained your hints,’ returned Morris + fiercely. ‘What do you mean? What brought you here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No offence, I trust,’ said the lawyer, turning round as he opened the + door; ‘only doing my duty as shemishery of Providence.’ + </p> + <p> + Groping his way to the front-door, he opened it with some difficulty, and + descended the steps to the hansom. The tired driver looked up as he + approached, and asked where he was to go next. + </p> + <p> + Michael observed that Morris had followed him to the steps; a brilliant + inspiration came to him. ‘Anything t’ give pain,’ he reflected. . . . + ‘Drive Shcotlan’ Yard,’ he added aloud, holding to the wheel to steady + himself; ‘there’s something devilish fishy, cabby, about those cousins. + Mush’ be cleared up! Drive Shcotlan’ Yard.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t mean that, sir,’ said the man, with the ready sympathy of the + lower orders for an intoxicated gentleman. ‘I had better take you home, + sir; you can go to Scotland Yard tomorrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it as friend or as perfessional man you advise me not to go Shcotlan’ + Yard t’night?’ enquired Michael. ‘All righ’, never min’ Shcotlan’ Yard, + drive Gaiety bar.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Gaiety bar is closed,’ said the man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then home,’ said Michael, with the same cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where to, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t remember, I’m sure,’ said Michael, entering the vehicle, ‘drive + Shcotlan’ Yard and ask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you’ll have a card,’ said the man, through the little aperture in the + top, ‘give me your card-case.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What imagi—imagination in a cabby!’ cried the lawyer, producing his + card-case, and handing it to the driver. + </p> + <p> + The man read it by the light of the lamp. ‘Mr Michael Finsbury, 233 King’s + Road, Chelsea. Is that it, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Right you are,’ cried Michael, ‘drive there if you can see way.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. Gideon Forsyth and the Broadwood Grand + </h2> + <p> + The reader has perhaps read that remarkable work, Who Put Back the Clock? + by E. H. B., which appeared for several days upon the railway bookstalls + and then vanished entirely from the face of the earth. Whether eating Time + makes the chief of his diet out of old editions; whether Providence has + passed a special enactment on behalf of authors; or whether these last + have taken the law into their own hand, bound themselves into a dark + conspiracy with a password, which I would die rather than reveal, and + night after night sally forth under some vigorous leader, such as Mr James + Payn or Mr Walter Besant, on their task of secret spoliation—certain + it is, at least, that the old editions pass, giving place to new. To the + proof, it is believed there are now only three copies extant of Who Put + Back the Clock? one in the British Museum, successfully concealed by a + wrong entry in the catalogue; another in one of the cellars (the cellar + where the music accumulates) of the Advocates’ Library at Edinburgh; and a + third, bound in morocco, in the possession of Gideon Forsyth. To account + for the very different fate attending this third exemplar, the readiest + theory is to suppose that Gideon admired the tale. How to explain that + admiration might appear (to those who have perused the work) more + difficult; but the weakness of a parent is extreme, and Gideon (and not + his uncle, whose initials he had humorously borrowed) was the author of + Who Put Back the Clock? He had never acknowledged it, or only to some + intimate friends while it was still in proof; after its appearance and + alarming failure, the modesty of the novelist had become more pressing, + and the secret was now likely to be better kept than that of the + authorship of Waverley. + </p> + <p> + A copy of the work (for the date of my tale is already yesterday) still + figured in dusty solitude in the bookstall at Waterloo; and Gideon, as he + passed with his ticket for Hampton Court, smiled contemptuously at the + creature of his thoughts. What an idle ambition was the author’s! How far + beneath him was the practice of that childish art! With his hand closing + on his first brief, he felt himself a man at last; and the muse who + presides over the police romance, a lady presumably of French extraction, + fled his neighbourhood, and returned to join the dance round the springs + of Helicon, among her Grecian sisters. + </p> + <p> + Robust, practical reflection still cheered the young barrister upon his + journey. Again and again he selected the little country-house in its islet + of great oaks, which he was to make his future home. Like a prudent + householder, he projected improvements as he passed; to one he added a + stable, to another a tennis-court, a third he supplied with a becoming + rustic boat-house. + </p> + <p> + ‘How little a while ago,’ he could not but reflect, ‘I was a careless + young dog with no thought but to be comfortable! I cared for nothing but + boating and detective novels. I would have passed an old-fashioned + country-house with large kitchen-garden, stabling, boat-house, and + spacious offices, without so much as a look, and certainly would have made + no enquiry as to the drains. How a man ripens with the years!’ + </p> + <p> + The intelligent reader will perceive the ravages of Miss Hazeltine. Gideon + had carried Julia straight to Mr Bloomfield’s house; and that gentleman, + having been led to understand she was the victim of oppression, had + noisily espoused her cause. He worked himself into a fine breathing heat; + in which, to a man of his temperament, action became needful. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know which is the worse,’ he cried, ‘the fraudulent old villain + or the unmanly young cub. I will write to the Pall Mall and expose them. + Nonsense, sir; they must be exposed! It’s a public duty. Did you not tell + me the fellow was a Tory? O, the uncle is a Radical lecturer, is he? No + doubt the uncle has been grossly wronged. But of course, as you say, that + makes a change; it becomes scarce so much a public duty.’ + </p> + <p> + And he sought and instantly found a fresh outlet for his alacrity. Miss + Hazeltine (he now perceived) must be kept out of the way; his houseboat + was lying ready—he had returned but a day or two before from his + usual cruise; there was no place like a houseboat for concealment; and + that very morning, in the teeth of the easterly gale, Mr and Mrs + Bloomfield and Miss Julia Hazeltine had started forth on their untimely + voyage. Gideon pled in vain to be allowed to join the party. ‘No, Gid,’ + said his uncle. ‘You will be watched; you must keep away from us.’ Nor had + the barrister ventured to contest this strange illusion; for he feared if + he rubbed off any of the romance, that Mr Bloomfield might weary of the + whole affair. And his discretion was rewarded; for the Squirradical, + laying a heavy hand upon his nephew’s shoulder, had added these notable + expressions: ‘I see what you are after, Gid. But if you’re going to get + the girl, you have to work, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + These pleasing sounds had cheered the barrister all day, as he sat reading + in chambers; they continued to form the ground-base of his manly musings + as he was whirled to Hampton Court; even when he landed at the station, + and began to pull himself together for his delicate interview, the voice + of Uncle Ned and the eyes of Julia were not forgotten. + </p> + <p> + But now it began to rain surprises: in all Hampton Court there was no + Kurnaul Villa, no Count Tarnow, and no count. This was strange; but, + viewed in the light of the incoherency of his instructions, not perhaps + inexplicable; Mr Dickson had been lunching, and he might have made some + fatal oversight in the address. What was the thoroughly prompt, manly, and + businesslike step? thought Gideon; and he answered himself at once: ‘A + telegram, very laconic.’ Speedily the wires were flashing the following + very important missive: ‘Dickson, Langham Hotel. Villa and persons both + unknown here, suppose erroneous address; follow self next train.—Forsyth.’ + And at the Langham Hotel, sure enough, with a brow expressive of dispatch + and intellectual effort, Gideon descended not long after from a smoking + hansom. + </p> + <p> + I do not suppose that Gideon will ever forget the Langham Hotel. No Count + Tarnow was one thing; no John Dickson and no Ezra Thomas, quite another. + How, why, and what next, danced in his bewildered brain; from every centre + of what we playfully call the human intellect incongruous messages were + telegraphed; and before the hubbub of dismay had quite subsided, the + barrister found himself driving furiously for his chambers. There was at + least a cave of refuge; it was at least a place to think in; and he + climbed the stair, put his key in the lock and opened the door, with some + approach to hope. + </p> + <p> + It was all dark within, for the night had some time fallen; but Gideon + knew his room, he knew where the matches stood on the end of the + chimney-piece; and he advanced boldly, and in so doing dashed himself + against a heavy body; where (slightly altering the expressions of the + song) no heavy body should have been. There had been nothing there when + Gideon went out; he had locked the door behind him, he had found it locked + on his return, no one could have entered, the furniture could not have + changed its own position. And yet undeniably there was a something there. + He thrust out his hands in the darkness. Yes, there was something, + something large, something smooth, something cold. + </p> + <p> + ‘Heaven forgive me!’ said Gideon, ‘it feels like a piano.’ + </p> + <p> + And the next moment he remembered the vestas in his waistcoat pocket and + had struck a light. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed a piano that met his doubtful gaze; a vast and costly + instrument, stained with the rains of the afternoon and defaced with + recent scratches. The light of the vesta was reflected from the varnished + sides, like a staice in quiet water; and in the farther end of the room + the shadow of that strange visitor loomed bulkily and wavered on the wall. + </p> + <p> + Gideon let the match burn to his fingers, and the darkness closed once + more on his bewilderment. Then with trembling hands he lit the lamp and + drew near. Near or far, there was no doubt of the fact: the thing was a + piano. There, where by all the laws of God and man it was impossible that + it should be—there the thing impudently stood. Gideon threw open the + keyboard and struck a chord. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the room. + ‘Is there anything wrong with me?’ he thought, with a pang; and drawing in + a seat, obstinately persisted in his attempts to ravish silence, now with + sparkling arpeggios, now with a sonata of Beethoven’s which (in happier + days) he knew to be one of the loudest pieces of that powerful composer. + Still not a sound. He gave the Broadwood two great bangs with his clenched + first. All was still as the grave. The young barrister started to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am stark-staring mad,’ he cried aloud, ‘and no one knows it but myself. + God’s worst curse has fallen on me.’ + </p> + <p> + His fingers encountered his watch-chain; instantly he had plucked forth + his watch and held it to his ear. He could hear it ticking. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not deaf,’ he said aloud. ‘I am only insane. My mind has quitted me + for ever.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked uneasily about the room, and—gazed with lacklustre eyes at + the chair in which Mr Dickson had installed himself. The end of a cigar + lay near on the fender. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he thought, ‘I don’t believe that was a dream; but God knows my mind + is failing rapidly. I seem to be hungry, for instance; it’s probably + another hallucination. Still I might try. I shall have one more good meal; + I shall go to the Cafe Royal, and may possibly be removed from there + direct to the asylum.’ + </p> + <p> + He wondered with morbid interest, as he descended the stairs, how he would + first betray his terrible condition—would he attack a waiter? or eat + glass?—and when he had mounted into a cab, he bade the man drive to + Nichol’s, with a lurking fear that there was no such place. + </p> + <p> + The flaring, gassy entrance of the cafe speedily set his mind at rest; he + was cheered besides to recognize his favourite waiter; his orders appeared + to be coherent; the dinner, when it came, was quite a sensible meal, and + he ate it with enjoyment. ‘Upon my word,’ he reflected, ‘I am about + tempted to indulge a hope. Have I been hasty? Have I done what Robert + Skill would have done?’ Robert Skill (I need scarcely mention) was the + name of the principal character in Who Put Back the Clock? It had occurred + to the author as a brilliant and probable invention; to readers of a + critical turn, Robert appeared scarce upon a level with his surname; but + it is the difficulty of the police romance, that the reader is always a + man of such vastly greater ingenuity than the writer. In the eyes of his + creator, however, Robert Skill was a word to conjure with; the thought + braced and spurred him; what that brilliant creature would have done + Gideon would do also. This frame of mind is not uncommon; the distressed + general, the baited divine, the hesitating author, decide severally to do + what Napoleon, what St Paul, what Shakespeare would have done; and there + remains only the minor question, What is that? In Gideon’s case one thing + was clear: Skill was a man of singular decision, he would have taken some + step (whatever it was) at once; and the only step that Gideon could think + of was to return to his chambers. + </p> + <p> + This being achieved, all further inspiration failed him, and he stood + pitifully staring at the instrument of his confusion. To touch the keys + again was more than he durst venture on; whether they had maintained their + former silence, or responded with the tones of the last trump, it would + have equally dethroned his resolution. ‘It may be a practical jest,’ he + reflected, ‘though it seems elaborate and costly. And yet what else can it + be? It MUST be a practical jest.’ And just then his eye fell upon a + feature which seemed corroborative of that view: the pagoda of cigars + which Michael had erected ere he left the chambers. ‘Why that?’ reflected + Gideon. ‘It seems entirely irresponsible.’ And drawing near, he gingerly + demolished it. ‘A key,’ he thought. ‘Why that? And why so conspicuously + placed?’ He made the circuit of the instrument, and perceived the keyhole + at the back. ‘Aha! this is what the key is for,’ said he. ‘They wanted me + to look inside. Stranger and stranger.’ And with that he turned the key + and raised the lid. + </p> + <p> + In what antics of agony, in what fits of flighty resolution, in what + collapses of despair, Gideon consumed the night, it would be ungenerous to + enquire too closely. + </p> + <p> + That trill of tiny song with which the eaves-birds of London welcome the + approach of day found him limp and rumpled and bloodshot, and with a mind + still vacant of resource. He rose and looked forth unrejoicingly on + blinded windows, an empty street, and the grey daylight dotted with the + yellow lamps. There are mornings when the city seems to awake with a sick + headache; this was one of them; and still the twittering reveille of the + sparrows stirred in Gideon’s spirit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Day here,’ he thought, ‘and I still helpless! This must come to an end.’ + And he locked up the piano, put the key in his pocket, and set forth in + quest of coffee. As he went, his mind trudged for the hundredth time a + certain mill-road of terrors, misgivings, and regrets. To call in the + police, to give up the body, to cover London with handbills describing + John Dickson and Ezra Thomas, to fill the papers with paragraphs, + Mysterious Occurrence in the Temple—Mr Forsyth admitted to bail, + this was one course, an easy course, a safe course; but not, the more he + reflected on it, not a pleasant one. For, was it not to publish abroad a + number of singular facts about himself? A child ought to have seen through + the story of these adventurers, and he had gaped and swallowed it. A + barrister of the least self-respect should have refused to listen to + clients who came before him in a manner so irregular, and he had listened. + And O, if he had only listened; but he had gone upon their errand—he, + a barrister, uninstructed even by the shadow of a solicitor—upon an + errand fit only for a private detective; and alas!—and for the + hundredth time the blood surged to his brow—he had taken their + money! ‘No,’ said he, ‘the thing is as plain as St Paul’s. I shall be + dishonoured! I have smashed my career for a five-pound note.’ + </p> + <p> + Between the possibility of being hanged in all innocence, and the + certainty of a public and merited disgrace, no gentleman of spirit could + long hesitate. After three gulps of that hot, snuffy, and muddy beverage, + that passes on the streets of London for a decoction of the coffee berry, + Gideon’s mind was made up. He would do without the police. He must face + the other side of the dilemma, and be Robert Skill in earnest. What would + Robert Skill have done? How does a gentleman dispose of a dead body, + honestly come by? He remembered the inimitable story of the hunchback; + reviewed its course, and dismissed it for a worthless guide. It was + impossible to prop a corpse on the corner of Tottenham Court Road without + arousing fatal curiosity in the bosoms of the passers-by; as for lowering + it down a London chimney, the physical obstacles were insurmountable. To + get it on board a train and drop it out, or on the top of an omnibus and + drop it off, were equally out of the question. To get it on a yacht and + drop it overboard, was more conceivable; but for a man of moderate means + it seemed extravagant. The hire of the yacht was in itself a + consideration; the subsequent support of the whole crew (which seemed a + necessary consequence) was simply not to be thought of. His uncle and the + houseboat here occurred in very luminous colours to his mind. A musical + composer (say, of the name of Jimson) might very well suffer, like + Hogarth’s musician before him, from the disturbances of London. He might + very well be pressed for time to finish an opera—say the comic opera + Orange Pekoe—Orange Pekoe, music by Jimson—‘this young + maestro, one of the most promising of our recent English school’—vigorous + entrance of the drums, etc.—the whole character of Jimson and his + music arose in bulk before the mind of Gideon. What more likely than + Jimson’s arrival with a grand piano (say, at Padwick), and his residence + in a houseboat alone with the unfinished score of Orange Pekoe? His + subsequent disappearance, leaving nothing behind but an empty piano case, + it might be more difficult to account for. And yet even that was + susceptible of explanation. For, suppose Jimson had gone mad over a fugal + passage, and had thereupon destroyed the accomplice of his infamy, and + plunged into the welcome river? What end, on the whole, more probable for + a modern musician? + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove, I’ll do it,’ cried Gideon. ‘Jimson is the boy!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. The Maestro Jimson + </h2> + <p> + Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield having announced his intention to stay in the + neighbourhood of Maidenhead, what more probable than that the Maestro + Jimson should turn his mind toward Padwick? Near this pleasant riverside + village he remembered to have observed an ancient, weedy houseboat lying + moored beside a tuft of willows. It had stirred in him, in his careless + hours, as he pulled down the river under a more familiar name, a certain + sense of the romantic; and when the nice contrivance of his story was + already complete in his mind, he had come near pulling it all down again, + like an ungrateful clock, in order to introduce a chapter in which Richard + Skill (who was always being decoyed somewhere) should be decoyed on board + that lonely hulk by Lord Bellew and the American desperado Gin Sling. It + was fortunate he had not done so, he reflected, since the hulk was now + required for very different purposes. + </p> + <p> + Jimson, a man of inconspicuous costume, but insinuating manners, had + little difficulty in finding the hireling who had charge of the houseboat, + and still less in persuading him to resign his care. The rent was almost + nominal, the entry immediate, the key was exchanged against a suitable + advance in money, and Jimson returned to town by the afternoon train to + see about dispatching his piano. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will be down tomorrow,’ he had said reassuringly. ‘My opera is waited + for with such impatience, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + And, sure enough, about the hour of noon on the following day, Jimson + might have been observed ascending the riverside road that goes from + Padwick to Great Haverham, carrying in one hand a basket of provisions, + and under the other arm a leather case containing (it is to be + conjectured) the score of Orange Pekoe. It was October weather; the + stone-grey sky was full of larks, the leaden mirror of the Thames + brightened with autumnal foliage, and the fallen leaves of the chestnuts + chirped under the composer’s footing. There is no time of the year in + England more courageous; and Jimson, though he was not without his + troubles, whistled as he went. + </p> + <p> + A little above Padwick the river lies very solitary. On the opposite shore + the trees of a private park enclose the view, the chimneys of the mansion + just pricking forth above their clusters; on the near side the path is + bordered by willows. Close among these lay the houseboat, a thing so + soiled by the tears of the overhanging willows, so grown upon with + parasites, so decayed, so battered, so neglected, such a haunt of rats, so + advertised a storehouse of rheumatic agonies, that the heart of an + intending occupant might well recoil. A plank, by way of flying + drawbridge, joined it to the shore. And it was a dreary moment for Jimson + when he pulled this after him and found himself alone on this unwholesome + fortress. He could hear the rats scuttle and flop in the abhorred + interior; the key cried among the wards like a thing in pain; the + sitting-room was deep in dust, and smelt strong of bilge-water. It could + not be called a cheerful spot, even for a composer absorbed in beloved + toil; how much less for a young gentleman haunted by alarms and awaiting + the arrival of a corpse! + </p> + <p> + He sat down, cleared away a piece of the table, and attacked the cold + luncheon in his basket. In case of any subsequent inquiry into the fate of + Jimson, It was desirable he should be little seen: in other words, that he + should spend the day entirely in the house. To this end, and further to + corroborate his fable, he had brought in the leather case not only writing + materials, but a ream of large-size music paper, such as he considered + suitable for an ambitious character like Jimson’s. ‘And now to work,’ said + he, when he had satisfied his appetite. ‘We must leave traces of the + wretched man’s activity.’ And he wrote in bold characters: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ORANGE PEKOE. + Op. 17. + J. B. JIMSON. + Vocal and p. f. score. +</pre> + <p> + ‘I suppose they never do begin like this,’ reflected Gideon; ‘but then + it’s quite out of the question for me to tackle a full score, and Jimson + was so unconventional. A dedication would be found convincing, I believe. + “Dedicated to” (let me see) “to William Ewart Gladstone, by his obedient + servant the composer.” And now some music: I had better avoid the + overture; it seems to present difficulties. Let’s give an air for the + tenor: key—O, something modern!—seven sharps.’ And he made a + businesslike signature across the staves, and then paused and browsed for + a while on the handle of his pen. Melody, with no better inspiration than + a sheet of paper, is not usually found to spring unbidden in the mind of + the amateur; nor is the key of seven sharps a place of much repose to the + untried. He cast away that sheet. ‘It will help to build up the character + of Jimson,’ Gideon remarked, and again waited on the muse, in various keys + and on divers sheets of paper, but all with results so inconsiderable that + he stood aghast. ‘It’s very odd,’ thought he. ‘I seem to have less fancy + than I thought, or this is an off-day with me; yet Jimson must leave + something.’ And again he bent himself to the task. + </p> + <p> + Presently the penetrating chill of the houseboat began to attack the very + seat of life. He desisted from his unremunerative trial, and, to the + audible annoyance of the rats, walked briskly up and down the cabin. Still + he was cold. ‘This is all nonsense,’ said he. ‘I don’t care about the + risk, but I will not catch a catarrh. I must get out of this den.’ + </p> + <p> + He stepped on deck, and passing to the bow of his embarkation, looked for + the first time up the river. He started. Only a few hundred yards above + another houseboat lay moored among the willows. It was very + spick-and-span, an elegant canoe hung at the stern, the windows were + concealed by snowy curtains, a flag floated from a staff. The more Gideon + looked at it, the more there mingled with his disgust a sense of impotent + surprise. It was very like his uncle’s houseboat; it was exceedingly like—it + was identical. But for two circumstances, he could have sworn it was the + same. The first, that his uncle had gone to Maidenhead, might be explained + away by that flightiness of purpose which is so common a trait among the + more than usually manly. The second, however, was conclusive: it was not + in the least like Mr Bloomfield to display a banner on his floating + residence; and if he ever did, it would certainly be dyed in hues of + emblematical propriety. Now the Squirradical, like the vast majority of + the more manly, had drawn knowledge at the wells of Cambridge—he was + wooden spoon in the year 1850; and the flag upon the houseboat streamed on + the afternoon air with the colours of that seat of Toryism, that cradle of + Puseyism, that home of the inexact and the effete Oxford. Still it was + strangely like, thought Gideon. + </p> + <p> + And as he thus looked and thought, the door opened, and a young lady + stepped forth on deck. The barrister dropped and fled into his cabin—it + was Julia Hazeltine! Through the window he watched her draw in the canoe, + get on board of it, cast off, and come dropping downstream in his + direction. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, all is up now,’ said he, and he fell on a seat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-afternoon, miss,’ said a voice on the water. Gideon knew it for the + voice of his landlord. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-afternoon,’ replied Julia, ‘but I don’t know who you are; do I? O + yes, I do though. You are the nice man that gave us leave to sketch from + the old houseboat.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon’s heart leaped with fear. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s it,’ returned the man. ‘And what I wanted to say was as you + couldn’t do it any more. You see I’ve let it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let it!’ cried Julia. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let it for a month,’ said the man. ‘Seems strange, don’t it? Can’t see + what the party wants with it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems very romantic of him, I think,’ said Julia, ‘What sort of a + person is he?’ + </p> + <p> + Julia in her canoe, the landlord in his wherry, were close alongside, and + holding on by the gunwale of the houseboat; so that not a word was lost on + Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s a music-man,’ said the landlord, ‘or at least that’s what he told + me, miss; come down here to write an op’ra.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really!’ cried Julia, ‘I never heard of anything so delightful! Why, we + shall be able to slip down at night and hear him improvise! What is his + name?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Jimson,’ said the man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jimson?’ repeated Julia, and interrogated her memory in vain. But indeed + our rising school of English music boasts so many professors that we + rarely hear of one till he is made a baronet. ‘Are you sure you have it + right?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Made him spell it to me,’ replied the landlord. ‘J-I-M-S-O-N—Jimson; + and his op’ra’s called—some kind of tea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘SOME KIND OF TEA!’ cried the girl. ‘What a very singular name for an + opera! What can it be about?’ And Gideon heard her pretty laughter flow + abroad. ‘We must try to get acquainted with this Mr Jimson; I feel sure he + must be nice.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, miss, I’m afraid I must be going on. I’ve got to be at Haverham, + you see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, don’t let me keep you, you kind man!’ said Julia. ‘Good afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good afternoon to you, miss.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon sat in the cabin a prey to the most harrowing thoughts. Here he was + anchored to a rotting houseboat, soon to be anchored to it still more + emphatically by the presence of the corpse, and here was the country + buzzing about him, and young ladies already proposing pleasure parties to + surround his house at night. Well, that meant the gallows; and much he + cared for that. What troubled him now was Julia’s indescribable levity. + That girl would scrape acquaintance with anybody; she had no reserve, none + of the enamel of the lady. She was familiar with a brute like his + landlord; she took an immediate interest (which she lacked even the + delicacy to conceal) in a creature like Jimson! He could conceive her + asking Jimson to have tea with her! And it was for a girl like this that a + man like Gideon—Down, manly heart! + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by a sound that sent him whipping behind the door in a + trice. Miss Hazeltine had stepped on board the houseboat. Her sketch was + promising; judging from the stillness, she supposed Jimson not yet come; + and she had decided to seize occasion and complete the work of art. Down + she sat therefore in the bow, produced her block and water-colours, and + was soon singing over (what used to be called) the ladylike + accomplishment. Now and then indeed her song was interrupted, as she + searched in her memory for some of the odious little receipts by means of + which the game is practised—or used to be practised in the brave + days of old; they say the world, and those ornaments of the world, young + ladies, are become more sophisticated now; but Julia had probably studied + under Pitman, and she stood firm in the old ways. + </p> + <p> + Gideon, meanwhile, stood behind the door, afraid to move, afraid to + breathe, afraid to think of what must follow, racked by confinement and + borne to the ground with tedium. This particular phase, he felt with + gratitude, could not last for ever; whatever impended (even the gallows, + he bitterly and perhaps erroneously reflected) could not fail to be a + relief. To calculate cubes occurred to him as an ingenious and even + profitable refuge from distressing thoughts, and he threw his manhood into + that dreary exercise. + </p> + <p> + Thus, then, were these two young persons occupied—Gideon attacking + the perfect number with resolution; Julia vigorously stippling incongruous + colours on her block, when Providence dispatched into these waters a + steam-launch asthmatically panting up the Thames. All along the banks the + water swelled and fell, and the reeds rustled. The houseboat itself, that + ancient stationary creature, became suddenly imbued with life, and rolled + briskly at her moorings, like a sea-going ship when she begins to smell + the harbour bar. The wash had nearly died away, and the quick panting of + the launch sounded already faint and far off, when Gideon was startled by + a cry from Julia. Peering through the window, he beheld her staring + disconsolately downstream at the fast-vanishing canoe. The barrister + (whatever were his faults) displayed on this occasion a promptitude worthy + of his hero, Robert Skill; with one effort of his mind he foresaw what was + about to follow; with one movement of his body he dropped to the floor and + crawled under the table. + </p> + <p> + Julia, on her part, was not yet alive to her position. She saw she had + lost the canoe, and she looked forward with something less than avidity to + her next interview with Mr Bloomfield; but she had no idea that she was + imprisoned, for she knew of the plank bridge. + </p> + <p> + She made the circuit of the house, and found the door open and the bridge + withdrawn. It was plain, then, that Jimson must have come; plain, too, + that he must be on board. He must be a very shy man to have suffered this + invasion of his residence, and made no sign; and her courage rose higher + at the thought. He must come now, she must force him from his privacy, for + the plank was too heavy for her single strength; so she tapped upon the + open door. Then she tapped again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Jimson,’ she cried, ‘Mr Jimson! here, come!—you must come, you + know, sooner or later, for I can’t get off without you. O, don’t be so + exceedingly silly! O, please, come!’ + </p> + <p> + Still there was no reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘If he is here he must be mad,’ she thought, with a little fear. And the + next moment she remembered he had probably gone aboard like herself in a + boat. In that case she might as well see the houseboat, and she pushed + open the door and stepped in. Under the table, where he lay smothered with + dust, Gideon’s heart stood still. + </p> + <p> + There were the remains of Jimson’s lunch. ‘He likes rather nice things to + eat,’ she thought. ‘O, I am sure he is quite a delightful man. I wonder if + he is as good-looking as Mr Forsyth. Mrs Jimson—I don’t believe it + sounds as nice as Mrs Forsyth; but then “Gideon” is so really odious! And + here is some of his music too; this is delightful. Orange Pekoe—O, + that’s what he meant by some kind of tea.’ And she trilled with laughter. + ‘Adagio molto espressivo, sempre legato,’ she read next. (For the literary + part of a composer’s business Gideon was well equipped.) ‘How very strange + to have all these directions, and only three or four notes! O, here’s + another with some more. Andante patetico.’ And she began to glance over + the music. ‘O dear me,’ she thought, ‘he must be terribly modern! It all + seems discords to me. Let’s try the air. It is very strange, it seems + familiar.’ She began to sing it, and suddenly broke off with laughter. + ‘Why, it’s “Tommy make room for your Uncle!”’ she cried aloud, so that the + soul of Gideon was filled with bitterness. ‘Andante patetico, indeed! The + man must be a mere impostor.’ + </p> + <p> + And just at this moment there came a confused, scuffling sound from + underneath the table; a strange note, like that of a barn-door fowl, + ushered in a most explosive sneeze; the head of the sufferer was at the + same time brought smartly in contact with the boards above; and the sneeze + was followed by a hollow groan. + </p> + <p> + Julia fled to the door, and there, with the salutary instinct of the + brave, turned and faced the danger. There was no pursuit. The sounds + continued; below the table a crouching figure was indistinctly to be seen + jostled by the throes of a sneezing-fit; and that was all. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely,’ thought Julia, ‘this is most unusual behaviour. He cannot be a + man of the world!’ + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the dust of years had been disturbed by the young barrister’s + convulsions; and the sneezing-fit was succeeded by a passionate access of + coughing. + </p> + <p> + Julia began to feel a certain interest. ‘I am afraid you are really quite + ill,’ she said, drawing a little nearer. ‘Please don’t let me put you out, + and do not stay under that table, Mr Jimson. Indeed it cannot be good for + you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Jimson only answered by a distressing cough; and the next moment the + girl was on her knees, and their faces had almost knocked together under + the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, my gracious goodness!’ exclaimed Miss Hazeltine, and sprang to her + feet. ‘Mr Forsyth gone mad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not mad,’ said the gentleman ruefully, extricating himself from his + position. ‘Dearest. Miss Hazeltine, I vow to you upon my knees I am not + mad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are not!’ she cried, panting. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know,’ he said, ‘that to a superficial eye my conduct may appear + unconventional.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you are not mad, it was no conduct at all,’ cried the girl, with a + flash of colour, ‘and showed you did not care one penny for my feelings!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is the very devil and all. I know—I admit that,’ cried Gideon, + with a great effort of manly candour. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was abominable conduct!’ said Julia, with energy. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it must have shaken your esteem,’ said the barrister. ‘But, + dearest Miss Hazeltine, I beg of you to hear me out; my behaviour, strange + as it may seem, is not unsusceptible of explanation; and I positively + cannot and will not consent to continue to try to exist without—without + the esteem of one whom I admire—the moment is ill chosen, I am well + aware of that; but I repeat the expression—one whom I admire.’ + </p> + <p> + A touch of amusement appeared on Miss Hazeltine’s face. ‘Very well,’ said + she, ‘come out of this dreadfully cold place, and let us sit down on + deck.’ The barrister dolefully followed her. ‘Now,’ said she, making + herself comfortable against the end of the house, ‘go on. I will hear you + out.’ And then, seeing him stand before her with so much obvious disrelish + to the task, she was suddenly overcome with laughter. Julia’s laugh was a + thing to ravish lovers; she rolled her mirthful descant with the freedom + and the melody of a blackbird’s song upon the river, and repeated by the + echoes of the farther bank. It seemed a thing in its own place and a sound + native to the open air. There was only one creature who heard it without + joy, and that was her unfortunate admirer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he said, in a voice that tottered with annoyance, ‘I + speak as your sincere well-wisher, but this can only be called levity.’ + </p> + <p> + Julia made great eyes at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t withdraw the word,’ he said: ‘already the freedom with which I + heard you hobnobbing with a boatman gave me exquisite pain. Then there was + a want of reserve about Jimson—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But Jimson appears to be yourself,’ objected Julia. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am far from denying that,’ cried the barrister, ‘but you did not know + it at the time. What could Jimson be to you? Who was Jimson? Miss + Hazeltine, it cut me to the heart.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really this seems to me to be very silly,’ returned Julia, with severe + decision. ‘You have behaved in the most extraordinary manner; you pretend + you are able to explain your conduct, and instead of doing so you begin to + attack me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am well aware of that,’ replied Gideon. ‘I—I will make a clean + breast of it. When you know all the circumstances you will be able to + excuse me. + </p> + <p> + And sitting down beside her on the deck, he poured forth his miserable + history. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, Mr Forsyth,’ she cried, when he had done, ‘I am—so—sorry! + wish I hadn’t laughed at you—only you know you really were so + exceedingly funny. But I wish I hadn’t, and I wouldn’t either if I had + only known.’ And she gave him her hand. + </p> + <p> + Gideon kept it in his own. ‘You do not think the worse of me for this?’ he + asked tenderly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because you have been so silly and got into such dreadful trouble? you + poor boy, no!’ cried Julia; and, in the warmth of the moment, reached him + her other hand; ‘you may count on me,’ she added. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really?’ said Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really and really!’ replied the girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do then, and I will,’ cried the young man. ‘I admit the moment is not + well chosen; but I have no friends—to speak of.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No more have I,’ said Julia. ‘But don’t you think it’s perhaps time you + gave me back my hands?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘La ci darem la mano,’ said the barrister, ‘the merest moment more! I have + so few friends,’ he added. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought it was considered such a bad account of a young man to have no + friends,’ observed Julia. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, but I have crowds of FRIENDS!’ cried Gideon. ‘That’s not what I mean. + I feel the moment is ill chosen; but O, Julia, if you could only see + yourself!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Forsyth—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t call me by that beastly name!’ cried the youth. ‘Call me Gideon!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, never that,’ from Julia. ‘Besides, we have known each other such a + short time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all!’ protested Gideon. ‘We met at Bournemouth ever so long ago. I + never forgot you since. Say you never forgot me. Say you never forgot me, + and call me Gideon!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t this rather—a want of reserve about Jimson?’ enquired the + girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I know I am an ass,’ cried the barrister, ‘and I don’t care a + halfpenny! I know I’m an ass, and you may laugh at me to your heart’s + delight.’ And as Julia’s lips opened with a smile, he once more dropped + into music. ‘There’s the Land of Cherry Isle!’ he sang, courting her with + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s like an opera,’ said Julia, rather faintly. + </p> + <p> + ‘What should it be?’ said Gideon. ‘Am I not Jimson? It would be strange if + I did not serenade my love. O yes, I mean the word, my Julia; and I mean + to win you. I am in dreadful trouble, and I have not a penny of my own, + and I have cut the silliest figure; and yet I mean to win you, Julia. Look + at me, if you can, and tell me no!’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at him; and whatever her eyes may have told him, it is to be + supposed he took a pleasure in the message, for he read it a long while. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Uncle Ned will give us some money to go on upon in the meanwhile,’ he + said at last. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I call that cool!’ said a cheerful voice at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + Gideon and Julia sprang apart with wonderful alacrity; the latter annoyed + to observe that although they had never moved since they sat down, they + were now quite close together; both presenting faces of a very heightened + colour to the eyes of Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield. That gentleman, coming up + the river in his boat, had captured the truant canoe, and divining what + had happened, had thought to steal a march upon Miss Hazeltine at her + sketch. He had unexpectedly brought down two birds with one stone; and as + he looked upon the pair of flushed and breathless culprits, the pleasant + human instinct of the matchmaker softened his heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I call that cool,’ he repeated; ‘you seem to count very securely + upon Uncle Ned. But look here, Gid, I thought I had told you to keep + away?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To keep away from Maidenhead,’ replied Gid. ‘But how should I expect to + find you here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is something in that,’ Mr Bloomfield admitted. ‘You see I thought + it better that even you should be ignorant of my address; those rascals, + the Finsburys, would have wormed it out of you. And just to put them off + the scent I hoisted these abominable colours. But that is not all, Gid; + you promised me to work, and here I find you playing the fool at Padwick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, Mr Bloomfield, you must not be hard on Mr Forsyth,’ said Julia. + ‘Poor boy, he is in dreadful straits.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s this, Gid?’ enquired the uncle. ‘Have you been fighting? or is it + a bill?’ + </p> + <p> + These, in the opinion of the Squirradical, were the two misfortunes + incident to gentlemen; and indeed both were culled from his own career. He + had once put his name (as a matter of form) on a friend’s paper; it had + cost him a cool thousand; and the friend had gone about with the fear of + death upon him ever since, and never turned a corner without scouting in + front of him for Mr Bloomfield and the oaken staff. As for fighting, the + Squirradical was always on the brink of it; and once, when (in the + character of president of a Radical club) he had cleared out the hall of + his opponents, things had gone even further. Mr Holtum, the Conservative + candidate, who lay so long on the bed of sickness, was prepared to swear + to Mr Bloomfield. ‘I will swear to it in any court—it was the hand + of that brute that struck me down,’ he was reported to have said; and when + he was thought to be sinking, it was known that he had made an ante-mortem + statement in that sense. It was a cheerful day for the Squirradical when + Holtum was restored to his brewery. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s much worse than that,’ said Gideon; ‘a combination of circumstances + really providentially unjust—a—in fact, a syndicate of + murderers seem to have perceived my latent ability to rid them of the + traces of their crime. It’s a legal study after all, you see!’ And with + these words, Gideon, for the second time that day, began to describe the + adventures of the Broadwood Grand. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must write to The Times,’ cried Mr Bloomfield. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you want to get me disbarred?’ asked Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Disbarred! Come, it can’t be as bad as that,’ said his uncle. ‘It’s a + good, honest, Liberal Government that’s in, and they would certainly move + at my request. Thank God, the days of Tory jobbery are at an end.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It wouldn’t do, Uncle Ned,’ said Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you’re not mad enough,’ cried Mr Bloomfield, ‘to persist in trying to + dispose of it yourself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no other path open to me,’ said Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not common sense, and I will not hear of it,’ cried Mr Bloomfield. + ‘I command you, positively, Gid, to desist from this criminal + interference.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well, then, I hand it over to you,’ said Gideon, ‘and you can do + what you like with the dead body.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God forbid!’ ejaculated the president of the Radical Club, ‘I’ll have + nothing to do with it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you must allow me to do the best I can,’ returned his nephew. + ‘Believe me, I have a distinct talent for this sort of difficulty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We might forward it to that pest-house, the Conservative Club,’ observed + Mr Bloomfield. ‘It might damage them in the eyes of their constituents; + and it could be profitably worked up in the local journal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you see any political capital in the thing,’ said Gideon, ‘you may + have it for me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no, Gid—no, no, I thought you might. I will have no hand in the + thing. On reflection, it’s highly undesirable that either I or Miss + Hazeltine should linger here. We might be observed,’ said the president, + looking up and down the river; ‘and in my public position the consequences + would be painful for the party. And, at any rate, it’s dinner-time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What?’ cried Gideon, plunging for his watch. ‘And so it is! Great heaven, + the piano should have been here hours ago!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Bloomfield was clambering back into his boat; but at these words he + paused. + </p> + <p> + ‘I saw it arrive myself at the station; I hired a carrier man; he had a + round to make, but he was to be here by four at the latest,’ cried the + barrister. ‘No doubt the piano is open, and the body found.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You must fly at once,’ cried Mr Bloomfield, ‘it’s the only manly step.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But suppose it’s all right?’ wailed Gideon. ‘Suppose the piano comes, and + I am not here to receive it? I shall have hanged myself by my cowardice. + No, Uncle Ned, enquiries must be made in Padwick; I dare not go, of + course; but you may—you could hang about the police office, don’t + you see?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Gid—no, my dear nephew,’ said Mr Bloomfield, with the voice of + one on the rack. ‘I regard you with the most sacred affection; and I thank + God I am an Englishman—and all that. But not—not the police, + Gid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you desert me?’ said Gideon. ‘Say it plainly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Far from it! far from it!’ protested Mr Bloomfield. ‘I only propose + caution. Common sense, Gid, should always be an Englishman’s guide.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you let me speak?’ said Julia. ‘I think Gideon had better leave this + dreadful houseboat, and wait among the willows over there. If the piano + comes, then he could step out and take it in; and if the police come, he + could slip into our houseboat, and there needn’t be any more Jimson at + all. He could go to bed, and we could burn his clothes (couldn’t we?) in + the steam-launch; and then really it seems as if it would be all right. Mr + Bloomfield is so respectable, you know, and such a leading character, it + would be quite impossible even to fancy that he could be mixed up with + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This young lady has strong common sense,’ said the Squirradical. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I don’t think I’m at all a fool,’ said Julia, with conviction. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what if neither of them come?’ asked Gideon; ‘what shall I do then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why then,’ said she, ‘you had better go down to the village after dark; + and I can go with you, and then I am sure you could never be suspected; + and even if you were, I could tell them it was altogether a mistake.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not permit that—I will not suffer Miss Hazeltine to go,’ + cried Mr Bloomfield. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ asked Julia. + </p> + <p> + Mr Bloomfield had not the least desire to tell her why, for it was simply + a craven fear of being drawn himself into the imbroglio; but with the + usual tactics of a man who is ashamed of himself, he took the high hand. + ‘God forbid, my dear Miss Hazeltine, that I should dictate to a lady on + the question of propriety—’ he began. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, is that all?’ interrupted Julia. ‘Then we must go all three.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Caught!’ thought the Squirradical. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. Positively the Last Appearance of the Broadwood Grand + </h2> + <p> + England is supposed to be unmusical; but without dwelling on the patronage + extended to the organ-grinder, without seeking to found any argument on + the prevalence of the jew’s trump, there is surely one instrument that may + be said to be national in the fullest acceptance of the word. The herdboy + in the broom, already musical in the days of Father Chaucer, startles (and + perhaps pains) the lark with this exiguous pipe; and in the hands of the + skilled bricklayer, + </p> + <p> + ‘The thing becomes a trumpet, whence he blows’ + </p> + <p> + (as a general rule) either ‘The British Grenadiers’ or ‘Cherry Ripe’. The + latter air is indeed the shibboleth and diploma piece of the penny + whistler; I hazard a guess it was originally composed for this instrument. + It is singular enough that a man should be able to gain a livelihood, or + even to tide over a period of unemployment, by the display of his + proficiency upon the penny whistle; still more so, that the professional + should almost invariably confine himself to ‘Cherry Ripe’. But indeed, + singularities surround the subject, thick like blackberries. Why, for + instance, should the pipe be called a penny whistle? I think no one ever + bought it for a penny. Why should the alternative name be tin whistle? I + am grossly deceived if it be made of tin. Lastly, in what deaf catacomb, + in what earless desert, does the beginner pass the excruciating interval + of his apprenticeship? We have all heard people learning the piano, the + fiddle, and the cornet; but the young of the penny whistler (like that of + the salmon) is occult from observation; he is never heard until + proficient; and providence (perhaps alarmed by the works of Mr Mallock) + defends human hearing from his first attempts upon the upper octave. + </p> + <p> + A really noteworthy thing was taking place in a green lane, not far from + Padwick. On the bench of a carrier’s cart there sat a tow-headed, lanky, + modest-looking youth; the reins were on his lap; the whip lay behind him + in the interior of the cart; the horse proceeded without guidance or + encouragement; the carrier (or the carrier’s man), rapt into a higher + sphere than that of his daily occupations, his looks dwelling on the + skies, devoted himself wholly to a brand-new D penny whistle, whence he + diffidently endeavoured to elicit that pleasing melody ‘The Ploughboy’. To + any observant person who should have chanced to saunter in that lane, the + hour would have been thrilling. ‘Here at last,’ he would have said, ‘is + the beginner.’ + </p> + <p> + The tow-headed youth (whose name was Harker) had just encored himself for + the nineteenth time, when he was struck into the extreme of confusion by + the discovery that he was not alone. + </p> + <p> + ‘There you have it!’ cried a manly voice from the side of the road. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s as good as I want to hear. Perhaps a leetle oilier in the run,’ + the voice suggested, with meditative gusto. ‘Give it us again.’ + </p> + <p> + Harker glanced, from the depths of his humiliation, at the speaker. He + beheld a powerful, sun-brown, clean-shaven fellow, about forty years of + age, striding beside the cart with a non-commissioned military bearing, + and (as he strode) spinning in the air a cane. The fellow’s clothes were + very bad, but he looked clean and self-reliant. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m only a beginner,’ gasped the blushing Harker, ‘I didn’t think anybody + could hear me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I like that!’ returned the other. ‘You’re a pretty old beginner. + Come, I’ll give you a lead myself. Give us a seat here beside you.’ + </p> + <p> + The next moment the military gentleman was perched on the cart, pipe in + hand. He gave the instrument a knowing rattle on the shaft, mouthed it, + appeared to commune for a moment with the muse, and dashed into ‘The girl + I left behind me’. He was a great, rather than a fine, performer; he + lacked the bird-like richness; he could scarce have extracted all the + honey out of ‘Cherry Ripe’; he did not fear—he even ostentatiously + displayed and seemed to revel in he shrillness of the instrument; but in + fire, speed, precision, evenness, and fluency; in linked agility of jimmy—a + technical expression, by your leave, answering to warblers on the bagpipe; + and perhaps, above all, in that inspiring side-glance of the eye, with + which he followed the effect and (as by a human appeal) eked out the + insufficiency of his performance: in these, the fellow stood without a + rival. Harker listened: ‘The girl I left behind me’ filled him with + despair; ‘The Soldier’s Joy’ carried him beyond jealousy into generous + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Turn about,’ said the military gentleman, offering the pipe. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, not after you!’ cried Harker; ‘you’re a professional.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said his companion; ‘an amatyure like yourself. That’s one style of + play, yours is the other, and I like it best. But I began when I was a + boy, you see, before my taste was formed. When you’re my age you’ll play + that thing like a cornet-a-piston. Give us that air again; how does it + go?’ and he affected to endeavour to recall ‘The Ploughboy’. + </p> + <p> + A timid, insane hope sprang in the breast of Harker. Was it possible? Was + there something in his playing? It had, indeed, seemed to him at times as + if he got a kind of a richness out of it. Was he a genius? Meantime the + military gentleman stumbled over the air. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the unhappy Harker, ‘that’s not quite it. It goes this way—just + to show you.’ + </p> + <p> + And, taking the pipe between his lips, he sealed his doom. When he had + played the air, and then a second time, and a third; when the military + gentleman had tried it once more, and once more failed; when it became + clear to Harker that he, the blushing debutant, was actually giving a + lesson to this full-grown flutist—and the flutist under his care was + not very brilliantly progressing—how am I to tell what floods of + glory brightened the autumnal countryside; how, unless the reader were an + amateur himself, describe the heights of idiotic vanity to which the + carrier climbed? One significant fact shall paint the situation: + thenceforth it was Harker who played, and the military gentleman listened + and approved. + </p> + <p> + As he listened, however, he did not forget the habit of soldierly + precaution, looking both behind and before. He looked behind and computed + the value of the carrier’s load, divining the contents of the brown-paper + parcels and the portly hamper, and briefly setting down the grand piano in + the brand-new piano-case as ‘difficult to get rid of’. He looked before, + and spied at the corner of the green lane a little country public-house + embowered in roses. ‘I’ll have a shy at it,’ concluded the military + gentleman, and roundly proposed a glass. ‘Well, I’m not a drinking man,’ + said Harker. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, now,’ cut in the other, ‘I’ll tell you who I am: I’m + Colour-Sergeant Brand of the Blankth. That’ll tell you if I’m a drinking + man or not.’ It might and it might not, thus a Greek chorus would have + intervened, and gone on to point out how very far it fell short of telling + why the sergeant was tramping a country lane in tatters; or even to argue + that he must have pretermitted some while ago his labours for the general + defence, and (in the interval) possibly turned his attention to oakum. But + there was no Greek chorus present; and the man of war went on to contend + that drinking was one thing and a friendly glass another. + </p> + <p> + In the Blue Lion, which was the name of the country public-house, + Colour-Sergeant Brand introduced his new friend, Mr Harker, to a number of + ingenious mixtures, calculated to prevent the approaches of intoxication. + These he explained to be ‘rekisite’ in the service, so that a + self-respecting officer should always appear upon parade in a condition + honourable to his corps. The most efficacious of these devices was to lace + a pint of mild ale with twopenceworth of London gin. I am pleased to hand + in this recipe to the discerning reader, who may find it useful even in + civil station; for its effect upon Mr Harker was revolutionary. He must be + helped on board his own waggon, where he proceeded to display a spirit + entirely given over to mirth and music, alternately hooting with laughter, + to which the sergeant hastened to bear chorus, and incoherently tootling + on the pipe. The man of war, meantime, unostentatiously possessed himself + of the reins. It was plain he had a taste for the secluded beauties of an + English landscape; for the cart, although it wandered under his guidance + for some time, was never observed to issue on the dusty highway, + journeying between hedge and ditch, and for the most part under + overhanging boughs. It was plain, besides, he had an eye to the true + interests of Mr Harker; for though the cart drew up more than once at the + doors of public-houses, it was only the sergeant who set foot to ground, + and, being equipped himself with a quart bottle, once more proceeded on + his rural drive. + </p> + <p> + To give any idea of the complexity of the sergeant’s course, a map of that + part of Middlesex would be required, and my publisher is averse from the + expense. Suffice it, that a little after the night had closed, the cart + was brought to a standstill in a woody road; where the sergeant lifted + from among the parcels, and tenderly deposited upon the wayside, the + inanimate form of Harker. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you come-to before daylight,’ thought the sergeant, ‘I shall be + surprised for one.’ + </p> + <p> + From the various pockets of the slumbering carrier he gently collected the + sum of seventeen shillings and eightpence sterling; and, getting once more + into the cart, drove thoughtfully away. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I was exactly sure of where I was, it would be a good job,’ he + reflected. ‘Anyway, here’s a corner.’ + </p> + <p> + He turned it, and found himself upon the riverside. A little above him the + lights of a houseboat shone cheerfully; and already close at hand, so + close that it was impossible to avoid their notice, three persons, a lady + and two gentlemen, were deliberately drawing near. The sergeant put his + trust in the convenient darkness of the night, and drove on to meet them. + One of the gentlemen, who was of a portly figure, walked in the midst of + the fairway, and presently held up a staff by way of signal. + </p> + <p> + ‘My man, have you seen anything of a carrier’s cart?’ he cried. + </p> + <p> + Dark as it was, it seemed to the sergeant as though the slimmer of the two + gentlemen had made a motion to prevent the other speaking, and (finding + himself too late) had skipped aside with some alacrity. At another season, + Sergeant Brand would have paid more attention to the fact; but he was then + immersed in the perils of his own predicament. + </p> + <p> + ‘A carrier’s cart?’ said he, with a perceptible uncertainty of voice. ‘No, + sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said the portly gentleman, and stood aside to let the sergeant pass. + The lady appeared to bend forward and study the cart with every mark of + sharpened curiosity, the slimmer gentleman still keeping in the rear. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder what the devil they would be at,’ thought Sergeant Brand; and, + looking fearfully back, he saw the trio standing together in the midst of + the way, like folk consulting. The bravest of military heroes are not + always equal to themselves as to their reputation; and fear, on some + singular provocation, will find a lodgment in the most unfamiliar bosom. + The word ‘detective’ might have been heard to gurgle in the sergeant’s + throat; and vigorously applying the whip, he fled up the riverside road to + Great Haverham, at the gallop of the carrier’s horse. The lights of the + houseboat flashed upon the flying waggon as it passed; the beat of hoofs + and the rattle of the vehicle gradually coalesced and died away; and + presently, to the trio on the riverside, silence had redescended. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the most extraordinary thing,’ cried the slimmer of the two + gentlemen, ‘but that’s the cart.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I know I saw a piano,’ said the girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, it’s the cart, certainly; and the extraordinary thing is, it’s not the + man,’ added the first. + </p> + <p> + ‘It must be the man, Gid, it must be,’ said the portly one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, why is he running away?’ asked Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘His horse bolted, I suppose,’ said the Squirradical. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense! I heard the whip going like a flail,’ said Gideon. ‘It simply + defies the human reason.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you,’ broke in the girl, ‘he came round that corner. Suppose we + went and—what do you call it in books?—followed his trail? + There may be a house there, or somebody who saw him, or something.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, suppose we did, for the fun of the thing,’ said Gideon. + </p> + <p> + The fun of the thing (it would appear) consisted in the extremely close + juxtaposition of himself and Miss Hazeltine. To Uncle Ned, who was + excluded from these simple pleasures, the excursion appeared hopeless from + the first; and when a fresh perspective of darkness opened up, dimly + contained between park palings on the one side and a hedge and ditch upon + the other, the whole without the smallest signal of human habitation, the + Squirradical drew up. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is a wild-goose chase,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + With the cessation of the footfalls, another sound smote upon their ears. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, what’s that?’ cried Julia. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t think,’ said Gideon. + </p> + <p> + The Squirradical had his stick presented like a sword. ‘Gid,’ he began, + ‘Gid, I—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O Mr Forsyth!’ cried the girl. ‘O don’t go forward, you don’t know what + it might be—it might be something perfectly horrid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be the devil itself,’ said Gideon, disengaging himself, ‘but I am + going to see it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be rash, Gid,’ cried his uncle. + </p> + <p> + The barrister drew near to the sound, which was certainly of a portentous + character. In quality it appeared to blend the strains of the cow, the + fog-horn, and the mosquito; and the startling manner of its enunciation + added incalculably to its terrors. A dark object, not unlike the human + form divine, appeared on the brink of the ditch. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a man,’ said Gideon, ‘it’s only a man; he seems to be asleep and + snoring. Hullo,’ he added, a moment after, ‘there must be something wrong + with him, he won’t waken.’ + </p> + <p> + Gideon produced his vestas, struck one, and by its light recognized the + tow head of Harker. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is the man,’ said he, ‘as drunk as Belial. I see the whole story’; + and to his two companions, who had now ventured to rejoin him, he set + forth a theory of the divorce between the carrier and his cart, which was + not unlike the truth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Drunken brute!’ said Uncle Ned, ‘let’s get him to a pump and give him + what he deserves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all!’ said Gideon. ‘It is highly undesirable he should see us + together; and really, do you know, I am very much obliged to him, for this + is about the luckiest thing that could have possibly occurred. It seems to + me—Uncle Ned, I declare to heaven it seems to me—I’m clear of + it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Clear of what?’ asked the Squirradical. + </p> + <p> + ‘The whole affair!’ cried Gideon. ‘That man has been ass enough to steal + the cart and the dead body; what he hopes to do with it I neither know nor + care. My hands are free, Jimson ceases; down with Jimson. Shake hands with + me, Uncle Ned—Julia, darling girl, Julia, I—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Gideon, Gideon!’ said his uncle. ‘O, it’s all right, uncle, when we’re + going to be married so soon,’ said Gideon. ‘You know you said so yourself + in the houseboat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did I?’ said Uncle Ned; ‘I am certain I said no such thing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Appeal to him, tell him he did, get on his soft side,’ cried Gideon. + ‘He’s a real brick if you get on his soft side.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Mr Bloomfield,’ said Julia, ‘I know Gideon will be such a very good + boy, and he has promised me to do such a lot of law, and I will see that + he does too. And you know it is so very steadying to young men, everybody + admits that; though, of course, I know I have no money, Mr Bloomfield,’ + she added. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear young lady, as this rapscallion told you today on the boat, Uncle + Ned has plenty,’ said the Squirradical, ‘and I can never forget that you + have been shamefully defrauded. So as there’s nobody looking, you had + better give your Uncle Ned a kiss. There, you rogue,’ resumed Mr + Bloomfield, when the ceremony had been daintily performed, ‘this very + pretty young lady is yours, and a vast deal more than you deserve. But + now, let us get back to the houseboat, get up steam on the launch, and + away back to town.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the thing!’ cried Gideon; ‘and tomorrow there will be no + houseboat, and no Jimson, and no carrier’s cart, and no piano; and when + Harker awakes on the ditchside, he may tell himself the whole affair has + been a dream.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aha!’ said Uncle Ned, ‘but there’s another man who will have a different + awakening. That fellow in the cart will find he has been too clever by + half.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Uncle Ned and Julia,’ said Gideon, ‘I am as happy as the King of Tartary, + my heart is like a threepenny-bit, my heels are like feathers; I am out of + all my troubles, Julia’s hand is in mine. Is this a time for anything but + handsome sentiments? Why, there’s not room in me for anything that’s not + angelic! And when I think of that poor unhappy devil in the cart, I stand + here in the night and cry with a single heart God help him!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Amen,’ said Uncle Ned. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the Second + </h2> + <p> + In a really polite age of literature I would have scorned to cast my eye + again on the contortions of Morris. But the study is in the spirit of the + day; it presents, besides, features of a high, almost a repulsive, + morality; and if it should prove the means of preventing any respectable + and inexperienced gentleman from plunging light-heartedly into crime, even + political crime, this work will not have been penned in vain. + </p> + <p> + He rose on the morrow of his night with Michael, rose from the leaden + slumber of distress, to find his hand tremulous, his eyes closed with + rheum, his throat parched, and his digestion obviously paralysed. ‘Lord + knows it’s not from eating!’ Morris thought; and as he dressed he + reconsidered his position under several heads. Nothing will so well depict + the troubled seas in which he was now voyaging as a review of these + various anxieties. I have thrown them (for the reader’s convenience) into + a certain order; but in the mind of one poor human equal they whirled + together like the dust of hurricanes. With the same obliging + preoccupation, I have put a name to each of his distresses; and it will be + observed with pity that every individual item would have graced and + commended the cover of a railway novel. + </p> + <p> + Anxiety the First: Where is the Body? or, The Mystery of Bent Pitman. It + was now manifestly plain that Bent Pitman (as was to be looked for from + his ominous appellation) belonged to the darker order of the criminal + class. An honest man would not have cashed the bill; a humane man would + not have accepted in silence the tragic contents of the water-butt; a man, + who was not already up to the hilts in gore, would have lacked the means + of secretly disposing them. This process of reasoning left a horrid image + of the monster, Pitman. Doubtless he had long ago disposed of the body—dropping + it through a trapdoor in his back kitchen, Morris supposed, with some hazy + recollection of a picture in a penny dreadful; and doubtless the man now + lived in wanton splendour on the proceeds of the bill. So far, all was + peace. But with the profligate habits of a man like Bent Pitman (who was + no doubt a hunchback in the bargain), eight hundred pounds could be easily + melted in a week. When they were gone, what would he be likely to do next? + A hell-like voice in Morris’s own bosom gave the answer: ‘Blackmail me.’ + </p> + <p> + Anxiety the Second: The Fraud of the Tontine; or, Is my Uncle dead? This, + on which all Morris’s hopes depended, was yet a question. He had tried to + bully Teena; he had tried to bribe her; and nothing came of it. He had his + moral conviction still; but you cannot blackmail a sharp lawyer on a moral + conviction. And besides, since his interview with Michael, the idea wore a + less attractive countenance. Was Michael the man to be blackmailed? and + was Morris the man to do it? Grave considerations. ‘It’s not that I’m + afraid of him,’ Morris so far condescended to reassure himself; ‘but I + must be very certain of my ground, and the deuce of it is, I see no way. + How unlike is life to novels! I wouldn’t have even begun this business in + a novel, but what I’d have met a dark, slouching fellow in the Oxford + Road, who’d have become my accomplice, and known all about how to do it, + and probably broken into Michael’s house at night and found nothing but a + waxwork image; and then blackmailed or murdered me. But here, in real + life, I might walk the streets till I dropped dead, and none of the + criminal classes would look near me. Though, to be sure, there is always + Pitman,’ he added thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Anxiety the Third: The Cottage at Browndean; or, The Underpaid Accomplice. + For he had an accomplice, and that accomplice was blooming unseen in a + damp cottage in Hampshire with empty pockets. What could be done about + that? He really ought to have sent him something; if it was only a + post-office order for five bob, enough to prove that he was kept in mind, + enough to keep him in hope, beer, and tobacco. ‘But what would you have?’ + thought Morris; and ruefully poured into his hand a half-crown, a florin, + and eightpence in small change. For a man in Morris’s position, at war + with all society, and conducting, with the hand of inexperience, a widely + ramified intrigue, the sum was already a derision. John would have to be + doing; no mistake of that. ‘But then,’ asked the hell-like voice, ‘how + long is John likely to stand it?’ + </p> + <p> + Anxiety the Fourth: The Leather Business; or, The Shutters at Last: a Tale + of the City. On this head Morris had no news. He had not yet dared to + visit the family concern; yet he knew he must delay no longer, and if + anything had been wanted to sharpen this conviction, Michael’s references + of the night before rang ambiguously in his ear. Well and good. To visit + the city might be indispensable; but what was he to do when he was there? + He had no right to sign in his own name; and, with all the will in the + world, he seemed to lack the art of signing with his uncle’s. Under these + circumstances, Morris could do nothing to procrastinate the crash; and, + when it came, when prying eyes began to be applied to every joint of his + behaviour, two questions could not fail to be addressed, sooner or later, + to a speechless and perspiring insolvent. Where is Mr Joseph Finsbury? and + how about your visit to the bank? Questions, how easy to put!—ye + gods, how impossible to answer! The man to whom they should be addressed + went certainly to gaol, and—eh! what was this?—possibly to the + gallows. Morris was trying to shave when this idea struck him, and he laid + the razor down. Here (in Michael’s words) was the total disappearance of a + valuable uncle; here was a time of inexplicable conduct on the part of a + nephew who had been in bad blood with the old man any time these seven + years; what a chance for a judicial blunder! ‘But no,’ thought Morris, + ‘they cannot, they dare not, make it murder. Not that. But honestly, and + speaking as a man to a man, I don’t see any other crime in the calendar + (except arson) that I don’t seem somehow to have committed. And yet I’m a + perfectly respectable man, and wished nothing but my due. Law is a pretty + business.’ + </p> + <p> + With this conclusion firmly seated in his mind, Morris Finsbury descended + to the hall of the house in John Street, still half-shaven. There was a + letter in the box; he knew the handwriting: John at last! + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I think I might have been spared this,’ he said bitterly, and tore + it open. + </p> + <p> + Dear Morris [it ran], what the dickens do you mean by it? I’m in an awful + hole down here; I have to go on tick, and the parties on the spot don’t + cotton to the idea; they couldn’t, because it is so plain I’m in a stait + of Destitution. I’ve got no bedclothes, think of that, I must have coins, + the hole thing’s a Mockry, I wont stand it, nobody would. I would have + come away before, only I have no money for the railway fare. Don’t be a + lunatic, Morris, you don’t seem to understand my dredful situation. I have + to get the stamp on tick. A fact. + </p> + <p> + —Ever your affte. Brother, + </p> + <p> + J. FINSBURY + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t even spell!’ Morris reflected, as he crammed the letter in his + pocket, and left the house. ‘What can I do for him? I have to go to the + expense of a barber, I’m so shattered! How can I send anybody coins? It’s + hard lines, I daresay; but does he think I’m living on hot muffins? One + comfort,’ was his grim reflection, ‘he can’t cut and run—he’s got to + stay; he’s as helpless as the dead.’ And then he broke forth again: + ‘Complains, does he? and he’s never even heard of Bent Pitman! If he had + what I have on my mind, he might complain with a good grace.’ + </p> + <p> + But these were not honest arguments, or not wholly honest; there was a + struggle in the mind of Morris; he could not disguise from himself that + his brother John was miserably situated at Browndean, without news, + without money, without bedclothes, without society or any entertainment; + and by the time he had been shaved and picked a hasty breakfast at a + coffee tavern, Morris had arrived at a compromise. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor Johnny,’ he said to himself, ‘he’s in an awful box! I can’t send him + coins, but I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll send him the Pink Un—it’ll + cheer John up; and besides, it’ll do his credit good getting anything by + post.’ + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, on his way to the leather business, whither he proceeded + (according to his thrifty habit) on foot, Morris purchased and dispatched + a single copy of that enlivening periodical, to which (in a sudden pang of + remorse) he added at random the Athenaeum, the Revivalist, and the Penny + Pictorial Weekly. So there was John set up with literature, and Morris had + laid balm upon his conscience. + </p> + <p> + As if to reward him, he was received in his place of business with good + news. Orders were pouring in; there was a run on some of the back stock, + and the figure had gone up. Even the manager appeared elated. As for + Morris, who had almost forgotten the meaning of good news, he longed to + sob like a little child; he could have caught the manager (a pallid man + with startled eyebrows) to his bosom; he could have found it in his + generosity to give a cheque (for a small sum) to every clerk in the + counting-house. As he sat and opened his letters a chorus of airy + vocalists sang in his brain, to most exquisite music, ‘This whole concern + may be profitable yet, profitable yet, profitable yet.’ + </p> + <p> + To him, in this sunny moment of relief, enter a Mr Rodgerson, a creditor, + but not one who was expected to be pressing, for his connection with the + firm was old and regular. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, Finsbury,’ said he, not without embarrassment, ‘it’s of course only + fair to let you know—the fact is, money is a trifle tight—I + have some paper out—for that matter, every one’s complaining—and + in short—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It has never been our habit, Rodgerson,’ said Morris, turning pale. ‘But + give me time to turn round, and I’ll see what I can do; I daresay we can + let you have something to account.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, that’s just where is,’ replied Rodgerson. ‘I was tempted; I’ve let + the credit out of MY hands.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Out of your hands?’ repeated Morris. ‘That’s playing rather fast and + loose with us, Mr Rodgerson.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I got cent. for cent. for it,’ said the other, ‘on the nail, in a + certified cheque.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cent. for cent.!’ cried Morris. ‘Why, that’s something like thirty per + cent. bonus; a singular thing! Who’s the party?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t know the man,’ was the reply. ‘Name of Moss.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A Jew,’ Morris reflected, when his visitor was gone. And what could a Jew + want with a claim of—he verified the amount in the books—a + claim of three five eight, nineteen, ten, against the house of Finsbury? + And why should he pay cent. for cent.? The figure proved the loyalty of + Rodgerson—even Morris admitted that. But it proved unfortunately + something else—the eagerness of Moss. The claim must have been + wanted instantly, for that day, for that morning even. Why? The mystery of + Moss promised to be a fit pendant to the mystery of Pitman. ‘And just when + all was looking well too!’ cried Morris, smiting his hand upon the desk. + And almost at the same moment Mr Moss was announced. + </p> + <p> + Mr Moss was a radiant Hebrew, brutally handsome, and offensively polite. + He was acting, it appeared, for a third party; he understood nothing of + the circumstances; his client desired to have his position regularized; + but he would accept an antedated cheque—antedated by two months, if + Mr Finsbury chose. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I don’t understand this,’ said Morris. ‘What made you pay cent. per + cent. for it today?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Moss had no idea; only his orders. + </p> + <p> + ‘The whole thing is thoroughly irregular,’ said Morris. ‘It is not the + custom of the trade to settle at this time of the year. What are your + instructions if I refuse?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am to see Mr Joseph Finsbury, the head of the firm,’ said Mr Moss. ‘I + was directed to insist on that; it was implied you had no status here—the + expressions are not mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You cannot see Mr Joseph; he is unwell,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘In that case I was to place the matter in the hands of a lawyer. Let me + see,’ said Mr Moss, opening a pocket-book with, perhaps, suspicious care, + at the right place—‘Yes—of Mr Michael Finsbury. A relation, + perhaps? In that case, I presume, the matter will be pleasantly arranged.’ + </p> + <p> + To pass into the hands of Michael was too much for Morris. He struck his + colours. A cheque at two months was nothing, after all. In two months he + would probably be dead, or in a gaol at any rate. He bade the manager give + Mr Moss a chair and the paper. ‘I’m going over to get a cheque signed by + Mr Finsbury,’ said he, ‘who is lying ill at John Street.’ + </p> + <p> + A cab there and a cab back; here were inroads on his wretched capital! He + counted the cost; when he was done with Mr Moss he would be left with + twelvepence-halfpenny in the world. What was even worse, he had now been + forced to bring his uncle up to Bloomsbury. ‘No use for poor Johnny in + Hampshire now,’ he reflected. ‘And how the farce is to be kept up + completely passes me. At Browndean it was just possible; in Bloomsbury it + seems beyond human ingenuity—though I suppose it’s what Michael + does. But then he has accomplices—that Scotsman and the whole gang. + Ah, if I had accomplices!’ + </p> + <p> + Necessity is the mother of the arts. Under a spur so immediate, Morris + surprised himself by the neatness and dispatch of his new forgery, and + within three-fourths of an hour had handed it to Mr Moss. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very satisfactory,’ observed that gentleman, rising. ‘I was to + tell you it will not be presented, but you had better take care.’ + </p> + <p> + The room swam round Morris. ‘What—what’s that?’ he cried, grasping + the table. He was miserably conscious the next moment of his shrill tongue + and ashen face. ‘What do you mean—it will not be presented? Why am I + to take care? What is all this mummery?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no idea, Mr Finsbury,’ replied the smiling Hebrew. ‘It was a + message I was to deliver. The expressions were put into my mouth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is your client’s name?’ asked Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is a secret for the moment,’ answered Mr Moss. Morris bent toward + him. ‘It’s not the bank?’ he asked hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no authority to say more, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Mr Moss. ‘I will + wish you a good morning, if you please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wish me a good morning!’ thought Morris; and the next moment, seizing his + hat, he fled from his place of business like a madman. Three streets away + he stopped and groaned. ‘Lord! I should have borrowed from the manager!’ + he cried. ‘But it’s too late now; it would look dicky to go back; I’m + penniless—simply penniless—like the unemployed.’ + </p> + <p> + He went home and sat in the dismantled dining-room with his head in his + hands. Newton never thought harder than this victim of circumstances, and + yet no clearness came. ‘It may be a defect in my intelligence,’ he cried, + rising to his feet, ‘but I cannot see that I am fairly used. The bad luck + I’ve had is a thing to write to The Times about; it’s enough to breed a + revolution. And the plain English of the whole thing is that I must have + money at once. I’m done with all morality now; I’m long past that stage; + money I must have, and the only chance I see is Bent Pitman. Bent Pitman + is a criminal, and therefore his position’s weak. He must have some of + that eight hundred left; if he has I’ll force him to go shares; and even + if he hasn’t, I’ll tell him the tontine affair, and with a desperate man + like Pitman at my back, it’ll be strange if I don’t succeed.’ + </p> + <p> + Well and good. But how to lay hands upon Bent Pitman, except by + advertisement, was not so clear. And even so, in what terms to ask a + meeting? on what grounds? and where? Not at John Street, for it would + never do to let a man like Bent Pitman know your real address; nor yet at + Pitman’s house, some dreadful place in Holloway, with a trapdoor in the + back kitchen; a house which you might enter in a light summer overcoat and + varnished boots, to come forth again piecemeal in a market-basket. That + was the drawback of a really efficient accomplice, Morris felt, not + without a shudder. ‘I never dreamed I should come to actually covet such + society,’ he thought. And then a brilliant idea struck him. Waterloo + Station, a public place, yet at certain hours of the day a solitary; a + place, besides, the very name of which must knock upon the heart of + Pitman, and at once suggest a knowledge of the latest of his guilty + secrets. Morris took a piece of paper and sketched his advertisement. + </p> + <p> + WILLIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of + SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE on the far end of the main line departure + platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M., Sunday next. + </p> + <p> + Morris reperused this literary trifle with approbation. ‘Terse,’ he + reflected. ‘Something to his advantage is not strictly true; but it’s + taking and original, and a man is not on oath in an advertisement. All + that I require now is the ready cash for my own meals and for the + advertisement, and—no, I can’t lavish money upon John, but I’ll give + him some more papers. How to raise the wind?’ + </p> + <p> + He approached his cabinet of signets, and the collector suddenly revolted + in his blood. ‘I will not!’ he cried; ‘nothing shall induce me to massacre + my collection—rather theft!’ And dashing upstairs to the + drawing-room, he helped himself to a few of his uncle’s curiosities: a + pair of Turkish babooshes, a Smyrna fan, a water-cooler, a musket + guaranteed to have been seized from an Ephesian bandit, and a pocketful of + curious but incomplete seashells. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. William Bent Pitman Hears of Something to his Advantage + </h2> + <p> + On the morning of Sunday, William Dent Pitman rose at his usual hour, + although with something more than the usual reluctance. The day before (it + should be explained) an addition had been made to his family in the person + of a lodger. Michael Finsbury had acted sponsor in the business, and + guaranteed the weekly bill; on the other hand, no doubt with a spice of + his prevailing jocularity, he had drawn a depressing portrait of the + lodger’s character. Mr Pitman had been led to understand his guest was not + good company; he had approached the gentleman with fear, and had rejoiced + to find himself the entertainer of an angel. At tea he had been vastly + pleased; till hard on one in the morning he had sat entranced by eloquence + and progressively fortified with information in the studio; and now, as he + reviewed over his toilet the harmless pleasures of the evening, the future + smiled upon him with revived attractions. ‘Mr Finsbury is indeed an + acquisition,’ he remarked to himself; and as he entered the little + parlour, where the table was already laid for breakfast, the cordiality of + his greeting would have befitted an acquaintanceship already old. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am delighted to see you, sir’—these were his expressions—‘and + I trust you have slept well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Accustomed as I have been for so long to a life of almost perpetual + change,’ replied the guest, ‘the disturbance so often complained of by the + more sedentary, as attending their first night in (what is called) a new + bed, is a complaint from which I am entirely free.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am delighted to hear it,’ said the drawing-master warmly. ‘But I see I + have interrupted you over the paper.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Sunday paper is one of the features of the age,’ said Mr Finsbury. + ‘In America, I am told, it supersedes all other literature, the bone and + sinew of the nation finding their requirements catered for; hundreds of + columns will be occupied with interesting details of the world’s doings, + such as water-spouts, elopements, conflagrations, and public + entertainments; there is a corner for politics, ladies’ work, chess, + religion, and even literature; and a few spicy editorials serve to direct + the course of public thought. It is difficult to estimate the part played + by such enormous and miscellaneous repositories in the education of the + people. But this (though interesting in itself) partakes of the nature of + a digression; and what I was about to ask you was this: Are you yourself a + student of the daily press?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is not much in the papers to interest an artist,’ returned Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘In that case,’ resumed Joseph, ‘an advertisement which has appeared the + last two days in various journals, and reappears this morning, may + possibly have failed to catch your eye. The name, with a trifling + variation, bears a strong resemblance to your own. Ah, here it is. If you + please, I will read it to you: + </p> + <p> + WILIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of + SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at the far end of the main line departure + platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M. today. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that in print?’ cried Pitman. ‘Let me see it! Bent? It must be Dent! + SOMETHING TO MY ADVANTAGE? Mr Finsbury, excuse me offering a word of + caution; I am aware how strangely this must sound in your ears, but there + are domestic reasons why this little circumstance might perhaps be better + kept between ourselves. Mrs Pitman—my dear Sir, I assure you there + is nothing dishonourable in my secrecy; the reasons are domestic, merely + domestic; and I may set your conscience at rest when I assure you all the + circumstances are known to our common friend, your excellent nephew, Mr + Michael, who has not withdrawn from me his esteem.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A word is enough, Mr Pitman,’ said Joseph, with one of his Oriental + reverences. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, the drawing-master found Michael in bed and reading a + book, the picture of good-humour and repose. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hillo, Pitman,’ he said, laying down his book, ‘what brings you here at + this inclement hour? Ought to be in church, my boy!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have little thought of church today, Mr Finsbury,’ said the + drawing-master. ‘I am on the brink of something new, Sir.’ And he + presented the advertisement. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, what is this?’ cried Michael, sitting suddenly up. He studied it for + half a minute with a frown. ‘Pitman, I don’t care about this document a + particle,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will have to be attended to, however,’ said Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought you’d had enough of Waterloo,’ returned the lawyer. ‘Have you + started a morbid craving? You’ve never been yourself anyway since you lost + that beard. I believe now it was where you kept your senses.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Finsbury,’ said the drawing-master, ‘I have tried to reason this + matter out, and, with your permission, I should like to lay before you the + results.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fire away,’ said Michael; ‘but please, Pitman, remember it’s Sunday, and + let’s have no bad language.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There are three views open to us,’ began Pitman. ‘First this may be + connected with the barrel; second, it may be connected with Mr + Semitopolis’s statue; and third, it may be from my wife’s brother, who + went to Australia. In the first case, which is of course possible, I + confess the matter would be best allowed to drop.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The court is with you there, Brother Pitman,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘In the second,’ continued the other, ‘it is plainly my duty to leave no + stone unturned for the recovery of the lost antique.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear fellow, Semitopolis has come down like a trump; he has pocketed + the loss and left you the profit. What more would you have?’ enquired the + lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘I conceive, sir, under correction, that Mr Semitopolis’s generosity binds + me to even greater exertion,’ said the drawing-master. ‘The whole business + was unfortunate; it was—I need not disguise it from you—it was + illegal from the first: the more reason that I should try to behave like a + gentleman,’ concluded Pitman, flushing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have nothing to say to that,’ returned the lawyer. ‘I have sometimes + thought I should like to try to behave like a gentleman myself; only it’s + such a one-sided business, with the world and the legal profession as they + are.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, in the third,’ resumed the drawing-master, ‘if it’s Uncle Tim, of + course, our fortune’s made.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not Uncle Tim, though,’ said the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you observed that very remarkable expression: SOMETHING TO HIS + ADVANTAGE?’ enquired Pitman shrewdly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You innocent mutton,’ said Michael, ‘it’s the seediest commonplace in the + English language, and only proves the advertiser is an ass. Let me + demolish your house of cards for you at once. Would Uncle Tim make that + blunder in your name?—in itself, the blunder is delicious, a huge + improvement on the gross reality, and I mean to adopt it in the future; + but is it like Uncle Tim?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it’s not like him,’ Pitman admitted. ‘But his mind may have become + unhinged at Ballarat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you come to that, Pitman,’ said Michael, ‘the advertiser may be Queen + Victoria, fired with the desire to make a duke of you. I put it to + yourself if that’s probable; and yet it’s not against the laws of nature. + But we sit here to consider probabilities; and with your genteel + permission, I eliminate her Majesty and Uncle Tim on the threshold. To + proceed, we have your second idea, that this has some connection with the + statue. Possible; but in that case who is the advertiser? Not Ricardi, for + he knows your address; not the person who got the box, for he doesn’t know + your name. The vanman, I hear you suggest, in a lucid interval. He might + have got your name, and got it incorrectly, at the station; and he might + have failed to get your address. I grant the vanman. But a question: Do + you really wish to meet the vanman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should I not?’ asked Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘If he wants to meet you,’ replied Michael, ‘observe this: it is because + he has found his address-book, has been to the house that got the statue, + and-mark my words!—is moving at the instigation of the murderer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should be very sorry to think so,’ said Pitman; ‘but I still consider + it my duty to Mr Sernitopolis. . .’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pitman,’ interrupted Michael, ‘this will not do. Don’t seek to impose on + your legal adviser; don’t try to pass yourself off for the Duke of + Wellington, for that is not your line. Come, I wager a dinner I can read + your thoughts. You still believe it’s Uncle Tim.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Finsbury,’ said the drawing-master, colouring, ‘you are not a man in + narrow circumstances, and you have no family. Guendolen is growing up, a + very promising girl—she was confirmed this year; and I think you + will be able to enter into my feelings as a parent when I tell you she is + quite ignorant of dancing. The boys are at the board school, which is all + very well in its way; at least, I am the last man in the world to + criticize the institutions of my native land. But I had fondly hoped that + Harold might become a professional musician; and little Otho shows a quite + remarkable vocation for the Church. I am not exactly an ambitious man...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ interrupted Michael. ‘Be explicit; you think it’s Uncle + Tim?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It might be Uncle Tim,’ insisted Pitman, ‘and if it were, and I neglected + the occasion, how could I ever look my children in the face? I do not + refer to Mrs Pitman. . .’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, you never do,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘. . . but in the case of her own brother returning from Ballarat. . .’ + continued Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘. . . with his mind unhinged,’ put in the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘. . . returning from Ballarat with a large fortune, her impatience may be + more easily imagined than described,’ concluded Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ said Michael, ‘be it so. And what do you propose to do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to Waterloo,’ said Pitman, ‘in disguise.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All by your little self?’ enquired the lawyer. ‘Well, I hope you think it + safe. Mind and send me word from the police cells.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, Mr Finsbury, I had ventured to hope—perhaps you might be induced + to—to make one of us,’ faltered Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Disguise myself on Sunday?’ cried Michael. ‘How little you understand my + principles!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Finsbury, I have no means of showing you my gratitude; but let me ask + you one question,’ said Pitman. ‘If I were a very rich client, would you + not take the risk?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Diamond, Diamond, you know not what you do!’ cried Michael. ‘Why, man, do + you suppose I make a practice of cutting about London with my clients in + disguise? Do you suppose money would induce me to touch this business with + a stick? I give you my word of honour, it would not. But I own I have a + real curiosity to see how you conduct this interview—that tempts me; + it tempts me, Pitman, more than gold—it should be exquisitely rich.’ + And suddenly Michael laughed. ‘Well, Pitman,’ said he, ‘have all the truck + ready in the studio. I’ll go.’ + </p> + <p> + About twenty minutes after two, on this eventful day, the vast and gloomy + shed of Waterloo lay, like the temple of a dead religion, silent and + deserted. Here and there at one of the platforms, a train lay becalmed; + here and there a wandering footfall echoed; the cab-horses outside stamped + with startling reverberations on the stones; or from the neighbouring + wilderness of railway an engine snorted forth a whistle. The main-line + departure platform slumbered like the rest; the booking-hutches closed; + the backs of Mr Haggard’s novels, with which upon a weekday the bookstall + shines emblazoned, discreetly hidden behind dingy shutters; the rare + officials, undisguisedly somnambulant; and the customary loiterers, even + to the middle-aged woman with the ulster and the handbag, fled to more + congenial scenes. As in the inmost dells of some small tropic island the + throbbing of the ocean lingers, so here a faint pervading hum and + trepidation told in every corner of surrounding London. + </p> + <p> + At the hour already named, persons acquainted with John Dickson, of + Ballarat, and Ezra Thomas, of the United States of America, would have + been cheered to behold them enter through the booking-office. + </p> + <p> + ‘What names are we to take?’ enquired the latter, anxiously adjusting the + window-glass spectacles which he had been suffered on this occasion to + assume. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no choice for you, my boy,’ returned Michael. ‘Bent Pitman or + nothing. As for me, I think I look as if I might be called Appleby; + something agreeably old-world about Appleby—breathes of Devonshire + cider. Talking of which, suppose you wet your whistle? the interview is + likely to be trying.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I’ll wait till afterwards,’ returned Pitman; ‘on the whole, I + think I’ll wait till the thing’s over. I don’t know if it strikes you as + it does me; but the place seems deserted and silent, Mr Finsbury, and + filled with very singular echoes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Kind of Jack-in-the-box feeling?’ enquired Michael, ‘as if all these + empty trains might be filled with policemen waiting for a signal? and Sir + Charles Warren perched among the girders with a silver whistle to his + lips? It’s guilt, Pitman.’ + </p> + <p> + In this uneasy frame of mind they walked nearly the whole length of the + departure platform, and at the western extremity became aware of a slender + figure standing back against a pillar. The figure was plainly sunk into a + deep abstraction; he was not aware of their approach, but gazed far abroad + over the sunlit station. Michael stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘Holloa!’ said he, ‘can that be your advertiser? If so, I’m done with it.’ + And then, on second thoughts: ‘Not so, either,’ he resumed more + cheerfully. ‘Here, turn your back a moment. So. Give me the specs.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you agreed I was to have them,’ protested Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, but that man knows me,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does he? what’s his name?’ cried Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, he took me into his confidence,’ returned the lawyer. ‘But I may say + one thing: if he’s your advertiser (and he may be, for he seems to have + been seized with criminal lunacy) you can go ahead with a clear + conscience, for I hold him in the hollow of my hand.’ + </p> + <p> + The change effected, and Pitman comforted with this good news, the pair + drew near to Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you looking for Mr William Bent Pitman?’ enquired the drawing-master. + ‘I am he.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris raised his head. He saw before him, in the speaker, a person of + almost indescribable insignificance, in white spats and a shirt cut + indecently low. A little behind, a second and more burly figure offered + little to criticism, except ulster, whiskers, spectacles, and deerstalker + hat. Since he had decided to call up devils from the underworld of London, + Morris had pondered deeply on the probabilities of their appearance. His + first emotion, like that of Charoba when she beheld the sea, was one of + disappointment; his second did more justice to the case. Never before had + he seen a couple dressed like these; he had struck a new stratum. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must speak with you alone,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘You need not mind Mr Appleby,’ returned Pitman. ‘He knows all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All? Do you know what I am here to speak of?’ enquired Morris—. + ‘The barrel.’ + </p> + <p> + Pitman turned pale, but it was with manly indignation. ‘You are the man!’ + he cried. ‘You very wicked person.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I to speak before him?’ asked Morris, disregarding these severe + expressions. + </p> + <p> + ‘He has been present throughout,’ said Pitman. ‘He opened the barrel; your + guilty secret is already known to him, as well as to your Maker and + myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then,’ said Morris, ‘what have you done with the money?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know nothing about any money,’ said Pitman. + </p> + <p> + ‘You needn’t try that on,’ said Morris. ‘I have tracked you down; you came + to the station sacrilegiously disguised as a clergyman, procured my + barrel, opened it, rifled the body, and cashed the bill. I have been to + the bank, I tell you! I have followed you step by step, and your denials + are childish and absurd.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, come, Morris, keep your temper,’ said Mr Appleby. + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael!’ cried Morris, ‘Michael here too!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Here too,’ echoed the lawyer; ‘here and everywhere, my good fellow; every + step you take is counted; trained detectives follow you like your shadow; + they report to me every three-quarters of an hour; no expense is spared.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris’s face took on a hue of dirty grey. ‘Well, I don’t care; I have the + less reserve to keep,’ he cried. ‘That man cashed my bill; it’s a theft, + and I want the money back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think I would lie to you, Morris?’ asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said his cousin. ‘I want my money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was I alone who touched the body,’ began Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘You? Michael!’ cried Morris, starting back. ‘Then why haven’t you + declared the death?’ ‘What the devil do you mean?’ asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I mad? or are you?’ cried Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think it must be Pitman,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + The three men stared at each other, wild-eyed. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is dreadful,’ said Morris, ‘dreadful. I do not understand one word + that is addressed to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I give you my word of honour, no more do I,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘And in God’s name, why whiskers?’ cried Morris, pointing in a ghastly + manner at his cousin. ‘Does my brain reel? How whiskers?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, that’s a matter of detail,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + There was another silence, during which Morris appeared to himself to be + shot in a trapeze as high as St Paul’s, and as low as Baker Street + Station. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us recapitulate,’ said Michael, ‘unless it’s really a dream, in which + case I wish Teena would call me for breakfast. My friend Pitman, here, + received a barrel which, it now appears, was meant for you. The barrel + contained the body of a man. How or why you killed him...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never laid a hand on him,’ protested Morris. ‘This is what I have + dreaded all along. But think, Michael! I’m not that kind of man; with all + my faults, I wouldn’t touch a hair of anybody’s head, and it was all dead + loss to me. He got killed in that vile accident.’ + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Michael was seized by mirth so prolonged and excessive that his + companions supposed beyond a doubt his reason had deserted him. Again and + again he struggled to compose himself, and again and again laughter + overwhelmed him like a tide. In all this maddening interview there had + been no more spectral feature than this of Michael’s merriment; and Pitman + and Morris, drawn together by the common fear, exchanged glances of + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + ‘Morris,’ gasped the lawyer, when he was at last able to articulate, ‘hold + on, I see it all now. I can make it clear in one word. Here’s the key: I + NEVER GUESSED IT WAS UNCLE JOSEPH TILL THIS MOMENT.’ + </p> + <p> + This remark produced an instant lightening of the tension for Morris. For + Pitman it quenched the last ray of hope and daylight. Uncle Joseph, whom + he had left an hour ago in Norfolk Street, pasting newspaper cuttings?—it?—the + dead body?—then who was he, Pitman? and was this Waterloo Station or + Colney Hatch? + </p> + <p> + ‘To be sure!’ cried Morris; ‘it was badly smashed, I know. How stupid not + to think of that! Why, then, all’s clear; and, my dear Michael, I’ll tell + you what—we’re saved, both saved. You get the tontine—I don’t + grudge it you the least—and I get the leather business, which is + really beginning to look up. Declare the death at once, don’t mind me in + the smallest, don’t consider me; declare the death, and we’re all right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, but I can’t declare it,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not?’ cried Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t produce the corpus, Morris. I’ve lost it,’ said the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop a bit,’ ejaculated the leather merchant. ‘How is this? It’s not + possible. I lost it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I’ve lost it too, my son,’ said Michael, with extreme serenity. + ‘Not recognizing it, you see, and suspecting something irregular in its + origin, I got rid of—what shall we say?—got rid of the + proceeds at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You got rid of the body? What made you do that?’ walled Morris. ‘But you + can get it again? You know where it is?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish I did, Morris, and you may believe me there, for it would be a + small sum in my pocket; but the fact is, I don’t,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good Lord,’ said Morris, addressing heaven and earth, ‘good Lord, I’ve + lost the leather business!’ + </p> + <p> + Michael was once more shaken with laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you laugh, you fool?’ cried his cousin, ‘you lose more than I. + You’ve bungled it worse than even I did. If you had a spark of feeling, + you would be shaking in your boots with vexation. But I’ll tell you one + thing—I’ll have that eight hundred pound—I’ll have that and go + to Swan River—that’s mine, anyway, and your friend must have forged + to cash it. Give me the eight hundred, here, upon this platform, or I go + straight to Scotland Yard and turn the whole disreputable story inside + out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Morris,’ said Michael, laying his hand upon his shoulder, ‘hear reason. + It wasn’t us, it was the other man. We never even searched the body.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The other man?’ repeated Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, the other man. We palmed Uncle Joseph off upon another man,’ said + Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘You what? You palmed him off? That’s surely a singular expression,’ said + Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, palmed him off for a piano,’ said Michael with perfect simplicity. + ‘Remarkably full, rich tone,’ he added. + </p> + <p> + Morris carried his hand to his brow and looked at it; it was wet with + sweat. ‘Fever,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it was a Broadwood grand,’ said Michael. ‘Pitman here will tell you + if it was genuine or not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh? O! O yes, I believe it was a genuine Broadwood; I have played upon it + several times myself,’ said Pitman. ‘The three-letter E was broken.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t say anything more about pianos,’ said Morris, with a strong + shudder; ‘I’m not the man I used to be! This—this other man—let’s + come to him, if I can only manage to follow. Who is he? Where can I get + hold of him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, that’s the rub,’ said Michael. ‘He’s been in possession of the + desired article, let me see—since Wednesday, about four o’clock, and + is now, I should imagine, on his way to the isles of Javan and Gadire.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael,’ said Morris pleadingly, ‘I am in a very weak state, and I beg + your consideration for a kinsman. Say it slowly again, and be sure you are + correct. When did he get it?’ + </p> + <p> + Michael repeated his statement. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, that’s the worst thing yet,’ said Morris, drawing in his breath. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is?’ asked the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Even the dates are sheer nonsense,’ said the leather merchant. + </p> + <p> + ‘The bill was cashed on Tuesday. There’s not a gleam of reason in the + whole transaction.’ + </p> + <p> + A young gentleman, who had passed the trio and suddenly started and turned + back, at this moment laid a heavy hand on Michael’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘Aha! so this is Mr Dickson?’ said he. + </p> + <p> + The trump of judgement could scarce have rung with a more dreadful note in + the ears of Pitman and the lawyer. To Morris this erroneous name seemed a + legitimate enough continuation of the nightmare in which he had so long + been wandering. And when Michael, with his brand-new bushy whiskers, broke + from the grasp of the stranger and turned to run, and the weird little + shaven creature in the low-necked shirt followed his example with a + bird-like screech, and the stranger (finding the rest of his prey escape + him) pounced with a rude grasp on Morris himself, that gentleman’s frame + of mind might be very nearly expressed in the colloquial phrase: ‘I told + you so!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have one of the gang,’ said Gideon Forsyth. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not understand,’ said Morris dully. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I will make you understand,’ returned Gideon grimly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will be a good friend to me if you can make me understand anything,’ + cried Morris, with a sudden energy of conviction. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know you personally, do I?’ continued Gideon, examining his + unresisting prisoner. ‘Never mind, I know your friends. They are your + friends, are they not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not understand you,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘You had possibly something to do with a piano?’ suggested Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘A piano!’ cried Morris, convulsively clasping Gideon by the arm. ‘Then + you’re the other man! Where is it? Where is the body? And did you cash the + draft?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where is the body? This is very strange,’ mused Gideon. ‘Do you want the + body?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Want it?’ cried Morris. ‘My whole fortune depends upon it! I lost it. + Where is it? Take me to it? + </p> + <p> + ‘O, you want it, do you? And the other man, Dickson—does he want + it?’ enquired Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who do you mean by Dickson? O, Michael Finsbury! Why, of course he does! + He lost it too. If he had it, he’d have won the tontine tomorrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael Finsbury! Not the solicitor?’ cried Gideon. ‘Yes, the solicitor,’ + said Morris. ‘But where is the body?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then that is why he sent the brief! What is Mr Finsbury’s private + address?’ asked Gideon. + </p> + <p> + ‘233 King’s Road. What brief? Where are you going? Where is the body?’ + cried Morris, clinging to Gideon’s arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have lost it myself,’ returned Gideon, and ran out of the station. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. The Return of the Great Vance + </h2> + <p> + Morris returned from Waterloo in a frame of mind that baffles description. + He was a modest man; he had never conceived an overweening notion of his + own powers; he knew himself unfit to write a book, turn a table + napkin-ring, entertain a Christmas party with legerdemain—grapple + (in short) any of those conspicuous accomplishments that are usually + classed under the head of genius. He knew—he admitted—his + parts to be pedestrian, but he had considered them (until quite lately) + fully equal to the demands of life. And today he owned himself defeated: + life had the upper hand; if there had been any means of flight or place to + flee to, if the world had been so ordered that a man could leave it like a + place of entertainment, Morris would have instantly resigned all further + claim on its rewards and pleasures, and, with inexpressible contentment, + ceased to be. As it was, one aim shone before him: he could get home. Even + as the sick dog crawls under the sofa, Morris could shut the door of John + Street and be alone. + </p> + <p> + The dusk was falling when he drew near this place of refuge; and the first + thing that met his eyes was the figure of a man upon the step, alternately + plucking at the bell-handle and pounding on the panels. The man had no + hat, his clothes were hideous with filth, he had the air of a hop-picker. + Yet Morris knew him; it was John. + </p> + <p> + The first impulse of flight was succeeded, in the elder brother’s bosom, + by the empty quiescence of despair. ‘What does it matter now?’ he thought, + and drawing forth his latchkey ascended the steps. + </p> + <p> + John turned about; his face was ghastly with weariness and dirt and fury; + and as he recognized the head of his family, he drew in a long rasping + breath, and his eyes glittered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Open that door,’ he said, standing back. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to,’ said Morris, and added mentally, ‘He looks like murder!’ + </p> + <p> + The brothers passed into the hall, the door closed behind them; and + suddenly John seized Morris by the shoulders and shook him as a terrier + shakes a rat. ‘You mangy little cad,’ he said, ‘I’d serve you right to + smash your skull!’ And shook him again, so that his teeth rattled and his + head smote upon the wall. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be violent, Johnny,’ said Morris. ‘It can’t do any good now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shut your mouth,’ said John, ‘your time’s come to listen.’ + </p> + <p> + He strode into the dining-room, fell into the easy-chair, and taking off + one of his burst walking-shoes, nursed for a while his foot like one in + agony. ‘I’m lame for life,’ he said. ‘What is there for dinner?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing, Johnny,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing? What do you mean by that?’ enquired the Great Vance. ‘Don’t set + up your chat to me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean simply nothing,’ said his brother. ‘I have nothing to eat, and + nothing to buy it with. I’ve only had a cup of tea and a sandwich all this + day myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only a sandwich?’ sneered Vance. ‘I suppose YOU’RE going to complain + next. But you had better take care: I’ve had all I mean to take; and I can + tell you what it is, I mean to dine and to dine well. Take your signets + and sell them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t today,’ objected Morris; ‘it’s Sunday.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you I’m going to dine!’ cried the younger brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘But if it’s not possible, Johnny?’ pleaded the other. + </p> + <p> + ‘You nincompoop!’ cried Vance. ‘Ain’t we householders? Don’t they know us + at that hotel where Uncle Parker used to come. Be off with you; and if you + ain’t back in half an hour, and if the dinner ain’t good, first I’ll lick + you till you don’t want to breathe, and then I’ll go straight to the + police and blow the gaff. Do you understand that, Morris Finsbury? Because + if you do, you had better jump.’ + </p> + <p> + The idea smiled even upon the wretched Morris, who was sick with famine. + He sped upon his errand, and returned to find John still nursing his foot + in the armchair. + </p> + <p> + ‘What would you like to drink, Johnny?’ he enquired soothingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fizz,’ said John. ‘Some of the poppy stuff from the end bin; a bottle of + the old port that Michael liked, to follow; and see and don’t shake the + port. And look here, light the fire—and the gas, and draw down the + blinds; it’s cold and it’s getting dark. And then you can lay the cloth. + And, I say—here, you! bring me down some clothes.’ + </p> + <p> + The room looked comparatively habitable by the time the dinner came; and + the dinner itself was good: strong gravy soup, fillets of sole, mutton + chops and tomato sauce, roast beef done rare with roast potatoes, cabinet + pudding, a piece of Chester cheese, and some early celery: a meal + uncompromisingly British, but supporting. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank God!’ said John, his nostrils sniffing wide, surprised by joy into + the unwonted formality of grace. ‘Now I’m going to take this chair with my + back to the fire—there’s been a strong frost these two last nights, + and I can’t get it out of my bones; the celery will be just the ticket—I’m + going to sit here, and you are going to stand there, Morris Finsbury, and + play butler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Johnny, I’m so hungry myself,’ pleaded Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘You can have what I leave,’ said Vance. ‘You’re just beginning to pay + your score, my daisy; I owe you one-pound-ten; don’t you rouse the British + lion!’ There was something indescribably menacing in the face and voice of + the Great Vance as he uttered these words, at which the soul of Morris + withered. ‘There!’ resumed the feaster, ‘give us a glass of the fizz to + start with. Gravy soup! And I thought I didn’t like gravy soup! Do you + know how I got here?’ he asked, with another explosion of wrath. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Johnny; how could I?’ said the obsequious Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I walked on my ten toes!’ cried John; ‘tramped the whole way from + Browndean; and begged! I would like to see you beg. It’s not so easy as + you might suppose. I played it on being a shipwrecked mariner from Blyth; + I don’t know where Blyth is, do you? but I thought it sounded natural. I + begged from a little beast of a schoolboy, and he forked out a bit of + twine, and asked me to make a clove hitch; I did, too, I know I did, but + he said it wasn’t, he said it was a granny’s knot, and I was a + what-d’ye-call-’em, and he would give me in charge. Then I begged from a + naval officer—he never bothered me with knots, but he only gave me a + tract; there’s a nice account of the British navy!—and then from a + widow woman that sold lollipops, and I got a hunch of bread from her. + Another party I fell in with said you could generally always get bread; + and the thing to do was to break a plateglass window and get into gaol; + seemed rather a brilliant scheme. Pass the beef.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why didn’t you stay at Browndean?’ Morris ventured to enquire. + </p> + <p> + ‘Skittles!’ said John. ‘On what? The Pink Un and a measly religious paper? + I had to leave Browndean; I had to, I tell you. I got tick at a public, + and set up to be the Great Vance; so would you, if you were leading such a + beastly existence! And a card stood me a lot of ale and stuff, and we got + swipey, talking about music-halls and the piles of tin I got for singing; + and then they got me on to sing “Around her splendid form I weaved the + magic circle,” and then he said I couldn’t be Vance, and I stuck to it + like grim death I was. It was rot of me to sing, of course, but I thought + I could brazen it out with a set of yokels. It settled my hash at the + public,’ said John, with a sigh. ‘And then the last thing was the + carpenter—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Our landlord?’ enquired Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the party,’ said John. ‘He came nosing about the place, and then + wanted to know where the water-butt was, and the bedclothes. I told him to + go to the devil; so would you too, when there was no possible thing to + say! And then he said I had pawned them, and did I know it was felony? + Then I made a pretty neat stroke. I remembered he was deaf, and talked a + whole lot of rot, very politely, just so low he couldn’t hear a word. “I + don’t hear you,” says he. “I know you don’t, my buck, and I don’t mean you + to,” says I, smiling away like a haberdasher. “I’m hard of hearing,” he + roars. “I’d be in a pretty hot corner if you weren’t,” says I, making + signs as if I was explaining everything. It was tip-top as long as it + lasted. “Well,” he said, “I’m deaf, worse luck, but I bet the constable + can hear you.” And off he started one way, and I the other. They got a + spirit-lamp and the Pink Un, and that old religious paper, and another + periodical you sent me. I think you must have been drunk—it had a + name like one of those spots that Uncle Joseph used to hold forth at, and + it was all full of the most awful swipes about poetry and the use of the + globes. It was the kind of thing that nobody could read out of a lunatic + asylum. The Athaeneum, that was the name! Golly, what a paper!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Athenaeum, you mean,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care what you call it,’ said John, ‘so as I don’t require to take + it in! There, I feel better. Now I’m going to sit by the fire in the + easy-chair; pass me the cheese, and the celery, and the bottle of port—no, + a champagne glass, it holds more. And now you can pitch in; there’s some + of the fish left and a chop, and some fizz. Ah,’ sighed the refreshed + pedestrian, ‘Michael was right about that port; there’s old and vatted for + you! Michael’s a man I like; he’s clever and reads books, and the + Athaeneum, and all that; but he’s not dreary to meet, he don’t talk + Athaeneum like the other parties; why, the most of them would throw a + blight over a skittle alley! Talking of Michael, I ain’t bored myself to + put the question, because of course I knew it from the first. You’ve made + a hash of it, eh?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Michael made a hash of it,’ said Morris, flushing dark. + </p> + <p> + ‘What have we got to do with that?’ enquired John. + </p> + <p> + ‘He has lost the body, that’s what we have to do with it,’ cried Morris. + ‘He has lost the body, and the death can’t be established.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold on,’ said John. ‘I thought you didn’t want to?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, we’re far past that,’ said his brother. ‘It’s not the tontine now, + it’s the leather business, Johnny; it’s the clothes upon our back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stow the slow music,’ said John, ‘and tell your story from beginning to + end.’ Morris did as he was bid. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, now, what did I tell you?’ cried the Great Vance, when the other + had done. ‘But I know one thing: I’m not going to be humbugged out of my + property.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like to know what you mean to do,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you that,’ responded John with extreme decision. ‘I’m going to + put my interests in the hands of the smartest lawyer in London; and + whether you go to quod or not is a matter of indifference to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, Johnny, we’re in the same boat!’ expostulated Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are we?’ cried his brother. ‘I bet we’re not! Have I committed forgery? + have I lied about Uncle Joseph? have I put idiotic advertisements in the + comic papers? have I smashed other people’s statues? I like your cheek, + Morris Finsbury. No, I’ve let you run my affairs too long; now they shall + go to Michael. I like Michael, anyway; and it’s time I understood my + situation.’ + </p> + <p> + At this moment the brethren were interrupted by a ring at the bell, and + Morris, going timorously to the door, received from the hands of a + commissionaire a letter addressed in the hand of Michael. Its contents ran + as follows: + </p> + <p> + MORRIS FINSBURY, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of SOMETHING + TO HIS ADVANTAGE at my office, in Chancery Lane, at 10 A.M. tomorrow. + </p> + <p> + MICHAEL FINSBURY + </p> + <p> + So utter was Morris’s subjection that he did not wait to be asked, but + handed the note to John as soon as he had glanced at it himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the way to write a letter,’ cried John. ‘Nobody but Michael could + have written that.’ + </p> + <p> + And Morris did not even claim the credit of priority. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. Final Adjustment of the Leather Business + </h2> + <p> + Finsbury brothers were ushered, at ten the next morning, into a large + apartment in Michael’s office; the Great Vance, somewhat restored from + yesterday’s exhaustion, but with one foot in a slipper; Morris, not + positively damaged, but a man ten years older than he who had left + Bournemouth eight days before, his face ploughed full of anxious wrinkles, + his dark hair liberally grizzled at the temples. + </p> + <p> + Three persons were seated at a table to receive them: Michael in the + midst, Gideon Forsyth on his right hand, on his left an ancient gentleman + with spectacles and silver hair. ‘By Jingo, it’s Uncle Joe!’ cried John. + </p> + <p> + But Morris approached his uncle with a pale countenance and glittering + eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what you did!’ he cried. ‘You absconded!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morning, Morris Finsbury,’ returned Joseph, with no less asperity; + ‘you are looking seriously ill.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No use making trouble now,’ remarked Michael. ‘Look the facts in the + face. Your uncle, as you see, was not so much as shaken in the accident; a + man of your humane disposition ought to be delighted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, if that’s so,’ Morris broke forth, ‘how about the body? You don’t + mean to insinuate that thing I schemed and sweated for, and colported with + my own hands, was the body of a total stranger?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O no, we can’t go as far as that,’ said Michael soothingly; ‘you may have + met him at the club.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris fell into a chair. ‘I would have found it out if it had come to the + house,’ he complained. ‘And why didn’t it? why did it go to Pitman? what + right had Pitman to open it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you come to that, Morris, what have you done with the colossal + Hercules?’ asked Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘He went through it with the meat-axe,’ said John. ‘It’s all in spillikins + in the back garden.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, there’s one thing,’ snapped Morris; ‘there’s my uncle again, my + fraudulent trustee. He’s mine, anyway. And the tontine too. I claim the + tontine; I claim it now. I believe Uncle Masterman’s dead.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I must put a stop to this nonsense,’ said Michael, ‘and that for ever. + You say too near the truth. In one sense your uncle is dead, and has been + so long; but not in the sense of the tontine, which it is even on the + cards he may yet live to win. Uncle Joseph saw him this morning; he will + tell you he still lives, but his mind is in abeyance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He did not know me,’ said Joseph; to do him justice, not without emotion. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you’re out again there, Morris,’ said John. ‘My eye! what a fool + you’ve made of yourself!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And that was why you wouldn’t compromise,’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘As for the absurd position in which you and Uncle Joseph have been making + yourselves an exhibition,’ resumed Michael, ‘it is more than time it came + to an end. I have prepared a proper discharge in full, which you shall + sign as a preliminary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What?’ cried Morris, ‘and lose my seven thousand eight hundred pounds, + and the leather business, and the contingent interest, and get nothing? + Thank you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s like you to feel gratitude, Morris,’ began Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, I know it’s no good appealing to you, you sneering devil!’ cried + Morris. ‘But there’s a stranger present, I can’t think why, and I appeal + to him. I was robbed of that money when I was an orphan, a mere child, at + a commercial academy. Since then, I’ve never had a wish but to get back my + own. You may hear a lot of stuff about me; and there’s no doubt at times I + have been ill-advised. But it’s the pathos of my situation; that’s what I + want to show you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Morris,’ interrupted Michael, ‘I do wish you would let me add one point, + for I think it will affect your judgement. It’s pathetic too since that’s + your taste in literature.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what is it?’ said Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s only the name of one of the persons who’s to witness your signature, + Morris,’ replied Michael. ‘His name’s Moss, my dear.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. ‘I might have been sure it was you!’ cried + Morris. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll sign, won’t you?’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ cried Morris. ‘You’re compounding a + felony.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well, then, we won’t compound it, Morris,’ returned Michael. ‘See + how little I understood the sterling integrity of your character! I + thought you would prefer it so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, Michael,’ said John, ‘this is all very fine and large; but how + about me? Morris is gone up, I see that; but I’m not. And I was robbed, + too, mind you; and just as much an orphan, and at the blessed same academy + as himself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Johnny,’ said Michael, ‘don’t you think you’d better leave it to me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m your man,’ said John. ‘You wouldn’t deceive a poor orphan, I’ll take + my oath. Morris, you sign that document, or I’ll start in and astonish + your weak mind.’ + </p> + <p> + With a sudden alacrity, Morris proffered his willingness. Clerks were + brought in, the discharge was executed, and there was Joseph a free man + once more. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now,’ said Michael, ‘hear what I propose to do. Here, John and + Morris, is the leather business made over to the pair of you in + partnership. I have valued it at the lowest possible figure, Pogram and + Jarris’s. And here is a cheque for the balance of your fortune. Now, you + see, Morris, you start fresh from the commercial academy; and, as you said + yourself the leather business was looking up, I suppose you’ll probably + marry before long. Here’s your marriage present—from a Mr Moss.’ + </p> + <p> + Morris bounded on his cheque with a crimsoned countenance. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t understand the performance,’ remarked John. ‘It seems too good to + be true.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s simply a readjustment,’ Michael explained. ‘I take up Uncle Joseph’s + liabilities; and if he gets the tontine, it’s to be mine; if my father + gets it, it’s mine anyway, you see. So that I’m rather advantageously + placed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Morris, my unconverted friend, you’ve got left,’ was John’s comment. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now, Mr Forsyth,’ resumed Michael, turning to his silent guest, ‘here + are all the criminals before you, except Pitman. I really didn’t like to + interrupt his scholastic career; but you can have him arrested at the + seminary—I know his hours. Here we are then; we’re not pretty to + look at: what do you propose to do with us?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing in the world, Mr Finsbury,’ returned Gideon. ‘I seem to + understand that this gentleman’—-indicating Morris—‘is the + fons et origo of the trouble; and, from what I gather, he has already paid + through the nose. And really, to be quite frank, I do not see who is to + gain by any scandal; not me, at least. And besides, I have to thank you + for that brief.’ + </p> + <p> + Michael blushed. ‘It was the least I could do to let you have some + business,’ he said. ‘But there’s one thing more. I don’t want you to + misjudge poor Pitman, who is the most harmless being upon earth. I wish + you would dine with me tonight, and see the creature on his native heath—say + at Verrey’s?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no engagement, Mr Finsbury,’ replied Gideon. ‘I shall be + delighted. But subject to your judgement, can we do nothing for the man in + the cart? I have qualms of conscience.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing but sympathize,’ said Michael. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wrong Box, by +Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WRONG BOX *** + +***** This file should be named 1585-h.htm or 1585-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/8/1585/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +THE WRONG BOX + +BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON +and LLOYD OSBOURNE + + + + +PREFACE + +'Nothing like a little judicious levity,' says Michael Finsbury +in the text: nor can any better excuse be found for the volume in +the reader's hand. The authors can but add that one of them is +old enough to be ashamed of himself, and the other young enough +to learn better. + +R. L. S. +L. O. + + + +CHAPTER I. In Which Morris Suspects + +How very little does the amateur, dwelling at home at ease, +comprehend the labours and perils of the author, and, when he +smilingly skims the surface of a work of fiction, how little does +he consider the hours of toil, consultation of authorities, +researches in the Bodleian, correspondence with learned and +illegible Germans--in one word, the vast scaffolding that was +first built up and then knocked down, to while away an hour for +him in a railway train! Thus I might begin this tale with a +biography of Tonti--birthplace, parentage, genius probably +inherited from his mother, remarkable instance of precocity, +etc--and a complete treatise on the system to which he bequeathed +his name. The material is all beside me in a pigeon-hole, but I +scorn to appear vainglorious. Tonti is dead, and I never saw +anyone who even pretended to regret him; and, as for the tontine +system, a word will suffice for all the purposes of this +unvarnished narrative. + +A number of sprightly youths (the more the merrier) put up a +certain sum of money, which is then funded in a pool under +trustees; coming on for a century later, the proceeds are +fluttered for a moment in the face of the last survivor, who is +probably deaf, so that he cannot even hear of his success--and +who is certainly dying, so that he might just as well have lost. +The peculiar poetry and even humour of the scheme is now +apparent, since it is one by which nobody concerned can possibly +profit; but its fine, sportsmanlike character endeared it to our +grandparents. + +When Joseph Finsbury and his brother Masterman were little lads +in white-frilled trousers, their father--a well-to-do merchant in +Cheapside--caused them to join a small but rich tontine of +seven-and-thirty lives. A thousand pounds was the entrance fee; +and Joseph Finsbury can remember to this day the visit to the +lawyer's, where the members of the tontine--all children like +himself--were assembled together, and sat in turn in the big +office chair, and signed their names with the assistance of a +kind old gentleman in spectacles and Wellington boots. He +remembers playing with the children afterwards on the lawn at the +back of the lawyer's house, and a battle-royal that he had with a +brother tontiner who had kicked his shins. The sound of war +called forth the lawyer from where he was dispensing cake and +wine to the assembled parents in the office, and the combatants +were separated, and Joseph's spirit (for he was the smaller of +the two) commended by the gentleman in the Wellington boots, who +vowed he had been just such another at the same age. Joseph +wondered to himself if he had worn at that time little +Wellingtons and a little bald head, and when, in bed at night, he +grew tired of telling himself stories of sea-fights, he used to +dress himself up as the old gentleman, and entertain other little +boys and girls with cake and wine. + +In the year 1840 the thirty-seven were all alive; in 1850 their +number had decreased by six; in 1856 and 1857 business was more +lively, for the Crimea and the Mutiny carried off no less than +nine. There remained in 1870 but five of the original members, +and at the date of my story, including the two Finsburys, but +three. + +By this time Masterman was in his seventy-third year; he had long +complained of the effects of age, had long since retired from +business, and now lived in absolute seclusion under the roof of +his son Michael, the well-known solicitor. Joseph, on the other +hand, was still up and about, and still presented but a +semi-venerable figure on the streets in which he loved to wander. +This was the more to be deplored because Masterman had led (even +to the least particular) a model British life. Industry, +regularity, respectability, and a preference for the four per +cents are understood to be the very foundations of a green old +age. All these Masterman had eminently displayed, and here he +was, ab agendo, at seventy-three; while Joseph, barely two years +younger, and in the most excellent preservation, had disgraced +himself through life by idleness and eccentricity. Embarked in +the leather trade, he had early wearied of business, for which he +was supposed to have small parts. A taste for general +information, not promptly checked, had soon begun to sap his +manhood. There is no passion more debilitating to the mind, +unless, perhaps, it be that itch of public speaking which it not +infrequently accompanies or begets. The two were conjoined in the +case of Joseph; the acute stage of this double malady, that in +which the patient delivers gratuitous lectures, soon declared +itself with severity, and not many years had passed over his head +before he would have travelled thirty miles to address an infant +school. He was no student; his reading was confined to elementary +textbooks and the daily papers; he did not even fly as high as +cyclopedias; life, he would say, was his volume. His lectures +were not meant, he would declare, for college professors; they +were addressed direct to 'the great heart of the people', and the +heart of the people must certainly be sounder than its head, for +his lucubrations were received with favour. That entitled 'How to +Live Cheerfully on Forty Pounds a Year', created a sensation +among the unemployed. 'Education: Its Aims, Objects, Purposes, +and Desirability', gained him the respect of the shallow-minded. +As for his celebrated essay on 'Life Insurance Regarded in its +Relation to the Masses', read before the Working Men's Mutual +Improvement Society, Isle of Dogs, it was received with a +'literal ovation' by an unintelligent audience of both sexes, and +so marked was the effect that he was next year elected honorary +president of the institution, an office of less than no +emolument--since the holder was expected to come down with a +donation--but one which highly satisfied his self-esteem. + +While Joseph was thus building himself up a reputation among the +more cultivated portion of the ignorant, his domestic life was +suddenly overwhelmed by orphans. The death of his younger brother +Jacob saddled him with the charge of two boys, Morris and John; +and in the course of the same year his family was still further +swelled by the addition of a little girl, the daughter of John +Henry Hazeltine, Esq., a gentleman of small property and fewer +friends. He had met Joseph only once, at a lecture-hall in +Holloway; but from that formative experience he returned home to +make a new will, and consign his daughter and her fortune to the +lecturer. Joseph had a kindly disposition; and yet it was not +without reluctance that he accepted this new responsibility, +advertised for a nurse, and purchased a second-hand perambulator. +Morris and John he made more readily welcome; not so much because +of the tie of consanguinity as because the leather business (in +which he hastened to invest their fortune of thirty thousand +pounds) had recently exhibited inexplicable symptoms of decline. +A young but capable Scot was chosen as manager to the enterprise, +and the cares of business never again afflicted Joseph Finsbury. +Leaving his charges in the hands of the capable Scot (who was +married), he began his extensive travels on the Continent and in +Asia Minor. + +With a polyglot Testament in one hand and a phrase-book in the +other, he groped his way among the speakers of eleven European +languages. The first of these guides is hardly applicable to the +purposes of the philosophic traveller, and even the second is +designed more expressly for the tourist than for the expert in +life. But he pressed interpreters into his service--whenever he +could get their services for nothing--and by one means and +another filled many notebooks with the results of his researches. + +In these wanderings he spent several years, and only returned to +England when the increasing age of his charges needed his +attention. The two lads had been placed in a good but economical +school, where they had received a sound commercial education; +which was somewhat awkward, as the leather business was by no +means in a state to court enquiry. In fact, when Joseph went over +his accounts preparatory to surrendering his trust, he was +dismayed to discover that his brother's fortune had not increased +by his stewardship; even by making over to his two wards every +penny he had in the world, there would still be a deficit of +seven thousand eight hundred pounds. When these facts were +communicated to the two brothers in the presence of a lawyer, +Morris Finsbury threatened his uncle with all the terrors of the +law, and was only prevented from taking extreme steps by the +advice of the professional man. 'You cannot get blood from a +stone,' observed the lawyer. + +And Morris saw the point and came to terms with his uncle. On the +one side, Joseph gave up all that he possessed, and assigned to +his nephew his contingent interest in the tontine, already quite +a hopeful speculation. On the other, Morris agreed to harbour his +uncle and Miss Hazeltine (who had come to grief with the rest), +and to pay to each of them one pound a month as pocket-money. The +allowance was amply sufficient for the old man; it scarce appears +how Miss Hazeltine contrived to dress upon it; but she did, and, +what is more, she never complained. She was, indeed, sincerely +attached to her incompetent guardian. He had never been unkind; +his age spoke for him loudly; there was something appealing in +his whole-souled quest of knowledge and innocent delight in the +smallest mark of admiration; and, though the lawyer had warned +her she was being sacrificed, Julia had refused to add to the +perplexities of Uncle Joseph. + +In a large, dreary house in John Street, Bloomsbury, these four +dwelt together; a family in appearance, in reality a financial +association. Julia and Uncle Joseph were, of course, slaves; +John, a gentle man with a taste for the banjo, the music-hall, +the Gaiety bar, and the sporting papers, must have been anywhere +a secondary figure; and the cares and delights of empire devolved +entirely upon Morris. That these are inextricably intermixed is +one of the commonplaces with which the bland essayist consoles +the incompetent and the obscure, but in the case of Morris the +bitter must have largely outweighed the sweet. He grudged no +trouble to himself, he spared none to others; he called the +servants in the morning, he served out the stores with his own +hand, he took soundings of the sherry, he numbered the remainder +biscuits; painful scenes took place over the weekly bills, and +the cook was frequently impeached, and the tradespeople came and +hectored with him in the back parlour upon a question of three +farthings. The superficial might have deemed him a miser; in his +own eyes he was simply a man who had been defrauded; the world +owed him seven thousand eight hundred pounds, and he intended +that the world should pay. + +But it was in his dealings with Joseph that Morris's character +particularly shone. His uncle was a rather gambling stock in +which he had invested heavily; and he spared no pains in nursing +the security. The old man was seen monthly by a physician, +whether he was well or ill. His diet, his raiment, his occasional +outings, now to Brighton, now to Bournemouth, were doled out to +him like pap to infants. In bad weather he must keep the house. +In good weather, by half-past nine, he must be ready in the hall; +Morris would see that he had gloves and that his shoes were +sound; and the pair would start for the leather business arm in +arm. The way there was probably dreary enough, for there was no +pretence of friendly feeling; Morris had never ceased to upbraid +his guardian with his defalcation and to lament the burthen of +Miss Hazeltine; and Joseph, though he was a mild enough soul, +regarded his nephew with something very near akin to hatred. But +the way there was nothing to the journey back; for the mere sight +of the place of business, as well as every detail of its +transactions, was enough to poison life for any Finsbury. + +Joseph's name was still over the door; it was he who still signed +the cheques; but this was only policy on the part of Morris, and +designed to discourage other members of the tontine. In reality +the business was entirely his; and he found it an inheritance of +sorrows. He tried to sell it, and the offers he received were +quite derisory. He tried to extend it, and it was only the +liabilities he succeeded in extending; to restrict it, and it was +only the profits he managed to restrict. Nobody had ever made +money out of that concern except the capable Scot, who retired +(after his discharge) to the neighbourhood of Banff and built a +castle with his profits. The memory of this fallacious Caledonian +Morris would revile daily, as he sat in the private office +opening his mail, with old Joseph at another table, sullenly +awaiting orders, or savagely affixing signatures to he knew not +what. And when the man of the heather pushed cynicism so far as +to send him the announcement of his second marriage (to Davida, +eldest daughter of the Revd. Alexander McCraw), it was really +supposed that Morris would have had a fit. + +Business hours, in the Finsbury leather trade, had been cut to +the quick; even Morris's strong sense of duty to himself was not +strong enough to dally within those walls and under the shadow of +that bankruptcy; and presently the manager and the clerks would +draw a long breath, and compose themselves for another day of +procrastination. Raw Haste, on the authority of my Lord Tennyson, +is half-sister to Delay; but the Business Habits are certainly +her uncles. Meanwhile, the leather merchant would lead his living +investment back to John Street like a puppy dog; and, having +there immured him in the hall, would depart for the day on the +quest of seal rings, the only passion of his life. Joseph had +more than the vanity of man, he had that of lecturers. He owned +he was in fault, although more sinned against (by the capable +Scot) than sinning; but had he steeped his hands in gore, he +would still not deserve to be thus dragged at the chariot-wheels +of a young man, to sit a captive in the halls of his own leather +business, to be entertained with mortifying comments on his whole +career--to have his costume examined, his collar pulled up, the +presence of his mittens verified, and to be taken out and brought +home in custody, like an infant with a nurse. At the thought of +it his soul would swell with venom, and he would make haste to +hang up his hat and coat and the detested mittens, and slink +upstairs to Julia and his notebooks. The drawing-room at least +was sacred from Morris; it belonged to the old man and the young +girl; it was there that she made her dresses; it was there that +he inked his spectacles over the registration of disconnected +facts and the calculation of insignificant statistics. + +Here he would sometimes lament his connection with the tontine. +'If it were not for that,' he cried one afternoon, 'he would not +care to keep me. I might be a free man, Julia. And I could so +easily support myself by giving lectures.' + +'To be sure you could,' said she; 'and I think it one of the +meanest things he ever did to deprive you of that amusement. +There were those nice people at the Isle of Cats (wasn't it?) who +wrote and asked you so very kindly to give them an address. I did +think he might have let you go to the Isle of Cats.' + +'He is a man of no intelligence,' cried Joseph. 'He lives here +literally surrounded by the absorbing spectacle of life, and for +all the good it does him, he might just as well be in his coffin. +Think of his opportunities! The heart of any other young man +would burn within him at the chance. The amount of information +that I have it in my power to convey, if he would only listen, is +a thing that beggars language, Julia.' + +'Whatever you do, my dear, you mustn't excite yourself,' said +Julia; 'for you know, if you look at all ill, the doctor will be +sent for.' + +'That is very true,' returned the old man humbly, 'I will compose +myself with a little study.' He thumbed his gallery of notebooks. +'I wonder,' he said, 'I wonder (since I see your hands are +occupied) whether it might not interest you--' + +'Why, of course it would,' cried Julia. 'Read me one of your nice +stories, there's a dear.' + +He had the volume down and his spectacles upon his nose +instanter, as though to forestall some possible retractation. +'What I propose to read to you,' said he, skimming through the +pages, 'is the notes of a highly important conversation with a +Dutch courier of the name of David Abbas, which is the Latin for +abbot. Its results are well worth the money it cost me, for, as +Abbas at first appeared somewhat impatient, I was induced to +(what is, I believe, singularly called) stand him drink. It runs +only to about five-and-twenty pages. Yes, here it is.' He cleared +his throat, and began to read. + +Mr Finsbury (according to his own report) contributed about four +hundred and ninety-nine five-hundredths of the interview, and +elicited from Abbas literally nothing. It was dull for Julia, who +did not require to listen; for the Dutch courier, who had to +answer, it must have been a perfect nightmare. It would seem as +if he had consoled himself by frequent appliances to the bottle; +it would even seem that (toward the end) he had ceased to depend +on Joseph's frugal generosity and called for the flagon on his +own account. The effect, at least, of some mellowing influence +was visible in the record: Abbas became suddenly a willing +witness; he began to volunteer disclosures; and Julia had just +looked up from her seam with something like a smile, when Morris +burst into the house, eagerly calling for his uncle, and the next +instant plunged into the room, waving in the air the evening +paper. + +It was indeed with great news that he came charged. The demise +was announced of Lieutenant-General Sir Glasgow Biggar, KCSI, +KCMG, etc., and the prize of the tontine now lay between the +Finsbury brothers. Here was Morris's opportunity at last. The +brothers had never, it is true, been cordial. When word came that +Joseph was in Asia Minor, Masterman had expressed himself with +irritation. 'I call it simply indecent,' he had said. 'Mark my +words--we shall hear of him next at the North Pole.' And these +bitter expressions had been reported to the traveller on his +return. What was worse, Masterman had refused to attend the +lecture on 'Education: Its Aims, Objects, Purposes, and +Desirability', although invited to the platform. Since then the +brothers had not met. On the other hand, they never had openly +quarrelled; Joseph (by Morris's orders) was prepared to waive the +advantage of his juniority; Masterman had enjoyed all through +life the reputation of a man neither greedy nor unfair. Here, +then, were all the elements of compromise assembled; and Morris, +suddenly beholding his seven thousand eight hundred pounds +restored to him, and himself dismissed from the vicissitudes of +the leather trade, hastened the next morning to the office of his +cousin Michael. + +Michael was something of a public character. Launched upon the +law at a very early age, and quite without protectors, he had +become a trafficker in shady affairs. He was known to be the man +for a lost cause; it was known he could extract testimony from a +stone, and interest from a gold-mine; and his office was besieged +in consequence by all that numerous class of persons who have +still some reputation to lose, and find themselves upon the point +of losing it; by those who have made undesirable acquaintances, +who have mislaid a compromising correspondence, or who are +blackmailed by their own butlers. In private life Michael was a +man of pleasure; but it was thought his dire experience at the +office had gone far to sober him, and it was known that (in the +matter of investments) he preferred the solid to the brilliant. +What was yet more to the purpose, he had been all his life a +consistent scoffer at the Finsbury tontine. + +It was therefore with little fear for the result that Morris +presented himself before his cousin, and proceeded feverishly to +set forth his scheme. For near upon a quarter of an hour the +lawyer suffered him to dwell upon its manifest advantages +uninterrupted. Then Michael rose from his seat, and, ringing for +his clerk, uttered a single clause: 'It won't do, Morris.' + +It was in vain that the leather merchant pleaded and reasoned, +and returned day after day to plead and reason. It was in vain +that he offered a bonus of one thousand, of two thousand, of +three thousand pounds; in vain that he offered, in Joseph's name, +to be content with only one-third of the pool. Still there came +the same answer: 'It won't do.' + +'I can't see the bottom of this,' he said at last. 'You answer +none of my arguments; you haven't a word to say. For my part, I +believe it's malice.' + +The lawyer smiled at him benignly. 'You may believe one thing,' +said he. 'Whatever else I do, I am not going to gratify any of +your curiosity. You see I am a trifle more communicative today, +because this is our last interview upon the subject.' + +'Our last interview!' cried Morris. + +'The stirrup-cup, dear boy,' returned Michael. 'I can't have my +business hours encroached upon. And, by the by, have you no +business of your own? Are there no convulsions in the leather +trade?' + +'I believe it to be malice,' repeated Morris doggedly. 'You +always hated and despised me from a boy.' + +'No, no--not hated,' returned Michael soothingly. 'I rather like +you than otherwise; there's such a permanent surprise about you, +you look so dark and attractive from a distance. Do you know that +to the naked eye you look romantic?--like what they call a man +with a history? And indeed, from all that I can hear, the history +of the leather trade is full of incident.' + +'Yes,' said Morris, disregarding these remarks, 'it's no use +coming here. I shall see your father.' + +'O no, you won't,' said Michael. 'Nobody shall see my father.' + +'I should like to know why,' cried his cousin. + +'I never make any secret of that,' replied the lawyer. 'He is too +ill.' + +'If he is as ill as you say,' cried the other, 'the more reason +for accepting my proposal. I will see him.' + +'Will you?' said Michael, and he rose and rang for his clerk. + +It was now time, according to Sir Faraday Bond, the medical +baronet whose name is so familiar at the foot of bulletins, that +Joseph (the poor Golden Goose) should be removed into the purer +air of Bournemouth; and for that uncharted wilderness of villas +the family now shook off the dust of Bloomsbury; Julia delighted, +because at Bournemouth she sometimes made acquaintances; John in +despair, for he was a man of city tastes; Joseph indifferent +where he was, so long as there was pen and ink and daily papers, +and he could avoid martyrdom at the office; Morris himself, +perhaps, not displeased to pretermit these visits to the city, +and have a quiet time for thought. He was prepared for any +sacrifice; all he desired was to get his money again and clear +his feet of leather; and it would be strange, since he was so +modest in his desires, and the pool amounted to upward of a +hundred and sixteen thousand pounds--it would be strange indeed +if he could find no way of influencing Michael. 'If I could only +guess his reason,' he repeated to himself; and by day, as he +walked in Branksome Woods, and by night, as he turned upon his +bed, and at meal-times, when he forgot to eat, and in the bathing +machine, when he forgot to dress himself, that problem was +constantly before him: Why had Michael refused? + +At last, one night, he burst into his brother's room and woke +him. + +'What's all this?' asked John. + +'Julia leaves this place tomorrow,' replied Morris. 'She must go +up to town and get the house ready, and find servants. We shall +all follow in three days.' + +'Oh, brayvo!' cried John. 'But why?' + +'I've found it out, John,' returned his brother gently. + +'It? What?' enquired John. + +'Why Michael won't compromise,' said Morris. 'It's because he +can't. It's because Masterman's dead, and he's keeping it dark.' + +'Golly!' cried the impressionable John. 'But what's the use? Why +does he do it, anyway?' + +'To defraud us of the tontine,' said his brother. + +'He couldn't; you have to have a doctor's certificate,' objected +John. + +'Did you never hear of venal doctors?' enquired Morris. 'They're +as common as blackberries: you can pick 'em up for +three-pound-ten a head.' + +'I wouldn't do it under fifty if I were a sawbones,' ejaculated +John. + +'And then Michael,' continued Morris, 'is in the very thick of +it. All his clients have come to grief; his whole business is +rotten eggs. If any man could arrange it, he could; and depend +upon it, he has his plan all straight; and depend upon it, it's a +good one, for he's clever, and be damned to him! But I'm clever +too; and I'm desperate. I lost seven thousand eight hundred +pounds when I was an orphan at school.' + +'O, don't be tedious,' interrupted John. 'You've lost far more +already trying to get it back.' + + + +CHAPTER II. In Which Morris takes Action + +Some days later, accordingly, the three males of this depressing +family might have been observed (by a reader of G. P. R. James) +taking their departure from the East Station of Bournemouth. The +weather was raw and changeable, and Joseph was arrayed in +consequence according to the principles of Sir Faraday Bond, a +man no less strict (as is well known) on costume than on diet. +There are few polite invalids who have not lived, or tried to +live, by that punctilious physician's orders. 'Avoid tea, madam,' +the reader has doubtless heard him say, 'avoid tea, fried liver, +antimonial wine, and bakers' bread. Retire nightly at 10.45; and +clothe yourself (if you please) throughout in hygienic flannel. +Externally, the fur of the marten is indicated. Do not forget to +procure a pair of health boots at Messrs Dail and Crumbie's.' And +he has probably called you back, even after you have paid your +fee, to add with stentorian emphasis: 'I had forgotten one +caution: avoid kippered sturgeon as you would the very devil.' +The unfortunate Joseph was cut to the pattern of Sir Faraday in +every button; he was shod with the health boot; his suit was of +genuine ventilating cloth; his shirt of hygienic flannel, a +somewhat dingy fabric; and he was draped to the knees in the +inevitable greatcoat of marten's fur. The very railway porters at +Bournemouth (which was a favourite station of the doctor's) +marked the old gentleman for a creature of Sir Faraday. There was +but one evidence of personal taste, a vizarded forage cap; from +this form of headpiece, since he had fled from a dying jackal on +the plains of Ephesus, and weathered a bora in the Adriatic, +nothing could divorce our traveller. + +The three Finsburys mounted into their compartment, and fell +immediately to quarrelling, a step unseemly in itself and (in +this case) highly unfortunate for Morris. Had he lingered a +moment longer by the window, this tale need never have been +written. For he might then have observed (as the porters did not +fail to do) the arrival of a second passenger in the uniform of +Sir Faraday Bond. But he had other matters on hand, which he +judged (God knows how erroneously) to be more important. + +'I never heard of such a thing,' he cried, resuming a discussion +which had scarcely ceased all morning. 'The bill is not yours; it +is mine.' + +'It is payable to me,' returned the old gentleman, with an air of +bitter obstinacy. 'I will do what I please with my own property.' + +The bill was one for eight hundred pounds, which had been given +him at breakfast to endorse, and which he had simply pocketed. + +'Hear him, Johnny!' cried Morris. 'His property! the very clothes +upon his back belong to me.' + +'Let him alone,' said John. 'I am sick of both of you.' + +'That is no way to speak of your uncle, sir,' cried Joseph. 'I +will not endure this disrespect. You are a pair of exceedingly +forward, impudent, and ignorant young men, and I have quite made +up my mind to put an end to the whole business.'. + +'O skittles!' said the graceful John. + +But Morris was not so easy in his mind. This unusual act of +insubordination had already troubled him; and these mutinous +words now sounded ominously in his ears. He looked at the old +gentleman uneasily. Upon one occasion, many years before, when +Joseph was delivering a lecture, the audience had revolted in a +body; finding their entertainer somewhat dry, they had taken the +question of amusement into their own hands; and the lecturer +(along with the board schoolmaster, the Baptist clergyman, and a +working-man's candidate, who made up his bodyguard) was +ultimately driven from the scene. Morris had not been present on +that fatal day; if he had, he would have recognized a certain +fighting glitter in his uncle's eye, and a certain chewing +movement of his lips, as old acquaintances. But even to the +inexpert these symptoms breathed of something dangerous. + +'Well, well,' said Morris. 'I have no wish to bother you further +till we get to London.' + +Joseph did not so much as look at him in answer; with tremulous +hands he produced a copy of the British Mechanic, and +ostentatiously buried himself in its perusal. + +'I wonder what can make him so cantankerous?' reflected the +nephew. 'I don't like the look of it at all.' And he dubiously +scratched his nose. + +The train travelled forth into the world, bearing along with it +the customary freight of obliterated voyagers, and along with +these old Joseph, affecting immersion in his paper, and John +slumbering over the columns of the Pink Un, and Morris revolving +in his mind a dozen grudges, and suspicions, and alarms. It +passed Christchurch by the sea, Herne with its pinewoods, +Ringwood on its mazy river. A little behind time, but not much +for the South-Western, it drew up at the platform of a station, +in the midst of the New Forest, the real name of which (in case +the railway company 'might have the law of me') I shall veil +under the alias of Browndean. + +Many passengers put their heads to the window, and among the rest +an old gentleman on whom I willingly dwell, for I am nearly done +with him now, and (in the whole course of the present narrative) +I am not in the least likely to meet another character so decent. +His name is immaterial, not so his habits. He had passed his life +wandering in a tweed suit on the continent of Europe; and years +of Galignani's Messenger having at length undermined his +eyesight, he suddenly remembered the rivers of Assyria and came +to London to consult an oculist. From the oculist to the dentist, +and from both to the physician, the step appears inevitable; +presently he was in the hands of Sir Faraday, robed in +ventilating cloth and sent to Bournemouth; and to that +domineering baronet (who was his only friend upon his native +soil) he was now returning to report. The case of these +tweedsuited wanderers is unique. We have all seen them entering +the table d'hote (at Spezzia, or Grdtz, or Venice) with a genteel +melancholy and a faint appearance of having been to India and not +succeeded. In the offices of many hundred hotels they are known +by name; and yet, if the whole of this wandering cohort were to +disappear tomorrow, their absence would be wholly unremarked. How +much more, if only one--say this one in the ventilating +cloth--should vanish! He had paid his bills at Bournemouth; his +worldly effects were all in the van in two portmanteaux, and +these after the proper interval would be sold as unclaimed +baggage to a Jew; Sir Faraday's butler would be a half-crown +poorer at the year's end, and the hotelkeepers of Europe about +the same date would be mourning a small but quite observable +decline in profits. And that would be literally all. Perhaps the +old gentleman thought something of the sort, for he looked +melancholy enough as he pulled his bare, grey head back into the +carriage, and the train smoked under the bridge, and forth, with +ever quickening speed, across the mingled heaths and woods of the +New Forest. + +Not many hundred yards beyond Browndean, however, a sudden +jarring of brakes set everybody's teeth on edge, and there was a +brutal stoppage. Morris Finsbury was aware of a confused uproar +of voices, and sprang to the window. Women were screaming, men +were tumbling from the windows on the track, the guard was crying +to them to stay where they were; at the same time the train began +to gather way and move very slowly backward toward Browndean; and +the next moment--, all these various sounds were blotted out in +the apocalyptic whistle and the thundering onslaught of the down +express. + +The actual collision Morris did not hear. Perhaps he fainted. He +had a wild dream of having seen the carriage double up and fall +to pieces like a pantomime trick; and sure enough, when he came +to himself, he was lying on the bare earth and under the open +sky. His head ached savagely; he carried his hand to his brow, +and was not surprised to see it red with blood. The air was +filled with an intolerable, throbbing roar, which he expected to +find die away with the return of consciousness; and instead of +that it seemed but to swell the louder and to pierce the more +cruelly through his ears. It was a raging, bellowing thunder, +like a boiler-riveting factory. + +And now curiosity began to stir, and he sat up and looked about +him. The track at this point ran in a sharp curve about a wooded +hillock; all of the near side was heaped with the wreckage of the +Bournemouth train; that of the express was mostly hidden by the +trees; and just at the turn, under clouds of vomiting steam and +piled about with cairns of living coal, lay what remained of the +two engines, one upon the other. On the heathy margin of the line +were many people running to and fro, and crying aloud as they +ran, and many others lying motionless like sleeping tramps. + +Morris suddenly drew an inference. 'There has been an accident' +thought he, and was elated at his perspicacity. Almost at the +same time his eye lighted on John, who lay close by as white as +paper. 'Poor old John! poor old cove!' he thought, the schoolboy +expression popping forth from some forgotten treasury, and he +took his brother's hand in his with childish tenderness. It was +perhaps the touch that recalled him; at least John opened his +eyes, sat suddenly up, and after several ineffectual movements of +his lips, 'What's the row?' said he, in a phantom voice. + +The din of that devil's smithy still thundered in their ears. +'Let us get away from that,' Morris cried, and pointed to the +vomit of steam that still spouted from the broken engines. And +the pair helped each other up, and stood and quaked and wavered +and stared about them at the scene of death. + +Just then they were approached by a party of men who had already +organized themselves for the purposes of rescue. + +'Are you hurt?' cried one of these, a young fellow with the sweat +streaming down his pallid face, and who, by the way he was +treated, was evidently the doctor. + +Morris shook his head, and the young man, nodding grimly, handed +him a bottle of some spirit. + +'Take a drink of that,' he said; 'your friend looks as if he +needed it badly. We want every man we can get,' he added; +'there's terrible work before us, and nobody should shirk. If you +can do no more, you can carry a stretcher.' + +The doctor was hardly gone before Morris, under the spur of the +dram, awoke to the full possession of his wits. + +'My God!' he cried. 'Uncle Joseph!' + +'Yes,' said John, 'where can he be? He can't be far off. I hope +the old party isn't damaged.' + +'Come and help me to look,' said Morris, with a snap of savage +determination strangely foreign to his ordinary bearing; and +then, for one moment, he broke forth. 'If he's dead!' he cried, +and shook his fist at heaven. + +To and fro the brothers hurried, staring in the faces of the +wounded, or turning the dead upon their backs. They must have +thus examined forty people, and still there was no word of Uncle +Joseph. But now the course of their search brought them near the +centre of the collision, where the boilers were still blowing off +steam with a deafening clamour. It was a part of the field not +yet gleaned by the rescuing party. The ground, especially on the +margin of the wood, was full of inequalities--here a pit, there a +hillock surmounted with a bush of furze. It was a place where +many bodies might lie concealed, and they beat it like pointers +after game. Suddenly Morris, who was leading, paused and reached +forth his index with a tragic gesture. John followed the +direction of his brother's hand. + +In the bottom of a sandy hole lay something that had once been +human. The face had suffered severely, and it was unrecognizable; +but that was not required. The snowy hair, the coat of marten, +the ventilating cloth, the hygienic flannel--everything down to +the health boots from Messrs Dail and Crumbie's, identified the +body as that of Uncle Joseph. Only the forage cap must have been +lost in the convulsion, for the dead man was bareheaded. + +'The poor old beggar!' said John, with a touch of natural +feeling; 'I would give ten pounds if we hadn't chivvied him in +the train!' + +But there was no sentiment in the face of Morris as he gazed upon +the dead. Gnawing his nails, with introverted eyes, his brow +marked with the stamp of tragic indignation and tragic +intellectual effort, he stood there silent. Here was a last +injustice; he had been robbed while he was an orphan at school, +he had been lashed to a decadent leather business, he had been +saddled with Miss Hazeltine, his cousin had been defrauding him +of the tontine, and he had borne all this, we might almost say, +with dignity, and now they had gone and killed his uncle! + +'Here!' he said suddenly, 'take his heels, we must get him into +the woods. I'm not going to have anybody find this.' + +'O, fudge!' said John, 'where's the use?' + +'Do what I tell you,' spirted Morris, as he took the corpse by +the shoulders. 'Am I to carry him myself?' + +They were close upon the borders of the wood; in ten or twelve +paces they were under cover; and a little further back, in a +sandy clearing of the trees, they laid their burthen down, and +stood and looked at it with loathing. + +'What do you mean to do?' whispered John. + +'Bury him, to be sure,' responded Morris, and he opened his +pocket-knife and began feverishly to dig. + +'You'll never make a hand of it with that,' objected the other. + +'If you won't help me, you cowardly shirk,' screamed Morris, 'you +can go to the devil!' + +'It's the childishest folly,' said John; 'but no man shall call +me a coward,' and he began to help his brother grudgingly. + +The soil was sandy and light, but matted with the roots of the +surrounding firs. Gorse tore their hands; and as they baled the +sand from the grave, it was often discoloured with their blood. +An hour passed of unremitting energy upon the part of Morris, of +lukewarm help on that of John; and still the trench was barely +nine inches in depth. Into this the body was rudely flung: sand +was piled upon it, and then more sand must be dug, and gorse had +to be cut to pile on that; and still from one end of the sordid +mound a pair of feet projected and caught the light upon their +patent-leather toes. But by this time the nerves of both were +shaken; even Morris had enough of his grisly task; and they +skulked off like animals into the thickest of the neighbouring +covert. + +'It's the best that we can do,' said Morris, sitting down. + +'And now,' said John, 'perhaps you'll have the politeness to tell +me what it's all about.' + +'Upon my word,' cried Morris, 'if you do not understand for +yourself, I almost despair of telling you.' + +'O, of course it's some rot about the tontine,' returned the +other. 'But it's the merest nonsense. We've lost it, and there's +an end.' + +'I tell you,' said Morris, 'Uncle Masterman is dead. I know it, +there's a voice that tells me so.' + +'Well, and so is Uncle Joseph,' said John. + +'He's not dead, unless I choose,' returned Morris. + +'And come to that,' cried John, 'if you're right, and Uncle +Masterman's been dead ever so long, all we have to do is to tell +the truth and expose Michael.' + +'You seem to think Michael is a fool,' sneered Morris. 'Can't you +understand he's been preparing this fraud for years? He has the +whole thing ready: the nurse, the doctor, the undertaker, all +bought, the certificate all ready but the date! Let him get wind +of this business, and you mark my words, Uncle Masterman will die +in two days and be buried in a week. But see here, Johnny; what +Michael can do, I can do. If he plays a game of bluff, so can I. +If his father is to live for ever, by God, so shall my uncle!' + +'It's illegal, ain't it?' said John. + +'A man must have SOME moral courage,' replied Morris with +dignity. + +'And then suppose you're wrong? Suppose Uncle Masterman's alive +and kicking?' + +'Well, even then,' responded the plotter, 'we are no worse off +than we were before; in fact, we're better. Uncle Masterman must +die some day; as long as Uncle Joseph was alive, he might have +died any day; but we're out of all that trouble now: there's no +sort of limit to the game that I propose--it can be kept up till +Kingdom Come.' + +'If I could only see how you meant to set about it' sighed John. +'But you know, Morris, you always were such a bungler.' + +'I'd like to know what I ever bungled,' cried Morris; 'I have the +best collection of signet rings in London.' + +'Well, you know, there's the leather business,' suggested the +other. 'That's considered rather a hash.' + +It was a mark of singular self-control in Morris that he suffered +this to pass unchallenged, and even unresented. + +'About the business in hand,' said he, 'once we can get him up to +Bloomsbury, there's no sort of trouble. We bury him in the +cellar, which seems made for it; and then all I have to do is to +start out and find a venal doctor.' + +'Why can't we leave him where he is?' asked John. + +'Because we know nothing about the country,' retorted Morris. +'This wood may be a regular lovers' walk. Turn your mind to the +real difficulty. How are we to get him up to Bloomsbury?' + +Various schemes were mooted and rejected. The railway station at +Browndean was, of course, out of the question, for it would now +be a centre of curiosity and gossip, and (of all things) they +would be least able to dispatch a dead body without remark. John +feebly proposed getting an ale-cask and sending it as beer, but +the objections to this course were so overwhelming that Morris +scorned to answer. The purchase of a packing-case seemed equally +hopeless, for why should two gentlemen without baggage of any +kind require a packing-case? They would be more likely to require +clean linen. + +'We are working on wrong lines,' cried Morris at last. 'The thing +must be gone about more carefully. Suppose now,' he added +excitedly, speaking by fits and starts, as if he were thinking +aloud, 'suppose we rent a cottage by the month. A householder can +buy a packing-case without remark. Then suppose we clear the +people out today, get the packing-case tonight, and tomorrow I +hire a carriage or a cart that we could drive ourselves--and take +the box, or whatever we get, to Ringwood or Lyndhurst or +somewhere; we could label it "specimens", don't you see? Johnny, +I believe I've hit the nail at last.' + +'Well, it sounds more feasible,' admitted John. + +'Of course we must take assumed names,' continued Morris. 'It +would never do to keep our own. What do you say to "Masterman" +itself? It sounds quiet and dignified.' + +'I will NOT take the name of Masterman,' returned his brother; +'you may, if you like. I shall call myself Vance--the Great +Vance; positively the last six nights. There's some go in a name +like that.' + +'Vance?' cried Morris. 'Do you think we are playing a pantomime +for our amusement? There was never anybody named Vance who wasn't +a music-hall singer.' + +'That's the beauty of it,' returned John; 'it gives you some +standing at once. You may call yourself Fortescue till all's +blue, and nobody cares; but to be Vance gives a man a natural +nobility.' + +'But there's lots of other theatrical names,' cried Morris. +'Leybourne, Irving, Brough, Toole--' + +'Devil a one will I take!' returned his brother. 'I am going to +have my little lark out of this as well as you.' + +'Very well,' said Morris, who perceived that John was determined +to carry his point, 'I shall be Robert Vance.' + +'And I shall be George Vance,' cried John, 'the only original +George Vance! Rally round the only original!' + +Repairing as well as they were able the disorder of their +clothes, the Finsbury brothers returned to Browndean by a +circuitous route in quest of luncheon and a suitable cottage. It +is not always easy to drop at a moment's notice on a furnished +residence in a retired locality; but fortune presently introduced +our adventurers to a deaf carpenter, a man rich in cottages of +the required description, and unaffectedly eager to supply their +wants. The second place they visited, standing, as it did, about +a mile and a half from any neighbours, caused them to exchange a +glance of hope. On a nearer view, the place was not without +depressing features. It stood in a marshy-looking hollow of a +heath; tall trees obscured its windows; the thatch visibly rotted +on the rafters; and the walls were stained with splashes of +unwholesome green. The rooms were small, the ceilings low, the +furniture merely nominal; a strange chill and a haunting smell of +damp pervaded the kitchen; and the bedroom boasted only of one +bed. + +Morris, with a view to cheapening the place, remarked on this +defect. + +'Well,' returned the man; 'if you can't sleep two abed, you'd +better take a villa residence.' + +'And then,' pursued Morris, 'there's no water. How do you get +your water?' + +'We fill THAT from the spring,' replied the carpenter, pointing +to a big barrel that stood beside the door. 'The spring ain't so +VERY far off, after all, and it's easy brought in buckets. +There's a bucket there.' + +Morris nudged his brother as they examined the water-butt. It was +new, and very solidly constructed for its office. If anything had +been wanting to decide them, this eminently practical barrel +would have turned the scale. A bargain was promptly struck, the +month's rent was paid upon the nail, and about an hour later the +Finsbury brothers might have been observed returning to the +blighted cottage, having along with them the key, which was the +symbol of their tenancy, a spirit-lamp, with which they fondly +told themselves they would be able to cook, a pork pie of +suitable dimensions, and a quart of the worst whisky in +Hampshire. Nor was this all they had effected; already (under the +plea that they were landscape-painters) they had hired for dawn +on the morrow a light but solid two-wheeled cart; so that when +they entered in their new character, they were able to tell +themselves that the back of the business was already broken. + +John proceeded to get tea; while Morris, foraging about the +house, was presently delighted by discovering the lid of the +water-butt upon the kitchen shelf. Here, then, was the +packing-case complete; in the absence of straw, the blankets +(which he himself, at least, had not the smallest intention of +using for their present purpose) would exactly take the place of +packing; and Morris, as the difficulties began to vanish from his +path, rose almost to the brink of exultation. There was, however, +one difficulty not yet faced, one upon which his whole scheme +depended. Would John consent to remain alone in the cottage? He +had not yet dared to put the question. + +It was with high good-humour that the pair sat down to the deal +table, and proceeded to fall-to on the pork pie. Morris retailed +the discovery of the lid, and the Great Vance was pleased to +applaud by beating on the table with his fork in true music-hall +style. + +'That's the dodge,' he cried. 'I always said a water-butt was +what you wanted for this business.' + +'Of course,' said Morris, thinking this a favourable opportunity +to prepare his brother, 'of course you must stay on in this place +till I give the word; I'll give out that uncle is resting in the +New Forest. It would not do for both of us to appear in London; +we could never conceal the absence of the old man.' + +John's jaw dropped. + +'O, come!' he cried. 'You can stay in this hole yourself. I +won't.' + +The colour came into Morris's cheeks. He saw that he must win his +brother at any cost. + +'You must please remember, Johnny,' he said, 'the amount of the +tontine. If I succeed, we shall have each fifty thousand to place +to our bank account; ay, and nearer sixty.' + +'But if you fail,' returned John, 'what then? What'll be the +colour of our bank account in that case?' + +'I will pay all expenses,' said Morris, with an inward struggle; +'you shall lose nothing.' + +'Well,' said John, with a laugh, 'if the ex-s are yours, and +half-profits mine, I don't mind remaining here for a couple of +days.' + +'A couple of days!' cried Morris, who was beginning to get angry +and controlled himself with difficulty; 'why, you would do more +to win five pounds on a horse-race!' + +'Perhaps I would,' returned the Great Vance; 'it's the artistic +temperament.' + +'This is monstrous!' burst out Morris. 'I take all risks; I pay +all expenses; I divide profits; and you won't take the slightest +pains to help me. It's not decent; it's not honest; it's not even +kind.' + +'But suppose,' objected John, who was considerably impressed by +his brother's vehemence, 'suppose that Uncle Masterman is alive +after all, and lives ten years longer; must I rot here all that +time?' + +'Of course not,' responded Morris, in a more conciliatory tone; +'I only ask a month at the outside; and if Uncle Masterman is not +dead by that time you can go abroad.' + +'Go abroad?' repeated John eagerly. 'Why shouldn't I go at once? +Tell 'em that Joseph and I are seeing life in Paris.' + +'Nonsense,' said Morris. + +'Well, but look here,' said John; 'it's this house, it's such a +pig-sty, it's so dreary and damp. You said yourself that it was +damp.' + +'Only to the carpenter,' Morris distinguished, 'and that was to +reduce the rent. But really, you know, now we're in it, I've seen +worse.' + +'And what am I to do?' complained the victim. 'How can I +entertain a friend?' + +'My dear Johnny, if you don't think the tontine worth a little +trouble, say so, and I'll give the business up.' + +'You're dead certain of the figures, I suppose?' asked John. +'Well'--with a deep sigh--'send me the Pink Un and all the comic +papers regularly. I'll face the music.' + +As afternoon drew on, the cottage breathed more thrillingly of +its native marsh; a creeping chill inhabited its chambers; the +fire smoked, and a shower of rain, coming up from the channel on +a slant of wind, tingled on the window-panes. At intervals, when +the gloom deepened toward despair, Morris would produce the +whisky-bottle, and at first John welcomed the diversion--not for +long. It has been said this spirit was the worst in Hampshire; +only those acquainted with the county can appreciate the force of +that superlative; and at length even the Great Vance (who was no +connoisseur) waved the decoction from his lips. The approach of +dusk, feebly combated with a single tallow candle, added a touch +of tragedy; and John suddenly stopped whistling through his +fingers--an art to the practice of which he had been reduced--and +bitterly lamented his concessions. + +'I can't stay here a month,' he cried. 'No one could. The thing's +nonsense, Morris. The parties that lived in the Bastille would +rise against a place like this.' + +With an admirable affectation of indifference, Morris proposed a +game of pitch-and-toss. To what will not the diplomatist +condescend! It was John's favourite game; indeed his only +game--he had found all the rest too intellectual--and he played +it with equal skill and good fortune. To Morris himself, on the +other hand, the whole business was detestable; he was a bad +pitcher, he had no luck in tossing, and he was one who suffered +torments when he lost. But John was in a dangerous humour, and +his brother was prepared for any sacrifice. + +By seven o'clock, Morris, with incredible agony, had lost a +couple of half-crowns. Even with the tontine before his eyes, +this was as much as he could bear; and, remarking that he would +take his revenge some other time, he proposed a bit of supper and +a grog. + +Before they had made an end of this refreshment it was time to be +at work. A bucket of water for present necessities was withdrawn +from the water-butt, which was then emptied and rolled before the +kitchen fire to dry; and the two brothers set forth on their +adventure under a starless heaven. + + + +CHAPTER III. The Lecturer at Large + +Whether mankind is really partial to happiness is an open +question. Not a month passes by but some cherished son runs off +into the merchant service, or some valued husband decamps to +Texas with a lady help; clergymen have fled from their +parishioners; and even judges have been known to retire. To an +open mind, it will appear (upon the whole) less strange that +Joseph Finsbury should have been led to entertain ideas of +escape. His lot (I think we may say) was not a happy one. My +friend, Mr Morris, with whom I travel up twice or thrice a week +from Snaresbrook Park, is certainly a gentleman whom I esteem; +but he was scarce a model nephew. As for John, he is of course an +excellent fellow; but if he was the only link that bound one to a +home, I think the most of us would vote for foreign travel. In +the case of Joseph, John (if he were a link at all) was not the +only one; endearing bonds had long enchained the old gentleman to +Bloomsbury; and by these expressions I do not in the least refer +to Julia Hazeltine (of whom, however, he was fond enough), but to +that collection of manuscript notebooks in which his life lay +buried. That he should ever have made up his mind to separate +himself from these collections, and go forth upon the world with +no other resources than his memory supplied, is a circumstance +highly pathetic in itself, and but little creditable to the +wisdom of his nephews. + +The design, or at least the temptation, was already some months +old; and when a bill for eight hundred pounds, payable to +himself, was suddenly placed in Joseph's hand, it brought matters +to an issue. He retained that bill, which, to one of his +frugality, meant wealth; and he promised himself to disappear +among the crowds at Waterloo, or (if that should prove +impossible) to slink out of the house in the course of the +evening and melt like a dream into the millions of London. By a +peculiar interposition of Providence and railway mismanagement he +had not so long to wait. + +He was one of the first to come to himself and scramble to his +feet after the Browndean catastrophe, and he had no sooner +remarked his prostrate nephews than he understood his opportunity +and fled. A man of upwards of seventy, who has just met with a +railway accident, and who is cumbered besides with the full +uniform of Sir Faraday Bond, is not very likely to flee far, but +the wood was close at hand and offered the fugitive at least a +temporary covert. Hither, then, the old gentleman skipped with +extraordinary expedition, and, being somewhat winded and a good +deal shaken, here he lay down in a convenient grove and was +presently overwhelmed by slumber. The way of fate is often highly +entertaining to the looker-on, and it is certainly a pleasant +circumstance, that while Morris and John were delving in the sand +to conceal the body of a total stranger, their uncle lay in +dreamless sleep a few hundred yards deeper in the wood. + +He was awakened by the jolly note of a bugle from the +neighbouring high road, where a char-a-banc was bowling by with +some belated tourists. The sound cheered his old heart, it +directed his steps into the bargain, and soon he was on the +highway, looking east and west from under his vizor, and +doubtfully revolving what he ought to do. A deliberate sound of +wheels arose in the distance, and then a cart was seen +approaching, well filled with parcels, driven by a good-natured +looking man on a double bench, and displaying on a board the +legend, 'I Chandler, carrier'. In the infamously prosaic mind of +Mr Finsbury, certain streaks of poetry survived and were still +efficient; they had carried him to Asia Minor as a giddy youth of +forty, and now, in the first hours of his recovered freedom, they +suggested to him the idea of continuing his flight in Mr +Chandler's cart. It would be cheap; properly broached, it might +even cost nothing, and, after years of mittens and hygienic +flannel, his heart leaped out to meet the notion of exposure. + +Mr Chandler was perhaps a little puzzled to find so old a +gentleman, so strangely clothed, and begging for a lift on so +retired a roadside. But he was a good-natured man, glad to do a +service, and so he took the stranger up; and he had his own idea +of civility, and so he asked no questions. Silence, in fact, was +quite good enough for Mr Chandler; but the cart had scarcely +begun to move forward ere he found himself involved in a +one-sided conversation. + +'I can see,' began Mr Finsbury, 'by the mixture of parcels and +boxes that are contained in your cart, each marked with its +individual label, and by the good Flemish mare you drive, that +you occupy the post of carrier in that great English system of +transport which, with all its defects, is the pride of our +country.' + +'Yes, sir,' returned Mr Chandler vaguely, for he hardly knew what +to reply; 'them parcels posts has done us carriers a world of +harm.' + +'I am not a prejudiced man,' continued Joseph Finsbury. 'As a +young man I travelled much. Nothing was too small or too obscure +for me to acquire. At sea I studied seamanship, learned the +complicated knots employed by mariners, and acquired the +technical terms. At Naples, I would learn the art of making +macaroni; at Nice, the principles of making candied fruit. I +never went to the opera without first buying the book of the +piece, and making myself acquainted with the principal airs by +picking them out on the piano with one finger.' + +'You must have seen a deal, sir,' remarked the carrier, touching +up his horse; 'I wish I could have had your advantages.' + +'Do you know how often the word whip occurs in the Old +Testament?' continued the old gentleman. 'One hundred and (if I +remember exactly) forty-seven times.' + +'Do it indeed, sir?' said Mr Chandler. 'I never should have +thought it.' + +'The Bible contains three million five hundred and one thousand +two hundred and forty-nine letters. Of verses I believe there are +upward of eighteen thousand. There have been many editions of the +Bible; Wycliff was the first to introduce it into England about +the year 1300. The "Paragraph Bible", as it is called, is a +well-known edition, and is so called because it is divided into +paragraphs. The "Breeches Bible" is another well-known instance, +and gets its name either because it was printed by one Breeches, +or because the place of publication bore that name.' + +The carrier remarked drily that he thought that was only natural, +and turned his attention to the more congenial task of passing a +cart of hay; it was a matter of some difficulty, for the road was +narrow, and there was a ditch on either hand. + +'I perceive,' began Mr Finsbury, when they had successfully +passed the cart, 'that you hold your reins with one hand; you +should employ two.' + +'Well, I like that!' cried the carrier contemptuously. 'Why?' + +'You do not understand,' continued Mr Finsbury. 'What I tell you +is a scientific fact, and reposes on the theory of the lever, a +branch of mechanics. There are some very interesting little +shilling books upon the field of study, which I should think a +man in your station would take a pleasure to read. But I am +afraid you have not cultivated the art of observation; at least +we have now driven together for some time, and I cannot remember +that you have contributed a single fact. This is a very false +principle, my good man. For instance, I do not know if you +observed that (as you passed the hay-cart man) you took your +left?' + +'Of course I did,' cried the carrier, who was now getting +belligerent; 'he'd have the law on me if I hadn't.' + +'In France, now,' resumed the old man, 'and also, I believe, in +the + +United States of America, you would have taken the right.' + +'I would not,' cried Mr Chandler indignantly. 'I would have taken +the left.' + +'I observe again,' continued Mr Finsbury, scorning to reply, +'that you mend the dilapidated parts of your harness with string. +I have always protested against this carelessness and +slovenliness of the English poor. In an essay that I once read +before an appreciative audience--' + +'It ain't string,' said the carrier sullenly, 'it's pack-thread.' + +'I have always protested,' resumed the old man, 'that in their +private and domestic life, as well as in their labouring career, +the lower classes of this country are improvident, thriftless, +and extravagant. A stitch in time--' + +'Who the devil ARE the lower classes?' cried the carrier. 'You +are the lower classes yourself! If I thought you were a blooming +aristocrat, I shouldn't have given you a lift.' + +The words were uttered with undisguised ill-feeling; it was plain +the pair were not congenial, and further conversation, even to +one of Mr Finsbury's pathetic loquacity, was out of the question. +With an angry gesture, he pulled down the brim of the forage-cap +over his eyes, and, producing a notebook and a blue pencil from +one of his innermost pockets, soon became absorbed in +calculations. + +On his part the carrier fell to whistling with fresh zest; and if +(now and again) he glanced at the companion of his drive, it was +with mingled feelings of triumph and alarm--triumph because he +had succeeded in arresting that prodigy of speech, and alarm lest +(by any accident) it should begin again. Even the shower, which +presently overtook and passed them, was endured by both in +silence; and it was still in silence that they drove at length +into Southampton. + +Dusk had fallen; the shop windows glimmered forth into the +streets of the old seaport; in private houses lights were kindled +for the evening meal; and Mr Finsbury began to think complacently +of his night's lodging. He put his papers by, cleared his throat, +and looked doubtfully at Mr Chandler. + +'Will you be civil enough,' said he, 'to recommend me to an inn?' +Mr Chandler pondered for a moment. + +'Well,' he said at last, 'I wonder how about the "Tregonwell +Arms".' + +'The "Tregonwell Arms" will do very well,' returned the old man, +'if it's clean and cheap, and the people civil.' + +'I wasn't thinking so much of you,' returned Mr Chandler +thoughtfully. 'I was thinking of my friend Watts as keeps the +'ouse; he's a friend of mine, you see, and he helped me through +my trouble last year. And I was thinking, would it be fair-like +on Watts to saddle him with an old party like you, who might be +the death of him with general information. Would it be fair to +the 'ouse?' enquired Mr Chandler, with an air of candid appeal. + +'Mark me,' cried the old gentleman with spirit. 'It was kind in +you to bring me here for nothing, but it gives you no right to +address me in such terms. Here's a shilling for your trouble; +and, if you do not choose to set me down at the "Tregonwell +Arms", I can find it for myself.' + +Chandler was surprised and a little startled; muttering something +apologetic, he returned the shilling, drove in silence through +several intricate lanes and small streets, drew up at length +before the bright windows of an inn, and called loudly for Mr +Watts. + +'Is that you, Jem?' cried a hearty voice from the stableyard. +'Come in and warm yourself.' + +'I only stopped here,' Mr Chandler explained, 'to let down an old +gent that wants food and lodging. Mind, I warn you agin him; he's +worse nor a temperance lecturer.' + +Mr Finsbury dismounted with difficulty, for he was cramped with +his long drive, and the shaking he had received in the accident. +The friendly Mr Watts, in spite of the carter's scarcely +agreeable introduction, treated the old gentleman with the utmost +courtesy, and led him into the back parlour, where there was a +big fire burning in the grate. Presently a table was spread in +the same room, and he was invited to seat himself before a stewed +fowl--somewhat the worse for having seen service before--and a +big pewter mug of ale from the tap. + +He rose from supper a giant refreshed; and, changing his seat to +one nearer the fire, began to examine the other guests with an +eye to the delights of oratory. There were near a dozen present, +all men, and (as Joseph exulted to perceive) all working men. +Often already had he seen cause to bless that appetite for +disconnected fact and rotatory argument which is so marked a +character of the mechanic. But even an audience of working men +has to be courted, and there was no man more deeply versed in the +necessary arts than Joseph Finsbury. He placed his glasses on his +nose, drew from his pocket a bundle of papers, and spread them +before him on a table. He crumpled them, he smoothed them out; +now he skimmed them over, apparently well pleased with their +contents; now, with tapping pencil and contracted brows, he +seemed maturely to consider some particular statement. A stealthy +glance about the room assured him of the success of his +manoeuvres; all eyes were turned on the performer, mouths were +open, pipes hung suspended; the birds were charmed. At the same +moment the entrance of Mr Watts afforded him an opportunity. + +'I observe,' said he, addressing the landlord, but taking at the +same time the whole room into his confidence with an encouraging +look, 'I observe that some of these gentlemen are looking with +curiosity in my direction; and certainly it is unusual to see +anyone immersed in literary and scientific labours in the public +apartment of an inn. I have here some calculations I made this +morning upon the cost of living in this and other countries--a +subject, I need scarcely say, highly interesting to the working +classes. I have calculated a scale of living for incomes of +eighty, one hundred and sixty, two hundred, and two hundred and +forty pounds a year. I must confess that the income of eighty +pounds has somewhat baffled me, and the others are not so exact +as I could wish; for the price of washing varies largely in +foreign countries, and the different cokes, coals and firewoods +fluctuate surprisingly. I will read my researches, and I hope you +won't scruple to point out to me any little errors that I may +have committed either from oversight or ignorance. I will begin, +gentlemen, with the income of eighty pounds a year.' + +Whereupon the old gentleman, with less compassion than he would +have had for brute beasts, delivered himself of all his tedious +calculations. As he occasionally gave nine versions of a single +income, placing the imaginary person in London, Paris, Bagdad, +Spitzbergen, Bassorah, Heligoland, the Scilly Islands, Brighton, +Cincinnati, and Nijni-Novgorod, with an appropriate outfit for +each locality, it is no wonder that his hearers look back on that +evening as the most tiresome they ever spent. + +Long before Mr Finsbury had reached Nijni-Novgorod with the +income of one hundred and sixty pounds, the company had dwindled +and faded away to a few old topers and the bored but affable +Watts. There was a constant stream of customers from the outer +world, but so soon as they were served they drank their liquor +quickly and departed with the utmost celerity for the next +public-house. + +By the time the young man with two hundred a year was vegetating +in the Scilly Islands, Mr Watts was left alone with the +economist; and that imaginary person had scarce commenced life at +Brighton before the last of his pursuers desisted from the chase. + +Mr Finsbury slept soundly after the manifold fatigues of the day. +He rose late, and, after a good breakfast, ordered the bill. Then +it was that he made a discovery which has been made by many +others, both before and since: that it is one thing to order your +bill, and another to discharge it. The items were moderate and +(what does not always follow) the total small; but, after the +most sedulous review of all his pockets, one and nine pence +halfpenny appeared to be the total of the old gentleman's +available assets. He asked to see Mr Watts. + +'Here is a bill on London for eight hundred pounds,' said Mr +Finsbury, as that worthy appeared. 'I am afraid, unless you +choose to discount it yourself, it may detain me a day or two +till I can get it cashed.' + +Mr Watts looked at the bill, turned it over, and dogs-eared it +with his fingers. 'It will keep you a day or two?' he said, +repeating the old man's words. 'You have no other money with +you?' + +'Some trifling change,' responded Joseph. 'Nothing to speak of.' + +'Then you can send it me; I should be pleased to trust you.' + +'To tell the truth,' answered the old gentleman, 'I am more than +half inclined to stay; I am in need of funds.' + +'If a loan of ten shillings would help you, it is at your +service,' responded Watts, with eagerness. + +'No, I think I would rather stay,' said the old man, 'and get my +bill discounted.' + +'You shall not stay in my house,' cried Mr Watts. 'This is the +last time you shall have a bed at the "Tregonwell Arms".' + +'I insist upon remaining,' replied Mr Finsbury, with spirit; 'I +remain by Act of Parliament; turn me out if you dare.' + +'Then pay your bill,' said Mr Watts. + +'Take that,' cried the old man, tossing him the negotiable bill. + +'It is not legal tender,' replied Mr Watts. 'You must leave my +house at once.' + +'You cannot appreciate the contempt I feel for you, Mr Watts,' +said the old gentleman, resigning himself to circumstances. 'But +you shall feel it in one way: I refuse to pay my bill.' + +'I don't care for your bill,' responded Mr Watts. 'What I want is +your absence.' + +'That you shall have!' said the old gentleman, and, taking up his +forage cap as he spoke, he crammed it on his head. 'Perhaps you +are too insolent,' he added, 'to inform me of the time of the +next London train?' + +'It leaves in three-quarters of an hour,' returned the innkeeper +with alacrity. 'You can easily catch it.' + +Joseph's position was one of considerable weakness. On the one +hand, it would have been well to avoid the direct line of +railway, since it was there he might expect his nephews to lie in +wait for his recapture; on the other, it was highly desirable, it +was even strictly needful, to get the bill discounted ere it +should be stopped. To London, therefore, he decided to proceed on +the first train; and there remained but one point to be +considered, how to pay his fare. + +Joseph's nails were never clean; he ate almost entirely with his +knife. I doubt if you could say he had the manners of a +gentleman; but he had better than that, a touch of genuine +dignity. Was it from his stay in Asia Minor? Was it from a strain +in the Finsbury blood sometimes alluded to by customers? At +least, when he presented himself before the station-master, his +salaam was truly Oriental, palm-trees appeared to crowd about the +little office, and the simoom or the bulbul--but I leave this +image to persons better acquainted with the East. His appearance, +besides, was highly in his favour; the uniform of Sir Faraday, +however inconvenient and conspicuous, was, at least, a costume in +which no swindler could have hoped to prosper; and the exhibition +of a valuable watch and a bill for eight hundred pounds completed +what deportment had begun. A quarter of an hour later, when the +train came up, Mr Finsbury was introduced to the guard and +installed in a first-class compartment, the station-master +smilingly assuming all responsibility. + +As the old gentleman sat waiting the moment of departure, he was +the witness of an incident strangely connected with the fortunes +of his house. A packing-case of cyclopean bulk was borne along +the platform by some dozen of tottering porters, and ultimately, +to the delight of a considerable crowd, hoisted on board the van. +It is often the cheering task of the historian to direct +attention to the designs and (if it may be reverently said) the +artifices of Providence. In the luggage van, as Joseph was borne +out of the station of Southampton East upon his way to London, +the egg of his romance lay (so to speak) unhatched. The huge +packing-case was directed to lie at Waterloo till called for, and +addressed to one 'William Dent Pitman'; and the very next +article, a goodly barrel jammed into the corner of the van, bore +the superscription, 'M. Finsbury, 16 John Street, Bloomsbury. +Carriage paid.' + +In this juxtaposition, the train of powder was prepared; and +there was now wanting only an idle hand to fire it off. + + + +CHAPTER IV. The Magistrate in the Luggage Van + +The city of Winchester is famed for a cathedral, a bishop--but he +was unfortunately killed some years ago while riding--a public +school, a considerable assortment of the military, and the +deliberate passage of the trains of the London and South-Western +line. These and many similar associations would have doubtless +crowded on the mind of Joseph Finsbury; but his spirit had at +that time flitted from the railway compartment to a heaven of +populous lecture-halls and endless oratory. His body, in the +meanwhile, lay doubled on the cushions, the forage-cap rakishly +tilted back after the fashion of those that lie in wait for +nursery-maids, the poor old face quiescent, one arm clutching to +his heart Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper. + +To him, thus unconscious, enter and exeunt again a pair of +voyagers. These two had saved the train and no more. A tandem +urged to its last speed, an act of something closely bordering on +brigandage at the ticket office, and a spasm of running, had +brought them on the platform just as the engine uttered its +departing snort. There was but one carriage easily within their +reach; and they had sprung into it, and the leader and elder +already had his feet upon the floor, when he observed Mr +Finsbury. + +'Good God!' he cried. 'Uncle Joseph! This'll never do.' + +And he backed out, almost upsetting his companion, and once more +closed the door upon the sleeping patriarch. + +The next moment the pair had jumped into the baggage van. + +'What's the row about your Uncle Joseph?' enquired the younger +traveller, mopping his brow. 'Does he object to smoking?' + +'I don't know that there's anything the row with him,' returned +the other. 'He's by no means the first comer, my Uncle Joseph, I +can tell you! Very respectable old gentleman; interested in +leather; been to Asia Minor; no family, no assets--and a tongue, +my dear Wickham, sharper than a serpent's tooth.' + +'Cantankerous old party, eh?' suggested Wickham. + +'Not in the least,' cried the other; 'only a man with a solid +talent for being a bore; rather cheery I dare say, on a desert +island, but on a railway journey insupportable. You should hear +him on Tonti, the ass that started tontines. He's incredible on +Tonti.' + +'By Jove!' cried Wickham, 'then you're one of these Finsbury +tontine fellows. I hadn't a guess of that.' + +'Ah!' said the other, 'do you know that old boy in the carriage +is worth a hundred thousand pounds to me? There he was asleep, +and nobody there but you! But I spared him, because I'm a +Conservative in politics.' + +Mr Wickham, pleased to be in a luggage van, was flitting to and +fro like a gentlemanly butterfly. + +'By Jingo!' he cried, 'here's something for you! "M. Finsbury, 16 +John Street, Bloomsbury, London." M. stands for Michael, you sly +dog; you keep two establishments, do you?' + +'O, that's Morris,' responded Michael from the other end of the +van, where he had found a comfortable seat upon some sacks. 'He's +a little cousin of mine. I like him myself, because he's afraid +of me. He's one of the ornaments of Bloomsbury, and has a +collection of some kind--birds' eggs or something that's supposed +to be curious. I bet it's nothing to my clients!' + +'What a lark it would be to play billy with the labels!' chuckled +Mr Wickham. 'By George, here's a tack-hammer! We might send all +these things skipping about the premises like what's-his-name!' + +At this moment, the guard, surprised by the sound of voices, +opened the door of his little cabin. + +'You had best step in here, gentlemen,' said he, when he had +heard their story. + +'Won't you come, Wickham?' asked Michael. + +'Catch me--I want to travel in a van,' replied the youth. + +And so the door of communication was closed; and for the rest of +the run Mr Wickham was left alone over his diversions on the one +side, and on the other Michael and the guard were closeted +together in familiar talk. + +'I can get you a compartment here, sir,' observed the official, +as the train began to slacken speed before Bishopstoke station. +'You had best get out at my door, and I can bring your friend.' + +Mr Wickham, whom we left (as the reader has shrewdly suspected) +beginning to 'play billy' with the labels in the van, was a young +gentleman of much wealth, a pleasing but sandy exterior, and a +highly vacant mind. Not many months before, he had contrived to +get himself blackmailed by the family of a Wallachian Hospodar, +resident for political reasons in the gay city of Paris. A common +friend (to whom he had confided his distress) recommended him to +Michael; and the lawyer was no sooner in possession of the facts +than he instantly assumed the offensive, fell on the flank of the +Wallachian forces, and, in the inside of three days, had the +satisfaction to behold them routed and fleeing for the Danube. It +is no business of ours to follow them on this retreat, over which +the police were so obliging as to preside paternally. Thus +relieved from what he loved to refer to as the Bulgarian +Atrocity, Mr Wickham returned to London with the most unbounded +and embarrassing gratitude and admiration for his saviour. These +sentiments were not repaid either in kind or degree; indeed, +Michael was a trifle ashamed of his new client's friendship; it +had taken many invitations to get him to Winchester and Wickham +Manor; but he had gone at last, and was now returning. It has +been remarked by some judicious thinker (possibly J. F. Smith) +that Providence despises to employ no instrument, however humble; +and it is now plain to the dullest that both Mr Wickham and the +Wallachian Hospodar were liquid lead and wedges in the hand of +Destiny. + +Smitten with the desire to shine in Michael's eyes and show +himself a person of original humour and resources, the young +gentleman (who was a magistrate, more by token, in his native +county) was no sooner alone in the van than he fell upon the +labels with all the zeal of a reformer; and, when he rejoined the +lawyer at Bishopstoke, his face was flushed with his exertions, +and his cigar, which he had suffered to go out was almost bitten +in two. + +'By George, but this has been a lark!' he cried. 'I've sent the +wrong thing to everybody in England. These cousins of yours have +a packing-case as big as a house. I've muddled the whole business +up to that extent, Finsbury, that if it were to get out it's my +belief we should get lynched.' + +It was useless to be serious with Mr Wickham. 'Take care,' said +Michael. 'I am getting tired of your perpetual scrapes; my +reputation is beginning to suffer.' + +'Your reputation will be all gone before you finish with me,' +replied his companion with a grin. 'Clap it in the bill, my boy. +"For total loss of reputation, six and eightpence." But,' +continued Mr Wickham with more seriousness, 'could I be bowled +out of the Commission for this little jest? I know it's small, +but I like to be a JP. Speaking as a professional man, do you +think there's any risk?' + +'What does it matter?' responded Michael, 'they'll chuck you out +sooner or later. Somehow you don't give the effect of being a +good magistrate.' + +'I only wish I was a solicitor,' retorted his companion, 'instead +of a poor devil of a country gentleman. Suppose we start one of +those tontine affairs ourselves; I to pay five hundred a year, +and you to guarantee me against every misfortune except illness +or marriage.' + +'It strikes me,' remarked the lawyer with a meditative laugh, as +he lighted a cigar, 'it strikes me that you must be a cursed +nuisance in this world of ours.' + +'Do you really think so, Finsbury?' responded the magistrate, +leaning back in his cushions, delighted with the compliment. +'Yes, I suppose I am a nuisance. But, mind you, I have a stake in +the country: don't forget that, dear boy.' + + + +CHAPTER V + +Mr Gideon Forsyth and the Gigantic Box + +It has been mentioned that at Bournemouth Julia sometimes made +acquaintances; it is true she had but a glimpse of them before +the doors of John Street closed again upon its captives, but the +glimpse was sometimes exhilarating, and the consequent regret was +tempered with hope. Among those whom she had thus met a year +before was a young barrister of the name of Gideon Forsyth. + +About three o'clock of the eventful day when the magistrate +tampered with the labels, a somewhat moody and distempered ramble +had carried Mr Forsyth to the corner of John Street; and about +the same moment Miss Hazeltine was called to the door of No. 16 +by a thundering double knock. + +Mr Gideon Forsyth was a happy enough young man; he would have +been happier if he had had more money and less uncle. One hundred +and twenty pounds a year was all his store; but his uncle, Mr +Edward Hugh Bloomfield, supplemented this with a handsome +allowance and a great deal of advice, couched in language that +would probably have been judged intemperate on board a pirate +ship. Mr Bloomfield was indeed a figure quite peculiar to the +days of Mr Gladstone; what we may call (for the lack of an +accepted expression) a Squirradical. Having acquired years +without experience, he carried into the Radical side of politics +those noisy, after-dinner-table passions, which we are more +accustomed to connect with Toryism in its severe and senile +aspects. To the opinions of Mr Bradlaugh, in fact, he added the +temper and the sympathies of that extinct animal, the Squire; he +admired pugilism, he carried a formidable oaken staff, he was a +reverent churchman, and it was hard to know which would have more +volcanically stirred his choler--a person who should have +defended the established church, or one who should have neglected +to attend its celebrations. He had besides some levelling +catchwords, justly dreaded in the family circle; and when he +could not go so far as to declare a step un-English, he might +still (and with hardly less effect) denounce it as unpractical. +It was under the ban of this lesser excommunication that Gideon +had fallen. His views on the study of law had been pronounced +unpractical; and it had been intimated to him, in a vociferous +interview punctuated with the oaken staff, that he must either +take a new start and get a brief or two, or prepare to live on +his own money. + +No wonder if Gideon was moody. He had not the slightest wish to +modify his present habits; but he would not stand on that, since +the recall of Mr Bloomfield's allowance would revolutionize them +still more radically. He had not the least desire to acquaint +himself with law; he had looked into it already, and it seemed +not to repay attention; but upon this also he was ready to give +way. In fact, he would go as far as he could to meet the views of +his uncle, the Squirradical. But there was one part of the +programme that appeared independent of his will. How to get a +brief? there was the question. And there was another and a worse. +Suppose he got one, should he prove the better man? + +Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd. A garishly +illuminated van was backed against the kerb; from its open stern, +half resting on the street, half supported by some glistening +athletes, the end of the largest packing-case in the county of +Middlesex might have been seen protruding; while, on the steps of +the house, the burly person of the driver and the slim figure of +a young girl stood as upon a stage, disputing. + +'It is not for us,' the girl was saying. 'I beg you to take it +away; it couldn't get into the house, even if you managed to get +it out of the van.' + +'I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M. Finsbury can +arrange with the Vestry as he likes,' said the vanman. + +'But I am not M. Finsbury,' expostulated the girl. + +'It doesn't matter who you are,' said the vanman. + +'You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,' said Gideon, +putting out his hand. + +Julia gave a little cry of pleasure. 'O, Mr Forsyth,' she cried, +'I am so glad to see you; we must get this horrid thing, which +can only have come here by mistake, into the house. The man says +we'll have to take off the door, or knock two of our windows into +one, or be fined by the Vestry or Custom House or something for +leaving our parcels on the pavement.' + +The men by this time had successfully removed the box from the +van, had plumped it down on the pavement, and now stood leaning +against it, or gazing at the door of No. 16, in visible physical +distress and mental embarrassment. The windows of the whole +street had filled, as if by magic, with interested and +entertained spectators. + +With as thoughtful and scientific an expression as he could +assume, Gideon measured the doorway with his cane, while Julia +entered his observations in a drawing-book. He then measured the +box, and, upon comparing his data, found that there was just +enough space for it to enter. Next, throwing off his coat and +waistcoat, he assisted the men to take the door from its hinges. +And lastly, all bystanders being pressed into the service, the +packing-case mounted the steps upon some fifteen pairs of +wavering legs--scraped, loudly grinding, through the doorway--and +was deposited at length, with a formidable convulsion, in the far +end of the lobby, which it almost blocked. The artisans of this +victory smiled upon each other as the dust subsided. It was true +they had smashed a bust of Apollo and ploughed the wall into deep +ruts; but, at least, they were no longer one of the public +spectacles of London. + +'Well, sir,' said the vanman, 'I never see such a job.' + +Gideon eloquently expressed his concurrence in this sentiment by +pressing a couple of sovereigns in the man's hand. + +'Make it three, sir, and I'll stand Sam to everybody here!' cried +the latter, and, this having been done, the whole body of +volunteer porters swarmed into the van, which drove off in the +direction of the nearest reliable public-house. Gideon closed the +door on their departure, and turned to Julia; their eyes met; the +most uncontrollable mirth seized upon them both, and they made +the house ring with their laughter. Then curiosity awoke in +Julia's mind, and she went and examined the box, and more +especially the label. + +'This is the strangest thing that ever happened,' she said, with +another burst of laughter. 'It is certainly Morris's handwriting, +and I had a letter from him only this morning, telling me to +expect a barrel. Is there a barrel coming too, do you think, Mr +Forsyth?' + +"'Statuary with Care, Fragile,'" read Gideon aloud from the +painted warning on the box. 'Then you were told nothing about +this?' + +'No,' responded Julia. 'O, Mr Forsyth, don't you think we might +take a peep at it?' + +'Yes, indeed,' cried Gideon. 'Just let me have a hammer.' + +'Come down, and I'll show you where it is,' cried Julia. 'The +shelf is too high for me to reach'; and, opening the door of the +kitchen stair, she bade Gideon follow her. They found both the +hammer and a chisel; but Gideon was surprised to see no sign of a +servant. He also discovered that Miss Hazeltine had a very pretty +little foot and ankle; and the discovery embarrassed him so much +that he was glad to fall at once upon the packing-case. + +He worked hard and earnestly, and dealt his blows with the +precision of a blacksmith; Julia the while standing silently by +his side, and regarding rather the workman than the work. He was +a handsome fellow; she told herself she had never seen such +beautiful arms. And suddenly, as though he had overheard these +thoughts, Gideon turned and smiled to her. She, too, smiled and +coloured; and the double change became her so prettily that +Gideon forgot to turn away his eyes, and, swinging the hammer +with a will, discharged a smashing blow on his own knuckles. With +admirable presence of mind he crushed down an oath and +substituted the harmless comment, 'Butter fingers!' But the pain +was sharp, his nerve was shaken, and after an abortive trial he +found he must desist from further operations. + +In a moment Julia was off to the pantry; in a moment she was back +again with a basin of water and a sponge, and had begun to bathe +his wounded hand. + +'I am dreadfully sorry!' said Gideon apologetically. 'If I had +had any manners I should have opened the box first and smashed my +hand afterward. It feels much better,' he added. 'I assure you it +does.' + +'And now I think you are well enough to direct operations,' said +she. 'Tell me what to do, and I'll be your workman.' + +'A very pretty workman,' said Gideon, rather forgetting himself. +She turned and looked at him, with a suspicion of a frown; and +the indiscreet young man was glad to direct her attention to the +packing-case. The bulk of the work had been accomplished; and +presently Julia had burst through the last barrier and disclosed +a zone of straw. in a moment they were kneeling side by side, +engaged like haymakers; the next they were rewarded with a +glimpse of something white and polished; and the next again laid +bare an unmistakable marble leg. + +'He is surely a very athletic person,' said Julia. + +'I never saw anything like it,' responded Gideon. 'His muscles +stand out like penny rolls.' + +Another leg was soon disclosed, and then what seemed to be a +third. This resolved itself, however, into a knotted club resting +upon a pedestal. + +'It is a Hercules,' cried Gideon; 'I might have guessed that from +his calf. I'm supposed to be rather partial to statuary, but when +it comes to Hercules, the police should interfere. I should say,' +he added, glancing with disaffection at the swollen leg, 'that +this was about the biggest and the worst in Europe. What in +heaven's name can have induced him to come here?' + +'I suppose nobody else would have a gift of him,' said Julia. +'And for that matter, I think we could have done without the +monster very well.' + +'O, don't say that,' returned Gideon. 'This has been one of the +most amusing experiences of my life.' + +'I don't think you'll forget it very soon,' said Julia. 'Your +hand will remind you.' + +'Well, I suppose I must be going,' said Gideon reluctantly. 'No,' +pleaded Julia. 'Why should you? Stay and have tea with me.' + +'If I thought you really wished me to stay,' said Gideon, looking +at his hat, 'of course I should only be too delighted.' + +'What a silly person you must take me for!' returned the girl. +'Why, of course I do; and, besides, I want some cakes for tea, +and I've nobody to send. Here is the latchkey.' + +Gideon put on his hat with alacrity, and casting one look at Miss +Hazeltine, and another at the legs of Hercules, threw open the +door and departed on his errand. + +He returned with a large bag of the choicest and most tempting of +cakes and tartlets, and found Julia in the act of spreading a +small tea-table in the lobby. + +"The rooms are all in such a state,' she cried, 'that I thought +we should be more cosy and comfortable in our own lobby, and +under our own vine and statuary.' + +'Ever so much better,' cried Gideon delightedly. + +'O what adorable cream tarts!' said Julia, opening the bag, 'and +the dearest little cherry tartlets, with all the cherries spilled +out into the cream!' + +'Yes,' said Gideon, concealing his dismay, 'I knew they would mix +beautifully; the woman behind the counter told me so.' + +'Now,' said Julia, as they began their little festival, 'I am +going to show you Morris's letter; read it aloud, please; perhaps +there's something I have missed.' + +Gideon took the letter, and spreading it out on his knee, read as +follows: + +DEAR JULIA, I write you from Browndean, where we are stopping +over for a few days. Uncle was much shaken in that dreadful +accident, of which, I dare say, you have seen the account. +Tomorrow I leave him here with John, and come up alone; but +before that, you will have received a barrel CONTAINING SPECIMENS +FOR A FRIEND. Do not open it on any account, but leave it in the +lobby till I come. + Yours in haste, + M. FINSBURY. +P.S.--Be sure and leave the barrel in the lobby. + + +'No,' said Gideon, 'there seems to be nothing about the +monument,' and he nodded, as he spoke, at the marble legs. 'Miss +Hazeltine,' he continued, 'would you mind me asking a few +questions?' + +'Certainly not,' replied Julia; 'and if you can make me +understand why Morris has sent a statue of Hercules instead of a +barrel containing specimens for a friend, I shall be grateful +till my dying day. And what are specimens for a friend?' + +'I haven't a guess,' said Gideon. 'Specimens are usually bits of +stone, but rather smaller than our friend the monument. Still, +that is not the point. Are you quite alone in this big house?' + +'Yes, I am at present,' returned Julia. 'I came up before them to +prepare the house, and get another servant. But I couldn't get +one I liked.' + +'Then you are utterly alone,' said Gideon in amazement. 'Are you +not afraid?' + +'No,' responded Julia stoutly. 'I don't see why I should be more +afraid than you would be; I am weaker, of course, but when I +found I must sleep alone in the house I bought a revolver +wonderfully cheap, and made the man show me how to use it.' + +'And how do you use it?' demanded Gideon, much amused at her +courage. + +'Why,' said she, with a smile, 'you pull the little trigger thing +on top, and then pointing it very low, for it springs up as you +fire, you pull the underneath little trigger thing, and it goes +off as well as if a man had done it.' + +'And how often have you used it?' asked Gideon. + +'O, I have not used it yet,' said the determined young lady; 'but +I know how, and that makes me wonderfully courageous, especially +when I barricade my door with a chest of drawers.' + +'I'm awfully glad they are coming back soon,' said Gideon. 'This +business strikes me as excessively unsafe; if it goes on much +longer, I could provide you with a maiden aunt of mine, or my +landlady if you preferred.' + +'Lend me an aunt!' cried Julia. 'O, what generosity! I begin to +think it must have been you that sent the Hercules.' + +'Believe me,' cried the young man, 'I admire you too much to send +you such an infamous work of art..' + +Julia was beginning to reply, when they were both startled by a +knocking at the door. + +'O, Mr Forsyth!' + +'Don't be afraid, my dear girl,' said Gideon, laying his hand +tenderly on her arm. + +'I know it's the police,' she whispered. 'They are coming to +complain about the statue.' + +The knock was repeated. It was louder than before, and more +impatient. + +'It's Morris,' cried Julia, in a startled voice, and she ran to +the door and opened it. + +It was indeed Morris that stood before them; not the Morris of +ordinary days, but a wild-looking fellow, pale and haggard, with +bloodshot eyes, and a two-days' beard upon his chin. + +'The barrel!' he cried. 'Where's the barrel that came this +morning?' And he stared about the lobby, his eyes, as they fell +upon the legs of Hercules, literally goggling in his head. 'What +is that?' he screamed. 'What is that waxwork? Speak, you fool! +What is that? And where's the barrel--the water-butt?' + +'No barrel came, Morris,' responded Julia coldly. 'This is the +only thing that has arrived.' + +'This!' shrieked the miserable man. 'I never heard of it!' + +'It came addressed in your hand,' replied Julia; 'we had nearly +to pull the house down to get it in, that is all that I can tell +you.' + +Morris gazed at her in utter bewilderment. He passed his hand +over his forehead; he leaned against the wall like a man about to +faint. Then his tongue was loosed, and he overwhelmed the girl +with torrents of abuse. Such fire, such directness, such a choice +of ungentlemanly language, none had ever before suspected Morris +to possess; and the girl trembled and shrank before his fury. + +'You shall not speak to Miss Hazeltine in that way,' said Gideon +sternly. 'It is what I will not suffer.' + +'I shall speak to the girl as I like,' returned Morris, with a +fresh outburst of anger. 'I'll speak to the hussy as she +deserves.' + +'Not a word more, sir, not one word,' cried Gideon. 'Miss +Hazeltine,' he continued, addressing the young girl, 'you cannot +stay a moment longer in the same house with this unmanly fellow. +Here is my arm; let me take you where you will be secure from +insult.' + +'Mr Forsyth,' returned Julia, 'you are right; I cannot stay here +longer, and I am sure I trust myself to an honourable gentleman.' + +Pale and resolute, Gideon offered her his arm, and the pair +descended the steps, followed by Morris clamouring for the +latchkey. + +Julia had scarcely handed the key to Morris before an empty +hansom drove smartly into John Street. It was hailed by both men, +and as the cabman drew up his restive horse, Morris made a dash +into the vehicle. + +'Sixpence above fare,' he cried recklessly. 'Waterloo Station for +your life. Sixpence for yourself!' + +'Make it a shilling, guv'ner,' said the man, with a grin; 'the +other parties were first.' + +'A shilling then,' cried Morris, with the inward reflection that +he would reconsider it at Waterloo. The man whipped up his horse, +and the hansom vanished from John Street. + + + +CHAPTER VI. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the First + +As the hansom span through the streets of London, Morris sought +to rally the forces of his mind. The water-butt with the dead +body had miscarried, and it was essential to recover it. So much +was clear; and if, by some blest good fortune, it was still at +the station, all might be well. If it had been sent out, however, +if it were already in the hands of some wrong person, matters +looked more ominous. People who receive unexplained packages are +usually keen to have them open; the example of Miss Hazeltine +(whom he cursed again) was there to remind him of the +circumstance; and if anyone had opened the water-butt--'O Lord!' +cried Morris at the thought, and carried his hand to his damp +forehead. The private conception of any breach of law is apt to +be inspiriting, for the scheme (while yet inchoate) wears dashing +and attractive colours. Not so in the least that part of the +criminal's later reflections which deal with the police. That +useful corps (as Morris now began to think) had scarce been kept +sufficiently in view when he embarked upon his enterprise. 'I +must play devilish close,' he reflected, and he was aware of an +exquisite thrill of fear in the region of the spine. + +'Main line or loop?' enquired the cabman, through the scuttle. + +'Main line,' replied Morris, and mentally decided that the man +should have his shilling after all. 'It would be madness to +attract attention,' thought he. 'But what this thing will cost +me, first and last, begins to be a nightmare!' + +He passed through the booking-office and wandered disconsolately +on the platform. It was a breathing-space in the day's traffic. +There were few people there, and these for the most part +quiescent on the benches. Morris seemed to attract no remark, +which was a good thing; but, on the other hand, he was making no +progress in his quest. Something must be done, something must be +risked. Every passing instant only added to his dangers. +Summoning all his courage, he stopped a porter, and asked him if +he remembered receiving a barrel by the morning train. He was +anxious to get information, for the barrel belonged to a friend. +'It is a matter of some moment,' he added, 'for it contains +specimens.' + +'I was not here this morning, sir,' responded the porter, +somewhat reluctantly, 'but I'll ask Bill. Do you recollect, Bill, +to have got a barrel from Bournemouth this morning containing +specimens?' + +'I don't know about specimens,' replied Bill; 'but the party as +received the barrel I mean raised a sight of trouble.' + +'What's that?' cried Morris, in the agitation of the moment +pressing a penny into the man's hand. + +'You see, sir, the barrel arrived at one-thirty. No one claimed +it till about three, when a small, sickly--looking gentleman +(probably a curate) came up, and sez he, "Have you got anything +for Pitman?" or "Wili'm Bent Pitman," if I recollect right. "I +don't exactly know," sez I, "but I rather fancy that there barrel +bears that name." The little man went up to the barrel, and +seemed regularly all took aback when he saw the address, and then +he pitched into us for not having brought what he wanted. "I +don't care a damn what you want," sez I to him, "but if you are +Will'm Bent Pitman, there's your barrel."' + +'Well, and did he take it?' cried the breathless Morris. + +'Well, sir,' returned Bill, 'it appears it was a packing-case he +was after. The packing-case came; that's sure enough, because it +was about the biggest packing-case ever I clapped eyes on. And +this Pitman he seemed a good deal cut up, and he had the +superintendent out, and they got hold of the vanman--him as took +the packing-case. Well, sir,' continued Bill, with a smile, 'I +never see a man in such a state. Everybody about that van was +mortal, bar the horses. Some gen'leman (as well as I could make +out) had given the vanman a sov.; and so that was where the +trouble come in, you see.' + +'But what did he say?' gasped Morris. + +'I don't know as he SAID much, sir,' said Bill. 'But he offered +to fight this Pitman for a pot of beer. He had lost his book, +too, and the receipts, and his men were all as mortal as himself. +O, they were all like'--and Bill paused for a simile--'like +lords! The superintendent sacked them on the spot.' + +'O, come, but that's not so bad,' said Morris, with a bursting +sigh. 'He couldn't tell where he took the packing-case, then?' + +'Not he,' said Bill, 'nor yet nothink else.' + +'And what--what did Pitman do?' asked Morris. + +'O, he went off with the barrel in a four-wheeler, very trembling +like,' replied Bill. 'I don't believe he's a gentleman as has +good health.' + +'Well, so the barrel's gone,' said Morris, half to himself. + +'You may depend on that, sir,' returned the porter. 'But you had +better see the superintendent.' + +'Not in the least; it's of no account,' said Morris. 'It only +contained specimens.' And he walked hastily away. + +Ensconced once more in a hansom, he proceeded to reconsider his +position. Suppose (he thought), suppose he should accept defeat +and declare his uncle's death at once? He should lose the +tontine, and with that the last hope of his seven thousand eight +hundred pounds. But on the other hand, since the shilling to the +hansom cabman, he had begun to see that crime was expensive in +its course, and, since the loss of the water-butt, that it was +uncertain in its consequences. Quietly at first, and then with +growing heat, he reviewed the advantages of backing out. It +involved a loss; but (come to think of it) no such great loss +after all; only that of the tontine, which had been always a +toss-up, which at bottom he had never really expected. He +reminded himself of that eagerly; he congratulated himself upon +his constant moderation. He had never really expected the +tontine; he had never even very definitely hoped to recover his +seven thousand eight hundred pounds; he had been hurried into the +whole thing by Michael's obvious dishonesty. Yes, it would +probably be better to draw back from this high-flying venture, +settle back on the leather business-- + +'Great God!' cried Morris, bounding in the hansom like a +Jack-in-a-box. 'I have not only not gained the tontine--I have +lost the leather business!' + +Such was the monstrous fact. He had no power to sign; he could +not draw a cheque for thirty shillings. Until he could produce +legal evidence of his uncle's death, he was a penniless +outcast--and as soon as he produced it he had lost the tontine! +There was no hesitation on the part of Morris; to drop the +tontine like a hot chestnut, to concentrate all his forces on the +leather business and the rest of his small but legitimate +inheritance, was the decision of a single instant. And the next, +the full extent of his calamity was suddenly disclosed to him. +Declare his uncle's death? He couldn't! Since the body was lost +Joseph had (in a legal sense) become immortal. + +There was no created vehicle big enough to contain Morris and his +woes. He paid the hansom off and walked on he knew not whither. + +'I seem to have gone into this business with too much +precipitation,' he reflected, with a deadly sigh. 'I fear it +seems too ramified for a person of my powers of mind.' + +And then a remark of his uncle's flashed into his memory: If you +want to think clearly, put it all down on paper. 'Well, the old +boy knew a thing or two,' said Morris. 'I will try; but I don't +believe the paper was ever made that will clear my mind.' + +He entered a place of public entertainment, ordered bread and +cheese, and writing materials, and sat down before them heavily. +He tried the pen. It was an excellent pen, but what was he to +write? 'I have it,' cried Morris. 'Robinson Crusoe and the double +columns!' He prepared his paper after that classic model, and +began as follows: + +Bad. Good. + +1. 1 have lost my uncle's body. 1. But then Pitman has found it. + +'Stop a bit,' said Morris. 'I am letting the spirit of antithesis +run away with me. Let's start again.' + +Bad. Good. + +1. I have lost my uncle's body. +1. But then I no longer require to bury it. + +2. I have lost the tontine. +2.But I may still save that if Pitman disposes of the body, and +if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. + +3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle's +succession. +3. But not if Pitman gives the body up to the police. + +'O, but in that case I go to gaol; I had forgot that,' thought +Morris. 'Indeed, I don't know that I had better dwell on that +hypothesis at all; it's all very well to talk of facing the +worst; but in a case of this kind a man's first duty is to his +own nerve. Is there any answer to No. 3? Is there any possible +good side to such a beastly bungle? There must be, of course, or +where would be the use of this double-entry business? And--by +George, I have it!' he exclaimed; 'it's exactly the same as the +last!' And he hastily re-wrote the passage: + +Bad. Good. + +3. I have lost the leather business and the rest of my uncle's +succession. +3. But not if I can find a physician who will stick at nothing. + + +'This venal doctor seems quite a desideratum,' he reflected. 'I +want him first to give me a certificate that my uncle is dead, so +that I may get the leather business; and then that he's +alive--but here we are again at the incompatible interests!' And +he returned to his tabulation: + +Bad. Good. + +4. I have almost no money. 4. But there is plenty in the bank. + +5. Yes, but I can't get the money in the bank. +5. But--well, that seems unhappily to be the case. + +6. I have left the bill for eight hundred pounds in Uncle +Joseph's pocket. +6. But if Pitman is only a dishonest man, the presence of this +bill may lead him to keep the whole thing dark and throw the body +into the New Cut. + +7. Yes, but if Pitman is dishonest and finds the bill, he will +know who Joseph is, and he may blackmail me. +7. Yes, but if I am right about Uncle Masterman, I can blackmail +Michael. + +8. But I can't blackmail Michael (which is, besides, a very +dangerous thing to do) until I find out. +8. Worse luck! + +9. The leather business will soon want money for current +expenses, and I have none to give. +9. But the leather business is a sinking ship. + +10. Yes, but it's all the ship I have. +10. A fact. + +11. John will soon want money, and I have none to give. +11. + +12. And the venal doctor will want money down. +12. + +13. And if Pitman is dishonest and don't send me to gaol, he will +want a fortune. +13. + +'O, this seems to be a very one-sided business,' exclaimed +Morris. 'There's not so much in this method as I was led to +think.' He crumpled the paper up and threw it down; and then, the +next moment, picked it up again and ran it over. 'It seems it's +on the financial point that my position is weakest,' he +reflected. 'Is there positively no way of raising the wind? In a +vast city like this, and surrounded by all the resources of +civilization, it seems not to be conceived! Let us have no more +precipitation. Is there nothing I can sell? My collection of +signet--' But at the thought of scattering these loved treasures +the blood leaped into Morris's check. 'I would rather die!' he +exclaimed, and, cramming his hat upon his head, strode forth into +the streets. + +'I MUST raise funds,' he thought. 'My uncle being dead, the money +in the bank is mine, or would be mine but for the cursed +injustice that has pursued me ever since I was an orphan in a +commercial academy. I know what any other man would do; any other +man in Christendom would forge; although I don't know why I call +it forging, either, when Joseph's dead, and the funds are my own. +When I think of that, when I think that my uncle is really as +dead as mutton, and that I can't prove it, my gorge rises at the +injustice of the whole affair. I used to feel bitterly about that +seven thousand eight hundred pounds; it seems a trifle now! Dear +me, why, the day before yesterday I was comparatively happy.' + +And Morris stood on the sidewalk and heaved another sobbing sigh. + +'Then there's another thing,' he resumed; 'can I? Am I able? Why +didn't I practise different handwritings while I was young? How a +fellow regrets those lost opportunities when he grows up! But +there's one comfort: it's not morally wrong; I can try it on with +a clear conscience, and even if I was found out, I wouldn't +greatly care--morally, I mean. And then, if I succeed, and if +Pitman is staunch, there's nothing to do but find a venal doctor; +and that ought to be simple enough in a place like London. By all +accounts the town's alive with them. It wouldn't do, of course, +to advertise for a corrupt physician; that would be impolitic. +No, I suppose a fellow has simply to spot along the streets for a +red lamp and herbs in the window, and then you go in +and--and--and put it to him plainly; though it seems a delicate +step.' + +He was near home now, after many devious wanderings, and turned +up John Street. As he thrust his latchkey in the lock, another +mortifying reflection struck him to the heart. + +'Not even this house is mine till I can prove him dead,' he +snarled, and slammed the door behind him so that the windows in +the attic rattled. + +Night had long fallen; long ago the lamps and the shop-fronts had +begun to glitter down the endless streets; the lobby was +pitch--dark; and, as the devil would have it, Morris barked his +shins and sprawled all his length over the pedestal of Hercules. +The pain was sharp; his temper was already thoroughly undermined; +by a last misfortune his hand closed on the hammer as he fell; +and, in a spasm of childish irritation, he turned and struck at +the offending statue. There was a splintering crash. + +'O Lord, what have I done next?' wailed Morris; and he groped his +way to find a candle. 'Yes,' he reflected, as he stood with the +light in his hand and looked upon the mutilated leg, from which +about a pound of muscle was detached. 'Yes, I have destroyed a +genuine antique; I may be in for thousands!' And then there +sprung up in his bosom a sort of angry hope. 'Let me see,' he +thought. 'Julia's got rid of--, there's nothing to connect me +with that beast Forsyth; the men were all drunk, and (what's +better) they've been all discharged. O, come, I think this is +another case of moral courage! I'll deny all knowledge of the +thing.' + +A moment more, and he stood again before the Hercules, his lips +sternly compressed, the coal-axe and the meat-cleaver under his +arm. The next, he had fallen upon the packing-case. This had been +already seriously undermined by the operations of Gideon; a few +well-directed blows, and it already quaked and gaped; yet a few +more, and it fell about Morris in a shower of boards followed by +an avalanche of straw. + +And now the leather-merchant could behold the nature of his task: +and at the first sight his spirit quailed. It was, indeed, no +more ambitious a task for De Lesseps, with all his men and +horses, to attack the hills of Panama, than for a single, slim +young gentleman, with no previous experience of labour in a +quarry, to measure himself against that bloated monster on his +pedestal. And yet the pair were well encountered: on the one +side, bulk--on the other, genuine heroic fire. + +'Down you shall come, you great big, ugly brute!' cried Morris +aloud, with something of that passion which swept the Parisian +mob against the walls of the Bastille. 'Down you shall come, this +night. I'll have none of you in my lobby.' + +The face, from its indecent expression, had particularly animated +the zeal of our iconoclast; and it was against the face that he +began his operations. The great height of the demigod--for he +stood a fathom and half in his stocking-feet--offered a +preliminary obstacle to this attack. But here, in the first +skirmish of the battle, intellect already began to triumph over +matter. By means of a pair of library steps, the injured +householder gained a posture of advantage; and, with great swipes +of the coal-axe, proceeded to decapitate the brute. + +Two hours later, what had been the erect image of a gigantic +coal-porter turned miraculously white, was now no more than a +medley of disjected members; the quadragenarian torso prone +against the pedestal; the lascivious countenance leering down the +kitchen stair; the legs, the arms, the hands, and even the +fingers, scattered broadcast on the lobby floor. Half an hour +more, and all the debris had been laboriously carted to the +kitchen; and Morris, with a gentle sentiment of triumph, looked +round upon the scene of his achievements. Yes, he could deny all +knowledge of it now: the lobby, beyond the fact that it was +partly ruinous, betrayed no trace of the passage of Hercules. But +it was a weary Morris that crept up to bed; his arms and +shoulders ached, the palms of his hands burned from the rough +kisses of the coal-axe, and there was one smarting finger that +stole continually to his mouth. Sleep long delayed to visit the +dilapidated hero, and with the first peep of day it had again +deserted him. + +The morning, as though to accord with his disastrous fortunes, +dawned inclemently. An easterly gale was shouting in the streets; +flaws of rain angrily assailed the windows; and as Morris +dressed, the draught from the fireplace vividly played about his +legs. + +'I think,' he could not help observing bitterly, 'that with all I +have to bear, they might have given me decent weather.' + +There was no bread in the house, for Miss Hazeltine (like all +women left to themselves) had subsisted entirely upon cake. But +some of this was found, and (along with what the poets call a +glass of fair, cold water) made up a semblance of a morning meal, +and then down he sat undauntedly to his delicate task. + +Nothing can be more interesting than the study of signatures, +written (as they are) before meals and after, during indigestion +and intoxication; written when the signer is trembling for the +life of his child or has come from winning the Derby, in his +lawyer's office, or under the bright eyes of his sweetheart. To +the vulgar, these seem never the same; but to the expert, the +bank clerk, or the lithographer, they are constant quantities, +and as recognizable as the North Star to the night-watch on deck. + +To all this Morris was alive. In the theory of that graceful art +in which he was now embarking, our spirited leather-merchant was +beyond all reproach. But, happily for the investor, forgery is an +affair of practice. And as Morris sat surrounded by examples of +his uncle's signature and of his own incompetence, insidious +depression stole upon his spirits. From time to time the wind +wuthered in the chimney at his back; from time to time there +swept over Bloomsbury a squall so dark that he must rise and +light the gas; about him was the chill and the mean disorder of a +house out of commission--the floor bare, the sofa heaped with +books and accounts enveloped in a dirty table-cloth, the pens +rusted, the paper glazed with a thick film of dust; and yet these +were but adminicles of misery, and the true root of his +depression lay round him on the table in the shape of misbegotten +forgeries. + +'It's one of the strangest things I ever heard of,' he +complained. 'It almost seems as if it was a talent that I didn't +possess.' He went once more minutely through his proofs. 'A clerk +would simply gibe at them,' said he. 'Well, there's nothing else +but tracing possible.' + +He waited till a squall had passed and there came a blink of +scowling daylight. Then he went to the window, and in the face of +all John Street traced his uncle's signature. It was a poor thing +at the best. 'But it must do,' said he, as he stood gazing +woefully on his handiwork. 'He's dead, anyway.' And he filled up +the cheque for a couple of hundred and sallied forth for the +Anglo-Patagonian Bank. + +There, at the desk at which he was accustomed to transact +business, and with as much indifference as he could assume, +Morris presented the forged cheque to the big, red-bearded Scots +teller. The teller seemed to view it with surprise; and as he +turned it this way and that, and even scrutinized the signature +with a magnifying-glass, his surprise appeared to warm into +disfavour. Begging to be excused for a moment, he passed away +into the rearmost quarters of the bank; whence, after an +appreciable interval, he returned again in earnest talk with a +superior, an oldish and a baldish, but a very gentlemanly man. + +'Mr Morris Finsbury, I believe,' said the gentlemanly man, fixing +Morris with a pair of double eye-glasses. + +'That is my name,' said Morris, quavering. 'Is there anything +wrong. + +'Well, the fact is, Mr Finsbury, you see we are rather surprised +at receiving this,' said the other, flicking at the cheque. +'There are no effects.' + +'No effects?' cried Morris. 'Why, I know myself there must be +eight-and-twenty hundred pounds, if there's a penny.' + +'Two seven six four, I think,' replied the gentlemanly man; 'but +it was drawn yesterday.' + +'Drawn!' cried Morris. + +'By your uncle himself, sir,' continued the other. 'Not only +that, but we discounted a bill for him for--let me see--how much +was it for, Mr Bell?' + +'Eight hundred, Mr Judkin,' replied the teller. + +'Bent Pitman!' cried Morris, staggering back. + +'I beg your pardon,' said Mr Judkin. + +'It's--it's only an expletive,' said Morris. + +'I hope there's nothing wrong, Mr Finsbury,' said Mr Bell. + +'All I can tell you,' said Morris, with a harsh laugh,' is that +the whole thing's impossible. My uncle is at Bournemouth, unable +to move.' + +'Really!' cried Mr Bell, and he recovered the cheque from Mr +Judkin. 'But this cheque is dated in London, and today,' he +observed. 'How d'ye account for that, sir?' + +'O, that was a mistake,' said Morris, and a deep tide of colour +dyed his face and neck. + +'No doubt, no doubt,' said Mr Judkin, but he looked at his +customer enquiringly. + +'And--and--' resumed Morris, 'even if there were no effects--this +is a very trifling sum to overdraw--our firm--the name of +Finsbury, is surely good enough for such a wretched sum as this.' + +'No doubt, Mr Finsbury,' returned Mr Judkin; 'and if you insist I +will take it into consideration; but I hardly think--in short, Mr +Finsbury, if there had been nothing else, the signature seems +hardly all that we could wish.' + +'That's of no consequence,' replied Morris nervously. 'I'll get +my uncle to sign another. The fact is,' he went on, with a bold +stroke, 'my uncle is so far from well at present that he was +unable to sign this cheque without assistance, and I fear that my +holding the pen for him may have made the difference in the +signature.' + +Mr Judkin shot a keen glance into Morris's face; and then turned +and looked at Mr Bell. + +'Well,' he said, 'it seems as if we had been victimized by a +swindler. Pray tell Mr Finsbury we shall put detectives on at +once. As for this cheque of yours, I regret that, owing to the +way it was signed, the bank can hardly consider it--what shall I +say?--businesslike,' and he returned the cheque across the +counter. + +Morris took it up mechanically; he was thinking of something very +different. + +'In a--case of this kind,' he began, 'I believe the loss falls on +us; I mean upon my uncle and myself.' + +'It does not, sir,' replied Mr Bell; 'the bank is responsible, +and the bank will either recover the money or refund it, you may +depend on that.' + +Morris's face fell; then it was visited by another gleam of hope. + +'I'll tell you what,' he said, 'you leave this entirely in my +hands. I'll sift the matter. I've an idea, at any rate; and +detectives,' he added appealingly, 'are so expensive.' + +'The bank would not hear of it,' returned Mr Judkin. 'The bank +stands to lose between three and four thousand pounds; it will +spend as much more if necessary. An undiscovered forger is a +permanent danger. We shall clear it up to the bottom, Mr +Finsbury; set your mind at rest on that.' + +'Then I'll stand the loss,' said Morris boldly. 'I order you to +abandon the search.' He was determined that no enquiry should be +made. + +'I beg your pardon,' returned Mr Judkin, 'but we have nothing to +do with you in this matter, which is one between your uncle and +ourselves. If he should take this opinion, and will either come +here himself or let me see him in his sick-room--' + +'Quite impossible,' cried Morris. + +'Well, then, you see,' said Mr Judkin, 'how my hands are tied. +The whole affair must go at once into the hands of the police.' + +Morris mechanically folded the cheque and restored it to his +pocket--book. + +'Good--morning,' said he, and scrambled somehow out of the bank. + +'I don't know what they suspect,' he reflected; 'I can't make +them out, their whole behaviour is thoroughly unbusinesslike. But +it doesn't matter; all's up with everything. The money has been +paid; the police are on the scent; in two hours that idiot Pitman +will be nabbed--and the whole story of the dead body in the +evening papers.' + +If he could have heard what passed in the bank after his +departure he would have been less alarmed, perhaps more +mortified. + +'That was a curious affair, Mr Bell,' said Mr Judkin. + +'Yes, sir,' said Mr Bell, 'but I think we have given him a +fright.' + +'O, we shall hear no more of Mr Morris Finsbury,' returned the +other; 'it was a first attempt, and the house have dealt with us +so long that I was anxious to deal gently. But I suppose, Mr +Bell, there can be no mistake about yesterday? It was old Mr +Finsbury himself?' + +'There could be no possible doubt of that,' said Mr Bell with a +chuckle. 'He explained to me the principles of banking.' + +'Well, well,' said Mr Judkin. 'The next time he calls ask him to +step into my room. It is only proper he should be warned.' + + + +CHAPTER VII. In Which William Dent Pitman takes Legal Advice + +Norfolk Street, King's Road--jocularly known among Mr Pitman's +lodgers as 'Norfolk Island'--is neither a long, a handsome, nor a +pleasing thoroughfare. Dirty, undersized maids-of-all-work issue +from it in pursuit of beer, or linger on its sidewalk listening +to the voice of love. The cat's-meat man passes twice a day. An +occasional organ-grinder wanders in and wanders out again, +disgusted. In holiday-time the street is the arena of the young +bloods of the neighbourhood, and the householders have an +opportunity of studying the manly art of self-defence. And yet +Norfolk Street has one claim to be respectable, for it contains +not a single shop--unless you count the public-house at the +corner, which is really in the King's Road. + +The door of No. 7 bore a brass plate inscribed with the legend +'W. D. Pitman, Artist'. It was not a particularly clean brass +plate, nor was No. 7 itself a particularly inviting place of +residence. And yet it had a character of its own, such as may +well quicken the pulse of the reader's curiosity. For here was +the home of an artist--and a distinguished artist too, highly +distinguished by his ill-success--which had never been made the +subject of an article in the illustrated magazines. No +wood-engraver had ever reproduced 'a corner in the back +drawing-room' or 'the studio mantelpiece' of No. 7; no young lady +author had ever commented on 'the unaffected simplicity' with +which Mr Pitman received her in the midst of his 'treasures'. It +is an omission I would gladly supply, but our business is only +with the backward parts and 'abject rear' of this aesthetic +dwelling. + +Here was a garden, boasting a dwarf fountain (that never played) +in the centre, a few grimy-looking flowers in pots, two or three +newly planted trees which the spring of Chelsea visited without +noticeable consequence, and two or three statues after the +antique, representing satyrs and nymphs in the worst possible +style of sculptured art. On one side the garden was overshadowed +by a pair of crazy studios, usually hired out to the more obscure +and youthful practitioners of British art. Opposite these another +lofty out-building, somewhat more carefully finished, and +boasting of a communication with the house and a private door on +the back lane, enshrined the multifarious industry of Mr Pitman. +All day, it is true, he was engaged in the work of education at a +seminary for young ladies; but the evenings at least were his +own, and these he would prolong far into the night, now dashing +off 'A landscape with waterfall' in oil, now a volunteer bust +('in marble', as he would gently but proudly observe) of some +public character, now stooping his chisel to a mere 'nymph' for a +gasbracket on a stair, sir'), or a life-size 'Infant Samuel' for +a religious nursery. Mr Pitman had studied in Paris, and he had +studied in Rome, supplied with funds by a fond parent who went +subsequently bankrupt in consequence of a fall in corsets; and +though he was never thought to have the smallest modicum of +talent, it was at one time supposed that he had learned his +business. Eighteen years of what is called 'tuition' had relieved +him of the dangerous knowledge. His artist lodgers would +sometimes reason with him; they would point out to him how +impossible it was to paint by gaslight, or to sculpture +life-sized nymphs without a model. + +'I know that,' he would reply. 'No one in Norfolk Street knows it +better; and if I were rich I should certainly employ the best +models in London; but, being poor, I have taught myself to do +without them. An occasional model would only disturb my ideal +conception of the figure, and be a positive impediment in my +career. As for painting by an artificial light,' he would +continue, 'that is simply a knack I have found it necessary to +acquire, my days being engrossed in the work of tuition.' + +At the moment when we must present him to our readers, Pitman was +in his studio alone, by the dying light of the October day. He +sat (sure enough with 'unaffected simplicity') in a Windsor +chair, his low-crowned black felt hat by his side; a dark, weak, +harmless, pathetic little man, clad in the hue of mourning, his +coat longer than is usual with the laity, his neck enclosed in a +collar without a parting, his neckcloth pale in hue and simply +tied; the whole outward man, except for a pointed beard, +tentatively clerical. There was a thinning on the top of Pitman's +head, there were silver hairs at Pitman's temple. Poor gentleman, +he was no longer young; and years, and poverty, and humble +ambition thwarted, make a cheerless lot. + +In front of him, in the corner by the door, there stood a portly +barrel; and let him turn them where he might, it was always to +the barrel that his eyes and his thoughts returned. + +'Should I open it? Should I return it? Should I communicate with +Mr Sernitopolis at once?' he wondered. 'No,' he concluded +finally, 'nothing without Mr Finsbury's advice.' And he arose and +produced a shabby leathern desk. It opened without the formality +of unlocking, and displayed the thick cream-coloured notepaper on +which Mr Pitman was in the habit of communicating with the +proprietors of schools and the parents of his pupils. He placed +the desk on the table by the window, and taking a saucer of +Indian ink from the chimney-piece, laboriously composed the +following letter: + +'My dear Mr Finsbury,' it ran, 'would it be presuming on your +kindness if I asked you to pay me a visit here this evening? It +is in no trifling matter that I invoke your valuable assistance, +for need I say more than it concerns the welfare of Mr +Semitopolis's statue of Hercules? I write you in great agitation +of mind; for I have made all enquiries, and greatly fear that +this work of ancient art has been mislaid. I labour besides under +another perplexity, not unconnected with the first. Pray excuse +the inelegance of this scrawl, and believe me yours in haste, +William D. Pitman.' + +Armed with this he set forth and rang the bell of No. 233 King's +Road, the private residence of Michael Finsbury. He had met the +lawyer at a time of great public excitement in Chelsea; Michael, +who had a sense of humour and a great deal of careless kindness +in his nature, followed the acquaintance up, and, having come to +laugh, remained to drop into a contemptuous kind of friendship. +By this time, which was four years after the first meeting, +Pitman was the lawyer's dog. + +'No,' said the elderly housekeeper, who opened the door in +person, 'Mr Michael's not in yet. But ye're looking terribly +poorly, Mr Pitman. Take a glass of sherry, sir, to cheer ye up.' + +'No, I thank you, ma'am,' replied the artist. 'It is very good in +you, but I scarcely feel in sufficient spirits for sherry. Just +give Mr Finsbury this note, and ask him to look round--to the +door in the lane, you will please tell him; I shall be in the +studio all evening.' + +And he turned again into the street and walked slowly homeward. A +hairdresser's window caught his attention, and he stared long and +earnestly at the proud, high--born, waxen lady in evening dress, +who circulated in the centre of the show. The artist woke in him, +in spite of his troubles. + +'It is all very well to run down the men who make these things,' +he cried, 'but there's a something--there's a haughty, +indefinable something about that figure. It's what I tried for in +my "Empress Eugenie",' he added, with a sigh. + +And he went home reflecting on the quality. 'They don't teach you +that direct appeal in Paris,' he thought. 'It's British. Come, I +am going to sleep, I must wake up, I must aim higher--aim +higher,' cried the little artist to himself. All through his tea +and afterward, as he was giving his eldest boy a lesson on the +fiddle, his mind dwelt no longer on his troubles, but he was rapt +into the better land; and no sooner was he at liberty than he +hastened with positive exhilaration to his studio. + +Not even the sight of the barrel could entirely cast him down. He +flung himself with rising zest into his work--a bust of Mr +Gladstone from a photograph; turned (with extraordinary success) +the difficulty of the back of the head, for which he had no +documents beyond a hazy recollection of a public meeting; +delighted himself by his treatment of the collar; and was only +recalled to the cares of life by Michael Finsbury's rattle at the +door. + +'Well, what's wrong?' said Michael, advancing to the grate, +where, knowing his friend's delight in a bright fire, Mr Pitman +had not spared the fuel. 'I suppose you have come to grief +somehow.' + +'There is no expression strong enough,' said the artist. 'Mr +Semitopolis's statue has not turned up, and I am afraid I shall +be answerable for the money; but I think nothing of that--what I +fear, my dear Mr Finsbury, what I fear--alas that I should have +to say it! is exposure. The Hercules was to be smuggled out of +Italy; a thing positively wrong, a thing of which a man of my +principles and in my responsible position should have taken (as I +now see too late) no part whatever.' + +'This sounds like very serious work,' said the lawyer. 'It will +require a great deal of drink, Pitman.' + +'I took the liberty of--in short, of being prepared for you,' +replied the artist, pointing to a kettle, a bottle of gin, a +lemon, and glasses. Michael mixed himself a grog, and offered the +artist a cigar. + +'No, thank you,' said Pitman. 'I used occasionally to be rather +partial to it, but the smell is so disagreeable about the +clothes.' + +'All right,' said the lawyer. 'I am comfortable now. Unfold your +tale.' + +At some length Pitman set forth his sorrows. He had gone today to +Waterloo, expecting to receive the colossal Hercules, and he had +received instead a barrel not big enough to hold Discobolus; yet +the barrel was addressed in the hand (with which he was perfectly +acquainted) of his Roman correspondent. What was stranger still, +a case had arrived by the same train, large enough and heavy +enough to contain the Hercules; and this case had been taken to +an address now undiscoverable. 'The vanman (I regret to say it) +had been drinking, and his language was such as I could never +bring myself to repeat. + +He was at once discharged by the superintendent of the line, who +behaved most properly throughout, and is to make enquiries at +Southampton. In the meanwhile, what was I to do? I left my +address and brought the barrel home; but, remembering an old +adage, I determined not to open it except in the presence of my +lawyer.' + +'Is that all?' asked Michael. 'I don't see any cause to worry. +The Hercules has stuck upon the road. It will drop in tomorrow or +the day after; and as for the barrel, depend upon it, it's a +testimonial from one of your young ladies, and probably contains +oysters.' + +'O, don't speak so loud!' cried the little artist. 'It would cost +me my place if I were heard to speak lightly of the young ladies; +and besides, why oysters from Italy? and why should they come to +me addressed in Signor Ricardi's hand?' + +'Well, let's have a look at it,' said Michael. 'Let's roll it +forward to the light.' + +The two men rolled the barrel from the corner, and stood it on +end before the fire. + +'It's heavy enough to be oysters,' remarked Michael judiciously. + +'Shall we open it at once?' enquired the artist, who had grown +decidedly cheerful under the combined effects of company and gin; +and without waiting for a reply, he began to strip as if for a +prize-fight, tossed his clerical collar in the wastepaper basket, +hung his clerical coat upon a nail, and with a chisel in one hand +and a hammer in the other, struck the first blow of the evening. + +'That's the style, William Dent' cried Michael. 'There's fire +for--your money! It may be a romantic visit from one of the young +ladies--a sort of Cleopatra business. Have a care and don't stave +in Cleopatra's head.' + +But the sight of Pitman's alacrity was infectious. The lawyer +could sit still no longer. Tossing his cigar into the fire, he +snatched the instrument from the unwilling hands of the artist, +and fell to himself. Soon the sweat stood in beads upon his +large, fair brow; his stylish trousers were defaced with iron +rust, and the state of his chisel testified to misdirected +energies. + +A cask is not an easy thing to open, even when you set about it +in the right way; when you set about it wrongly, the whole +structure must be resolved into its elements. Such was the course +pursued alike by the artist and the lawyer. Presently the last +hoop had been removed--a couple of smart blows tumbled the staves +upon the ground--and what had once been a barrel was no more than +a confused heap of broken and distorted boards. + +In the midst of these, a certain dismal something, swathed in +blankets, remained for an instant upright, and then toppled to +one side and heavily collapsed before the fire. Even as the thing +subsided, an eye-glass tingled to the floor and rolled toward the +screaming Pitman. + +'Hold your tongue!' said Michael. He dashed to the house door and +locked it; then, with a pale face and bitten lip, he drew near, +pulled aside a corner of the swathing blanket, and recoiled, +shuddering. There was a long silence in the studio. + +'Now tell me,' said Michael, in a low voice: 'Had you any hand in +it?' and he pointed to the body. + +The little artist could only utter broken and disjointed sounds. + +Michael poured some gin into a glass. 'Drink that,' he said. +'Don't be afraid of me. I'm your friend through thick and thin.' + +Pitman put the liquor down untasted. + +'I swear before God,' he said, 'this is another mystery to me. In +my worst fears I never dreamed of such a thing. I would not lay a +finger on a sucking infant.' + +'That's all square,' said Michael, with a sigh of huge relief. 'I +believe you, old boy.' And he shook the artist warmly by the +hand. 'I thought for a moment,' he added with rather a ghastly +smile, 'I thought for a moment you might have made away with Mr +Semitopolis.' + +'It would make no difference if I had,' groaned Pitman. 'All is +at an end for me. There's the writing on the wall.' + +'To begin with,' said Michael, 'let's get him out of sight; for +to be quite plain with you, Pitman, I don't like your friend's +appearance.' And with that the lawyer shuddered. 'Where can we +put it?' + +'You might put it in the closet there--if you could bear to touch +it,' answered the artist. + +'Somebody has to do it, Pitman,' returned the lawyer; 'and it +seems as if it had to be me. You go over to the table, turn your +back, and mix me a grog; that's a fair division of labour.' + +About ninety seconds later the closet-door was heard to shut. + +'There,' observed Michael, 'that's more homelike. You can turn +now, my pallid Pitman. Is this the grog?' he ran on. 'Heaven +forgive you, it's a lemonade.' + +'But, O, Finsbury, what are we to do with it?' walled the artist, +laying a clutching hand upon the lawyer's arm. + +'Do with it?' repeated Michael. 'Bury it in one of your +flowerbeds, and erect one of your own statues for a monument. I +tell you we should look devilish romantic shovelling out the sod +by the moon's pale ray. Here, put some gin in this.' + +'I beg of you, Mr Finsbury, do not trifle with my misery,' cried +Pitman. 'You see before you a man who has been all his life--I do +not hesitate to say it--imminently respectable. Even in this +solemn hour I can lay my hand upon my heart without a blush. +Except on the really trifling point of the smuggling of the +Hercules (and even of that I now humbly repent), my life has been +entirely fit for publication. I never feared the light,' cried +the little man; 'and now--now--!' + +'Cheer up, old boy,' said Michael. 'I assure you we should count +this little contretemps a trifle at the office; it's the sort of +thing that may occur to any one; and if you're perfectly sure you +had no hand in it--' + +'What language am I to find--' began Pitman. + +'O, I'll do that part of it,' interrupted Michael, 'you have no +experience.' But the point is this: If--or rather since--you know +nothing of the crime, since the--the party in the closet--is +neither your father, nor your brother, nor your creditor, nor +your mother-in-law, nor what they call an injured husband--' + +'O, my dear sir!' interjected Pitman, horrified. + +'Since, in short,' continued the lawyer, 'you had no possible +interest in the crime, we have a perfectly free field before us +and a safe game to play. Indeed, the problem is really +entertaining; it is one I have long contemplated in the light of +an A. B. case; here it is at last under my hand in specie; and I +mean to pull you through. Do you hear that?--I mean to pull you +through. Let me see: it's a long time since I have had what I +call a genuine holiday; I'll send an excuse tomorrow to the +office. We had best be lively,' he added significantly; 'for we +must not spoil the market for the other man.' + +'What do you mean?' enquired Pitman. 'What other man? The +inspector of police?' + +'Damn the inspector of police!' remarked his companion. 'If you +won't take the short cut and bury this in your back garden, we +must find some one who will bury it in his. We must place the +affair, in short, in the hands of some one with fewer scruples +and more resources.' + +'A private detective, perhaps?' suggested Pitman. + +'There are times when you fill me with pity,' observed the +lawyer. 'By the way, Pitman,' he added in another key, 'I have +always regretted that you have no piano in this den of yours. +Even if you don't play yourself, your friends might like to +entertain themselves with a little music while you were mudding.' + +'I shall get one at once if you like,' said Pitman nervously, +anxious to please. 'I play the fiddle a little as it is.' + +'I know you do,' said Michael; 'but what's the fiddle--above all +as you play it? What you want is polyphonic music. And I'll tell +you what it is--since it's too late for you to buy a piano I'll +give you mine.' + +'Thank you,' said the artist blankly. 'You will give me yours? I +am sure it's very good in you.' + +'Yes, I'll give you mine,' continued Michael, 'for the inspector +of police to play on while his men are digging up your back +garden.' Pitman stared at him in pained amazement. + +'No, I'm not insane,' Michael went on. 'I'm playful, but quite +coherent. See here, Pitman: follow me one half minute. I mean to +profit by the refreshing fact that we are really and truly +innocent; nothing but the presence of the--you know +what--connects us with the crime; once let us get rid of it, no +matter how, and there is no possible clue to trace us by. Well, I +give you my piano; we'll bring it round this very night. Tomorrow +we rip the fittings out, deposit the--our friend--inside, plump +the whole on a cart, and carry it to the chambers of a young +gentleman whom I know by sight.' + +'Whom do you know by sight?' repeated Pitman. + +'And what is more to the purpose,' continued Michael, 'whose +chambers I know better than he does himself. A friend of mine--I +call him my friend for brevity; he is now, I understand, in +Demerara and (most likely) in gaol--was the previous occupant. I +defended him, and I got him off too--all saved but honour; his +assets were nil, but he gave me what he had, poor gentleman, and +along with the rest--the key of his chambers. It's there that I +propose to leave the piano and, shall we say, Cleopatra?' + +'It seems very wild,' said Pitman. 'And what will become of the +poor young gentleman whom you know by sight?' + +'It will do him good,'--said Michael cheerily. 'Just what he +wants to steady him.' + +'But, my dear sit, he might be involved in a charge of--a charge +of murder,' gulped the artist. + +'Well, he'll be just where we are,' returned the lawyer. 'He's +innocent, you see. What hangs people, my dear Pitman, is the +unfortunate circumstance of guilt.' + +'But indeed, indeed,' pleaded Pitman, 'the whole scheme appears +to me so wild. Would it not be safer, after all, just to send for +the police?' + +'And make a scandal?' enquired Michael. '"The Chelsea Mystery; +alleged innocence of Pitman"? How would that do at the Seminary?' + +'It would imply my discharge,' admitted the drawing--master. 'I +cannot deny that.' + +'And besides,' said Michael, 'I am not going to embark in such a +business and have no fun for my money.' + +'O my dear sir, is that a proper spirit?' cried Pitman. + +'O, I only said that to cheer you up,' said the unabashed +Michael. 'Nothing like a little judicious levity. But it's quite +needless to discuss. If you mean to follow my advice, come on, +and let us get the piano at once. If you don't, just drop me the +word, and I'll leave you to deal with the, whole thing according +to your better judgement.' + +'You know perfectly well that I depend on you entirely,' returned +Pitman. 'But O, what a night is before me with that--horror in my +studio! How am I to think of it on my pillow?' + +'Well, you know, my piano will be there too,' said Michael. +'That'll raise the average.' + +An hour later a cart came up the lane, and the lawyer's piano--a +momentous Broadwood grand--was deposited in Mr Pitman's studio. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. In Which Michael Finsbury Enjoys a Holiday + +Punctually at eight o'clock next morning the lawyer rattled +(according to previous appointment) on the studio door. He found +the artist sadly altered for the worse--bleached, bloodshot, and +chalky--a man upon wires, the tail of his haggard eye still +wandering to the closet. Nor was the professor of drawing less +inclined to wonder at his friend. Michael was usually attired in +the height of fashion, with a certain mercantile brilliancy best +described perhaps as stylish; nor could anything be said against +him, as a rule, but that he looked a trifle too like a wedding +guest to be quite a gentleman. Today he had fallen altogether +from these heights. He wore a flannel shirt of washed-out +shepherd's tartan, and a suit of reddish tweeds, of the colour +known to tailors as 'heather mixture'; his neckcloth was black, +and tied loosely in a sailor's knot; a rusty ulster partly +concealed these advantages; and his feet were shod with rough +walking boots. His hat was an old soft felt, which he removed +with a flourish as he entered. + +'Here I am, William Dent!' he cried, and drawing from his pocket +two little wisps of reddish hair, he held them to his cheeks like +sidewhiskers and danced about the studio with the filmy graces of +a ballet-girl. + +Pitman laughed sadly. 'I should never have known you,' said he. + +'Nor were you intended to,' returned Michael, replacing his false +whiskers in his pocket. 'Now we must overhaul you and your +wardrobe, and disguise you up to the nines.' + +'Disguise!' cried the artist. 'Must I indeed disguise myself. Has +it come to that?' + +'My dear creature,' returned his companion, 'disguise is the +spice of life. What is life, passionately exclaimed a French +philosopher, without the pleasures of disguise? I don't say it's +always good taste, and I know it's unprofessional; but what's the +odds, downhearted drawing-master? It has to be. We have to leave +a false impression on the minds of many persons, and in +particular on the mind of Mr Gideon Forsyth--the young gentleman +I know by sight--if he should have the bad taste to be at home.' + +'If he be at home?' faltered the artist. 'That would be the end +of all.' + +'Won't matter a d--,' returned Michael airily. 'Let me see your +clothes, and I'll make a new man of you in a jiffy.' + +In the bedroom, to which he was at once conducted, Michael +examined Pitman's poor and scanty wardrobe with a humorous eye, +picked out a short jacket of black alpaca, and presently added to +that a pair of summer trousers which somehow took his fancy as +incongruous. Then, with the garments in his hand, he scrutinized +the artist closely. + +'I don't like that clerical collar,' he remarked. 'Have you +nothing else?' + +The professor of drawing pondered for a moment, and then +brightened; 'I have a pair of low-necked shirts,' he said, 'that +I used to wear in Paris as a student. They are rather loud.' + +'The very thing!' ejaculated Michael. 'You'll look perfectly +beastly. Here are spats, too,' he continued, drawing forth a pair +of those offensive little gaiters. 'Must have spats! And now you +jump into these, and whistle a tune at the window for (say) +three-quarters of an hour. After that you can rejoin me on the +field of glory.' + +So saying, Michael returned to the studio. It was the morning of +the easterly gale; the wind blew shrilly among the statues in the +garden, and drove the rain upon the skylight in the studio +ceiling; and at about the same moment of the time when Morris +attacked the hundredth version of his uncle's signature in +Bloomsbury, Michael, in Chelsea, began to rip the wires out of +the Broadwood grand. + +Three-quarters of an hour later Pitman was admitted, to find the +closet-door standing open, the closet untenanted, and the piano +discreetly shut. + +'It's a remarkably heavy instrument,' observed Michael, and +turned to consider his friend's disguise. 'You must shave off +that beard of yours,' he said. + +'My beard!' cried Pitman. 'I cannot shave my beard. I cannot +tamper with my appearance--my principals would object. They hold +very strong views as to the appearance of the professors--young +ladies are considered so romantic. My beard was regarded as quite +a feature when I went about the place. It was regarded,' said the +artist, with rising colour, 'it was regarded as unbecoming.' + +'You can let it grow again,' returned Michael, 'and then you'll +be so precious ugly that they'll raise your salary.' + +'But I don't want to be ugly,' cried the artist. + +'Don't be an ass,' said Michael, who hated beards and was +delighted to destroy one. 'Off with it like a man!' + +'Of course, if you insist,' said Pitman; and then he sighed, +fetched some hot water from the kitchen, and setting a glass upon +his easel, first clipped his beard with scissors and then shaved +his chin. He could not conceal from himself, as he regarded the +result, that his last claims to manhood had been sacrificed, but +Michael seemed delighted. + +'A new man, I declare!' he cried. 'When I give you the +windowglass spectacles I have in my pocket, you'll be the +beau-ideal of a French commercial traveller.' + +Pitman did not reply, but continued to gaze disconsolately on his +image in the glass. + +'Do you know,' asked Michael, 'what the Governor of South +Carolina said to the Governor of North Carolina? "It's a long +time between drinks," observed that powerful thinker; and if you +will put your hand into the top left-hand pocket of my ulster, I +have an impression you will find a flask of brandy. Thank you, +Pitman,' he added, as he filled out a glass for each. 'Now you +will give me news of this.' + +The artist reached out his hand for the water-jug, but Michael +arrested the movement. + +'Not if you went upon your knees!' he cried. 'This is the finest +liqueur brandy in Great Britain.' + +Pitman put his lips to it, set it down again, and sighed. + +'Well, I must say you're the poorest companion for a holiday!' +cried Michael. 'If that's all you know of brandy, you shall have +no more of it; and while I finish the flask, you may as well +begin business. Come to think of it,' he broke off, 'I have made +an abominable error: you should have ordered the cart before you +were disguised. Why, Pitman, what the devil's the use of you? why +couldn't you have reminded me of that?' + +'I never even knew there was a cart to be ordered,' said the +artist. 'But I can take off the disguise again,' he suggested +eagerly. + +'You would find it rather a bother to put on your beard,' +observed the lawyer. 'No, it's a false step; the sort of thing +that hangs people,' he continued, with eminent cheerfulness, as +he sipped his brandy; 'and it can't be retraced now. Off to the +mews with you, make all the arrangements; they're to take the +piano from here, cart it to Victoria, and dispatch it thence by +rail to Cannon Street, to lie till called for in the name of +Fortune du Boisgobey.' + +'Isn't that rather an awkward name?' pleaded Pitman. + +'Awkward?' cried Michael scornfully. 'It would hang us both! +Brown is both safer and easier to pronounce. Call it Brown.' + +'I wish,' said Pitman, 'for my sake, I wish you wouldn't talk so +much of hanging.' + +'Talking about it's nothing, my boy!' returned Michael. 'But take +your hat and be off, and mind and pay everything beforehand.' + +Left to himself, the lawyer turned his attention for some time +exclusively to the liqueur brandy, and his spirits, which had +been pretty fair all morning, now prodigiously rose. He proceeded +to adjust his whiskers finally before the glass. 'Devilish rich,' +he remarked, as he contemplated his reflection. 'I look like a +purser's mate.' And at that moment the window-glass spectacles +(which he had hitherto destined for Pitman) flashed into his +mind; he put them on, and fell in love with the effect. 'Just +what I required,' he said. 'I wonder what I look like now? A +humorous novelist, I should think,' and he began to practise +divers characters of walk, naming them to himself as--he +proceeded. 'Walk of a humorous novelist--but that would require +an umbrella. Walk of a purser's mate. Walk of an Australian +colonist revisiting the scenes of childhood. Walk of Sepoy +colonel, ditto, ditto. And in the midst of the Sepoy colonel +(which was an excellent assumption, although inconsistent with +the style of his make-up), his eye lighted on the piano. This +instrument was made to lock both at the top and at the keyboard, +but the key of the latter had been mislaid. Michael opened it and +ran his fingers over the dumb keys. 'Fine instrument--full, rich +tone,' he observed, and he drew in a seat. + +When Mr Pitman returned to the studio, he was appalled to observe +his guide, philosopher, and friend performing miracles of +execution on the silent grand. + +'Heaven help me!' thought the little man, 'I fear he has been +drinking! Mr Finsbury,' he said aloud; and Michael, without +rising, turned upon him a countenance somewhat flushed, encircled +with the bush of the red whiskers, and bestridden by the +spectacles. 'Capriccio in B-flat on the departure of a friend,' +said he, continuing his noiseless evolutions. + +Indignation awoke in the mind of Pitman. 'Those spectacles were +to be mine,' he cried. 'They are an essential part of my +disguise.' + +'I am going to wear them myself,' replied Michael; and he added, +with some show of truth, 'There would be a devil of a lot of +suspicion aroused if we both wore spectacles.' + +'O, well,' said the assenting Pitman, 'I rather counted on them; +but of course, if you insist. And at any rate, here is the cart +at the door.' + +While the men were at work, Michael concealed himself in the +closet among the debris of the barrel and the wires of the piano; +and as soon as the coast was clear the pair sallied forth by the +lane, jumped into a hansom in the King's Road, and were driven +rapidly toward town. It was still cold and raw and boisterous; +the rain beat strongly in their faces, but Michael refused to +have the glass let down; he had now suddenly donned the character +of cicerone, and pointed out and lucidly commented on the sights +of London, as they drove. 'My dear fellow,' he said, 'you don't +seem to know anything of your native city. Suppose we visited the +Tower? No? Well, perhaps it's a trifle out of our way. But, +anyway--Here, cabby, drive round by Trafalgar Square!' And on +that historic battlefield he insisted on drawing up, while he +criticized the statues and gave the artist many curious details +(quite new to history) of the lives of the celebrated men they +represented. + +It would be difficult to express what Pitman suffered in the cab: +cold, wet, terror in the capital degree, a grounded distrust of +the commander under whom he served, a sense of imprudency in the +matter of the low-necked shirt, a bitter sense of the decline and +fall involved in the deprivation of his beard, all these were +among the ingredients of the bowl. To reach the restaurant, for +which they were deviously steering, was the first relief. To hear +Michael bespeak a private room was a second and a still greater. +Nor, as they mounted the stair under the guidance of an +unintelligible alien, did he fail to note with gratitude the +fewness of the persons present, or the still more cheering fact +that the greater part of these were exiles from the land of +France. It was thus a blessed thought that none of them would be +connected with the Seminary; for even the French professor, +though admittedly a Papist, he could scarce imagine frequenting +so rakish an establishment. + +The alien introduced them into a small bare room with a single +table, a sofa, and a dwarfish fire; and Michael called promptly +for more coals and a couple of brandies and sodas. + +'O, no,' said Pitman, 'surely not--no more to drink.' + +'I don't know what you would be at,' said Michael plaintively. +'It's positively necessary to do something; and one shouldn't +smoke before meals I thought that was understood. You seem to +have no idea of hygiene.' And he compared his watch with the +clock upon the chimney-piece. + +Pitman fell into bitter musing; here he was, ridiculously shorn, +absurdly disguised, in the company of a drunken man in +spectacles, and waiting for a champagne luncheon in a restaurant +painfully foreign. What would his principals think, if they could +see him? What if they knew his tragic and deceitful errand? + +From these reflections he was aroused by the entrance of the +alien with the brandies and sodas. Michael took one and bade the +waiter pass the other to his friend. + +Pitman waved it from him with his hand. 'Don't let me lose all +self-respect,' he said. + +'Anything to oblige a friend,' returned Michael. 'But I'm not +going to drink alone. Here,' he added to the waiter, 'you take +it.' And, then, touching glasses, 'The health of Mr Gideon +Forsyth,' said he. + +'Meestare Gidden Borsye,' replied the waiter, and he tossed off +the liquor in four gulps. + +'Have another?' said Michael, with undisguised interest. 'I never +saw a man drink faster. It restores one's confidence in the human +race. + +But the waiter excused himself politely, and, assisted by some +one from without, began to bring in lunch. + +Michael made an excellent meal, which he washed down with a +bottle of Heidsieck's dry monopole. As for the artist, he was far +too uneasy to eat, and his companion flatly refused to let him +share in the champagne unless he did. + +'One of us must stay sober,' remarked the lawyer, 'and I won't +give you champagne on the strength of a leg of grouse. I have to +be cautious,' he added confidentially. 'One drunken man, +excellent business--two drunken men, all my eye.' + +On the production of coffee and departure of the waiter, Michael +might have been observed to make portentous efforts after gravity +of mien. He looked his friend in the face (one eye perhaps a +trifle off), and addressed him thickly but severely. + +'Enough of this fooling,' was his not inappropriate exordium. 'To +business. Mark me closely. I am an Australian. My name is John +Dickson, though you mightn't think it from my unassuming +appearance. You will be relieved to hear that I am rich, sir, +very rich. You can't go into this sort of thing too thoroughly, +Pitman; the whole secret is preparation, and I can get up my +biography from the beginning, and I could tell it you now, only I +have forgotten it.' + +'Perhaps I'm stupid--' began Pitman. + +'That's it!' cried Michael. 'Very stupid; but rich too--richer +than I am. I thought you would enjoy it, Pitman, so I've arranged +that you were to be literally wallowing in wealth. But then, on +the other hand, you're only an American, and a maker of +india-rubber overshoes at that. And the worst of it is--why +should I conceal it from you?--the worst of it is that you're +called Ezra Thomas. Now,' said Michael, with a really appalling +seriousness of manner, 'tell me who we are.' + +The unfortunate little man was cross-examined till he knew these +facts by heart. + +'There!' cried the lawyer. 'Our plans are laid. Thoroughly +consistent--that's the great thing.' + +'But I don't understand,' objected Pitman. + +'O, you'll understand right enough when it comes to the point,' +said Michael, rising. + +'There doesn't seem any story to it,' said the artist. + +'We can invent one as we go along,' returned the lawyer. + +'But I can't invent,' protested Pitman. 'I never could invent in +all my life.' + +'You'll find you'll have to, my boy,' was Michael's easy comment, +and he began calling for the waiter, with whom he at once resumed +a sparkling conversation. + +It was a downcast little man that followed him. 'Of course he is +very clever, but can I trust him in such a state?' he asked +himself. And when they were once more in a hansom, he took heart +of grace. + +'Don't you think,' he faltered, 'it would be wiser, considering +all things, to put this business off?' + +'Put off till tomorrow what can be done today?' cried Michael, +with indignation. 'Never heard of such a thing! Cheer up, it's +all right, go in and win--there's a lion-hearted Pitman!' + +At Cannon Street they enquired for Mr Brown's piano, which had +duly arrived, drove thence to a neighbouring mews, where they +contracted for a cart, and while that was being got ready, took +shelter in the harness-room beside the stove. Here the lawyer +presently toppled against the wall and fell into a gentle +slumber; so that Pitman found himself launched on his own +resources in the midst of several staring loafers, such as love +to spend unprofitable days about a stable. 'Rough day, sir,' +observed one. 'Do you go far?' + +'Yes, it's a--rather a rough day,' said the artist; and then, +feeling that he must change the conversation, 'My friend is an +Australian; he is very impulsive,' he added. + +'An Australian?' said another. 'I've a brother myself in +Melbourne. Does your friend come from that way at all?' + +'No, not exactly,' replied the artist, whose ideas of the +geography of New Holland were a little scattered. 'He lives +immensely far inland, and is very rich.' + +The loafers gazed with great respect upon the slumbering +colonist. + +'Well,' remarked the second speaker, 'it's a mighty big place, is +Australia. Do you come from thereaway too?' + +'No, I do not,' said Pitman. 'I do not, and I don't want to,' he +added irritably. And then, feeling some diversion needful, he +fell upon Michael and shook him up. + +'Hullo,' said the lawyer, 'what's wrong?' + +'The cart is nearly ready,' said Pitman sternly. 'I will not +allow you to sleep.' + +'All right--no offence, old man,' replied Michael, yawning. 'A +little sleep never did anybody any harm; I feel comparatively +sober now. But what's all the hurry?' he added, looking round him +glassily. 'I don't see the cart, and I've forgotten where we left +the piano.' + +What more the lawyer might have said, in the confidence of the +moment, is with Pitman a matter of tremulous conjecture to this +day; but by the most blessed circumstance the cart was then +announced, and Michael must bend the forces of his mind to the +more difficult task of rising. + +'Of course you'll drive,' he remarked to his companion, as he +clambered on the vehicle. + +'I drive!' cried Pitman. 'I never did such a thing in my life. I +cannot drive.' + +'Very well,' responded Michael with entire composure, 'neither +can I see. But just as you like. Anything to oblige a friend.' + +A glimpse of the ostler's darkening countenance decided Pitman. +'All right,' he said desperately, 'you drive. I'll tell you where +to go.' + +On Michael in the character of charioteer (since this is not +intended to be a novel of adventure) it would be superfluous to +dwell at length. Pitman, as he sat holding on and gasping +counsels, sole witness of this singular feat, knew not whether +most to admire the driver's valour or his undeserved good +fortune. But the latter at least prevailed, the cart reached +Cannon Street without disaster; and Mr Brown's piano was speedily +and cleverly got on board. + +'Well, sir,' said the leading porter, smiling as he mentally +reckoned up a handful of loose silver, 'that's a mortal heavy +piano.' + +'It's the richness of the tone,' returned Michael, as he drove +away. + +It was but a little distance in the rain, which now fell thick +and quiet, to the neighbourhood of Mr Gideon Forsyth's chambers +in the Temple. There, in a deserted by-street, Michael drew up +the horses and gave them in charge to a blighted shoe-black; and +the pair descending from the cart, whereon they had figured so +incongruously, set forth on foot for the decisive scene of their +adventure. For the first time Michael displayed a shadow of +uneasiness. + +'Are my whiskers right?' he asked. 'It would be the devil and all +if I was spotted.' + +'They are perfectly in their place,' returned Pitman, with scant +attention. 'But is my disguise equally effective? There is +nothing more likely than that I should meet some of my patrons.' + +'O, nobody could tell you without your beard,' said Michael. 'All +you have to do is to remember to speak slow; you speak through +your nose already.' + +'I only hope the young man won't be at home,' sighed Pitman. + +'And I only hope he'll be alone,' returned the lawyer. 'It will +save a precious sight of manoeuvring.' + +And sure enough, when they had knocked at the door, Gideon +admitted them in person to a room, warmed by a moderate fire, +framed nearly to the roof in works connected with the bench of +British Themis, and offering, except in one particular, eloquent +testimony to the legal zeal of the proprietor. The one particular +was the chimney-piece, which displayed a varied assortment of +pipes, tobacco, cigar-boxes, and yellow-backed French novels. + +'Mr Forsyth, I believe?' It was Michael who thus opened the +engagement. 'We have come to trouble you with a piece of +business. I fear it's scarcely professional--' + +'I am afraid I ought to be instructed through a solicitor,' +replied Gideon. + +'Well, well, you shall name your own, and the whole affair can be +put on a more regular footing tomorrow,' replied Michael, taking +a chair and motioning Pitman to do the same. 'But you see we +didn't know any solicitors; we did happen to know of you, and +time presses.' + +'May I enquire, gentlemen,' asked Gideon, 'to whom it was I am +indebted for a recommendation?' + +'You may enquire,' returned the lawyer, with a foolish laugh; +'but I was invited not to tell you--till the thing was done.' + +'My uncle, no doubt,' was the barrister's conclusion. + +'My name is John Dickson,' continued Michael; 'a pretty +well-known name in Ballarat; and my friend here is Mr Ezra +Thomas, of the United States of America, a wealthy manufacturer +of india-rubber overshoes.' + +'Stop one moment till I make a note of that,' said Gideon; any +one might have supposed he was an old practitioner. + +'Perhaps you wouldn't mind my smoking a cigar?' asked Michael. He +had pulled himself together for the entrance; now again there +began to settle on his mind clouds of irresponsible humour and +incipient slumber; and he hoped (as so many have hoped in the +like case) that a cigar would clear him. + +'Oh, certainly,' cried Gideon blandly. 'Try one of mine; I can +confidently recommend them.' And he handed the box to his client. + +'In case I don't make myself perfectly clear,' observed the +Australian, 'it's perhaps best to tell you candidly that I've +been lunching. It's a thing that may happen to any one.' + +'O, certainly,' replied the affable barrister. 'But please be +under no sense of hurry. I can give you,' he added, thoughtfully +consulting his watch--'yes, I can give you the whole afternoon.' + +'The business that brings me here,' resumed the Australian with +gusto, 'is devilish delicate, I can tell you. My friend Mr +Thomas, being an American of Portuguese extraction, unacquainted +with our habits, and a wealthy manufacturer of Broadwood +pianos--' + +'Broadwood pianos?' cried Gideon, with some surprise. 'Dear me, +do I understand Mr Thomas to be a member of the firm?' + +'O, pirated Broadwoods,' returned Michael. 'My friend's the +American Broadwood.' + +'But I understood you to say,' objected Gideon, 'I certainly have +it so in my notes--that your friend was a manufacturer of +india--rubber overshoes.' + +'I know it's confusing at first,' said the Australian, with a +beaming smile. 'But he--in short, he combines the two +professions. And many others besides--many, many, many others,' +repeated Mr Dickson, with drunken solemnity. 'Mr Thomas's +cotton-mills are one of the sights of Tallahassee; Mr Thomas's +tobacco-mills are the pride of Richmond, Va.; in short, he's one +of my oldest friends, Mr Forsyth, and I lay his case before you +with emotion.' + +The barrister looked at Mr Thomas and was agreeably prepossessed +by his open although nervous countenance, and the simplicity and +timidity of his manner. 'What a people are these Americans!' he +thought. 'Look at this nervous, weedy, simple little bird in a +lownecked shirt, and think of him wielding and directing +interests so extended and seemingly incongruous! 'But had we not +better,' he observed aloud, 'had we not perhaps better approach +the facts?' + +'Man of business, I perceive, sir!' said the Australian. 'Let's +approach the facts. It's a breach of promise case.' + +The unhappy artist was so unprepared for this view of his +position that he could scarce suppress a cry. + +'Dear me,' said Gideon, 'they are apt to be very troublesome. +Tell me everything about it,' he added kindly; 'if you require my +assistance, conceal nothing.' + +'You tell him,' said Michael, feeling, apparently, that he had +done his share. 'My friend will tell you all about it,' he added +to Gideon, with a yawn. 'Excuse my closing my eyes a moment; I've +been sitting up with a sick friend.' + +Pitman gazed blankly about the room; rage and despair seethed in +his innocent spirit; thoughts of flight, thoughts even of +suicide, came and went before him; and still the barrister +patiently waited, and still the artist groped in vain for any +form of words, however insignificant. + +'It's a breach of promise case,' he said at last, in a low voice. +'I--I am threatened with a breach of promise case.' Here, in +desperate quest of inspiration, he made a clutch at his beard; +his fingers closed upon the unfamiliar smoothness of a shaven +chin; and with that, hope and courage (if such expressions could +ever have been appropriate in the case of Pitman) conjointly +fled. He shook Michael roughly. 'Wake up!' he cried, with genuine +irritation in his tones. 'I cannot do it, and you know I can't.' + +'You must excuse my friend,' said Michael; 'he's no hand as a +narrator of stirring incident. The case is simple,' he went on. +'My friend is a man of very strong passions, and accustomed to a +simple, patriarchal style of life. You see the thing from here: +unfortunate visit to Europe, followed by unfortunate acquaintance +with sham foreign count, who has a lovely daughter. Mr Thomas was +quite carried away; he proposed, he was accepted, and he +wrote--wrote in a style which I am sure he must regret today. If +these letters are produced in court, sir, Mr Thomas's character +is gone.' + +'Am I to understand--' began Gideon. + +'My dear sir,' said the Australian emphatically, 'it isn't +possible to understand unless you saw them.' + +'That is a painful circumstance,' said Gideon; he glanced +pityingly in the direction of the culprit, and, observing on his +countenance every mark of confusion, pityingly withdrew his eyes. + +'And that would be nothing,' continued Mr Dickson sternly, 'but I +wish--I wish from my heart, sir, I could say that Mr Thomas's +hands were clean. He has no excuse; for he was engaged at the +time--and is still engaged--to the belle of Constantinople, Ga. +My friend's conduct was unworthy of the brutes that perish.' + +'Ga.?' repeated Gideon enquiringly. + +'A contraction in current use,' said Michael. 'Ga. for Georgia, +in The same way as Co. for Company.' + +'I was aware it was sometimes so written,' returned the +barrister, 'but not that it was so pronounced.' + +'Fact, I assure you,' said Michael. 'You now see for yourself, +sir, that if this unhappy person is to be saved, some devilish +sharp practice will be needed. There's money, and no desire to +spare it. Mr Thomas could write a cheque tomorrow for a hundred +thousand. And, Mr Forsyth, there's better than money. The foreign +count--Count Tarnow, he calls himself--was formerly a tobacconist +in Bayswater, and passed under the humble but expressive name of +Schmidt; his daughter--if she is his daughter--there's another +point--make a note of that, Mr Forsyth--his daughter at that time +actually served in the shop--and she now proposes to marry a man +of the eminence of Mr Thomas! Now do you see our game? We know +they contemplate a move; and we wish to forestall 'em. Down you +go to Hampton Court, where they live, and threaten, or bribe, or +both, until you get the letters; if you can't, God help us, we +must go to court and Thomas must be exposed. I'll be done with +him for one,' added the unchivalrous friend. + +'There seem some elements of success,' said Gideon. 'Was Schmidt +at all known to the police?' + +'We hope so,' said Michael. 'We have every ground to think so. +Mark the neighbourhood--Bayswater! Doesn't Bayswater occur to you +as very suggestive?' + +For perhaps the sixth time during this remarkable interview, +Gideon wondered if he were not becoming light-headed. 'I suppose +it's just because he has been lunching,' he thought; and then +added aloud, 'To what figure may I go?' + +'Perhaps five thousand would be enough for today,' said Michael. +'And now, sir, do not let me detain you any longer; the afternoon +wears on; there are plenty of trains to Hampton Court; and I +needn't try to describe to you the impatience of my friend. Here +is a five-pound note for current expenses; and here is the +address.' And Michael began to write, paused, tore up the paper, +and put the pieces in his pocket. 'I will dictate,' he said, 'my +writing is so uncertain.' + +Gideon took down the address, 'Count Tarnow, Kurnaul Villa, +Hampton Court.' Then he wrote something else on a sheet of paper. +'You said you had not chosen a solicitor,' he said. 'For a case +of this sort, here is the best man in London.' And he handed the +paper to Michael. + +'God bless me!' ejaculated Michael, as he read his own address. + +'O, I daresay you have seen his name connected with some rather +painful cases,' said Gideon. 'But he is himself a perfectly +honest man, and his capacity is recognized. And now, gentlemen, +it only remains for me to ask where I shall communicate with +you.' + +'The Langham, of course,' returned Michael. 'Till tonight.' + +'Till tonight,' replied Gideon, smiling. 'I suppose I may knock +you up at a late hour?' + +'Any hour, any hour,' cried the vanishing solicitor. + +'Now there's a young fellow with a head upon his shoulders,' he +said to Pitman, as soon as they were in the street. + +Pitman was indistinctly heard to murmur, 'Perfect fool.' + +'Not a bit of him,' returned Michael. 'He knows who's the best +solicitor in London, and it's not every man can say the same. +But, I say, didn't I pitch it in hot?' + +Pitman returned no answer. + +'Hullo!' said the lawyer, pausing, 'what's wrong with the +long-suffering Pitman?' + +'You had no right to speak of me as you did,' the artist broke +out; 'your language was perfectly unjustifiable; you have wounded +me deeply.' + +'I never said a word about you,' replied Michael. 'I spoke of +Ezra Thomas; and do please remember that there's no such party.' + +'It's just as hard to bear,' said the artist. + +But by this time they had reached the corner of the by-street; +and there was the faithful shoeblack, standing by the horses' +heads with a splendid assumption of dignity; and there was the +piano, figuring forlorn upon the cart, while the rain beat upon +its unprotected sides and trickled down its elegantly varnished +legs. + +The shoeblack was again put in requisition to bring five or six +strong fellows from the neighbouring public-house; and the last +battle of the campaign opened. It is probable that Mr Gideon +Forsyth had not yet taken his seat in the train for Hampton +Court, before Michael opened the door of the chambers, and the +grunting porters deposited the Broadwood grand in the middle of +the floor. + +'And now,' said the lawyer, after he had sent the men about their +business, 'one more precaution. We must leave him the key of the +piano, and we must contrive that he shall find it. Let me see.' +And he built a square tower of cigars upon the top of the +instrument, and dropped the key into the middle. + +'Poor young man,' said the artist, as they descended the stairs. + +'He is in a devil of a position,' assented Michael drily. 'It'll +brace him up.' + +'And that reminds me,' observed the excellent Pitman, 'that I +fear I displayed a most ungrateful temper. I had no right, I see, +to resent expressions, wounding as they were, which were in no +sense directed.' + +'That's all right,' cried Michael, getting on the cart. 'Not a +word more, Pitman. Very proper feeling on your part; no man of +self-respect can stand by and hear his alias insulted.' + +The rain had now ceased, Michael was fairly sober, the body had +been disposed of, and the friends were reconciled. The return to +the mews was therefore (in comparison with previous stages of the +day's adventures) quite a holiday outing; and when they had +returned the cart and walked forth again from the stable-yard, +unchallenged, and even unsuspected, Pitman drew a deep breath of +joy. 'And now,' he said, 'we can go home.' + +'Pitman,' said the lawyer, stopping short, 'your recklessness +fills me with concern. What! we have been wet through the greater +part of the day, and you propose, in cold blood, to go home! No, +sir--hot Scotch.' + +And taking his friend's arm he led him sternly towards the +nearest public-house. Nor was Pitman (I regret to say) wholly +unwilling. Now that peace was restored and the body gone, a +certain innocent skittishness began to appear in the manners of +the artist; and when he touched his steaming glass to Michael's, +he giggled aloud like a venturesome schoolgirl at a picnic. + + + +CHAPTER IX. Glorious Conclusion of Michael Finsbury's Holiday + +I know Michael Finsbury personally; my business--I know the +awkwardness of having such a man for a lawyer--still it's an old +story now, and there is such a thing as gratitude, and, in short, +my legal business, although now (I am thankful to say) of quite a +placid character, remains entirely in Michael's hands. But the +trouble is I have no natural talent for addresses; I learn one +for every man--that is friendship's offering; and the friend who +subsequently changes his residence is dead to me, memory refusing +to pursue him. Thus it comes about that, as I always write to +Michael at his office, I cannot swear to his number in the King's +Road. Of course (like my neighbours), I have been to dinner +there. Of late years, since his accession to wealth, neglect of +business, and election to the club, these little festivals have +become common. He picks up a few fellows in the smoking-room--all +men of Attic wit--myself, for instance, if he has the luck to +find me disengaged; a string of hansoms may be observed (by Her +Majesty) bowling gaily through St James's Park; and in a quarter +of an hour the party surrounds one of the best appointed boards +in London. + +But at the time of which we write the house in the King's Road +(let us still continue to call it No. 233) was kept very quiet; +when Michael entertained guests it was at the halls of Nichol or +Verrey that he would convene them, and the door of his private +residence remained closed against his friends. The upper storey, +which was sunny, was set apart for his father; the drawing-room +was never opened; the dining-room was the scene of Michael's +life. It is in this pleasant apartment, sheltered from the +curiosity of King's Road by wire blinds, and entirely surrounded +by the lawyer's unrivalled library of poetry and criminal trials, +that we find him sitting down to his dinner after his holiday +with Pitman. A spare old lady, with very bright eyes and a mouth +humorously compressed, waited upon the lawyer's needs; in every +line of her countenance she betrayed the fact that she was an old +retainer; in every word that fell from her lips she flaunted the +glorious circumstance of a Scottish origin; and the fear with +which this powerful combination fills the boldest was obviously +no stranger to the bosom of our friend. The hot Scotch having +somewhat warmed up the embers of the Heidsieck, It was touching +to observe the master's eagerness to pull himself together under +the servant's eye; and when he remarked, 'I think, Teena, I'll +take a brandy and soda,' he spoke like a man doubtful of his +elocution, and not half certain of obedience. + +'No such a thing, Mr Michael,' was the prompt return. 'Clar't and +water.' + +'Well, well, Teena, I daresay you know best,' said the master. +'Very fatiguing day at the office, though.' + +'What?' said the retainer, 'ye never were near the office!' + +'O yes, I was though; I was repeatedly along Fleet Street,' +returned Michael. + +'Pretty pliskies ye've been at this day!' cried the old lady, +with humorous alacrity; and then, 'Take care--don't break my +crystal!' she cried, as the lawyer came within an ace of knocking +the glasses off the table. + +'And how is he keeping?' asked Michael. + +'O, just the same, Mr Michael, just the way he'll be till the +end, worthy man!' was the reply. 'But ye'll not be the first +that's asked me that the day.' + +'No?' said the lawyer. 'Who else?' + +'Ay, that's a joke, too,' said Teena grimly. 'A friend of yours: +Mr Morris.' + +'Morris! What was the little beggar wanting here?' enquired +Michael. + +'Wantin'? To see him,' replied the housekeeper, completing her +meaning by a movement of the thumb toward the upper storey. +'That's by his way of it; but I've an idee of my own. He tried to +bribe me, Mr Michael. Bribe--me!' she repeated, with inimitable +scorn. 'That's no' kind of a young gentleman.' + +'Did he so?' said Michael. 'I bet he didn't offer much.' + +'No more he did,' replied Teena; nor could any subsequent +questioning elicit from her the sum with which the thrifty +leather merchant had attempted to corrupt her. 'But I sent him +about his business,' she said gallantly. 'He'll not come here +again in a hurry.' + +'He mustn't see my father, you know; mind that!' said Michael. +'I'm not going to have any public exhibition to a little beast +like him.' + +'No fear of me lettin' him,' replied the trusty one. 'But the +joke is this, Mr Michael--see, ye're upsettin' the sauce, that's +a clean tablecloth-- the best of the joke is that he thinks your +father's dead and you're keepin' it dark.' + +Michael whistled. 'Set a thief to catch a thief,' said he. + +'Exac'ly what I told him!' cried the delighted dame. + +'I'll make him dance for that,' said Michael. + +'Couldn't ye get the law of him some way?' suggested Teena +truculently. + +'No, I don't think I could, and I'm quite sure I don't want to,' +replied Michael. 'But I say, Teena, I really don't believe this +claret's wholesome; it's not a sound, reliable wine. Give us a +brandy and soda, there's a good soul.' Teena's face became like +adamant. 'Well, then,' said the lawyer fretfully, 'I won't eat +any more dinner.' + +'Ye can please yourself about that, Mr Michael,' said Teena, and +began composedly to take away. + +'I do wish Teena wasn't a faithful servant!' sighed the lawyer, +as he issued into Kings's Road. + +The rain had ceased; the wind still blew, but only with a +pleasant freshness; the town, in the clear darkness of the night, +glittered with street-lamps and shone with glancing rain-pools. +'Come, this is better,' thought the lawyer to himself, and he +walked on eastward, lending a pleased ear to the wheels and the +million footfalls of the city. + +Near the end of the King's Road he remembered his brandy and +soda, and entered a flaunting public-house. A good many persons +were present, a waterman from a cab-stand, half a dozen of the +chronically unemployed, a gentleman (in one corner) trying to +sell aesthetic photographs out of a leather case to another and +very youthful gentleman with a yellow goatee, and a pair of +lovers debating some fine shade (in the other). But the +centre-piece and great attraction was a little old man, in a +black, ready-made surtout, which was obviously a recent purchase. +On the marble table in front of him, beside a sandwich and a +glass of beer, there lay a battered forage cap. His hand +fluttered abroad with oratorical gestures; his voice, naturally +shrill, was plainly tuned to the pitch of the lecture room; and +by arts, comparable to those of the Ancient Mariner, he was now +holding spellbound the barmaid, the waterman, and four of the +unemployed. + +'I have examined all the theatres in London,' he was saying; 'and +pacing the principal entrances, I have ascertained them to be +ridiculously disproportionate to the requirements of their +audiences. The doors opened the wrong way--I forget at this +moment which it is, but have a note of it at home; they were +frequently locked during the performance, and when the auditorium +was literally thronged with English people. You have probably not +had my opportunities of comparing distant lands; but I can assure +you this has been long ago recognized as a mark of aristocratic +government. Do you suppose, in a country really self-governed, +such abuses could exist? Your own intelligence, however +uncultivated, tells you they could not. Take Austria, a country +even possibly more enslaved than England. I have myself conversed +with one of the survivors of the Ring Theatre, and though his +colloquial German was not very good, I succeeded in gathering a +pretty clear idea of his opinion of the case. But, what will +perhaps interest you still more, here is a cutting on the subject +from a Vienna newspaper, which I will now read to you, +translating as I go. You can see for yourselves; it is printed in +the German character.' And he held the cutting out for +verification, much as a conjuror passes a trick orange along the +front bench. + +'Hullo, old gentleman! Is this you?' said Michael, laying his +hand upon the orator's shoulder. + +The figure turned with a convulsion of alarm, and showed the +countenance of Mr Joseph Finsbury. 'You, Michael!' he cried. +'There's no one with you, is there?' + +'No,' replied Michael, ordering a brandy and soda, 'there's +nobody with me; whom do you expect?' + +'I thought of Morris or John,' said the old gentleman, evidently +greatly relieved. + +'What the devil would I be doing with Morris or John?' cried the +nephew. + +'There is something in that,' returned Joseph. 'And I believe I +can trust you. I believe you will stand by me.' + +'I hardly know what you mean,' said the lawyer, 'but if you are +in need of money I am flush.' + +'It's not that, my dear boy,' said the uncle, shaking him by the +hand. 'I'll tell you all about it afterwards.' + +'All right,' responded the nephew. 'I stand treat, Uncle Joseph; +what will you have?' + +'In that case,' replied the old gentleman, 'I'll take another +sandwich. I daresay I surprise you,' he went on, 'with my +presence in a public-house; but the fact is, I act on a sound but +little-known principle of my own--' + +'O, it's better known than you suppose,' said Michael sipping his +brandy and soda. 'I always act on it myself when I want a drink.' + +The old gentleman, who was anxious to propitiate Michael, laughed +a cheerless laugh. 'You have such a flow of spirits,' said he, 'I +am sure I often find it quite amusing. But regarding this +principle of which I was about to speak. It is that of +accommodating one's-self to the manners of any land (however +humble) in which our lot may be cast. Now, in France, for +instance, every one goes to a cafe for his meals; in America, to +what is called a "two-bit house"; in England the people resort to +such an institution as the present for refreshment. With +sandwiches, tea, and an occasional glass of bitter beer, a man +can live luxuriously in London for fourteen pounds twelve +shillings per annum.' + +'Yes, I know,' returned Michael, 'but that's not including +clothes, washing, or boots. The whole thing, with cigars and +occasional sprees, costs me over seven hundred a year.' + +But this was Michael's last interruption. He listened in +good-humoured silence to the remainder of his uncle's lecture, +which speedily branched to political reform, thence to the theory +of the weather-glass, with an illustrative account of a bora in +the Adriatic; thence again to the best manner of teaching +arithmetic to the deaf-and-dumb; and with that, the sandwich +being then no more, explicuit valde feliciter. A moment later the +pair issued forth on the King's Road. + +'Michael, I said his uncle, 'the reason that I am here is because +I cannot endure those nephews of mine. I find them intolerable.' + +'I daresay you do,' assented Michael, 'I never could stand them +for a moment.' + +'They wouldn't let me speak,' continued the old gentleman +bitterly; 'I never was allowed to get a word in edgewise; I was +shut up at once with some impertinent remark. They kept me on +short allowance of pencils, when I wished to make notes of the +most absorbing interest; the daily newspaper was guarded from me +like a young baby from a gorilla. Now, you know me, Michael. I +live for my calculations; I live for my manifold and +ever-changing views of life; pens and paper and the productions +of the popular press are to me as important as food and drink; +and my life was growing quite intolerable when, in the confusion +of that fortunate railway accident at Browndean, I made my +escape. They must think me dead, and are trying to deceive the +world for the chance of the tontine.' + +'By the way, how do you stand for money?' asked Michael kindly. + +'Pecuniarily speaking, I am rich,' returned the old man with +cheerfulness. 'I am living at present at the rate of one hundred +a year, with unlimited pens and paper; the British Museum at +which to get books; and all the newspapers I choose to read. But +it's extraordinary how little a man of intellectual interest +requires to bother with books in a progressive age. The +newspapers supply all the conclusions.' + +'I'll tell you what,' said Michael, 'come and stay with me.' + +'Michael,' said the old gentleman, 'it's very kind of you, but +you scarcely understand what a peculiar position I occupy. There +are some little financial complications; as a guardian, my +efforts were not altogether blessed; and not to put too fine a +point upon the matter, I am absolutely in the power of that vile +fellow, Morris.' + +'You should be disguised,' cried Michael eagerly; 'I will lend +you a pair of window-glass spectacles and some red +side-whiskers.' + +'I had already canvassed that idea,' replied the old gentleman, +'but feared to awaken remark in my unpretentious lodgings. The +aristocracy, I am well aware--' + +'But see here,' interrupted Michael, 'how do you come to have any +money at all? Don't make a stranger of me, Uncle Joseph; I know +all about the trust, and the hash you made of it, and the +assignment you were forced to make to Morris.' + +Joseph narrated his dealings with the bank. + +'O, but I say, this won't do,' cried the lawyer. 'You've put your +foot in it. You had no right to do what you did.' + +'The whole thing is mine, Michael,' protested the old gentleman. +'I founded and nursed that business on principles entirely of my +own.' + +'That's all very fine,' said the lawyer; 'but you made an +assignment, you were forced to make it, too; even then your +position was extremely shaky; but now, my dear sir, it means the +dock.' + +'It isn't possible,' cried Joseph; 'the law cannot be so unjust +as that?' + +'And the cream of the thing,' interrupted Michael, with a sudden +shout of laughter, 'the cream of the thing is this, that of +course you've downed the leather business! I must say, Uncle +Joseph, you have strange ideas of law, but I like your taste in +humour.' + +'I see nothing to laugh at,' observed Mr Finsbury tartly. + +'And talking of that, has Morris any power to sign for the firm?' +asked Michael. + +'No one but myself,' replied Joseph. + +'Poor devil of a Morris! O, poor devil of a Morris!' cried the +lawyer in delight. 'And his keeping up the farce that you're at +home! O, Morris, the Lord has delivered you into my hands! Let me +see, Uncle Joseph, what do you suppose the leather business +worth?' + +'It was worth a hundred thousand,' said Joseph bitterly, 'when it +was in my hands. But then there came a Scotsman--it is supposed +he had a certain talent--it was entirely directed to +bookkeeping--no accountant in London could understand a word of +any of his books; and then there was Morris, who is perfectly +incompetent. And now it is worth very little. Morris tried to +sell it last year; and Pogram and Jarris offered only four +thousand.' + +'I shall turn my attention to leather,' said Michael with +decision. + +'You?' asked Joseph. 'I advise you not. There is nothing in the +whole field of commerce more surprising than the fluctuations of +the leather market. Its sensitiveness may be described as +morbid.' + +'And now, Uncle Joseph, what have you done with all that money?" +asked the lawyer. + +'Paid it into a bank and drew twenty pounds,' answered Mr +Finsbury promptly. 'Why?' + +'Very well,' said Michael. 'Tomorrow I shall send down a clerk +with a cheque for a hundred, and he'll draw out the original sum +and return it to the Anglo-Patagonian, with some sort of +explanation which I will try to invent for you. That will clear +your feet, and as Morris can't touch a penny of it without +forgery, it will do no harm to my little scheme.' + +'But what am I to do?' asked Joseph; 'I cannot live upon +nothing.' + +'Don't you hear?' returned Michael. 'I send you a cheque for a +hundred; which leaves you eighty to go along upon; and when +that's done, apply to me again.' + +'I would rather not be beholden to your bounty all the same,' +said Joseph, biting at his white moustache. 'I would rather live +on my own money, since I have it.' + +Michael grasped his arm. 'Will nothing make you believe,' he +cried, 'that I am trying to save you from Dartmoor?' + +His earnestness staggered the old man. 'I must turn my attention +to law,' he said; 'it will be a new field; for though, of course, +I understand its general principles, I have never really applied +my mind to the details, and this view of yours, for example, +comes on me entirely by surprise. But you may be right, and of +course at my time of life--for I am no longer young--any really +long term of imprisonment would be highly prejudicial. But, my +dear nephew, I have no claim on you; you have no call to support +me.' + +'That's all right,' said Michael; 'I'll probably get it out of +the leather business.' + +And having taken down the old gentleman's address, Michael left +him at the corner of a street. + +'What a wonderful old muddler!' he reflected, 'and what a +singular thing is life! I seem to be condemned to be the +instrument of Providence. Let me see; what have I done today? +Disposed of a dead body, saved Pitman, saved my Uncle Joseph, +brightened up Forsyth, and drunk a devil of a lot of most +indifferent liquor. Let's top off with a visit to my cousins, and +be the instrument of Providence in earnest. Tomorrow I can turn +my attention to leather; tonight I'll just make it lively for 'em +in a friendly spirit.' + +About a quarter of an hour later, as the clocks were striking +eleven, the instrument of Providence descended from a hansom, +and, bidding the driver wait, rapped at the door of No. 16 John +Street. + +It was promptly opened by Morris. + +'O, it's you, Michael,' he said, carefully blocking up the narrow +opening: 'it's very late.' + +Michael without a word reached forth, grasped Morris warmly by +the hand, and gave it so extreme a squeeze that the sullen +householder fell back. Profiting by this movement, the lawyer +obtained a footing in the lobby and marched into the dining-room, +with Morris at his heels. + +'Where's my Uncle Joseph?' demanded Michael, sitting down in the +most comfortable chair. + +'He's not been very well lately,' replied Morris; 'he's staying +at Browndean; John is nursing him; and I am alone, as you see.' + +Michael smiled to himself. 'I want to see him on particular +business,' he said. + +'You can't expect to see my uncle when you won't let me see your +father,' returned Morris. + +'Fiddlestick,' said Michael. 'My father is my father; but Joseph +is just as much my uncle as he's yours; and you have no right to +sequestrate his person.' + +'I do no such thing,' said Morris doggedly. 'He is not well, he +is dangerously ill and nobody can see him.' + +'I'll tell you what, then,' said Michael. 'I'll make a clean +breast of it. I have come down like the opossum, Morris; I have +come to compromise.' + +Poor Morris turned as pale as death, and then a flush of wrath +against the injustice of man's destiny dyed his very temples. +'What do you mean?' he cried, 'I don't believe a word of it.' And +when Michael had assured him of his seriousness, 'Well, then,' he +cried, with another deep flush, 'I won't; so you can put that in +your pipe and smoke it.' + +'Oho!' said Michael queerly. 'You say your uncle is dangerously +ill, and you won't compromise? There's something very fishy about +that.' + +'What do you mean?' cried Morris hoarsely. + +'I only say it's fishy,' returned Michael, 'that is, pertaining +to the finny tribe.' + +'Do you mean to insinuate anything?' cried Morris stormily, +trying the high hand. + +'Insinuate?' repeated Michael. 'O, don't let's begin to use +awkward expressions! Let us drown our differences in a bottle, +like two affable kinsmen. The Two Affable Kinsmen, sometimes +attributed to Shakespeare,' he added. + +Morris's mind was labouring like a mill. 'Does he suspect? or is +this chance and stuff? Should I soap, or should I bully? Soap,' +he concluded. 'It gains time.' 'Well,' said he aloud, and with +rather a painful affectation of heartiness, 'it's long since we +have had an evening together, Michael; and though my habits (as +you know) are very temperate, I may as well make an exception. +Excuse me one moment till I fetch a bottle of whisky from the +cellar.' + +'No whisky for me,' said Michael; 'a little of the old still +champagne or nothing.' + +For a moment Morris stood irresolute, for the wine was very +valuable: the next he had quitted the room without a word. His +quick mind had perceived his advantage; in thus dunning him for +the cream of the cellar, Michael was playing into his hand. 'One +bottle?' he thought. 'By George, I'll give him two! this is no +moment for economy; and once the beast is drunk, it's strange if +I don't wring his secret out of him.' + +With two bottles, accordingly, he returned. Glasses were +produced, and Morris filled them with hospitable grace. + +'I drink to you, cousin!' he cried gaily. 'Don't spare the +wine-cup in my house.' + +Michael drank his glass deliberately, standing at the table; +filled it again, and returned to his chair, carrying the bottle +along with him. + +'The spoils of war!' he said apologetically. 'The weakest goes to +the wall. Science, Morris, science.' Morris could think of no +reply, and for an appreciable interval silence reigned. But two +glasses of the still champagne produced a rapid change in +Michael. + +'There's a want of vivacity about you, Morris,' he observed. 'You +may be deep; but I'll be hanged if you're vivacious!' + +'What makes you think me deep?' asked Morris with an air of +pleased simplicity. + +'Because you won't compromise,' said the lawyer. 'You're deep +dog, Morris, very deep dog, not t' compromise--remarkable deep +dog. And a very good glass of wine; it's the only respectable +feature in the Finsbury family, this wine; rarer thing than a +title--much rarer. Now a man with glass wine like this in cellar, +I wonder why won't compromise?' + +'Well, YOU wouldn't compromise before, you know,' said the +smiling Morris. 'Turn about is fair play.' + +'I wonder why _I_ wouldn' compromise? I wonder why YOU wouldn'?' +enquired Michael. 'I wonder why we each think the other wouldn'? +'S quite a remarrable--remarkable problem,' he added, triumphing +over oral obstacles, not without obvious pride. 'Wonder what we +each think--don't you?' + +'What do you suppose to have been my reason?' asked Morris +adroitly. + +Michael looked at him and winked. 'That's cool,' said he. 'Next +thing, you'll ask me to help you out of the muddle. I know I'm +emissary of Providence, but not that kind! You get out of it +yourself, like Aesop and the other fellow. Must be dreadful +muddle for young orphan o' forty; leather business and all!' + +'I am sure I don't know what you mean,' said Morris. + +'Not sure I know myself,' said Michael. 'This is exc'lent +vintage, sir--exc'lent vintage. Nothing against the tipple. Only +thing: here's a valuable uncle disappeared. Now, what I want to +know: where's valuable uncle?' + +'I have told you: he is at Browndean,' answered Morris, furtively +wiping his brow, for these repeated hints began to tell upon him +cruelly. + +'Very easy say Brown--Browndee--no' so easy after all!' cried +Michael. 'Easy say; anything's easy say, when you can say it. +What I don' like's total disappearance of an uncle. Not +businesslike.' And he wagged his head. + +'It is all perfectly simple,' returned Morris, with laborious +calm. 'There is no mystery. He stays at Browndean, where he got a +shake in the accident.' + +'Ah!' said Michael, 'got devil of a shake!' + +'Why do you say that?' cried Morris sharply. + +'Best possible authority. Told me so yourself,' said the lawyer. +'But if you tell me contrary now, of course I'm bound to believe +either the one story or the other. Point is I've upset this +bottle, still champagne's exc'lent thing carpet--point is, is +valuable uncle dead--an'--bury?' + +Morris sprang from his seat. 'What's that you say?' he gasped. + +'I say it's exc'lent thing carpet,' replied Michael, rising. +'Exc'lent thing promote healthy action of the skin. Well, it's +all one, anyway. Give my love to Uncle Champagne.' + +'You're not going away?' said Morris. + +'Awf'ly sorry, ole man. Got to sit up sick friend,' said the +wavering Michael. + +'You shall not go till you have explained your hints,' returned +Morris fiercely. 'What do you mean? What brought you here?' + +'No offence, I trust,' said the lawyer, turning round as he +opened the door; 'only doing my duty as shemishery of +Providence.' + +Groping his way to the front-door, he opened it with some +difficulty, and descended the steps to the hansom. The tired +driver looked up as he approached, and asked where he was to go +next. + +Michael observed that Morris had followed him to the steps; a +brilliant inspiration came to him. 'Anything t' give pain,' he +reflected. . . . 'Drive Shcotlan' Yard,' he added aloud, holding +to the wheel to steady himself; 'there's something devilish +fishy, cabby, about those cousins. Mush' be cleared up! Drive +Shcotlan' Yard.' + +'You don't mean that, sir,' said the man, with the ready sympathy +of the lower orders for an intoxicated gentleman. 'I had better +take you home, sir; you can go to Scotland Yard tomorrow.' + +'Is it as friend or as perfessional man you advise me not to go +Shcotlan' Yard t'night?' enquired Michael. 'All righ', never min' +Shcotlan' Yard, drive Gaiety bar.' + +'The Gaiety bar is closed,' said the man. + +'Then home,' said Michael, with the same cheerfulness. + +'Where to, sir?' + +'I don't remember, I'm sure,' said Michael, entering the vehicle, +'drive Shcotlan' Yard and ask.' + +'But you'll have a card,' said the man, through the little +aperture in the top, 'give me your card-case.' + +'What imagi--imagination in a cabby!' cried the lawyer, producing +his card-case, and handing it to the driver. + +The man read it by the light of the lamp. 'Mr Michael Finsbury, +233 King's Road, Chelsea. Is that it, sir?' + +'Right you are,' cried Michael, 'drive there if you can see way.' + + + +CHAPTER X. Gideon Forsyth and the Broadwood Grand + +The reader has perhaps read that remarkable work, Who Put Back +the Clock? by E. H. B., which appeared for several days upon the +railway bookstalls and then vanished entirely from the face of +the earth. Whether eating Time makes the chief of his diet out of +old editions; whether Providence has passed a special enactment +on behalf of authors; or whether these last have taken the law +into their own hand, bound themselves into a dark conspiracy with +a password, which I would die rather than reveal, and night after +night sally forth under some vigorous leader, such as Mr James +Payn or Mr Walter Besant, on their task of secret +spoliation--certain it is, at least, that the old editions pass, +giving place to new. To the proof, it is believed there are now +only three copies extant of Who Put Back the Clock? one in the +British Museum, successfully concealed by a wrong entry in the +catalogue; another in one of the cellars (the cellar where the +music accumulates) of the Advocates' Library at Edinburgh; and a +third, bound in morocco, in the possession of Gideon Forsyth. To +account for the very different fate attending this third +exemplar, the readiest theory is to suppose that Gideon admired +the tale. How to explain that admiration might appear (to those +who have perused the work) more difficult; but the weakness of a +parent is extreme, and Gideon (and not his uncle, whose initials +he had humorously borrowed) was the author of Who Put Back the +Clock? He had never acknowledged it, or only to some intimate +friends while it was still in proof; after its appearance and +alarming failure, the modesty of the novelist had become more +pressing, and the secret was now likely to be better kept than +that of the authorship of Waverley. + +A copy of the work (for the date of my tale is already yesterday) +still figured in dusty solitude in the bookstall at Waterloo; and +Gideon, as he passed with his ticket for Hampton Court, smiled +contemptuously at the creature of his thoughts. What an idle +ambition was the author's! How far beneath him was the practice +of that childish art! With his hand closing on his first brief, +he felt himself a man at last; and the muse who presides over the +police romance, a lady presumably of French extraction, fled his +neighbourhood, and returned to join the dance round the springs +of Helicon, among her Grecian sisters. + +Robust, practical reflection still cheered the young barrister +upon his journey. Again and again he selected the little +country-house in its islet of great oaks, which he was to make +his future home. Like a prudent householder, he projected +improvements as he passed; to one he added a stable, to another a +tennis-court, a third he supplied with a becoming rustic +boat-house. + +'How little a while ago,' he could not but reflect, 'I was a +careless young dog with no thought but to be comfortable! I cared +for nothing but boating and detective novels. I would have passed +an old-fashioned country-house with large kitchen-garden, +stabling, boat-house, and spacious offices, without so much as a +look, and certainly would have made no enquiry as to the drains. +How a man ripens with the years!' + +The intelligent reader will perceive the ravages of Miss +Hazeltine. Gideon had carried Julia straight to Mr Bloomfield's +house; and that gentleman, having been led to understand she was +the victim of oppression, had noisily espoused her cause. He +worked himself into a fine breathing heat; in which, to a man of +his temperament, action became needful. + +'I do not know which is the worse,' he cried, 'the fraudulent old +villain or the unmanly young cub. I will write to the Pall Mall +and expose them. Nonsense, sir; they must be exposed! It's a +public duty. Did you not tell me the fellow was a Tory? O, the +uncle is a Radical lecturer, is he? No doubt the uncle has been +grossly wronged. But of course, as you say, that makes a change; +it becomes scarce so much a public duty.' + +And he sought and instantly found a fresh outlet for his +alacrity. Miss Hazeltine (he now perceived) must be kept out of +the way; his houseboat was lying ready--he had returned but a day +or two before from his usual cruise; there was no place like a +houseboat for concealment; and that very morning, in the teeth of +the easterly gale, Mr and Mrs Bloomfield and Miss Julia Hazeltine +had started forth on their untimely voyage. Gideon pled in vain +to be allowed to join the party. 'No, Gid,' said his uncle. 'You +will be watched; you must keep away from us.' Nor had the +barrister ventured to contest this strange illusion; for he +feared if he rubbed off any of the romance, that Mr Bloomfield +might weary of the whole affair. And his discretion was rewarded; +for the Squirradical, laying a heavy hand upon his nephew's +shoulder, had added these notable expressions: 'I see what you +are after, Gid. But if you're going to get the girl, you have to +work, sir.' + +These pleasing sounds had cheered the barrister all day, as he +sat reading in chambers; they continued to form the ground-base +of his manly musings as he was whirled to Hampton Court; even +when he landed at the station, and began to pull himself together +for his delicate interview, the voice of Uncle Ned and the eyes +of Julia were not forgotten. + +But now it began to rain surprises: in all Hampton Court there +was no Kurnaul Villa, no Count Tarnow, and no count. This was +strange; but, viewed in the light of the incoherency of his +instructions, not perhaps inexplicable; Mr Dickson had been +lunching, and he might have made some fatal oversight in the +address. What was the thoroughly prompt, manly, and businesslike +step? thought Gideon; and he answered himself at once: 'A +telegram, very laconic.' Speedily the wires were flashing the +following very important missive: 'Dickson, Langham Hotel. Villa +and persons both unknown here, suppose erroneous address; follow +self next train.--Forsyth.' And at the Langham Hotel, sure +enough, with a brow expressive of dispatch and intellectual +effort, Gideon descended not long after from a smoking hansom. + +I do not suppose that Gideon will ever forget the Langham Hotel. +No Count Tarnow was one thing; no John Dickson and no Ezra +Thomas, quite another. How, why, and what next, danced in his +bewildered brain; from every centre of what we playfully call the +human intellect incongruous messages were telegraphed; and before +the hubbub of dismay had quite subsided, the barrister found +himself driving furiously for his chambers. There was at least a +cave of refuge; it was at least a place to think in; and he +climbed the stair, put his key in the lock and opened the door, +with some approach to hope. + +It was all dark within, for the night had some time fallen; but +Gideon knew his room, he knew where the matches stood on the end +of the chimney-piece; and he advanced boldly, and in so doing +dashed himself against a heavy body; where (slightly altering the +expressions of the song) no heavy body should have been. There +had been nothing there when Gideon went out; he had locked the +door behind him, he had found it locked on his return, no one +could have entered, the furniture could not have changed its own +position. And yet undeniably there was a something there. He +thrust out his hands in the darkness. Yes, there was something, +something large, something smooth, something cold. + +'Heaven forgive me!' said Gideon, 'it feels like a piano.' + +And the next moment he remembered the vestas in his waistcoat +pocket and had struck a light. + +It was indeed a piano that met his doubtful gaze; a vast and +costly instrument, stained with the rains of the afternoon and +defaced with recent scratches. The light of the vesta was +reflected from the varnished sides, like a staice in quiet water; +and in the farther end of the room the shadow of that strange +visitor loomed bulkily and wavered on the wall. + +Gideon let the match burn to his fingers, and the darkness closed +once more on his bewilderment. Then with trembling hands he lit +the lamp and drew near. Near or far, there was no doubt of the +fact: the thing was a piano. There, where by all the laws of God +and man it was impossible that it should be--there the thing +impudently stood. Gideon threw open the keyboard and struck a +chord. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the room. 'Is there +anything wrong with me?' he thought, with a pang; and drawing in +a seat, obstinately persisted in his attempts to ravish silence, +now with sparkling arpeggios, now with a sonata of Beethoven's +which (in happier days) he knew to be one of the loudest pieces +of that powerful composer. Still not a sound. He gave the +Broadwood two great bangs with his clenched first. All was still +as the grave. The young barrister started to his feet. + +'I am stark-staring mad,' he cried aloud, 'and no one knows it +but myself. God's worst curse has fallen on me.' + +His fingers encountered his watch-chain; instantly he had plucked +forth his watch and held it to his ear. He could hear it ticking. + +'I am not deaf,' he said aloud. 'I am only insane. My mind has +quitted me for ever.' + +He looked uneasily about the room, and--gazed with lacklustre +eyes at the chair in which Mr Dickson had installed himself. The +end of a cigar lay near on the fender. + +'No,' he thought, 'I don't believe that was a dream; but God +knows my mind is failing rapidly. I seem to be hungry, for +instance; it's probably another hallucination. Still I might try. +I shall have one more good meal; I shall go to the Cafe Royal, +and may possibly be removed from there direct to the asylum.' + +He wondered with morbid interest, as he descended the stairs, how +he would first betray his terrible condition--would he attack a +waiter? or eat glass?--and when he had mounted into a cab, he +bade the man drive to Nichol's, with a lurking fear that there +was no such place. + +The flaring, gassy entrance of the cafe speedily set his mind at +rest; he was cheered besides to recognize his favourite waiter; +his orders appeared to be coherent; the dinner, when it came, was +quite a sensible meal, and he ate it with enjoyment. 'Upon my +word,' he reflected, 'I am about tempted to indulge a hope. Have +I been hasty? Have I done what Robert Skill would have done?' +Robert Skill (I need scarcely mention) was the name of the +principal character in Who Put Back the Clock? It had occurred to +the author as a brilliant and probable invention; to readers of a +critical turn, Robert appeared scarce upon a level with his +surname; but it is the difficulty of the police romance, that the +reader is always a man of such vastly greater ingenuity than the +writer. In the eyes of his creator, however, Robert Skill was a +word to conjure with; the thought braced and spurred him; what +that brilliant creature would have done Gideon would do also. +This frame of mind is not uncommon; the distressed general, the +baited divine, the hesitating author, decide severally to do what +Napoleon, what St Paul, what Shakespeare would have done; and +there remains only the minor question, What is that? In Gideon's +case one thing was clear: Skill was a man of singular decision, +he would have taken some step (whatever it was) at once; and the +only step that Gideon could think of was to return to his +chambers. + +This being achieved, all further inspiration failed him, and he +stood pitifully staring at the instrument of his confusion. To +touch the keys again was more than he durst venture on; whether +they had maintained their former silence, or responded with the +tones of the last trump, it would have equally dethroned his +resolution. 'It may be a practical jest,' he reflected, 'though +it seems elaborate and costly. And yet what else can it be? It +MUST be a practical jest.' And just then his eye fell upon a +feature which seemed corroborative of that view: the pagoda of +cigars which Michael had erected ere he left the chambers. 'Why +that?' reflected Gideon. 'It seems entirely irresponsible.' And +drawing near, he gingerly demolished it. 'A key,' he thought. +'Why that? And why so conspicuously placed?' He made the circuit +of the instrument, and perceived the keyhole at the back. 'Aha! +this is what the key is for,' said he. 'They wanted me to look +inside. Stranger and stranger.' And with that he turned the key +and raised the lid. + +In what antics of agony, in what fits of flighty resolution, in +what collapses of despair, Gideon consumed the night, it would be +ungenerous to enquire too closely. + +That trill of tiny song with which the eaves-birds of London +welcome the approach of day found him limp and rumpled and +bloodshot, and with a mind still vacant of resource. He rose and +looked forth unrejoicingly on blinded windows, an empty street, +and the grey daylight dotted with the yellow lamps. There are +mornings when the city seems to awake with a sick headache; this +was one of them; and still the twittering reveille of the +sparrows stirred in Gideon's spirit. + +'Day here,' he thought, 'and I still helpless! This must come to +an end.' And he locked up the piano, put the key in his pocket, +and set forth in quest of coffee. As he went, his mind trudged +for the hundredth time a certain mill-road of terrors, +misgivings, and regrets. To call in the police, to give up the +body, to cover London with handbills describing John Dickson and +Ezra Thomas, to fill the papers with paragraphs, Mysterious +Occurrence in the Temple--Mr Forsyth admitted to bail, this was +one course, an easy course, a safe course; but not, the more he +reflected on it, not a pleasant one. For, was it not to publish +abroad a number of singular facts about himself? A child ought to +have seen through the story of these adventurers, and he had +gaped and swallowed it. A barrister of the least self-respect +should have refused to listen to clients who came before him in a +manner so irregular, and he had listened. And O, if he had only +listened; but he had gone upon their errand--he, a barrister, +uninstructed even by the shadow of a solicitor--upon an errand +fit only for a private detective; and alas!--and for the +hundredth time the blood surged to his brow--he had taken their +money! 'No,' said he, 'the thing is as plain as St Paul's. I +shall be dishonoured! I have smashed my career for a five-pound +note.' + +Between the possibility of being hanged in all innocence, and the +certainty of a public and merited disgrace, no gentleman of +spirit could long hesitate. After three gulps of that hot, +snuffy, and muddy beverage, that passes on the streets of London +for a decoction of the coffee berry, Gideon's mind was made up. +He would do without the police. He must face the other side of +the dilemma, and be Robert Skill in earnest. What would Robert +Skill have done? How does a gentleman dispose of a dead body, +honestly come by? He remembered the inimitable story of the +hunchback; reviewed its course, and dismissed it for a worthless +guide. It was impossible to prop a corpse on the corner of +Tottenham Court Road without arousing fatal curiosity in the +bosoms of the passers-by; as for lowering it down a London +chimney, the physical obstacles were insurmountable. To get it on +board a train and drop it out, or on the top of an omnibus and +drop it off, were equally out of the question. To get it on a +yacht and drop it overboard, was more conceivable; but for a man +of moderate means it seemed extravagant. The hire of the yacht +was in itself a consideration; the subsequent support of the +whole crew (which seemed a necessary consequence) was simply not +to be thought of. His uncle and the houseboat here occurred in +very luminous colours to his mind. A musical composer (say, of +the name of Jimson) might very well suffer, like Hogarth's +musician before him, from the disturbances of London. He might +very well be pressed for time to finish an opera--say the comic +opera Orange Pekoe--Orange Pekoe, music by Jimson--'this young +maestro, one of the most promising of our recent English +school'--vigorous entrance of the drums, etc.--the whole +character of Jimson and his music arose in bulk before the mind +of Gideon. What more likely than Jimson's arrival with a grand +piano (say, at Padwick), and his residence in a houseboat alone +with the unfinished score of Orange Pekoe? His subsequent +disappearance, leaving nothing behind but an empty piano case, it +might be more difficult to account for. And yet even that was +susceptible of explanation. For, suppose Jimson had gone mad over +a fugal passage, and had thereupon destroyed the accomplice of +his infamy, and plunged into the welcome river? What end, on the +whole, more probable for a modern musician? + +'By Jove, I'll do it,' cried Gideon. 'Jimson is the boy!' + + + +CHAPTER XI. The Maestro Jimson + +Mr Edward Hugh Bloomfield having announced his intention to stay +in the neighbourhood of Maidenhead, what more probable than that +the Maestro Jimson should turn his mind toward Padwick? Near this +pleasant riverside village he remembered to have observed an +ancient, weedy houseboat lying moored beside a tuft of willows. +It had stirred in him, in his careless hours, as he pulled down +the river under a more familiar name, a certain sense of the +romantic; and when the nice contrivance of his story was already +complete in his mind, he had come near pulling it all down again, +like an ungrateful clock, in order to introduce a chapter in +which Richard Skill (who was always being decoyed somewhere) +should be decoyed on board that lonely hulk by Lord Bellew and +the American desperado Gin Sling. It was fortunate he had not +done so, he reflected, since the hulk was now required for very +different purposes. + +Jimson, a man of inconspicuous costume, but insinuating manners, +had little difficulty in finding the hireling who had charge of +the houseboat, and still less in persuading him to resign his +care. The rent was almost nominal, the entry immediate, the key +was exchanged against a suitable advance in money, and Jimson +returned to town by the afternoon train to see about dispatching +his piano. + +'I will be down tomorrow,' he had said reassuringly. 'My opera is +waited for with such impatience, you know.' + +And, sure enough, about the hour of noon on the following day, +Jimson might have been observed ascending the riverside road that +goes from Padwick to Great Haverham, carrying in one hand a +basket of provisions, and under the other arm a leather case +containing (it is to be conjectured) the score of Orange Pekoe. +It was October weather; the stone-grey sky was full of larks, the +leaden mirror of the Thames brightened with autumnal foliage, and +the fallen leaves of the chestnuts chirped under the composer's +footing. There is no time of the year in England more courageous; +and Jimson, though he was not without his troubles, whistled as +he went. + +A little above Padwick the river lies very solitary. On the +opposite shore the trees of a private park enclose the view, the +chimneys of the mansion just pricking forth above their clusters; +on the near side the path is bordered by willows. Close among +these lay the houseboat, a thing so soiled by the tears of the +overhanging willows, so grown upon with parasites, so decayed, so +battered, so neglected, such a haunt of rats, so advertised a +storehouse of rheumatic agonies, that the heart of an intending +occupant might well recoil. A plank, by way of flying drawbridge, +joined it to the shore. And it was a dreary moment for Jimson +when he pulled this after him and found himself alone on this +unwholesome fortress. He could hear the rats scuttle and flop in +the abhorred interior; the key cried among the wards like a thing +in pain; the sitting-room was deep in dust, and smelt strong of +bilge-water. It could not be called a cheerful spot, even for a +composer absorbed in beloved toil; how much less for a young +gentleman haunted by alarms and awaiting the arrival of a corpse! + +He sat down, cleared away a piece of the table, and attacked the +cold luncheon in his basket. In case of any subsequent inquiry +into the fate of Jimson, It was desirable he should be little +seen: in other words, that he should spend the day entirely in +the house. To this end, and further to corroborate his fable, he +had brought in the leather case not only writing materials, but a +ream of large-size music paper, such as he considered suitable +for an ambitious character like Jimson's. 'And now to work,' +said he, when he had satisfied his appetite. 'We must leave +traces of the wretched man's activity.' And he wrote in bold +characters: + + ORANGE PEKOE. + Op. 17. + J. B. JIMSON. + Vocal and p. f. score. + +'I suppose they never do begin like this,' reflected Gideon; 'but +then it's quite out of the question for me to tackle a full +score, and Jimson was so unconventional. A dedication would be +found convincing, I believe. "Dedicated to" (let me see) "to +William Ewart Gladstone, by his obedient servant the composer." +And now some music: I had better avoid the overture; it seems to +present difficulties. Let's give an air for the tenor: key--O, +something modern!--seven sharps.' And he made a businesslike +signature across the staves, and then paused and browsed for a +while on the handle of his pen. Melody, with no better +inspiration than a sheet of paper, is not usually found to spring +unbidden in the mind of the amateur; nor is the key of seven +sharps a place of much repose to the untried. He cast away that +sheet. 'It will help to build up the character of Jimson,' Gideon +remarked, and again waited on the muse, in various keys and on +divers sheets of paper, but all with results so inconsiderable +that he stood aghast. 'It's very odd,' thought he. 'I seem to +have less fancy than I thought, or this is an off-day with me; +yet Jimson must leave something.' And again he bent himself to +the task. + +Presently the penetrating chill of the houseboat began to attack +the very seat of life. He desisted from his unremunerative trial, +and, to the audible annoyance of the rats, walked briskly up and +down the cabin. Still he was cold. 'This is all nonsense,' said +he. 'I don't care about the risk, but I will not catch a catarrh. +I must get out of this den.' + +He stepped on deck, and passing to the bow of his embarkation, +looked for the first time up the river. He started. Only a few +hundred yards above another houseboat lay moored among the +willows. It was very spick-and-span, an elegant canoe hung at the +stern, the windows were concealed by snowy curtains, a flag +floated from a staff. The more Gideon looked at it, the more +there mingled with his disgust a sense of impotent surprise. It +was very like his uncle's houseboat; it was exceedingly like--it +was identical. But for two circumstances, he could have sworn it +was the same. The first, that his uncle had gone to Maidenhead, +might be explained away by that flightiness of purpose which is +so common a trait among the more than usually manly. The second, +however, was conclusive: it was not in the least like Mr +Bloomfield to display a banner on his floating residence; and if +he ever did, it would certainly be dyed in hues of emblematical +propriety. Now the Squirradical, like the vast majority of the +more manly, had drawn knowledge at the wells of Cambridge--he was +wooden spoon in the year 1850; and the flag upon the houseboat +streamed on the afternoon air with the colours of that seat of +Toryism, that cradle of Puseyism, that home of the inexact and +the effete Oxford. Still it was strangely like, thought Gideon. + +And as he thus looked and thought, the door opened, and a young +lady stepped forth on deck. The barrister dropped and fled into +his cabin--it was Julia Hazeltine! Through the window he watched +her draw in the canoe, get on board of it, cast off, and come +dropping downstream in his direction. + +'Well, all is up now,' said he, and he fell on a seat. + +'Good-afternoon, miss,' said a voice on the water. Gideon knew it +for the voice of his landlord. + +'Good-afternoon,' replied Julia, 'but I don't know who you are; +do I? O yes, I do though. You are the nice man that gave us leave +to sketch from the old houseboat.' + +Gideon's heart leaped with fear. + +'That's it,' returned the man. 'And what I wanted to say was as +you couldn't do it any more. You see I've let it.' + +'Let it!' cried Julia. + +'Let it for a month,' said the man. 'Seems strange, don't it? +Can't see what the party wants with it?' + +'It seems very romantic of him, I think,' said Julia, 'What sort +of a person is he?' + +Julia in her canoe, the landlord in his wherry, were close +alongside, and holding on by the gunwale of the houseboat; so +that not a word was lost on Gideon. + +'He's a music-man,' said the landlord, 'or at least that's what +he told me, miss; come down here to write an op'ra.' + +'Really!' cried Julia, 'I never heard of anything so delightful! +Why, we shall be able to slip down at night and hear him +improvise! What' is his name?' + +'Jimson,' said the man. + +'Jimson?' repeated Julia, and interrogated her memory in vain. +But indeed our rising school of English music boasts so many +professors that we rarely hear of one till he is made a baronet. +'Are you sure you have it right?' + +'Made him spell it to me,' replied the landlord. +'J-I-M-S-O-N--Jimson; and his op'ra's called--some kind of tea.' + +'SOME KIND OF TEA!' cried the girl. 'What a very singular name +for an opera! What can it be about?' And Gideon heard her pretty +laughter flow abroad. 'We must try to get acquainted with this Mr +Jimson; I feel sure he must be nice.' + +'Well, miss, I'm afraid I must be going on. I've got to be at +Haverham, you see.' + +'O, don't let me keep you, you kind man!' said Julia. 'Good +afternoon.' + +'Good afternoon to you, miss.' + +Gideon sat in the cabin a prey to the most harrowing thoughts. +Here he was anchored to a rotting houseboat, soon to be anchored +to it still more emphatically by the presence of the corpse, and +here was the country buzzing about him, and young ladies already +proposing pleasure parties to surround his house at night. Well, +that meant the gallows; and much he cared for that. What troubled +him now was Julia's indescribable levity. That girl would scrape +acquaintance with anybody; she had no reserve, none of the enamel +of the lady. She was familiar with a brute like his landlord; she +took an immediate interest (which she lacked even the delicacy to +conceal) in a creature like Jimson! He could conceive her asking +Jimson to have tea with her! And it was for a girl like this that +a man like Gideon--Down, manly heart! + +He was interrupted by a sound that sent him whipping behind the +door in a trice. Miss Hazeltine had stepped on board the +houseboat. Her sketch was promising; judging from the stillness, +she supposed Jimson not yet come; and she had decided to seize +occasion and complete the work of art. Down she sat therefore in +the bow, produced her block and water-colours, and was soon +singing over (what used to be called) the ladylike +accomplishment. Now and then indeed her song was interrupted, as +she searched in her memory for some of the odious little receipts +by means of which the game is practised--or used to be practised +in the brave days of old; they say the world, and those ornaments +of the world, young ladies, are become more sophisticated now; +but Julia had probably studied under Pitman, and she stood firm +in the old ways. + +Gideon, meanwhile, stood behind the door, afraid to move, afraid +to breathe, afraid to think of what must follow, racked by +confinement and borne to the ground with tedium. This particular +phase, he felt with gratitude, could not last for ever; whatever +impended (even the gallows, he bitterly and perhaps erroneously +reflected) could not fail to be a relief. To calculate cubes +occurred to him as an ingenious and even profitable refuge from +distressing thoughts, and he threw his manhood into that dreary +exercise. + +Thus, then, were these two young persons occupied--Gideon +attacking the perfect number with resolution; Julia vigorously +stippling incongruous colours on her block, when Providence +dispatched into these waters a steam-launch asthmatically panting +up the Thames. All along the banks the water swelled and fell, +and the reeds rustled. The houseboat itself, that ancient +stationary creature, became suddenly imbued with life, and rolled +briskly at her moorings, like a sea-going ship when she begins to +smell the harbour bar. The wash had nearly died away, and the +quick panting of the launch sounded already faint and far off, +when Gideon was startled by a cry from Julia. Peering through the +window, he beheld her staring disconsolately downstream at the +fast-vanishing canoe. The barrister (whatever were his faults) +displayed on this occasion a promptitude worthy of his hero, +Robert Skill; with one effort of his mind he foresaw what was +about to follow; with one movement of his body he dropped to the +floor and crawled under the table. + +Julia, on her part, was not yet alive to her position. She saw +she had lost the canoe, and she looked forward with something +less than avidity to her next interview with Mr Bloomfield; but +she had no idea that she was imprisoned, for she knew of the +plank bridge. + +She made the circuit of the house, and found the door open and +the bridge withdrawn. It was plain, then, that Jimson must have +come; plain, too, that he must be on board. He must be a very shy +man to have suffered this invasion of his residence, and made no +sign; and her courage rose higher at the thought. He must come +now, she must force him from his privacy, for the plank was too +heavy for her single strength; so she tapped upon the open door. +Then she tapped again. + +'Mr Jimson,' she cried, 'Mr Jimson! here, come!--you must come, +you know, sooner or later, for I can't get off without you. O, +don't be so exceedingly silly! O, please, come!' + +Still there was no reply. + +'If he is here he must be mad,' she thought, with a little fear. +And the next moment she remembered he had probably gone aboard +like herself in a boat. In that case she might as well see the +houseboat, and she pushed open the door and stepped in. Under the +table, where he lay smothered with dust, Gideon's heart stood +still. + +There were the remains of Jimson's lunch. 'He likes rather nice +things to eat,' she thought. 'O, I am sure he is quite a +delightful man. I wonder if he is as good-looking as Mr Forsyth. +Mrs Jimson--I don't believe it sounds as nice as Mrs Forsyth; but +then "Gideon" is so really odious! And here is some of his music +too; this is delightful. Orange Pekoe--O, that's what he meant by +some kind of tea.' And she trilled with laughter. 'Adagio molto +espressivo, sempre legato,' she read next. (For the literary part +of a composer's business Gideon was well equipped.) 'How very +strange to have all these directions, and only three or four +notes! O, here's another with some more. Andante patetico.' And +she began to glance over the music. 'O dear me,' she thought, 'he +must be terribly modern! It all seems discords to me. Let's try +the air. It is very strange, it seems familiar.' She began to +sing it, and suddenly broke off with laughter. 'Why, it's "Tommy +make room for your Uncle!"' she cried aloud, so that the soul of +Gideon was filled with bitterness. 'Andante patetico, indeed! The +man must be a mere impostor.' + +And just at this moment there came a confused, scuffling sound +from underneath the table; a strange note, like that of a +barn-door fowl, ushered in a most explosive sneeze; the head of +the sufferer was at the same time brought smartly in contact with +the boards above; and the sneeze was followed by a hollow groan. + +Julia fled to the door, and there, with the salutary instinct of +the brave, turned and faced the danger. There was no pursuit. The +sounds continued; below the table a crouching figure was +indistinctly to be seen jostled by the throes of a sneezing-fit; +and that was all. + +'Surely,' thought Julia, 'this is most unusual behaviour. He +cannot be a man of the world!' + +Meanwhile the dust of years had been disturbed by the young +barrister's convulsions; and the sneezing-fit was succeeded by a +passionate access of coughing. + +Julia began to feel a certain interest. 'I am afraid you are +really quite ill,' she said, drawing a little nearer. 'Please +don't let me put you out, and do not stay under that table, Mr +Jimson. Indeed it cannot be good for you.' + +Mr Jimson only answered by a distressing cough; and the next +moment the girl was on her knees, and their faces had almost +knocked. together under the table. + +'O, my gracious goodness!' exclaimed Miss Hazeltine, and sprang +to her feet. 'Mr Forsyth gone mad!' + +'I am not mad,' said the gentleman ruefully, extricating himself +from his position. 'Dearest. Miss Hazeltine, I vow to you upon my +knees I am not mad!' + +'You are not!' she cried, panting. + +'I know,' he said, 'that to a superficial eye my conduct may +appear unconventional.' + +'If you are not mad, it was no conduct at all,' cried the girl, +with a flash of colour, 'and showed you did not care one penny +for my feelings!' + +'This is the very devil and all. I know--I admit that,' cried +Gideon, with a great effort of manly candour. + +'It was abominable conduct!' said Julia, with energy. + +'I know it must have shaken your esteem,' said the barrister. +'But, dearest Miss Hazeltine, I beg of you to hear me out; my +behaviour, strange as it may seem, is not unsusceptible of +explanation; and I positively cannot and will not consent to +continue to try to exist without--without the esteem of one whom +I admire--the moment is ill chosen, I am well aware of that; but +I repeat the expression--one whom I admire.' + +A touch of amusement appeared on Miss Hazeltine's face. 'Very +well, I said she, 'come out of this dreadfully cold place, and +let us sit down on deck.' The barrister dolefully followed her. +'Now,' said she, making herself comfortable against the end of +the house, 'go on. I will hear you out.' And then, seeing him +stand before her with so much obvious disrelish to the task, she +was suddenly overcome with laughter. Julia's laugh was a thing to +ravish lovers; she rolled her mirthful descant with the freedom +and the melody of a blackbird's song upon the river, and repeated +by the echoes of the farther bank. It seemed a thing in its own +place and a sound native to the open air. There was only one +creature who heard it without joy, and that was her unfortunate +admirer. + +'Miss Hazeltine,' he said, in a voice that tottered with +annoyance, 'I speak as your sincere well-wisher, but this can +only be called levity.' + +Julia made great eyes at him. + +'I can't withdraw the word,' he said: 'already the freedom with +which I heard you hobnobbing with a boatman gave me exquisite +pain. Then there was a want of reserve about Jimson--' + +'But Jimson appears to be yourself,' objected Julia. + +'I am far from denying that,' cried the barrister, 'but you did +not know it at the time. What could Jimson be to you? Who was +Jimson? Miss Hazeltine, it cut me to the heart.' + +'Really this seems to me to be very silly,' returned Julia, with +severe decision. 'You have behaved in the most extraordinary +manner; you pretend you are able to explain your conduct, and +instead of doing so you begin to attack me.' + +'I am well aware of that,' replied Gideon. 'I--I will make a +clean breast of it. When you know all the circumstances you will +be able to excuse me. + +And sitting down beside her on the deck, he poured forth his +miserable history. + +'O, Mr Forsyth,' she cried, when he had done, 'I am--so--sorry! +wish I hadn't laughed at you--only you know you really were so +exceedingly funny. But I wish I hadn't, and I wouldn't either if +I had only known.' And she gave him her hand. + +Gideon kept it in his own. 'You do not think the worse of me for +this?' he asked tenderly. + +'Because you have been so silly and got into such dreadful +trouble? you poor boy, no!' cried Julia; and, in the warmth of +the moment, reached him her other hand; 'you may count on me,' +she added. + +'Really?' said Gideon. + +'Really and really!' replied the girl. + +'I do then, and I will,' cried the young man. 'I admit the moment +is not well chosen; but I have no friends--to speak of.' + +'No more have I,' said Julia. 'But don't you think it's perhaps +time you gave me back my hands?' + +'La ci darem la mano,' said the barrister, 'the merest moment +more! I have so few friends,' he added. + +'I thought it was considered such a bad account of a young man to +have no friends,' observed Julia. + +'O, but I have crowds of FRIENDS!' cried Gideon. 'That's not what +I mean. I feel the moment is ill chosen; but O, Julia, if you +could only see yourself!' + +'Mr Forsyth--' + +'Don't call me by that beastly name!' cried the youth. 'Call me +Gideon!' + +'O, never that,' from Julia. 'Besides, we have known each other +such a short time.' + +'Not at all!' protested Gideon. 'We met at Bournemouth ever so +long ago. I never forgot you since. Say you never forgot me. Say +you never forgot me, and call me Gideon!' + +'Isn't this rather--a want of reserve about Jimson?' enquired the +girl. + +'O, I know I am an ass,' cried the barrister, 'and I don't care a +halfpenny! I know I'm an ass, and you may laugh at me to your +heart's delight.' And as Julia's lips opened with a smile, he +once more dropped into music. 'There's the Land of Cherry Isle!' +he sang, courting her with his eyes. + +'It's like an opera,' said Julia, rather faintly. + +'What should it be?' said Gideon. 'Am I not Jimson? It would be +strange if I did not serenade my love. O yes, I mean the word, my +Julia; and I mean to win you. I am in dreadful trouble, and I +have not a penny of my own, and I have cut the silliest figure; +and yet I mean to win you, Julia. Look at me, if you can, and +tell me no!' + +She looked at him; and whatever her eyes may have told him, it is +to be supposed he took a pleasure in the message, for he read it +a long while. + +'And Uncle Ned will give us some money to go on upon in the +meanwhile,' he said at last. + +'Well, I call that cool!' said a cheerful voice at his elbow. + +Gideon and Julia sprang apart with wonderful alacrity; the latter +annoyed to observe that although they had never moved since they +sat down, they were now quite close together; both presenting +faces of a very heightened colour to the eyes of Mr Edward Hugh +Bloomfield. That gentleman, coming up the river in his boat, had +captured the truant canoe, and divining what had happened, had +thought to steal a march upon Miss Hazeltine at her sketch. He +had unexpectedly brought down two birds with one stone; and as he +looked upon the pair of flushed and breathless culprits, the +pleasant human instinct of the matchmaker softened his heart. + +'Well, I call that cool,' he repeated; 'you seem to count very +securely upon Uncle Ned. But look here, Gid, I thought I had told +you to keep away?' + +'To keep away from Maidenhead,' replied Gid. 'But how should I +expect to find you here?' + +'There is something in that,' Mr Bloomfield admitted. 'You see I +thought it better that even you should be ignorant of my address; +those rascals, the Finsburys, would have wormed it out of you. +And just to put them off the scent I hoisted these abominable +colours. But that is not all, Gid; you promised me to work, and +here I find you playing the fool at Padwick.' + +'Please, Mr Bloomfield, you must not be hard on Mr Forsyth,' said +Julia. 'Poor boy, he is in dreadful straits.' + +'What's this, Gid?' enquired the uncle. 'Have you been fighting? +or is it a bill?' + +These, in the opinion of the Squirradical, were the two +misfortunes incident to gentlemen; and indeed both were culled +from his own career. He had once put his name (as a matter of +form) on a friend's paper; it had cost him a cool thousand; and +the friend had gone about with the fear of death upon him ever +since, and never turned a corner without scouting in front of him +for Mr Bloomfield and the oaken staff. As for fighting, the +Squirradical was always on the brink of it; and once, when (in +the character of president of a Radical club) he had cleared out +the hall of his opponents, things had gone even further. Mr +Holtum, the Conservative candidate, who lay so long on the bed of +sickness, was prepared to swear to Mr Bloomfield. 'I will swear +to it in any court--it was the hand of that brute that struck me +down,' he was reported to have said; and when he was thought to +be sinking, it was known that he had made an ante-mortem +statement in that sense. It was a cheerful day for the +Squirradical when Holtum was restored to his brewery. + +'It's much worse than that,' said Gideon; 'a combination of +circumstances really providentially unjust--a--in fact, a +syndicate of murderers seem to have perceived my latent ability +to rid them of the traces of their crime. It's a legal study +after all, you see!' And with these words, Gideon, for the second +time that day, began to describe the adventures of the Broadwood +Grand. + +'I must write to The Times,' cried Mr Bloomfield. + +'Do you want to get me disbarred?' asked Gideon. + +'Disbarred! Come, it can't be as bad as that,' said his uncle. +'It's a good, honest, Liberal Government that's in, and they +would certainly move at my request. Thank God, the days of Tory +jobbery are at an end.' + +'It wouldn't do, Uncle Ned,' said Gideon. + +'But you're not mad enough,' cried Mr Bloomfield, 'to persist in +trying to dispose of it yourself?' + +'There is no other path open to me,' said Gideon. + +'It's not common sense, and I will not hear of it,' cried Mr +Bloomfield. 'I command you, positively, Gid, to desist from this +criminal interference.' + +'Very well, then, I hand it over to you,' said Gideon, 'and you +can do what you like with the dead body.' + +'God forbid!' ejaculated the president of the Radical Club, 'I'll +have nothing to do with it.' + +'Then you must allow me to do the best I can,' returned his +nephew. 'Believe me, I have a distinct talent for this sort of +difficulty.' + +'We might forward it to that pest-house, the Conservative Club,' +observed Mr Bloomfield. 'It might damage them in the eyes of +their constituents; and it could be profitably worked up in the +local journal.' + +'If you see any political capital in the thing,' said Gideon, +'you may have it for me.' + +'No, no, Gid--no, no, I thought you might. I will have no hand in +the thing. On reflection, it's highly undesirable that either I +or Miss Hazeltine should linger here. We might be observed,' said +the president, looking up and down the river; 'and in my public +position the consequences would be painful for the party. And, at +any rate, it's dinner-time.' + +'What?' cried Gideon, plunging for his watch. 'And so it is! +Great heaven, the piano should have been here hours ago!' + +Mr Bloomfield was clambering back into his boat; but at these +words he paused. + +'I saw it arrive myself at the station; I hired a carrier man; he +had a round to make, but he was to be here by four at the +latest,' cried the barrister. 'No doubt the piano is open, and +the body found.' + +'You must fly at once,' cried Mr Bloomfield, 'it's the only manly +step.' + +'But suppose it's all right?' wailed Gideon. 'Suppose the piano +comes, and I am not here to receive it? I shall have hanged +myself by my cowardice. No, Uncle Ned, enquiries must be made in +Padwick; I dare not go, of course; but you may--you could hang +about the police office, don't you see?' + +'No, Gid--no, my dear nephew,' said Mr Bloomfield, with the voice +of one on the rack. 'I regard you with the most sacred affection; +and I thank God I am an Englishman--and all that. But not--not +the police, Gid.' + +'Then you desert me?' said Gideon. 'Say it plainly.' + +'Far from it! far from it!' protested Mr Bloomfield. 'I only +propose caution. Common sense, Gid, should always be an +Englishman's guide.' + +'Will you let me speak?' said Julia. 'I think Gideon had better +leave this dreadful houseboat, and wait among the willows over +there. If the piano comes, then he could step out and take it in; +and if the police come, he could slip into our houseboat, and +there needn't be any more Jimson at all. He could go to bed, and +we could burn his clothes (couldn't we?) in the steam-launch; and +then really it seems as if it would be all right. Mr Bloomfield +is so respectable, you know, and such a leading character, it +would be quite impossible even to fancy that he could be mixed up +with it.' + +'This young lady has strong common sense,' said the Squirradical. + +'O, I don't think I'm at all a fool,' said Julia, with +conviction. + +'But what if neither of them come?' asked Gideon; 'what shall I +do then?' + +'Why then,' said she, 'you had better go down to the village +after dark; and I can go with you, and then I am sure you could +never be suspected; and even if you were, I could tell them it +was altogether a mistake.' + +'I will not permit that--I will not suffer Miss Hazeltine to go,' +cried Mr Bloomfield. + +'Why?' asked Julia. + +Mr Bloomfield had not the least desire to tell her why, for it +was simply a craven fear of being drawn himself into the +imbroglio; but with the usual tactics of a man who is ashamed of +himself, he took the high hand. 'God forbid, my dear Miss +Hazeltine, that I should dictate to a lady on the question of +propriety--' he began. + +'O, is that all?' interrupted Julia. 'Then we must go all three.' + +'Caught!' thought the Squirradical. + + + +CHAPTER XII. Positively the Last Appearance of the Broadwood +Grand + +England is supposed to be unmusical; but without dwelling on the +patronage extended to the organ-grinder, without seeking to found +any argument on the prevalence of the jew's trump, there is +surely one instrument that may be said to be national in the +fullest acceptance of the word. The herdboy in the broom, already +musical in the days of Father Chaucer, startles (and perhaps +pains) the lark with this exiguous pipe; and in the hands of the +skilled bricklayer, + + 'The thing becomes a trumpet, whence he blows' + +(as a general rule) either 'The British Grenadiers' or 'Cherry +Ripe'. The latter air is indeed the shibboleth and diploma piece +of the penny whistler; I hazard a guess it was originally +composed for this instrument. It is singular enough that a man +should be able to gain a livelihood, or even to tide over a +period of unemployment, by the display of his proficiency upon +the penny whistle; still more so, that the professional should +almost invariably confine himself to 'Cherry Ripe'. But indeed, +singularities surround the subject, thick like blackberries. Why, +for instance, should the pipe be called a penny whistle? I think +no one ever bought it for a penny. Why should the alternative +name be tin whistle? I am grossly deceived if it be made of tin. +Lastly, in what deaf catacomb, in what earless desert, does the +beginner pass the excruciating interval of his apprenticeship? We +have all heard people learning the piano, the fiddle, and the +cornet; but the young of the penny whistler (like that of the +salmon) is occult from observation; he is never heard until +proficient; and providence (perhaps alarmed by the works of Mr +Mallock) defends human hearing from his first attempts upon the +upper octave. + +A really noteworthy thing was taking place in a green lane, not +far from Padwick. On the bench of a carrier's cart there sat a +tow-headed, lanky, modest-looking youth; the reins were on his +lap; the whip lay behind him in the interior of the cart; the +horse proceeded without guidance or encouragement; the carrier +(or the carrier's man), rapt into a higher sphere than that of +his daily occupations, his looks dwelling on the skies, devoted +himself wholly to a brand-new D penny whistle, whence he +diffidently endeavoured to elicit that pleasing melody 'The +Ploughboy'. To any observant person who should have chanced to +saunter in that lane, the hour would have been thrilling. 'Here +at last,' he would have said, 'is the beginner.' + +The tow-headed youth (whose name was Harker) had just encored +himself for the nineteenth time, when he was struck into the +extreme of confusion by the discovery that he was not alone. + +'There you have it!' cried a manly voice from the side of the +road. + +'That's as good as I want to hear. Perhaps a leetle oilier in the +run,' the voice suggested, with meditative gusto. 'Give it us +again.' + +Harker glanced, from the depths of his humiliation, at the +speaker. He beheld a powerful, sun-brown, clean-shaven fellow, +about forty years of age, striding beside the cart with a +non-commissioned military bearing, and (as he strode) spinning in +the air a cane. The fellow's clothes were very bad, but he looked +clean and self-reliant. + +'I'm only a beginner,' gasped the blushing Harker, 'I didn't +think anybody could hear me.' + +'Well, I like that!' returned the other. 'You're a pretty old +beginner. Come, I'll give you a lead myself. Give us a seat here +beside you.' + +The next moment the military gentleman was perched on the cart, +pipe in hand. He gave the instrument a knowing rattle on the +shaft, mouthed it, appeared to commune for a moment with the +muse, and dashed into 'The girl I left behind me'. He was a +great, rather than a fine, performer; he lacked the bird-like +richness; he could scarce have extracted all the honey out of +'Cherry Ripe'; he did not fear--he even ostentatiously displayed +and seemed to revel in he shrillness of the instrument; but in +fire, speed, precision, evenness, and fluency; in linked agility +of jimmy--a technical expression, by your leave, answering to +warblers on the bagpipe; and perhaps, above all, in that +inspiring side-glance of the eye, with which he followed the +effect and (as by a human appeal) eked out the insufficiency of +his performance: in these, the fellow stood without a rival. +Harker listened: 'The girl I left behind me' filled him with +despair; 'The Soldier's Joy' carried him beyond jealousy into +generous enthusiasm. + +'Turn about,' said the military gentleman, offering the pipe. + +'O, not after you!' cried Harker; 'you're a professional.' + +'No,' said his companion; 'an amatyure like yourself. That's one +style of play, yours is the other, and I like it best. But I +began when I was a boy, you see, before my taste was formed. When +you're my age you'll play that thing like a cornet-a-piston. Give +us that air again; how does it go?' and he affected to endeavour +to recall 'The Ploughboy'. + +A timid, insane hope sprang in the breast of Harker. Was it +possible? Was there something in his playing? It had, indeed, +seemed to him at times as if he got a kind of a richness out of +it. Was he a genius? Meantime the military gentleman stumbled +over the air. + +'No,' said the unhappy Harker, 'that's not quite it. It goes this +way--just to show you.' + +And, taking the pipe between his lips, he sealed his doom. When +he had played the air, and then a second time, and a third; when +the military gentleman had tried it once more, and once more +failed; when it became clear to Harker that he, the blushing +debutant, was actually giving a lesson to this full-grown +flutist--and the flutist under his care was not very brilliantly +progressing--how am I to tell what floods of glory brightened the +autumnal countryside; how, unless the reader were an amateur +himself, describe the heights of idiotic vanity to which the +carrier climbed? One significant fact shall paint the situation: +thenceforth it was Harker who played, and the military gentleman +listened and approved. + +As he listened, however, he did not forget the habit of soldierly +precaution, looking both behind and before. He looked behind and +computed the value of the carrier's load, divining the contents +of the brown-paper parcels and the portly hamper, and briefly +setting down the grand piano in the brand-new piano-case as +'difficult to get rid of'. He looked before, and spied at the +corner of the green lane a little country public-house embowered +in roses. 'I'll have a shy at it,' concluded the military +gentleman, and roundly proposed a glass. 'Well, I'm not a +drinking man,' said Harker. + +'Look here, now,' cut in the other, 'I'll tell you who I am: I'm +Colour-Sergeant Brand of the Blankth. That'll tell you if I'm a +drinking man or not.' It might and it might not, thus a Greek +chorus would have intervened, and gone on to point out how very +far it fell short of telling why the sergeant was tramping a +country lane in tatters; or even to argue that he must have +pretermitted some while ago his labours for the general defence, +and (in the interval) possibly turned his attention to oakum. But +there was no Greek chorus present; and the man of war went on to +contend that drinking was one thing and a friendly glass another. + +In the Blue Lion, which was the name of the country public-house, +Colour-Sergeant Brand introduced his new friend, Mr Harker, to a +number of ingenious mixtures, calculated to prevent the +approaches of intoxication. These he explained to be 'rekisite' +in the service, so that a self-respecting officer should always +appear upon parade in a condition honourable to his corps. The +most efficacious of these devices was to lace a pint of mild ate +with twopenceworth of London gin. I am pleased to hand in this +recipe to the discerning reader, who may find it useful even in +civil station; for its effect upon Mr Harker was revolutionary. +He must be helped on board his own waggon, where he proceeded to +display a spirit entirely given over to mirth and music, +alternately hooting with laughter, to which the sergeant hastened +to bear chorus, and incoherently tootling on the pipe. The man of +war, meantime, unostentatiously possessed himself of the reins. +It was plain he had a taste for the secluded beauties of an +English landscape; for the cart, although it wandered under his +guidance for some time, was never observed to issue on the dusty +highway, journeying between hedge and ditch, and for the most +part under overhanging boughs. It was plain, besides, he had an +eye to the true interests of Mr Harker; for though the cart drew +up more than once at the doors of public-houses, it was only the +sergeant who set foot to ground, and, being equipped himself with +a quart bottle, once more proceeded on his rural drive. + +To give any idea of the complexity of the sergeant's course, a +map of that part of Middlesex would be required, and my publisher +is averse from the expense. Suffice it, that a little after the +night had closed, the cart was brought to a standstill in a woody +road; where the sergeant lifted from among the parcels, and +tenderly deposited upon the wayside, the inanimate form of +Harker. + +'If you come-to before daylight,' thought the sergeant, 'I shall +be surprised for one.' + +From the various pockets of the slumbering carrier he gently +collected the sum of seventeen shillings and eightpence sterling; +and, getting once more into the cart, drove thoughtfully away. + +'If I was exactly sure of where I was, it would be a good job,' +he reflected. 'Anyway, here's a corner.' + +He turned it, and found himself upon the riverside. A little +above him the lights of a houseboat shone cheerfully; and already +close at hand, so close that it was impossible to avoid their +notice, three persons, a lady and two gentlemen, were +deliberately drawing near. The sergeant put his trust in the +convenient darkness of the night, and drove on to meet them. One +of the gentlemen, who was of a portly figure, walked in the midst +of the fairway, and presently held up a staff by way of signal. + +'My man, have you seen anything of a carrier's cart?' he cried. + +Dark as it was, it seemed to the sergeant as though the slimmer +of the two gentlemen had made a motion to prevent the other +speaking, and (finding himself too late) had skipped aside with +some alacrity. At another season, Sergeant Brand would have paid +more attention to the fact; but he was then immersed in the +perils of his own predicament. + +'A carrier's cart?' said he, with a perceptible uncertainty of +voice. 'No, sir.' + +'Ah!' said the portly gentleman, and stood aside to let the +sergeant pass. The lady appeared to bend forward and study the +cart with every mark of sharpened curiosity, the slimmer +gentleman still keeping in the rear. + +'I wonder what the devil they would be at,' thought Sergeant +Brand; and, looking fearfully back, he saw the trio standing +together in the midst of the way, like folk consulting. The +bravest of military heroes are not always equal to themselves as +to their reputation; and fear, on some singular provocation, will +find a lodgment in the most unfamiliar bosom. The word +'detective' might have been heard to gurgle in the sergeant's +throat; and vigorously applying the whip, he fled up the +riverside road to Great Haverham, at the gallop of the carrier's +horse. The lights of the houseboat flashed upon the flying waggon +as it passed; the beat of hoofs and the rattle of the vehicle +gradually coalesced and died away; and presently, to the trio on +the riverside, silence had redescended. + +'It's the most extraordinary thing,' cried the slimmer of the two +gentlemen, 'but that's the cart.' + +'And I know I saw a piano,' said the girl. + +'O, it's the cart, certainly; and the extraordinary thing is, +it's not the man,' added the first. + +'It must be the man, Gid, it must be,' said the portly one. + +'Well, then, why is he running away?' asked Gideon. + +'His horse bolted, I suppose,' said the Squirradical. + +'Nonsense! I heard the whip going like a flail,' said Gideon. 'It +simply defies the human reason.' + +'I'll tell you,' broke in the girl, 'he came round that corner. +Suppose we went and--what do you call it in books?--followed his +trail? There may be a house there, or somebody who saw him, or +something.' + +'Well, suppose we did, for the fun of the thing,' said Gideon. + +The fun of the thing (it would appear) consisted in the extremely +close juxtaposition of himself and Miss Hazeltine. To Uncle Ned, +who was excluded from these simple pleasures, the excursion +appeared hopeless from the first; and when a fresh perspective of +darkness opened up, dimly contained between park palings on the +one side and a hedge and ditch upon the other, the whole without +the smallest signal of human habitation, the Squirradical drew +up. + +'This is a wild-goose chase,' said he. + +With the cessation of the footfalls, another sound smote upon +their ears. + +'O, what's that?' cried Julia. + +'I can't think,' said Gideon. + +The Squirradical had his stick presented like a sword. 'Gid,' he +began, 'Gid, I--' + +'O Mr Forsyth!' cried the girl. 'O don't go forward, you don't +know what it might be--it might be something perfectly horrid.' + +'It may be the devil itself,' said Gideon, disengaging himself, +'but I am going to see it.' + +'Don't be rash, Gid,' cried his uncle. + +The barrister drew near to the sound, which was certainly of a +portentous character. In quality it appeared to blend the strains +of the cow, the fog-horn, and the mosquito; and the startling +manner of its enunciation added incalculably to its terrors. A +dark object, not unlike the human form divine, appeared on the +brink of the ditch. + +'It's a man,' said Gideon, 'it's only a man; he seems to be +asleep and snoring. Hullo,' he added, a moment after, 'there must +be something wrong with him, he won't waken.' + +Gideon produced his vestas, struck one, and by its light +recognized the tow head of Harker. + +'This is the man,' said he, 'as drunk as Belial. I see the whole +story'; and to his two companions, who had now ventured to rejoin +him, he set forth a theory of the divorce between the carrier and +his cart, which was not unlike the truth. + +'Drunken brute!' said Uncle Ned, 'let's get him to a pump and +give him what he deserves.' + +'Not at all!' said Gideon. 'It is highly undesirable he should +see us together; and really, do you know, I am very much obliged +to him, for this is about the luckiest thing that could have +possibly occurred. It seems to me--Uncle Ned, I declare to heaven +it seems to me--I'm clear of it!' + +'Clear of what?' asked the Squirradical. + +'The whole affair!' cried Gideon. 'That man has been ass enough +to steal the cart and the dead body; what he hopes to do with it +I neither know nor care. My hands are free, Jimson ceases; down +with Jimson. Shake hands with me, Uncle Ned--Julia, darling girl, +Julia, I--' + +'Gideon, Gideon!' said his uncle. 'O, it's all right, uncle, +when we're going to be married so soon,' said Gideon. 'You know +you said so yourself in the houseboat.' + +'Did I?' said Uncle Ned; 'I am certain I said no such thing.' + +'Appeal to him, tell him he did, get on his soft side,' cried +Gideon. 'He's a real brick if you get on his soft side.' + +'Dear Mr Bloomfield,' said Julia, 'I know Gideon will be such a +very good boy, and he has promised me to do such a lot of law, +and I will see that he does too. And you know it is so very +steadying to young men, everybody admits that; though, of course, +I know I have no money, Mr Bloomfield,' she added. + +'My dear young lady, as this rapscallion told you today on the +boat, Uncle Ned has plenty,' said the Squirradical, 'and I can +never forget that you have been shamefully defrauded. So as +there's nobody looking, you had better give your Uncle Ned a +kiss. There, you rogue,' resumed Mr Bloomfield, when the ceremony +had been daintily performed, 'this very pretty young lady is +yours, and a vast deal more than you deserve. But now, let us get +back to the houseboat, get up steam on the launch, and away back +to town.' + +'That's the thing!' cried Gideon; 'and tomorrow there will be no +houseboat, and no Jimson, and no carrier's cart, and no piano; +and when Harker awakes on the ditchside, he may tell himself the +whole affair has been a dream.' + +'Aha!' said Uncle Ned, 'but there's another man who will have a +different awakening. That fellow in the cart will find he has +been too clever by half.' + +'Uncle Ned and Julia,' said Gideon, 'I am as happy as the King of +Tartary, my heart is like a threepenny-bit, my heels are like +feathers; I am out of all my troubles, Julia's hand is in mine. +Is this a time for anything but handsome sentiments? Why, there's +not room in me for anything that's not angelic! And when I think +of that poor unhappy devil in the cart, I stand here in the night +and cry with a single heart God help him!' + +'Amen,' said Uncle Ned. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the Second + +In a really polite age of literature I would have scorned to cast +my eye again on the contortions of Morris. But the study is in +the spirit of the day; it presents, besides, features of a high, +almost a repulsive, morality; and if it should prove the means of +preventing any respectable and inexperienced gentleman from +plunging light-heartedly into crime, even political crime, this +work will not have been penned in vain. + +He rose on the morrow of his night with Michael, rose from the +leaden slumber of distress, to find his hand tremulous, his eyes +closed with rheum, his throat parched, and his digestion +obviously paralysed. 'Lord knows it's not from eating!' Morris +thought; and as he dressed he reconsidered his position under +several heads. Nothing will so well depict the troubled seas in +which he was now voyaging as a review of these various anxieties. +I have thrown them (for the reader's convenience) into a certain +order; but in the mind of one poor human equal they whirled +together like the dust of hurricanes. With the same obliging +preoccupation, I have put a name to each of his distresses; and +it will be observed with pity that every individual item would +have graced and commended the cover of a railway novel. + +Anxiety the First: Where is the Body? or, The Mystery of Bent +Pitman. It was now manifestly plain that Bent Pitman (as was to +be looked for from his ominous appellation) belonged to the +darker order of the criminal class. An honest man would not have +cashed the bill; a humane man would not have accepted in silence +the tragic contents of the water-butt; a man, who was not already +up to the hilts in gore, would have lacked the means of secretly +disposing them. This process of reasoning left a horrid image of +the monster, Pitman. Doubtless he had long ago disposed of the +body--dropping it through a trapdoor in his back kitchen, Morris +supposed, with some hazy recollection of a picture in a penny +dreadful; and doubtless the man now lived in wanton splendour on +the proceeds of the bill. So far, all was peace. But with the +profligate habits of a man like Bent Pitman (who was no doubt a +hunchback in the bargain), eight hundred pounds could be easily +melted in a week. When they were gone, what would he be likely to +do next? A hell-like voice in Morris's own bosom gave the answer: +'Blackmail me.' + +Anxiety the Second: The Fraud of the Tontine; or, Is my Uncle +dead? This, on which all Morris's hopes depended, was yet a +question. He had tried to bully Teena; he had tried to bribe her; +and nothing came of it. He had his moral conviction still; but +you cannot blackmail a sharp lawyer on a moral conviction. And +besides, since his interview with Michael, the idea wore a less +attractive countenance. Was Michael the man to be blackmailed? +and was Morris the man to do it? Grave considerations. 'It's not +that I'm afraid of him,' Morris so far condescended to reassure +himself; 'but I must be very certain of my ground, and the deuce +of it is, I see no way. How unlike is life to novels! I wouldn't +have even begun this business in a novel, but what I'd have met a +dark, slouching fellow in the Oxford Road, who'd have become my +accomplice, and known all about how to do it, and probably broken +into Michael's house at night and found nothing but a waxwork +image; and then blackmailed or murdered me. But here, in real +life, I might walk the streets till I dropped dead, and none of +the criminal classes would look near me. Though, to be sure, +there is always Pitman,' he added thoughtfully. + +Anxiety the Third: The Cottage at Browndean; or, The Underpaid +Accomplice. For he had an accomplice, and that accomplice was +blooming unseen in a damp cottage in Hampshire with empty +pockets. What could be done about that? He really ought to have +sent him something; if it was only a post-office order for five +bob, enough to prove that he was kept in mind, enough to keep him +in hope, beer, and tobacco. 'But what would you have?' thought +Morris; and ruefully poured into his hand a half-crown, a florin, +and eightpence in small change. For a man in Morris's position, +at war with all society, and conducting, with the hand of +inexperience, a widely ramified intrigue, the sum was already a +derision. John would have to be doing; no mistake of that. 'But +then,' asked the hell-like voice, 'how long is John likely to +stand it?' + +Anxiety the Fourth: The Leather Business; or, The Shutters at +Last: a Tale of the City. On this head Morris had no news. He had +not yet dared to visit the family concern; yet he knew he must +delay no longer, and if anything had been wanted to sharpen this +conviction, Michael's references of the night before rang +ambiguously in his ear. Well and good. To visit the city might be +indispensable; but what was he to do when he was there? He had no +right to sign in his own name; and, with all the will in the +world, he seemed to lack the art of signing with his uncle's. +Under these circumstances, Morris could do nothing to +procrastinate the crash; and, when it came, when prying eyes +began to be applied to every joint of his behaviour, two +questions could not fail to be addressed, sooner or later, to a +speechless and perspiring insolvent. Where is Mr Joseph Finsbury? +and how about your visit to the bank? Questions, how easy to +put!--ye gods, how impossible to answer! The man to whom they +should be addressed went certainly to gaol, and--eh! what was +this?--possibly to the gallows. Morris was trying to shave when +this idea struck him, and he laid the razor down. Here (in +Michael's words) was the total disappearance of a valuable uncle; +here was a time of inexplicable conduct on the part of a nephew +who had been in bad blood with the old man any time these seven +years; what a chance for a judicial blunder! 'But no,' thought +Morris, 'they cannot, they dare not, make it murder. Not that. +But honestly, and speaking as a man to a man, I don't see any +other crime in the calendar (except arson) that I don't seem +somehow to have committed. And yet I'm a perfectly respectable +man, and wished nothing but my due. Law is a pretty business.' + +With this conclusion firmly seated in his mind, Morris Finsbury +descended to the hall of the house in John Street, still +half-shaven. There was a letter in the box; he knew the +handwriting: John at last! + +'Well, I think I might have been spared this,' he said bitterly, +and tore it open. + +Dear Morris [it ran], what the dickens do you mean by it? I'm in +an awful hole down here; I have to go on tick, and the parties on +the spot don't cotton to the idea; they couldn't, because it is +so plain I'm in a stait of Destitution. I've got no bedclothes, +think of that, I must have coins, the hole thing's a Mockry, I +wont stand it, nobody would. I would have come away before, only +I have no money for the railway fare. Don't be a lunatic, Morris, +you don't seem to understand my dredful situation. I have to get +the stamp on tick. A fact.--Ever your affte. Brother, + J. FINSBURY + +'Can't even spell!' Morris reflected, as he crammed the letter in +his pocket, and left the house. 'What can I do for him? I have to +go to the expense of a barber, I'm so shattered! How can I send +anybody coins? It's hard lines, I daresay; but does he think I'm +living on hot muffins? One comfort,' was his grim reflection, 'he +can't cut and run--he's got to stay; he's as helpless as the +dead.' And then he broke forth again: 'Complains, does he? and +he's never even heard of Bent Pitman! If he had what I have on my +mind, he might complain with a good grace.' + +But these were not honest arguments, or not wholly honest; there +was a struggle in the mind of Morris; he could not disguise from +himself that his brother John was miserably situated at +Browndean, without news, without money, without bedclothes, +without society or any entertainment; and by the time he had been +shaved and picked a hasty breakfast at a coffee tavern, Morris +had arrived at a compromise. + +'Poor Johnny,' he said to himself, 'he's in an awful box! I can't +send him coins, but I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll send him the +Pink Un--it'll cheer John up; and besides, it'll do his credit +good getting anything by post.' + +Accordingly, on his way to the leather business, whither he +proceeded (according to his thrifty habit) on foot, Morris +purchased and dispatched a single copy of that enlivening +periodical, to which (in a sudden pang of remorse) he added at +random the Athenaeum, the Revivalist, and the Penny Pictorial +Weekly. So there was John set up with literature, and Morris had +laid balm upon his conscience. + +As if to reward him, he was received in his place of business +with good news. Orders were pouring in; there was a run on some +of the back stock, and the figure had gone up. Even the manager +appeared elated. As for Morris, who had almost forgotten the +meaning of good news, he longed to sob like a little child; he +could have caught the manager (a pallid man with startled +eyebrows) to his bosom; he could have found it in his generosity +to give a cheque (for a small sum) to every clerk in the +counting-house. As he sat and opened his letters a chorus of airy +vocalists sang in his brain, to most exquisite music, 'This whole +concern may be profitable yet, profitable yet, profitable yet.' + +To him, in this sunny moment of relief, enter a Mr Rodgerson, a +creditor, but not one who was expected to be pressing, for his +connection with the firm was old and regular. + +'O, Finsbury,' said he, not without embarrassment, 'it's of +course only fair to let you know--the fact is, money is a trifle +tight--I have some paper out--for that matter, every one's +complaining--and in short--' + +'It has never been our habit, Rodgerson,' said Morris, turning +pale. 'But give me time to turn round, and I'll see what I can +do; I daresay we can let you have something to account.' + +'Well, that's just where is,' replied Rodgerson. 'I was tempted; +I've let the credit out of MY hands.' + +'Out of your hands?' repeated Morris. 'That's playing rather fast +and loose with us, Mr Rodgerson.' + +'Well, I got cent. for cent. for it,' said the other, 'on the +nail, in a certified cheque.' + +'Cent. for cent.!' cried Morris. 'Why, that's something like +thirty per cent. bonus; a singular thing! Who's the party?' + +'Don't know the man,' was the reply. 'Name of Moss.' + +'A Jew,' Morris reflected, when his visitor was gone. And what +could a Jew want with a claim of--he verified the amount in the +books--a claim of three five eight, nineteen, ten, against the +house of Finsbury? And why should he pay cent. for cent.? The +figure proved the loyalty of Rodgerson--even Morris admitted +that. But it proved unfortunately something else--the eagerness +of Moss. The claim must have been wanted instantly, for that day, +for that morning even. Why? The mystery of Moss promised to be a +fit pendant to the mystery of Pitman. 'And just when all was +looking well too!' cried Morris, smiting his hand upon the desk. +And almost at the same moment Mr Moss was announced. + +Mr Moss was a radiant Hebrew, brutally handsome, and offensively +polite. He was acting, it appeared, for a third party; he +understood nothing of the circumstances; his client desired to +have his position regularized; but he would accept an antedated +cheque--antedated by two months, if Mr Finsbury chose. + +'But I don't understand this,' said Morris. 'What made you pay +cent. per cent. for it today?' + +Mr Moss had no idea; only his orders. + +'The whole thing is thoroughly irregular,' said Morris. 'It is +not the custom of the trade to settle at this time of the year. +What are your instructions if I refuse?' + +'I am to see Mr Joseph Finsbury, the head of the firm,' said Mr +Moss. 'I was directed to insist on that; it was implied you had +no status here--the expressions are not mine.' + +'You cannot see Mr Joseph; he is unwell,' said Morris. + +'In that case I was to place the matter in the hands of a lawyer. +Let me see,' said Mr Moss, opening a pocket-book with, perhaps, +suspicious care, at the right place--'Yes--of Mr Michael +Finsbury. A relation, perhaps? In that case, I presume, the +matter will be pleasantly arranged.' + +To pass into the hands of Michael was too much for Morris. He +struck his colours. A cheque at two months was nothing, after +all. In two months he would probably be dead, or in a gaol at any +rate. He bade the manager give Mr Moss a chair and the paper. +'I'm going over to get a cheque signed by Mr Finsbury,' said he, +'who is lying ill at John Street.' + +A cab there and a cab back; here were inroads on his wretched +capital! He counted the cost; when he was done with Mr Moss he +would be left with twelvepence-halfpenny in the world. What was +even worse, he had now been forced to bring his uncle up to +Bloomsbury. 'No use for poor Johnny in Hampshire now,' he +reflected. 'And how the farce is to be kept up completely passes +me. At Browndean it was just possible; in Bloomsbury it seems +beyond human ingenuity--though I suppose it's what Michael does. +But then he has accomplices--that Scotsman and the whole gang. +Ah, if I had accomplices!' + +Necessity is the mother of the arts. Under a spur so immediate, +Morris surprised himself by the neatness and dispatch of his new +forgery, and within three-fourths of an hour had handed it to Mr +Moss. + +'That is very satisfactory,' observed that gentleman, rising. 'I +was to tell you it will not be presented, but you had better take +care.' + +The room swam round Morris. 'What--what's that?' he cried, +grasping the table. He was miserably conscious the next moment of +his shrill tongue and ashen face. 'What do you mean--it will not +be presented? Why am I to take care? What is all this mummery?' + +'I have no idea, Mr Finsbury,' replied the smiling Hebrew. 'It +was a message I was to deliver. The expressions were put into my +mouth.' + +'What is your client's name?' asked Morris. + +'That is a secret for the moment,' answered Mr Moss. Morris bent +toward him. 'It's not the bank?' he asked hoarsely. + +'I have no authority to say more, Mr Finsbury,' returned Mr Moss. +'I will wish you a good morning, if you please.' + +'Wish me a good morning!' thought Morris; and the next moment, +seizing his hat, he fled from his place of business like a +madman. Three streets away he stopped and groaned. 'Lord! I +should have borrowed from the manager!' he cried. 'But it's too +late now; it would look dicky to go back; I'm penniless--simply +penniless--like the unemployed.' + +He went home and sat in the dismantled dining-room with his head +in his hands. Newton never thought harder than this victim of +circumstances, and yet no clearness came. 'It may be a defect in +my intelligence,' he cried, rising to his feet, 'but I cannot see +that I am fairly used. The bad luck I've had is a thing to write +to The Times about; it's enough to breed a revolution. And the +plain English of the whole thing is that I must have money at +once. I'm done with all morality now; I'm long past that stage; +money I must have, and the only chance I see is Bent Pitman. Bent +Pitman is a criminal, and therefore his position's weak. He must +have some of that eight hundred left; if he has I'll force him to +go shares; and even if he hasn't, I'll tell him the tontine +affair, and with a desperate man like Pitman at my back, it'll be +strange if I don't succeed.' + +Well and good. But how to lay hands upon Bent Pitman, except by +advertisement, was not so clear. And even so, in what terms to +ask a meeting? on what grounds? and where? Not at John Street, +for it would never do to let a man like Bent Pitman know your +real address; nor yet at Pitman's house, some dreadful place in +Holloway, with a trapdoor in the back kitchen; a house which you +might enter in a light summer overcoat and varnished boots, to +come forth again piecemeal in a market-basket. That was the +drawback of a really efficient accomplice, Morris felt, not +without a shudder. 'I never dreamed I should come to actually +covet such society,' he thought. And then a brilliant idea struck +him. Waterloo Station, a public place, yet at certain hours of +the day a solitary; a place, besides, the very name of which must +knock upon the heart of Pitman, and at once suggest a knowledge +of the latest of his guilty secrets. Morris took a piece of paper +and sketched his advertisement. + + +WILLIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear +of SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE on the far end of the main line +departure platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M., Sunday next. + +Morris reperused this literary trifle with approbation. 'Terse,' +he reflected. 'Something to his advantage is not strictly true; +but it's taking and original, and a man is not on oath in an +advertisement. All that I require now is the ready cash for my +own meals and for the advertisement, and--no, I can't lavish +money upon John, but I'll give him some more papers. How to raise +the wind?' + +He approached his cabinet of signets, and the collector suddenly +revolted in his blood. 'I will not!' he cried; 'nothing shall +induce me to massacre my collection--rather theft!' And dashing +upstairs to the drawing-room, he helped himself to a few of his +uncle's curiosities: a pair of Turkish babooshes, a Smyrna fan, a +water-cooler, a musket guaranteed to have been seized from an +Ephesian bandit, and a pocketful of curious but incomplete +seashells. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. William Bent Pitman Hears of Something to his +Advantage + +On the morning of Sunday, William Dent Pitman rose at his usual +hour, although with something more than the usual reluctance. The +day before (it should be explained) an addition had been made to +his family in the person of a lodger. Michael Finsbury had acted +sponsor in the business, and guaranteed the weekly bill; on the +other hand, no doubt with a spice of his prevailing jocularity, +he had drawn a depressing portrait of the lodger's character. Mr +Pitman had been led to understand his guest was not good company; +he had approached the gentleman with fear, and had rejoiced to +find himself the entertainer of an angel. At tea he had been +vastly pleased; till hard on one in the morning he had sat +entranced by eloquence and progressively fortified with +information in the studio; and now, as he reviewed over his +toilet the harmless pleasures of the evening, the future smiled +upon him with revived attractions. 'Mr Finsbury is indeed an +acquisition,' he remarked to himself; and as he entered the +little parlour, where the table was already laid for breakfast, +the cordiality of his greeting would have befitted an +acquaintanceship already old. + +'I am delighted to see you, sir'--these were his +expressions--'and I trust you have slept well.' + +'Accustomed as I have been for so long to a life of almost +perpetual change,' replied the guest, 'the disturbance so often +complained of by the more sedentary, as attending their first +night in (what is called) a new bed, is a complaint from which I +am entirely free.' + +'I am delighted to hear it,' said the drawing-master warmly. 'But +I see I have interrupted you over the paper.' + +'The Sunday paper is one of the features of the age,' said Mr +Finsbury. 'In America, I am told, it supersedes all other +literature, the bone and sinew of the nation finding their +requirements catered for; hundreds of columns will be occupied +with interesting details of the world's doings, such as +water-spouts, elopements, conflagrations, and public +entertainments; there is a corner for politics, ladies' work, +chess, religion, and even literature; and a few spicy editorials +serve to direct the course of public thought. It is difficult to +estimate the part played by such enormous and miscellaneous +repositories in the education of the people. But this (though +interesting in itself) partakes of the nature of a digression; +and what I was about to ask you was this: Are you yourself a +student of the daily press?' + +'There is not much in the papers to interest an artist,' returned +Pitman. + +'In that case,' resumed Joseph, 'an advertisement which has +appeared the last two days in various journals, and reappears +this morning, may possibly have failed to catch your eye. The +name, with a trifling variation, bears a strong resemblance to +your own. Ah, here it is. If you please, I will read it to you: + +WILIAM BENT PITMAN, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear +of SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at the far end of the main line +departure platform, Waterloo Station, 2 to 4 P.M. today. + +'Is that in print?' cried Pitman. 'Let me see it! Bent? It must +be Dent! SOMETHING TO MY ADVANTAGE? Mr Finsbury, excuse me +offering a word of caution; I am aware how strangely this must +sound in your ears, but there are domestic reasons why this +little circumstance might perhaps be better kept between +ourselves. Mrs Pitman--my dear Sir, I assure you there is nothing +dishonourable in my secrecy; the reasons are domestic, merely +domestic; and I may set your conscience at rest when I assure you +all the circumstances are known to our common friend, your +excellent nephew, Mr Michael, who has not withdrawn from me his +esteem.' + +'A word is enough, Mr Pitman,' said Joseph, with one of his +Oriental reverences. + +Half an hour later, the drawing-master found Michael in bed and +reading a book, the picture of good-humour and repose. + +'Hillo, Pitman,' he said, laying down his book, 'what brings you +here at this inclement hour? Ought to be in church, my boy!' + +'I have little thought of church today, Mr Finsbury,' said the +drawing-master. 'I am on the brink of something new, Sir.' And he +presented the advertisement. + +'Why, what is this?' cried Michael, sitting suddenly up. He +studied it for half a minute with a frown. 'Pitman, I don't care +about this document a particle,' said he. + +'It will have to be attended to, however,' said Pitman. + +'I thought you'd had enough of Waterloo,' returned the lawyer. +'Have you started a morbid craving? You've never been yourself +anyway since you lost that beard. I believe now it was where you +kept your senses.' + +'Mr Finsbury,' said the drawing-master, 'I have tried to reason +this matter out, and, with your permission, I should like to lay +before you the results.' + +'Fire away,' said Michael; 'but please, Pitman, remember it's +Sunday, and let's have no bad language.' + +'There are three views open to us,' began Pitman. 'First this may +be connected with the barrel; second, it may be connected with Mr +Semitopolis's statue; and third, it may be from my wife's +brother, who went to Australia. In the first case, which is of +course possible, I confess the matter would be best allowed to +drop.' + +'The court is with you there, Brother Pitman,' said Michael. + +'In the second,' continued the other, 'it is plainly my duty to +leave no stone unturned for the recovery of the lost antique.' + +'My dear fellow, Semitopolis has come down like a trump; he has +pocketed the loss and left you the profit. What more would you +have?' enquired the lawyer. + +'I conceive, sir, under correction, that Mr Semitopolis's +generosity binds me to even greater exertion,' said the +drawing-master. 'The whole business was unfortunate; it was--I +need not disguise it from you--it was illegal from the first: the +more reason that I should try to behave like a gentleman,' +concluded Pitman, flushing. + +'I have nothing to say to that,' returned the lawyer. 'I have +sometimes thought I should like to try to behave like a gentleman +myself; only it's such a one-sided business, with the world and +the legal profession as they are.' + +'Then, in the third,' resumed the drawing-master, 'if it's Uncle +Tim, of course, our fortune's made.' + +'It's not Uncle Tim, though,' said the lawyer. + +'Have you observed that very remarkable expression: SOMETHING TO +HIS ADVANTAGE?' enquired Pitman shrewdly. + +'You innocent mutton,' said Michael, 'it's the seediest +commonplace in the English language, and only proves the +advertiser is an ass. Let me demolish your house of cards for you +at once. Would Uncle Tim make that blunder in your name?--in +itself, the blunder is delicious, a huge improvement on the gross +reality, and I mean to adopt it in the future; but is it like +Uncle Tim?' + +'No, it's not like him,' Pitman admitted. 'But his mind may have +become unhinged at Ballarat.' + +'If you come to that, Pitman,' said Michael, 'the advertiser may +be Queen Victoria, fired with the desire to make a duke of you. I +put it to yourself if that's probable; and yet it's not against +the laws of nature. But we sit here to consider probabilities; +and with your genteel permission, I eliminate her Majesty and +Uncle Tim on the threshold. To proceed, we have your second idea, +that this has some connection with the statue. Possible; but in +that case who is the advertiser? Not Ricardi, for he knows your +address; not the person who got the box, for he doesn't know your +name. The vanman, I hear you suggest, in a lucid interval. He +might have got your name, and got it incorrectly, at the station; +and he might have failed to get your address. I grant the vanman. +But a question: Do you really wish to meet the vanman?' + +'Why should I not?' asked Pitman. + +'If he wants to meet you,' replied Michael, 'observe this: it is +because he has found his address-book, has been to the house that +got the statue, and-mark my words!--is moving at the instigation +of the murderer.' + +'I should be very sorry to think so,' said Pitman; 'but I still +consider it my duty to Mr Sernitopolis. . .' + +'Pitman,' interrupted Michael, 'this will not do. Don't seek to +impose on your legal adviser; don't try to pass yourself off for +the Duke of Wellington, for that is not your line. Come, I wager +a dinner I can read your thoughts. You still believe it's Uncle +Tim.' + +'Mr Finsbury,' said the drawing-master, colouring, 'you are not a +man in narrow circumstances, and you have no family. Guendolen is +growing up, a very promising girl--she was confirmed this year; +and I think you will be able to enter into my feelings as a +parent when I tell you she is quite ignorant of dancing. The boys +are at the board school, which is all very well in its way; at +least, I am the last man in the world to criticize the +institutions of my native land. But I had fondly hoped that +Harold might become a professional musician; and little Otho +shows a quite remarkable vocation for the Church. I am not +exactly an ambitious man...' + +'Well, well,' interrupted Michael. 'Be explicit; you think it's +Uncle Tim?' + +'It might be Uncle Tim,' insisted Pitman, 'and if it were, and I +neglected the occasion, how could I ever took my children in the +face? I do not refer to Mrs Pitman. . .' + +'No, you never do,' said Michael. + +'. . . but in the case of her own brother returning from +Ballarat. . .' continued Pitman. + +'. . . with his mind unhinged,' put in the lawyer. + +'. . . returning from Ballarat with a large fortune, her +impatience may be more easily imagined than described,' concluded +Pitman. + +'All right,' said Michael, 'be it so. And what do you propose to +do?' + +'I am going to Waterloo,' said Pitman, 'in disguise.' + +'All by your little self?' enquired the lawyer. 'Well, I hope you +think it safe. Mind and send me word from the police cells.' + +'O, Mr Finsbury, I had ventured to hope--perhaps you might be +induced to--to make one of us,' faltered Pitman. + +'Disguise myself on Sunday?' cried Michael. 'How little you +understand my principles!' + +'Mr Finsbury, I have no means of showing you my gratitude; but +let me ask you one question,' said Pitman. 'If I were a very rich +client, would you not take the risk?' + +'Diamond, Diamond, you know not what you do!' cried Michael. +'Why, man, do you suppose I make a practice of cutting about +London with my clients in disguise? Do you suppose money would +induce me to touch this business with a stick? I give you my word +of honour, it would not. But I own I have a real curiosity to see +how you conduct this interview--that tempts me; it tempts me, +Pitman, more than gold--it should be exquisitely rich.' And +suddenly Michael laughed. 'Well, Pitman,' said he, 'have all the +truck ready in the studio. I'll go.' + +About twenty minutes after two, on this eventful day, the vast +and gloomy shed of Waterloo lay, like the temple of a dead +religion, silent and deserted. Here and there at one of the +platforms, a train lay becalmed; here and there a wandering +footfall echoed; the cab-horses outside stamped with startling +reverberations on the stones; or from the neighbouring wilderness +of railway an engine snorted forth a whistle. The main-line +departure platform slumbered like the rest; the booking-hutches +closed; the backs of Mr Haggard's novels, with which upon a +weekday the bookstall shines emblazoned, discreetly hidden behind +dingy shutters; the rare officials, undisguisedly somnambulant; +and the customary loiterers, even to the middle-aged woman with +the ulster and the handbag, fled to more congenial scenes. As in +the inmost dells of some small tropic island the throbbing of the +ocean lingers, so here a faint pervading hum and trepidation told +in every corner of surrounding London. + +At the hour already named, persons acquainted with John Dickson, +of Ballarat, and Ezra Thomas, of the United States of America, +would have been cheered to behold them enter through the +booking-office. + +'What names are we to take?' enquired the latter, anxiously +adjusting the window-glass spectacles which he had been suffered +on this occasion to assume. + +'There's no choice for you, my boy,' returned Michael. 'Bent +Pitman or nothing. As for me, I think I look as if I might be +called Appleby; something agreeably old-world about +Appleby--breathes of Devonshire cider. Talking of which, suppose +you wet your whistle? the interview is likely to be trying.' + +'I think I'll wait till afterwards,' returned Pitman; 'on the +whole, I think I'll wait till the thing's over. I don't know if +it strikes you as it does me; but the place seems deserted and +silent, Mr Finsbury, and filled with very singular echoes.' + +'Kind of Jack-in-the-box feeling?' enquired Michael, 'as if all +these empty trains might be filled with policemen waiting for a +signal? and Sir Charles Warren perched among the girders with a +silver whistle to his lips? It's guilt, Pitman.' + +In this uneasy frame of mind they walked nearly the whole length +of the departure platform, and at the western extremity became +aware of a slender figure standing back against a pillar. The +figure was plainly sunk into a deep abstraction; he was not aware +of their approach, but gazed far abroad over the sunlit station. +Michael stopped. + +'Holloa!' said he, 'can that be your advertiser? If so, I'm done +with it.' And then, on second thoughts: 'Not so, either,' he +resumed more cheerfully. 'Here, turn your back a moment. So. Give +me the specs.' + +'But you agreed I was to have them,' protested Pitman. + +'Ah, but that man knows me,' said Michael. + +'Does he? what's his name?' cried Pitman. + +'O, he took me into his confidence,' returned the lawyer. 'But I +may say one thing: if he's your advertiser (and he may be, for he +seems to have been seized with criminal lunacy) you can go ahead +with a clear conscience, for I hold him in the hollow of my +hand.' + +The change effected, and Pitman comforted with this good news, +the pair drew near to Morris. + +'Are you looking for Mr William Bent Pitman?' enquired the +drawing-master. 'I am he.' + +Morris raised his head. He saw before him, in the speaker, a +person of almost indescribable insignificance, in white spats and +a shirt cut indecently low. A little behind, a second and more +burly figure offered little to criticism, except ulster, +whiskers, spectacles, and deerstalker hat. Since he had decided +to call up devils from the underworld of London, Morris had +pondered deeply on the probabilities of their appearance. His +first emotion, like that of Charoba when she beheld the sea, was +one of disappointment; his second did more justice to the case. +Never before had he seen a couple dressed like these; he had +struck a new stratum. + +'I must speak with you alone,' said he. + +'You need not mind Mr Appleby,' returned Pitman. 'He knows all.' + +'All? Do you know what I am here to speak of?' enquired Morris--. +'The barrel.' + +Pitman turned pale, but it was with manly indignation. 'You are +the man!' he cried. 'You very wicked person.' + +'Am I to speak before him?' asked Morris, disregarding these +severe expressions. + +'He has been present throughout,' said Pitman. 'He opened the +barrel; your guilty secret is already known to him, as well as to +your Maker and myself.' + +'Well, then,' said Morris, 'what have you done with the money?' + +'I know nothing about any money,' said Pitman. + +'You needn't try that on,' said Morris. 'I have tracked you down; +you came to the station sacrilegiously disguised as a clergyman, +procured my barrel, opened it, rifled the body, and cashed the +bill. I have been to the bank, I tell you! I have followed you +step by step, and your denials are childish and absurd.' + +'Come, come, Morris, keep your temper,' said Mr Appleby. + +'Michael!' cried Morris, 'Michael here too!' + +'Here too,' echoed the lawyer; 'here and everywhere, my good +fellow; every step you take is counted; trained detectives follow +you like your shadow; they report to me every three-quarters of +an hour; no expense is spared.' + +Morris's face took on a hue of dirty grey. 'Well, I don't care; I +have the less reserve to keep,' he cried. 'That man cashed my +bill; it's a theft, and I want the money back.' + +'Do you think I would lie to you, Morris?' asked Michael. + +'I don't know,' said his cousin. 'I want my money.' + +'It was I alone who touched the body,' began Michael. + +'You? Michael!' cried Morris, starting back. 'Then why haven't +you declared the death?' 'What the devil do you mean?' asked +Michael. + +'Am I mad? or are you?' cried Morris. + +'I think it must be Pitman,' said Michael. + +The three men stared at each other, wild-eyed. + +'This is dreadful,' said Morris, 'dreadful. I do not understand +one word that is addressed to me.' + +'I give you my word of honour, no more do I,' said Michael. + +'And in God's name, why whiskers?' cried Morris, pointing in a +ghastly manner at his cousin. 'Does my brain reel? How whiskers?' + +'O, that's a matter of detail,' said Michael. + +There was another silence, during which Morris appeared to +himself to be shot in a trapeze as high as St Paul's, and as low +as Baker Street Station. + +'Let us recapitulate,' said Michael, 'unless it's really a dream, +in which case I wish Teena would call me for breakfast. My friend +Pitman, here, received a barrel which, it now appears, was meant +for you. The barrel contained the body of a man. How or why you +killed him...' + +'I never laid a hand on him,' protested Morris. 'This is what I +have dreaded all along. But think, Michael! I'm not that kind of +man; with all my faults, I wouldn't touch a hair of anybody's +head, and it was all dead loss to me. He got killed in that vile +accident.' + +Suddenly Michael was seized by mirth so prolonged and excessive +that his companions supposed beyond a doubt his reason had +deserted him. Again and again he struggled to compose himself, +and again and again laughter overwhelmed him like a tide. In all +this maddening interview there had been no more spectral feature +than this of Michael's merriment; and Pitman and Morris, drawn +together by the common fear, exchanged glances of anxiety. + +'Morris,' gasped the lawyer, when he was at last able to +articulate, 'hold on, I see it all now. I can make it clear in +one word. Here's the key: I NEVER GUESSED IT WAS UNCLE JOSEPH +TILL THIS MOMENT.' + +This remark produced an instant lightening of the tension for +Morris. For Pitman it quenched the last ray of hope and daylight. +Uncle Joseph, whom he had left an hour ago in Norfolk Street, +pasting newspaper cuttings?--it?--the dead body?--then who was +he, Pitman? and was this Waterloo Station or Colney Hatch? + +'To be sure!' cried Morris; 'it was badly smashed, I know. How +stupid not to think of that! Why, then, all's clear; and, my dear +Michael, I'll tell you what--we're saved, both saved. You get the +tontine--I don't grudge it you the least--and I get the leather +business, which is really beginning to look up. Declare the death +at once, don't mind me in the smallest, don't consider me; +declare the death, and we're all right.' + +'Ah, but I can't declare it,' said Michael. + +'Why not?' cried Morris. + +'I can't produce the corpus, Morris. I've lost it,' said the +lawyer. + +'Stop a bit,' ejaculated the leather merchant. 'How is this? It's +not possible. I lost it.' + +'Well, I've lost it too, my son,' said Michael, with extreme +serenity. 'Not recognizing it, you see, and suspecting something +irregular in its origin, I got rid of--what shall we say?--got +rid of the proceeds at once.' + +'You got rid of the body? What made you do that?' walled Morris. +'But you can get it again? You know where it is?' + +'I wish I did, Morris, and you may believe me there, for it would +be a small sum in my pocket; but the fact is, I don't,' said +Michael. + +'Good Lord,' said Morris, addressing heaven and earth, 'good +Lord, I've lost the leather business!' + +Michael was once more shaken with laughter. + +'Why do you laugh, you fool?' cried his cousin, 'you lose more +than I. You've bungled it worse than even I did. If you had a +spark of feeling, you would be shaking in your boots with +vexation. But I'll tell you one thing--I'll have that eight +hundred pound--I'll have that and go to Swan River--that's mine, +anyway, and your friend must have forged to cash it. Give me the +eight hundred, here, upon this platform, or I go straight to +Scotland Yard and turn the whole disreputable story inside out.' + +'Morris,' said Michael, laying his hand upon his shoulder, 'hear +reason. It wasn't us, it was the other man. We never even +searched the body.' + +'The other man?' repeated Morris. + +'Yes, the other man. We palmed Uncle Joseph off upon another +man,' said Michael. + +'You what? You palmed him off? That's surely a singular +expression,' said Morris. + +'Yes, palmed him off for a piano,' said Michael with perfect +simplicity. 'Remarkably full, rich tone,' he added. + +Morris carried his hand to his brow and looked at it; it was wet +with sweat. 'Fever,' said he. + +'No, it was a Broadwood grand,' said Michael. 'Pitman here will +tell you if it was genuine or not.' + +'Eh? O! O yes, I believe it was a genuine Broadwood; I have +played upon it several times myself,' said Pitman. 'The +three-letter E was broken.' + +'Don't say anything more about pianos,' said Morris, with a +strong shudder; 'I'm not the man I used to be! This--this other +man--let's come to him, if I can only manage to follow. Who is +he? Where can I get hold of him?' + +'Ah, that's the rub,' said Michael. 'He's been in possession of +the desired article, let me see--since Wednesday, about four +o'clock, and is now, I should imagine, on his way to the isles of +Javan and Gadire.' + +'Michael,' said Morris pleadingly, 'I am in a very weak state, +and I beg your consideration for a kinsman. Say it slowly again, +and be sure you are correct. When did he get it?' + +Michael repeated his statement. + +'Yes, that's the worst thing yet,' said Morris, drawing in his +breath. + +'What is?' asked the lawyer. + +'Even the dates are sheer nonsense,' said the leather merchant. + +'The bill was cashed on Tuesday. There's not a gleam of reason in +the whole transaction.' + +A young gentleman, who had passed the trio and suddenly started +and turned back, at this moment laid a heavy hand on Michael's +shoulder. + +'Aha! so this is Mr Dickson?' said he. + +The trump of judgement could scarce have rung with a more +dreadful note in the ears of Pitman and the lawyer. To Morris +this erroneous name seemed a legitimate enough continuation of +the nightmare in which he had so long been wandering. And when +Michael, with his brand-new bushy whiskers, broke from the grasp +of the stranger and turned to run, and the weird little shaven +creature in the low-necked shirt followed his example with a +bird-like screech, and the stranger (finding the rest of his prey +escape him) pounced with a rude grasp on Morris himself, that +gentleman's frame of mind might be very nearly expressed in the +colloquial phrase: 'I told you so!' + +'I have one of the gang,' said Gideon Forsyth. + +'I do not understand,' said Morris dully. + +'O, I will make you understand,' returned Gideon grimly. + +'You will be a good friend to me if you can make me understand +anything,' cried Morris, with a sudden energy of conviction. + +'I don't know you personally, do I?' continued Gideon, examining +his unresisting prisoner. 'Never mind, I know your friends. They +are your friends, are they not?' + +'I do not understand you,' said Morris. + +'You had possibly something to do with a piano?' suggested +Gideon. + +'A piano!' cried Morris, convulsively clasping Gideon by the arm. +'Then you're the other man! Where is it? Where is the body? And +did you cash the draft?' + +'Where is the body? This is very strange,' mused Gideon. 'Do you +want the body?' + +'Want it?' cried Morris. 'My whole fortune depends upon it! I +lost it. Where is it? Take me to it? + +'O, you want it, do you? And the other man, Dickson--does he want +it?' enquired Gideon. + +'Who do you mean by Dickson? O, Michael Finsbury! Why, of course +he does! He lost it too. If he had it, he'd have won the tontine +tomorrow.' + +'Michael Finsbury! Not the solicitor?' cried Gideon. 'Yes, the +solicitor,' said Morris. 'But where is the body?' + +'Then that is why he sent the brief! What is Mr Finsbury's +private address?' asked Gideon. + +'233 King's Road. What brief? Where are you going? Where is the +body?' cried Morris, clinging to Gideon's arm. + +'I have lost it myself,' returned Gideon, and ran out of the +station. + + + +CHAPTER XV. The Return of the Great Vance + +Morris returned from Waterloo in a frame of mind that baffles +description. He was a modest man; he had never conceived an +overweening notion of his own powers; he knew himself unfit to +write a book, turn a table napkin-ring, entertain a Christmas +party with legerdemain--grapple (in short) any of those +conspicuous accomplishments that are usually classed under the +head of genius. He knew--he admitted--his parts to be pedestrian, +but he had considered them (until quite lately) fully equal to +the demands of life. And today he owned himself defeated: life +had the upper hand; if there had been any means of flight or +place to flee to, if the world had been so ordered that a man +could leave it like a place of entertainment, Morris would have +instantly resigned all further claim on its rewards and +pleasures, and, with inexpressible contentment, ceased to be. As +it was, one aim shone before him: he could get home. Even as the +sick dog crawls under the sofa, Morris could shut the door of +John Street and be alone. + +The dusk was falling when he drew near this place of refuge; and +the first thing that met his eyes was the figure of a man upon +the step, alternately plucking at the bell-handle and pounding on +the panels. The man had no hat, his clothes were hideous with +filth, he had the air of a hop-picker. Yet Morris knew him; it +was John. + +The first impulse of flight was succeeded, in the elder brother's +bosom, by the empty quiescence of despair. 'What does it matter +now?' he thought, and drawing forth his latchkey ascended the +steps. + +John turned about; his face was ghastly with weariness and dirt +and fury; and as he recognized the head of his family, he drew in +a long rasping breath, and his eyes glittered. + +'Open that door,' he said, standing back. + +'I am going to,' said Morris, and added mentally, 'He looks like +murder!' + +The brothers passed into the hall, the door closed behind them; +and suddenly John seized Morris by the shoulders and shook him as +a terrier shakes a rat. 'You mangy little cad,' he said, 'I'd +serve you right to smash your skull!' And shook him again, so +that his teeth rattled and his head smote upon the wall. + +'Don't be violent, Johnny,' said Morris. 'It can't do any good +now.' + +'Shut your mouth,' said John, 'your time's come to listen.' + +He strode into the dining-room, fell into the easy-chair, and +taking off one of his burst walking-shoes, nursed for a while his +foot like one in agony. 'I'm lame for life,' he said. 'What is +there for dinner?' + +'Nothing, Johnny,' said Morris. + +'Nothing? What do you mean by that?' enquired the Great Vance. +'Don't set up your chat to me!' + +'I mean simply nothing,' said his brother. 'I have nothing to +eat, and nothing to buy it with. I've only had a cup of tea and a +sandwich all this day myself.' + +'Only a sandwich?' sneered Vance. 'I suppose YOU'RE going to +complain next. But you had better take care: I've had all I mean +to take; and I can tell you what it is, I mean to dine and to +dine well. Take your signets and sell them.' + +'I can't today,' objected Morris; 'it's Sunday.' + +'I tell you I'm going to dine!' cried the younger brother. + +'But if it's not possible, Johnny?' pleaded the other. + +'You nincompoop!' cried Vance. 'Ain't we householders? Don't they +know us at that hotel where Uncle Parker used to come. Be off +with you; and if you ain't back in half an hour, and if the +dinner ain't good, first I'll lick you till you don't want to +breathe, and then I'll go straight to the police and blow the +gaff. Do you understand that, Morris Finsbury? Because if you do, +you had better jump.' + +The idea smiled even upon the wretched Morris, who was sick with +famine. He sped upon his errand, and returned to find John still +nursing his foot in the armchair. + +'What would you like to drink, Johnny?' he enquired soothingly. + +'Fizz,' said John. 'Some of the poppy stuff from the end bin; a +bottle of the old port that Michael liked, to follow; and see and +don't shake the port. And look here, light the fire--and the gas, +and draw down the blinds; it's cold and it's getting dark. And +then you can lay the cloth. And, I say--here, you! bring me down +some clothes.' + +The room looked comparatively habitable by the time the dinner +came; and the dinner itself was good: strong gravy soup, fillets +of sole, mutton chops and tomato sauce, roast beef done rare with +roast potatoes, cabinet pudding, a piece of Chester cheese, and +some early celery: a meal uncompromisingly British, but +supporting. + +'Thank God!' said John, his nostrils sniffing wide, surprised by +joy into the unwonted formality of grace. 'Now I'm going to take +this chair with my back to the fire--there's been a strong frost +these two last nights, and I can't get it out of my bones; the +celery will be just the ticket--I'm going to sit here, and you +are going to stand there, Morris Finsbury, and play butler.' + +'But, Johnny, I'm so hungry myself,' pleaded Morris. + +'You can have what I leave,' said Vance. 'You're just beginning +to pay your score, my daisy; I owe you one-pound-ten; don't you +rouse the British lion!' There was something indescribably +menacing in the face and voice of the Great Vance as he uttered +these words, at which the soul of Morris withered. 'There!' +resumed the feaster, 'give us a glass of the fizz to start with. +Gravy soup! And I thought I didn't like gravy soup! Do you know +how I got here?' he asked, with another explosion of wrath. + +'No, Johnny; how could I?' said the obsequious Morris. + +'I walked on my ten toes!' cried John; 'tramped the whole way +from Browndean; and begged! I would like to see you beg. It's not +so easy as you might suppose. I played it on being a shipwrecked +mariner from Blyth; I don't know where Blyth is, do you? but I +thought it sounded natural. I begged from a little beast of a +schoolboy, and he forked out a bit of twine, and asked me to make +a clove hitch; I did, too, I know I did, but he said it wasn't, +he said it was a granny's knot, and I was a what-d'ye-call-'em, +and he would give me in charge. Then I begged from a naval +officer--he never bothered me with knots, but he only gave me a +tract; there's a nice account of the British navy!--and then from +a widow woman that sold lollipops, and I got a hunch of bread +from her. Another party I fell in with said you could generally +always get bread; and the thing to do was to break a plateglass +window and get into gaol; seemed rather a brilliant scheme. Pass +the beef.' + +'Why didn't you stay at Browndean?' Morris ventured to enquire. + +'Skittles!' said John. 'On what? The Pink Un and a measly +religious paper? I had to leave Browndean; I had to, I tell you. +I got tick at a public, and set up to be the Great Vance; so +would you, if you were leading such a beastly existence! And a +card stood me a lot of ale and stuff, and we got swipey, talking +about music-halls and the piles of tin I got for singing; and +then they got me on to sing "Around her splendid form I weaved +the magic circle," and then he said I couldn't be Vance, and I +stuck to it like grim death I was. It was rot of me to sing, of +course, but I thought I could brazen it out with a set of yokels. +It settled my hash at the public,' said John, with a sigh. 'And +then the last thing was the carpenter--' + +'Our landlord?' enquired Morris. + +'That's the party,' said John. 'He came nosing about the place, +and then wanted to know where the water-butt was, and the +bedclothes. I told him to go to the devil; so would you too, when +there was no possible thing to say! And then he said I had pawned +them, and did I know it was felony? Then I made a pretty neat +stroke. I remembered he was deaf, and talked a whole lot of rot, +very politely, just so low he couldn't hear a word. "I don't hear +you," says he. "I know you don't, my buck, and I don't mean you +to," says I, smiling away like a haberdasher. "I'm hard of +hearing,' he roars. "I'd be in a pretty hot corner if you +weren't," says I, making signs as if I was explaining everything. +It was tip-top as long as it lasted. "Well," he said, "I'm deaf, +worse luck, but I bet the constable can hear you." And off he +started one way, and I the other. They got a spirit-lamp and the +Pink Un, and that old religious paper, and another periodical you +sent me. I think you must have been drunk--it had a name like one +of those spots that Uncle Joseph used to hold forth at, and it +was all full of the most awful swipes about poetry and the use of +the globes. It was the kind of thing that nobody could read out +of a lunatic asylum. The Athaeneum, that was the name! Golly, +what a paper!' + +'Athenaeum, you mean,' said Morris. + +'I don't care what you call it,' said John, 'so as I don't +require to take it in! There, I feel better. Now I'm going to sit +by the fire in the easy-chair; pass me the cheese, and the +celery, and the bottle of port--no, a champagne glass, it holds +more. And now you can pitch in; there's some of the fish left and +a chop, and some fizz. Ah,' sighed the refreshed pedestrian, +'Michael was right about that port; there's old and vatted for +you! Michael's a man I like; he's clever and reads books, and the +Athaeneum, and all that; but he's not dreary to meet, he don't +talk Athaeneum like the other parties; why, the most of them +would throw a blight over a skittle alley! Talking of Michael, I +ain't bored myself to put the question, because of course I knew +it from the first. You've made a hash of it, eh?' + +'Michael made a hash of it,' said Morris, flushing dark. + +'What have we got to do with that?' enquired John. + +'He has lost the body, that's what we have to do with it,' cried +Morris. 'He has lost the body, and the death can't be +established.' + +'Hold on,' said John. 'I thought you didn't want to?' + +'O, we're far past that,' said his brother. 'It's not the tontine +now, it's the leather business, Johnny; it's the clothes upon our +back.' + +'Stow the slow music,' said John, 'and tell your story from +beginning to end.' Morris did as he was bid. + +'Well, now, what did I tell you?' cried the Great Vance, when the +other had done. 'But I know one thing: I'm not going to be +humbugged out of my property.' + +'I should like to know what you mean to do,' said Morris. + +'I'll tell you that,' responded John with extreme decision. 'I'm +going to put my interests in the hands of the smartest lawyer in +London; and whether you go to quod or not is a matter of +indifference to me.' + +'Why, Johnny, we're in the same boat!' expostulated Morris. + +'Are we?' cried his brother. 'I bet we're not! Have I committed +forgery? have I lied about Uncle Joseph? have I put idiotic +advertisements in the comic papers? have I smashed other people's +statues? I like your cheek, Morris Finsbury. No, I've let you run +my affairs too long; now they shall go to Michael. I like +Michael, anyway; and it's time I understood my situation.' + +At this moment the brethren were interrupted by a ring at the +bell, and Morris, going timorously to the door, received from the +hands of a commissionaire a letter addressed in the hand of +Michael. Its contents ran as follows: + +MORRIS FINSBURY, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of +SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at my office, in Chancery Lane, at 10 +A.M. tomorrow. MICHAEL FINSBURY + +So utter was Morris's subjection that he did not wait to be +asked, but handed the note to John as soon as he had glanced at +it himself + +'That's the way to write a letter,' cried John. 'Nobody but +Michael could have written that.' + +And Morris did not even claim the credit of priority. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. Final Adjustment of the Leather Business + +Finsbury brothers were ushered, at ten the next morning, into a +large apartment in Michael's office; the Great Vance, somewhat +restored from yesterday's exhaustion, but with one foot in a +slipper; Morris, not positively damaged, but a man ten years +older than he who had left Bournemouth eight days before, his +face ploughed full of anxious wrinkles, his dark hair liberally +grizzled at the temples. + +Three persons were seated at a table to receive them: Michael in +the midst, Gideon Forsyth on his right hand, on his left an +ancient gentleman with spectacles and silver hair. 'By Jingo, +it's Uncle Joe!' cried John. + +But Morris approached his uncle with a pale countenance and +glittering eyes. + +'I'll tell you what you did!' he cried. 'You absconded!' + +'Good morning, Morris Finsbury,' returned Joseph, with no less +asperity; 'you are looking seriously ill.' + +'No use making trouble now,' remarked Michael. 'Look the facts in +the face. Your uncle, as you see, was not so much as shaken in +the accident; a man of your humane disposition ought to be +delighted.' + +'Then, if that's so,' Morris broke forth, 'how about the body? +You don't mean to insinuate that thing I schemed and sweated for, +and colported with my own hands, was the body of a total +stranger?' + +'O no, we can't go as far as that,' said Michael soothingly; 'you +may have met him at the club.' + +Morris fell into a chair. 'I would have found it out if it had +come to the house,' he complained. 'And why didn't it? why did it +go to Pitman? what right had Pitman to open it?' + +'If you come to that, Morris, what have you done with the +colossal Hercules?' asked Michael. + +'He went through it with the meat-axe,' said John. 'It's all in +spillikins in the back garden.' + +'Well, there's one thing,' snapped Morris; 'there's my uncle +again, my fraudulent trustee. He's mine, anyway. And the tontine +too. I claim the tontine; I claim it now. I believe Uncle +Masterman's dead.' + +'I must put a stop to this nonsense,' said Michael, 'and that for +ever. You say too near the truth. In one sense your uncle is +dead, and has been so long; but not in the sense of the tontine, +which it is even on the cards he may yet live to win. Uncle +Joseph saw him this morning; he will tell you he still lives, but +his mind is in abeyance.' + +'He did not know me,' said Joseph; to do him justice, not without +emotion. + +'So you're out again there, Morris,' said John. 'My eye! what a +fool you've made of yourself!' + +'And that was why you wouldn't compromise,' said Morris. + +'As for the absurd position in which you and Uncle Joseph have +been making yourselves an exhibition,' resumed Michael, 'it is +more than time it came to an end. I have prepared a proper +discharge in full, which you shall sign as a preliminary.' + +'What?' cried Morris, 'and lose my seven thousand eight hundred +pounds, and the leather business, and the contingent interest, +and get nothing? Thank you.' + +'It's like you to feel gratitude, Morris,' began Michael. + +'O, I know it's no good appealing to you, you sneering devil!' +cried Morris. 'But there's a stranger present, I can't think why, +and I appeal to him. I was robbed of that money when I was an +orphan, a mere child, at a commercial academy. Since then, I've +never had a wish but to get back my own. You may hear a lot of +stuff about me; and there's no doubt at times I have been +ill-advised. But it's the pathos of my situation; that's what I +want to show you.' + +'Morris,' interrupted Michael, 'I do wish you would let me add +one point, for I think it will affect your judgement. It's +pathetic too since that's your taste in literature.' + +'Well, what is it?' said Morris. + +'It's only the name of one of the persons who's to witness your +signature, Morris,' replied Michael. 'His name's Moss, my dear.' + +There was a long silence. 'I might have been sure it was you!' +cried Morris. + +'You'll sign, won't you?' said Michael. + +'Do you know what you're doing?' cried Morris. 'You're +compounding a felony.' + +'Very well, then, we won't compound it, Morris,' returned +Michael. 'See how little I understood the sterling integrity of +your character! I thought you would prefer it so.' + +'Look here, Michael,' said John, 'this is all very fine and +large; but how about me? Morris is gone up, I see that; but I'm +not. And I was robbed, too, mind you; and just as much an orphan, +and at the blessed same academy as himself' + +'Johnny,' said Michael, 'don't you think you'd better leave it to +me?' + +'I'm your man,' said John. 'You wouldn't deceive a poor orphan, +I'll take my oath. Morris, you sign that document, or I'll start +in and astonish your weak mind.' + +With a sudden alacrity, Morris proffered his willingness. Clerks +were brought in, the discharge was executed, and there was Joseph +a free man once more. + +'And now,' said Michael, 'hear what I propose to do. Here, John +and Morris, is the leather business made over to the pair of you +in partnership. I have valued it at the lowest possible figure, +Pogram and Jarris's. And here is a cheque for the balance of your +fortune. Now, you see, Morris, you start fresh from the +commercial academy; and, as you said yourself the leather +business was looking up, I suppose you'll probably marry before +long. Here's your marriage present--from a Mr Moss.' + +Morris bounded on his cheque with a crimsoned countenance. + +'I don't understand the performance,' remarked John. 'It seems +too good to be true.' + +'It's simply a readjustment,' Michael explained. 'I take up Uncle +Joseph's liabilities; and if he gets the tontine, it's to be +mine; if my father gets it, it's mine anyway, you see. So that +I'm rather advantageously placed.' + +'Morris, my unconverted friend, you've got left,' was John's +comment. + +'And now, Mr Forsyth,' resumed Michael, turning to his silent +guest, 'here are all the criminals before you, except Pitman. I +really didn't like to interrupt his scholastic career; but you +can have him arrested at the seminary--I know his hours. Here we +are then; we're not pretty to look at: what do you propose to do +with us?' + +'Nothing in the world, Mr Finsbury,' returned Gideon. 'I seem to +understand that this gentleman'---indicating Morris--'is the fons +et origo of the trouble; and, from what I gather, he has already +paid through the nose. And really, to be quite frank, I do not +see who is to gain by any scandal; not me, at least. And besides, +I have to thank you for that brief.' + +Michael blushed. 'It was the least I could do to let you have +some business,' he said. 'But there's one thing more. I don't +want you to misjudge poor Pitman, who is the most harmless being +upon earth. I wish you would dine with me tonight, and see the +creature on his native heath--say at Verrey's?' + +'I have no engagement, Mr Finsbury,' replied Gideon. 'I shall be +delighted. But subject to your judgement, can we do nothing for +the man in the cart? I have qualms of conscience.' + +'Nothing but sympathize,' said Michael. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Wrong Box by Stevenson & Osbourne + diff --git a/old/wrngb10.zip b/old/wrngb10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a9cd523 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wrngb10.zip |