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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/38188-8.txt b/38188-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..de18291 --- /dev/null +++ b/38188-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10583 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Amusement Only, by Richard Marsh + +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: Amusement Only + +Author: Richard Marsh + +Release Date: December 2, 2011 [EBook #38188] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMUSEMENT ONLY *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + + + + + + + + + + + 1. Page scan source: + http://books.google.com/books?id=IzYPAAAAQAAJ + + + + + + + NEW NOVELS AT THE LIBRARIES. + + In Single Volume form, each Six Shillings. + + * * * * * + +A SUFFOLK COURTSHIP. By M. Betham-Edwards. Author of "Kitty," "Dr. +Jacob," "Brother Gabriel," "The Lord of the Harvest," &c. + +THE DISHONOUR OF FRANK SCOTT. By M. Hamilton, Author of "A +Self-Denying Ordinance," "McLeod of the Camerons," &c. + +A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. A Romance. By Joanna B. Wood, Author of "The +Untempered Wind," "Judith Moore," &c. + +THE WORLD'S SLOW STAIN. By Harold Vallings, Author of "The +Transgression of Terence Clancy," "A Month of Madness," &c. + +MOTHER-SISTER. By Edwin Puqh, Author of "Tony Drum," "The Man of +Straw," &c. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: HURST & BLACKETT, LIMITED. + + + + + + + AMUSEMENT ONLY + + + + + + + AMUSEMENT ONLY + + + + BY + RICHARD MARSH + + AUTHOR OF + "THE BEETLE," "THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN," + "FRIVOLITIES," "MARVELS AND MYSTERIES," Etc. + + + + _IN ONE VOLUME_ + + + + LONDON + HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED + 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET + 1901 + _All rights reserved_ + + + + + + + PRINTED BY KELLEY'S DIRECTORIES LIMITED + LONDON AND KINGSTON. + + + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + The Lost Duchess. + + The Strange Occurrences in Canterstone Jail. + + Twins! + + A Vision of the Night. + + The Way of a Maid with a Man. + + Aunt Jane's Jalap. + + Willyum. + + His First Experiment. + + An Old-fashioned Christmas. + + By Deputy. + + Mr. Whiting and Mary Ann. + + A Substitute. + + + + + + AMUSEMENT ONLY. + + + + + THE LOST DUCHESS. + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE DUCHESS IS LOST. + +"Has the Duchess returned?" + +Knowles came further into the room. He had a letter on a salver. When +the Duke had taken it, Knowles still lingered. The Duke glanced at +him. + +"Is an answer required?" + +"No, your Grace." Still Knowles lingered. "Something a little singular +has happened. The carriage has returned without the Duchess, and the +men say that they thought her Grace was in it." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I hardly understand myself, your Grace. Perhaps you would like to see +Barnes." + +Barnes was the coachman. + +"Send him up." When Knowles had gone, and he was alone, his Grace +showed signs of being slightly annoyed. He looked at his watch. "I +told her she'd better be in by four. She says that she's not feeling +well, and yet one would think that she was not aware of the fatigue +entailed in having the Prince to dinner, and a mob of people to +follow. I particularly wished her to lie down for a couple of hours." + +Knowles ushered in not only Barnes, the coachman, but Moysey, the +footman, too. Both these persons seemed to be ill at ease. The Duke +glanced at them sharply. In his voice there was a suggestion of +impatience. + +"What is the matter?" + +Barnes explained as best he could. + +"If you please, your Grace, we waited for the Duchess outside Cane and +Wilson's, the drapers. The Duchess came out, got into the carriage, +and Moysey shut the door, and her Grace said, 'Home!' and yet when we +got home she wasn't there." + +"She wasn't where?" + +"Her Grace wasn't in the carriage, your Grace." + +"What on earth do you mean?" + +"Her Grace did get into the carriage; you shut the door, didn't you?" + +Barnes turned to Moysey. Moysey brought his hand up to his brow in a +sort of military salute--he had been a soldier in the regiment in +which, once upon a time, the Duke had been a subaltern: + +"She did. The Duchess came out of the shop. She seemed rather in a +hurry, I thought. She got into the carriage, and she said, 'Home, +Moysey!' I shut the door, and Barnes drove straight home. We never +stopped anywhere, and we never noticed nothing happen on the way; and +yet when we got home the carriage was empty." + +The Duke stared. + +"Do you mean to tell me that the Duchess got out of the carriage while +you were driving full pelt through the streets without saying anything +to you, and without you noticing it?" + +"The carriage was empty when we got home, your Grace." + +"Was either of the doors open?" + +"No, your Grace." + +"You fellows have been up to some infernal mischief. You have made a +mess of it. You never picked up the Duchess, and you're trying to palm +this tale off on to me to save yourselves." + +Barnes was moved to adjuration: + +"I'll take my Bible oath, your Grace, that the Duchess got into the +carriage outside Cane and Wilson's." + +Moysey seconded his colleague: + +"I will swear to that, your Grace. She got into the carriage, and I +shut the door, and she said, 'Home, Moysey!'" + +The Duke looked as if he did not know what to make of the story and +its tellers. + +"What carriage did you have?" + +"Her Grace's brougham, your Grace." + +Knowles interposed: + +"The brougham was ordered because I understood that the Duchess was +not feeling very well, and there's rather a high wind, your Grace." + +The Duke snapped at him: + +"What has that to do with it? Are you suggesting that the Duchess was +more likely to jump out of a brougham while it was dashing through the +streets than out of any other kind of vehicle?" + +The Duke's glance fell on the letter which Knowles had brought him +when he first had entered. He had placed it on his writing-table. Now +he took it up. It was addressed: + + + "To His Grace + + "The Duke of Datchet. + + "Private! + +"Very Pressing!!!" + + +The name was written in a fine, clear, almost feminine hand. The words +in the left-hand corner of the envelope were written in a different +hand. They were large and bold; almost as though they had been painted +with the end of the penholder instead of being written with the pen. +The envelope itself was of an unusual size, and bulged out as though +it contained something else besides a letter. + +The Duke tore the envelope open. As he did so something fell out of it +on to the writing-table. It looked as though it was a lock of a +woman's hair. As he glanced at it the Duke seemed to be a trifle +startled. The Duke read the letter: + +"Your Grace will be so good as to bring five hundred pounds (£500) in +gold to the Piccadilly end of the Burlington Arcade within an hour of +the receipt of this. The Duchess of Datchet has been kidnapped. An +imitation duchess got into the carriage, which was waiting outside +Cane and Wilson's and she alighted on the road. Unless your Grace does +as you are requested the Duchess of Datchet's left-hand little finger +will be at once cut off, and sent home in time to receive the Prince +to dinner. Other portions of her Grace will follow. A lock of her +Grace's hair is enclosed with this as an earnest of our good +intentions. + +"_Before_ 5.30 _p.m_. your Grace is requested to be at the Piccadilly +end of the Burlington Arcade with five hundred pounds (£500) in gold. +You will there be accosted by an individual in a white top-hat, and +with a gardenia in his button-hole. You will be entirely at liberty to +give him into custody, or to have him followed by the police. In which +case the Duchess's left arm, cut off at the shoulder, will be sent +home for dinner--not to mention other extremely possible +contingencies. But you are _advised_ to give the individual in +question the five hundred pounds in gold, because in that case the +Duchess herself will be home in time to receive the Prince to dinner, +and with one of the best stories with which to entertain your +distinguished guests they ever heard. + +"Remember! _not later than_ 5.30, unless you wish to receive her +Grace's little finger." + +The Duke stared at this amazing epistle when he had read it as though +he had found it difficult to believe the evidence of his eyes. He was +not a demonstrative person as a rule, but this little communication +astonished even him. He read it again. Then his hands dropped to his +sides and he swore. + +He took up the lock of hair which had fallen out of the envelope. Was +it possible that it could be his wife's, the Duchess? Was it possible +that a Duchess of Datchet could be kidnapped, in broad daylight, in +the heart of London, and be sent home, as it were, in pieces? Had +sacrilegious hands already been playing pranks with that great lady's +hair? Certainly, _that_ hair was so like _her_ hair that the mere +resemblance made his Grace's blood run cold. He turned on Messrs. +Barnes and Moysey as though he would have liked to rend them: + +"You scoundrels!" + +He moved forward as though the intention had entered his ducal heart +to knock his servants down. But, if that were so, he did not act quite +up to his intention. Instead, he stretched out his arm, pointing at +them as if he were an accusing spirit: + +"Will you swear that it was the Duchess who got into the carriage +outside Cane and Wilson's?" + +Barnes began to stammer: + +"I--I'll swear, your Grace, that I--I thought----" + +The Duke stormed an interruption: + +"I don't ask what you thought. I ask you, will you swear it was?" + +The Duke's anger was more than Barnes could face. He was silent. +Moysey showed a larger courage: + +"Could have sworn that it was at the time, your Grace. But now it +seems to me that it's a rummy go." + +"A rummy go!" The peculiarity of the phrase did not seem to strike the +Duke just then--at least, he echoed it as if it didn't. "You call it a +rummy go! Do you know that I am told in this letter that the woman who +had entered the carriage was not the Duchess? What you were thinking +about, or what case you will be able to make out for yourselves, you +know better than I; but I can tell you this--that in an hour you +will leave my service, and you may esteem yourselves fortunate if, +to-night, you are not both of you sleeping in gaol. Knowles! take +these men to a room, and lock them in it, and set some one to see that +they don't get out of it, and come back at once. You understand, at +once--to me!" + +Knowles did not give Messrs. Barnes and Moysey a chance to offer a +remonstrance, even if they had been disposed to do so. He escorted +them out of the room with a dexterity and a celerity which did him +credit, and in a remarkably short space of time he returned to the +ducal presence. He was the Duke's own servant--his own particular man. +He was a little older than the Duke, and he had been his servant +almost ever since the Duke had been old enough to have a servant of +his very own. Probably James Knowles knew more than any living +creature of the Duke's "secret history"--as they call it in the +_chroniques scandaleuses_--of his little peculiarities, of his strong +points, and his weak ones. And, in the possession of this knowledge, +he had borne himself in a manner which had caused the Duke to come to +look upon him as a man in whom he might have confidence--that +confidence which a penitent has in a confessor--to look upon him as a +trusted and a trustworthy friend. + +When Knowles reappeared the Duke handed him the curious epistle with +which he had been favoured. + +"Read that, and tell me what you think of it." + +Knowles read it. His countenance was even more of a mask than the +Duke's. He evinced no sign of astonishment. + +"I am inclined, your Grace, to think that it's a hoax." + +"A hoax! I don't know what you call a hoax! That is not a hoax!" The +Duke held out the lock of hair which had fallen from the envelope. "I +have compared it with the hair in my locket, and it is the Duchess's +hair." + +"May I look at it?" + +The Duke handed it to Knowles. Knowles examined it closely. + +"It resembles her Grace's hair." + +"Resembles! It is her hair." + +Knowles still continued to reflect. He offered a suggestion. + +"Shall I send for the police?" + +"The police! What's the good of sending for the police? If what that +letter says is true, by the time I have succeeded in making a +thick-skulled constable understand what has happened the Duchess will +be--will be mutilated!" + +The Duke turned away as if the thought were frightful--as, indeed, it +was. + +"Is that all you can suggest?" + +"Unless your Grace proposes taking the five hundred pounds." + +One might almost have suspected that the words were spoken in irony. +But before he could answer another servant entered, who also brought a +letter for the Duke. When his Grace's glance fell on it he uttered an +exclamation. The writing on the envelope was the same writing that had +been on the envelope which had contained the very singular +communication--like it in all respects down to the broomstick-end +thickness of the "Private!" and "Very pressing!!!" in the corner. + +"Who brought this?" stormed the Duke. + +The servant appeared to be a little startled by the violence of his +Grace's manner. + +"A lady--or, at least, your Grace, she seemed to be a lady." + +"Where is she?" + +"She came in a hansom, your Grace. She gave me that letter, and said, +'Give that to the Duke of Datchet at once--without a moment's delay!' +Then she got into the hansom again, and drove away." + +"Why didn't you stop her?" + +"Your Grace!" + +The man seemed surprised, as though the idea of stopping chance +visitors to the ducal mansion _vi et armis_ had not, until that +moment, entered into his philosophy. The Duke continued to regard the +man as if he could say a good deal, if he chose. Then he pointed to +the door. His lips said nothing, but his gesture much. The servant +vanished. + +"Another hoax!" the Duke said, grimly, as he tore the envelope open. + +This time the envelope contained a sheet of paper, and in the sheet of +paper another envelope. The Duke unfolded the sheet of paper. On it +some words were written. These: + +"The Duchess appears so particularly anxious to drop you a line, +that one really hasn't the heart to refuse her. Her Grace's +communication--written amidst blinding tears!--you will find enclosed +with this." + +"Knowles," said the Duke, in a voice which actually trembled, +"Knowles, hoax or no hoax, I will be even with the gentleman who wrote +that." + +Handing the sheet of paper to Mr. Knowles, his Grace turned his +attention to the envelope which had been enclosed. It was a small +square envelope, of the finest quality, and it reeked with perfume. +The Duke's countenance assumed an added frown--he had no fondness for +envelopes which were scented. In the centre of the envelope were the +words "To the Duke of Datchet," written in the big, bold, sprawling +hand which he knew so well. + +"Mabel's writing," he said to himself, as, with shaking fingers, he +tore the envelope open. + +The sheet of paper which he took out was almost as stiff as cardboard. +It, too, emitted what his Grace deemed the nauseous odours of the +perfumer's shop. + +On it was written this letter: + +"My dear Hereward,--For Heaven's sake do what these people require! I +don't know what has happened or where I am, but I am nearly +distracted! They have already cut off some of my hair, and they tell +me that, if you don't let them have five hundred pounds in gold by +half-past five, they will cut off my little finger too. I would sooner +die than lose my little finger--and--I don't know what else besides. + +"By the token which I send you, and which has never, until now, been +off my breast, I conjure you to help me.--MABEL. + +"Hereward--_help me!_" + +When he read that letter the Duke turned white--very white, as white +as the paper on which it was written. He passed the epistle on to +Knowles. + +"I suppose that also is a hoax?" + +He spoke in a tone of voice which was unpleasantly cold--a coldness +which Mr. Knowles was aware, from not inconsiderable experience, +betokened that the Duke was white-hot within. + +Mr. Knowles's demeanour, however, betrayed no sign that he was aware +of anything of the kind, he being conscious that there is a certain +sort of knowledge which is apt, at times, to be dangerous to its +possessor. He read the letter from beginning to end. + +"This certainly does resemble her Grace's writing." + +"You think it does resemble it, do you? You think that there is a +certain faint and distant similarity?" The Duke asked these questions +quietly--too quietly. Then, all at once, he thundered--which Mr. +Knowles was quite prepared for--"Why, you idiot, don't you know it is +her writing?" + +Mr. Knowles gave way another point. He was, constitutionally, too much +of a diplomatist to concede more than a point at a time. + +"So far as appearances go, I am bound to admit that I think it +possible that it is her Grace's writing." + +Then the Duke let fly at him--at this perfectly innocent man. But, of +course, Mr. Knowles was long since inured. + +"Perhaps you would like me to send for an expert in writing? Or +perhaps you would prefer that I should send for half-a-dozen? And by +the time that they had sent in their reports, and you had reported on +their reports, and they had reported on your report of their reports, +and some one or other of you had made up his mind, the Duchess would +be dead. Yes, sir, and you'd have murdered her!" + +His Grace hurled this frightful accusation at Mr. Knowles, as if Mr. +Knowles had been a criminal standing in the dock. + +While the Duke had been collecting and discharging his nice +derangement of epithets his fingers had been examining the interior of +the envelope which had held the letter which purported to be written +by his wife. When his fingers reappeared he was holding something +between his first finger and his thumb. He glanced at this himself. +Then he held it out towards Mr. Knowles. + +Again his voice was trembling. + +"If this letter is not from the Duchess, how came that to be in the +envelope?" + +Mr. Knowles endeavoured to see what the Duke was holding. It was so +minute an object that it was a little difficult to make out exactly +what it was, and the Duke appeared to be unwilling to let it go. + +So his Grace explained: + +"That is the half of a sixpence which I gave to the Duchess when I +asked her to be my wife. You see it is pierced. I pierced that hole in +it myself. As the Duchess says in this letter, and as I have reason to +know, she has worn this broken sixpence from that hour to this. If +this letter is not hers, how came this token in the envelope? How came +any one to know, even, that she carried it?" + +Mr. Knowles was silent. He still yielded to his constitutional +disrelish to commit himself. At last he asked: + +"What is it that your Grace proposes to do?" + +The Duke spoke with a bitterness which almost suggested a personal +animosity towards the inoffensive Mr. Knowles. + +"I propose, with your permission, to release the Duchess from the +custody of my estimable correspondent. I propose--always with your +permission--to comply with his modest request, and to take him his +five hundred pounds in gold." He paused, then continued in a tone +which, coming from him, meant volumes: "Afterwards, I propose to cry +quits with the concoctor of this pretty little hoax, even if it costs +me every penny I possess. He shall pay more for that five hundred +pounds than he supposes." + + + CHAPTER II. + + SOUGHT. + +The Duke of Datchet, coming out of the bank, lingered for a moment on +the steps. In one hand he carried a canvas bag, which seemed well +weighted. On his countenance there was an expression which to a casual +observer might have suggested that his Grace was not completely at his +ease. That casual observer happened to come strolling by. It took the +form of Ivor Dacre. + +Mr. Dacre looked the Duke of Datchet up and down in that languid way +he has. He perceived the canvas bag. Then he remarked, possibly +intending to be facetious: + +"Been robbing the bank? Shall I call a cart?" + +Nobody minds what Ivor Dacre says. Besides, he is the Duke's own +cousin. Perhaps a little removed; still, there it is. So the Duke +smiled a sickly smile, as if Mr. Dacre's delicate wit had given him a +passing touch of indigestion. + +Mr. Dacre noticed that the Duke looked sallow, so he gave his pretty +sense of humour another airing: + +"Kitchen boiler burst? When I saw the Duchess just now I wondered if +it had." + +His Grace distinctly started. He almost dropped the canvas bag. + +"You saw the Duchess just now, Ivor! When?" + +The Duke was evidently moved. Mr. Dacre was stirred to languid +curiosity. + +"I can't say I clocked it. Perhaps half an hour ago; perhaps a little +more." + +"Half an hour ago! Are you sure? Where did you see her?" + +Mr. Dacre wondered. The Duchess of Datchet could scarcely have been +eloping in broad daylight. Moreover, she had not yet been married a +year. Every one knew that she and the Duke were still as fond of each +other as if they were not man and wife. So, although the Duke, for +some cause or other, was evidently in an odd state of agitation, Mr. +Dacre saw no reason why he should not make a clean breast of all he +knew. + +"She was going like blazes in a hansom cab." + +"In a hansom cab? Where?" + +"Down Waterloo Place." + +"Was she alone?" + +Mr. Dacre reflected. He glanced at the Duke out of the corners of his +eyes. His languid utterance became a positive drawl: + +"I rather fancy she wasn't." + +"Who was with her?" + +"My dear fellow, if you were to offer me the bank I couldn't tell +you." + +"Was it a man?" + +Mr. Dacre's drawl became still more pronounced: + +"I rather fancy that it was." + +Mr. Dacre expected something. The Duke was so excited. But he by no +means expected what actually came: + +"Ivor, she's been kidnapped!" + +Mr. Dacre did what he had never been known to do before within the +memory of man--he dropped his eye-glass. + +"Datchet!" + +"She has! Some scoundrel has decoyed her away, and trapped her. He's +already sent me a lock of her hair, and he tells me that if I don't +let him have five hundred pounds in gold by half-past five he'll let +me have her little finger." + +Mr. Dacre did not know what to make of his Grace at all. He was a +sober man--it _couldn't_ be that! Mr. Dacre felt really concerned. + +"I'll call a cab, old man, and you'd better let me see you home." + +Mr. Dacre half raised his stick to hail a passing hansom. The Duke +caught him by the arm. + +"You ass! What do you mean? I am telling you the simple truth. My +wife's been kidnapped." + +Mr. Dacre's countenance was a thing to be seen--and remembered. + +"Oh! I hadn't heard that there was much of that sort of thing +about just now. They talk of poodles being kidnapped, but as for +duchesses---- You'd really better let me call that cab." + +"Ivor, do you want me to kick you? Don't you see that to me it's a +question of life and death? I've been in there to get the money." His +Grace motioned towards the bank. "I'm going to take it to the +scoundrel who has my darling at his mercy. Let me but have her hand in +mine again, and he shall continue to pay for every sovereign with +tears of blood until he dies." + +"Look here, Datchet, I don't know if you're having a joke with me, or +if you're not well----" + +The Duke stepped impatiently into the roadway. + +"Ivor, you're a fool! Can't you tell jest from earnest, health from +disease? I'm off! Are you coming with me? It would be as well that I +should have a witness." + +"Where are you off to?" + +"To the other end of the Arcade." + +"Who is the gentleman you expect to have the pleasure of meeting +there?" + +"How should I know?" The Duke took a letter from his pocket--it was +the letter which had just arrived. "The fellow is to wear a white +top-hat, and a gardenia in his button hole." + +"What is it you have there?" + +"It's the letter which brought the news--look for yourself and see; +but, for God's sake make haste!" His Grace glanced at his watch. "It's +already twenty after five." + +"And do you mean to say that on the strength of a letter such as this +you are going to hand over five hundred pounds to----" + +The Duke cut Mr. Dacre short: + +"What are five hundred pounds to me? Besides, you don't know all. +There is another letter. And I have heard from Mabel. But I will tell +you all about it later. If you are coming, come!" + +Folding up the letter, Mr. Dacre returned it to the Duke. + +"As you say, what are five hundred pounds to you? It's as well they +are not as much to you as they are to me, or I'm afraid----" + +"Hang it, Ivor, do prose afterwards!" + +The Duke hurried across the road. Mr. Dacre hastened after him. As +they entered the Arcade they passed a constable. Mr. Dacre touched his +companion's arm. + +"Don't you think we'd better ask our friend in blue to walk behind us? +His neighbourhood might be handy." + +"Nonsense!" The Duke stopped short. "Ivor, this is my affair, not +yours. If you are not content to play the part of silent witness, be +so good as to leave me." + +"My dear Datchet, I'm entirely at your service. I can be every whit as +insane as you, I do assure you." + +Side by side they moved rapidly down the Burlington Arcade. The Duke +was obviously in a state of the extremest nervous tension. Mr. Dacre +was equally obviously in a state of the most supreme enjoyment. People +stared as they rushed past. The Duke saw nothing. Mr. Dacre saw +everything, and smiled. + +When they reached the Piccadilly end of the Arcade the Duke pulled up. +He looked about him. Mr. Dacre also looked about him. + +"I see nothing of your white-hatted and gardenia-button-holed friend," +said Ivor. + +The Duke referred to his watch: + +"It's not yet half-past five. I'm up to time." + +Mr. Dacre held his stick in front of him and leaned on it. He indulged +himself with a beatific smile: + +"It strikes me, my dear Datchet, that you've been the victim of one of +the finest things in hoaxes----" + +"I hope I haven't kept you waiting." + +The voice which interrupted Mr. Dacre came from the rear. While they +were looking in front of them some one approached from behind, +apparently coming out of the shop which was at their backs. + +The speaker looked a gentleman. He sounded like one, too. Costume, +appearance, manner were beyond reproach--even beyond the criticism of +two such keen critics as were these. The glorious attire of a London +dandy was surmounted with a beautiful white top-hat. In his +button-hole was a magnificent gardenia. + +In age the stranger was scarcely more than a boy, and a sunny-faced, +handsome boy at that. His cheeks were hairless, his eyes were blue. +His smile was not only innocent, it was bland. Never was there a more +conspicuous illustration of that repose which stamps the caste of Vere +de Vere. + +The Duke looked at him, and glowered. Mr. Dacre looked at him, and +smiled. + +"Who are you?" asked the Duke. + +"Ah--that is the question!" The newcomer's refined and musical voice +breathed the very soul of affability. "I am an individual who is so +unfortunate as to be in want of five hundred pounds." + +"Are you the scoundrel who sent me that infamous letter?" + +That charming stranger never turned a hair! + +"I am the scoundrel mentioned in that infamous letter who wants to +accost you at the Piccadilly end of the Burlington Arcade before +half-past five--as witness my white hat and my gardenia." + +"Where's my wife?" + +The stranger gently swung his stick in front of him with his two +hands. He regarded the Duke as a merry-hearted son might regard his +father. The thing was beautiful! + +"Her Grace will be home almost as soon as you are--when you have given +me the money which I perceive you have all ready for me in that +scarcely elegant-looking canvas bag." He shrugged his shoulders quite +gracefully. "Unfortunately, in these matters one has no choice--one is +forced to ask for gold." + +"And suppose, instead of giving you what is in this canvas bag, I take +you by the throat and choke the life right out of you?" + +"Or suppose," amended Mr. Dacre, "that you do better, and commend this +gentleman to the tender mercies of the first policeman we encounter." + +The stranger turned to Mr. Dacre. He condescended to become conscious +of his presence. + +"Is this gentleman your Grace's friend? Ah--Mr. Dacre, I perceive! I +have the honour of knowing Mr. Dacre, although, possibly, I am unknown +to him." + +"You were--until this moment." + +With an airy little laugh the stranger returned to the Duke. He +brushed an invisible speck of dust off the sleeve of his coat. + +"As has been intimated in that infamous letter, his Grace is at +perfect liberty to give me into custody--why not? Only"--he said it +with his boyish smile--"if a particular communication is not received +from me in certain quarters within a certain time, the Duchess of +Datchet's beautiful white arm will be hacked off at the shoulder." + +"You hound!" + +The Duke would have taken the stranger by the throat, and have done +his best to choke the life right out of him then and there, if Mr. +Dacre had not intervened. + +"Steady, old man!" Mr. Dacre turned to the stranger: "You appear to be +a pretty sort of a scoundrel." + +The stranger gave his shoulders that almost imperceptible shrug: + +"Oh, my dear Dacre, I am in want of money! I believe that you +sometimes are in want of money, too." + +Everybody knows that nobody knows where Ivor Dacre gets his money +from, so the illusion must have tickled him immensely. + +"You're a cool hand," he said. + +"Some men are born that way." + +"So I should imagine. Men like you must be born, not made." + +"Precisely--as you say!" The stranger turned, with his graceful smile, +to the Duke: "But are we not wasting precious time? I can assure your +Grace that, in this particular matter, moments are of value." + +Mr. Dacre interposed before the Duke could answer: + +"If you take my strongly urged advice, Datchet, you will summon this +constable who is now coming down the Arcade, and hand over this +gentleman to his keeping. I do not think that you need fear that the +Duchess will lose her arm, or even her little finger. Scoundrels of +this one's kidney are most amenable to reason when they have handcuffs +on their wrists." + +The Duke plainly hesitated. He would--and he would not. The stranger, +as he eyed him, seemed much amused. + +"My dear Duke, by all means act on Mr. Dacre's valuable suggestion. As +I said before, why not? It would at least be interesting to see if the +Duchess does or does not lose her arm--almost as interesting to you as +to Mr. Dacre. Those blackmailing, kidnapping scoundrels do use such +empty menaces. Besides, you would have the pleasure of seeing me +locked up. My imprisonment for life would recompense you even for the +loss of her Grace's arm. And five hundred pounds is such a sum to have +to pay--merely for a wife! Why not, therefore, act on Mr. Dacre's +suggestion? Here comes the constable." The constable referred to was +advancing towards them--he was not a dozen yards away. "Let me beckon +to him--I will with pleasure." He took out his watch--a gold +chronograph repeater. "There are scarcely ten minutes left during +which it will be possible for me to send the communication which I +spoke of, so that it may arrive in time. As it will then be too late, +and the instruments are already prepared for the little operation +which her Grace is eagerly anticipating, it would, perhaps, be as +well, after all, that you should give me into charge. You would have +saved your five hundred pounds, and you would, at any rate, have +something in exchange for her Grace's mutilated limb. Ah, here is the +constable! Officer!" + +The stranger spoke with such a pleasant little air of easy geniality +that it was impossible to tell if he were in jest or earnest. This +fact impressed the Duke much more than if he had gone in for a liberal +indulgence of the--under the circumstances--orthodox melodramatic +scowling. And, indeed, in the face of his own common sense, it +impressed Mr. Ivor Dacre too. + +This well-bred, well-groomed youth was just the being to realise--_aux +bouts des ongles_--a modern type of the devil, the type which depicts +him as a perfect gentleman, who keeps smiling all the time. + +The constable whom this audacious rogue had signalled approached the +little group. He addressed the stranger: + +"Do you want me, sir?" + +"No, I do not want you. I think it is the Duke of Datchet." + +The constable, who knew the Duke very well by sight, saluted him as he +turned to receive instructions. + +The Duke looked white, even savage. There was not a pleasant look in +his eyes and about his lips. He appeared to be endeavouring to put a +great restraint upon himself. There was a momentary silence. Mr. Dacre +made a movement as if to interpose. The Duke caught him by the arm. + +He spoke: "No, constable, I do not want you. This person is mistaken." + +The constable looked as if he could not quite make out how such a +mistake could have arisen, hesitated, then, with another salute, he +moved away. + +The stranger was still holding his watch in his hand. + +"Only eight minutes," he said. + +The Duke seemed to experience some difficulty in giving utterance to +what he had to say. + +"If I give you this five hundred pounds, you--you----" + +As the Duke paused, as if at a loss for language which was strong +enough to convey his meaning, the stranger laughed. + +"Let us take the adjectives for granted. Besides, it is only boys +who call each other names--men do things. If you give me the five +hundred sovereigns, which you have in that bag, at once--in five +minutes it will be too late--I will promise--I will not swear; if you +do not credit my simple promise, you will not believe my solemn +affirmation--I will promise that, possibly within an hour, certainly +within an hour and a half, the Duchess of Datchet shall return to you +absolutely uninjured--except, of course, as you are already aware, +with regard to a few of the hairs of her head. I will promise this on +the understanding that you do not yourself attempt to see where I go, +and that you will allow no one else to do so." This with a glance at +Ivor Dacre. "I shall know at once if I am followed. If you entertain +any such intentions, you had better, on all accounts, remain in +possession of your five hundred pounds." + +The Duke eyed him very grimly: + +"I entertain no such intentions--until the Duchess returns." + +Again the stranger indulged in that musical little laugh of his: + +"Ah, until the Duchess returns! Of course, then the bargain's at an +end. When you are once more in the enjoyment of her Grace's society, +you will be at liberty to set all the dogs in Europe at my heels. I +assure you I fully expect that you will do so--why not?" The Duke +raised the canvas bag. "My dear Duke, ten thousand thanks! You shall +see her Grace at Datchet House, 'pon my honour. Probably within the +hour." + +"Well," commented Ivor Dacre, when the stranger had vanished, with the +bag, into Piccadilly, and as the Duke and himself moved towards +Burlington Gardens, "if a gentleman is to be robbed, it is as well +that he should have another gentleman to rob him." + + + CHAPTER III. + + AND FOUND. + +Mr. Dacre eyed his companion covertly as they progressed. His Grace of +Datchet appeared to have some fresh cause for uneasiness. All at once +he gave it utterance, in a tone of voice which was extremely sombre: + +"Ivor, do you think that scoundrel will dare to play me false?" + +"I think," murmured Mr. Dacre, "that he has dared to play you pretty +false already." + +"I don't mean that. But I mean how am I to know, now that he has his +money, that he will still not keep Mabel in his clutches?" + +There came an echo from Mr. Dacre: + +"Just so--how are you to know?" + +"I believe that something of this sort has been done in the United +States." + +"I thought that there they were content to kidnap them after they were +dead. I was not aware that they had, as yet, got quite so far as the +living." + +"I believe that I have heard of something just like this." + +"Possibly; they are giants over there." + +"And in that case the scoundrels, when their demands were met, refused +to keep to the letter of their bargain, and asked for more." + +The Duke stood still. He clenched his fists, and swore: + +"Ivor, if that ---- villain doesn't keep his word, and Mabel isn't +home within the hour, by ---- I shall go mad!" + +"My dear Datchet"--Mr. Dacre loved strong language as little as he +loved a scene--"let us trust to time and, a little, to your +white-hatted and gardenia-button-holed friend's word of honour. You +should have thought of possible eventualities before you showed your +confidence--really. Suppose, instead of going mad, we first of all go +home?" + +A hansom stood waiting for a fare at the end of the Arcade. Mr. Dacre +had handed the Duke into it before his Grace had quite realised that +the vehicle was there. + +"Tell the fellow to drive faster." That was what the Duke said when +the cab had started. + +"My dear Datchet, the man's already driving his geegee off its legs. +If a bobby catches sight of him he'll take his number." + +A moment later, a murmur from the Duke: + +"I don't know if you're aware that the Prince is coming to dinner?" + +"I am perfectly aware of it." + +"You take it uncommonly coolly. How easy it is to bear our brother's +burdens! Ivor, if Mabel doesn't turn up I shall feel like murder." + +"I sympathise with you, Datchet, with all my heart, though, I may +observe, parenthetically, that I very far from realise the situation +even yet. Take my advice. If the Duchess does not show quite so soon +as we both of us desire, don't make a scene; just let me see what I +can do." + +Judging from the expression of his countenance, the Duke was conscious +of no overwhelming desire to witness an exhibition of Mr. Dacre's +prowess. + +When the cab reached Datchet House his Grace dashed up the steps three +at a time. The door flew open. + +"Has the Duchess returned?" + +"Hereward!" + +A voice floated downwards from above. Some one came running down the +stairs. It was her Grace of Datchet. + +"Mabel!" + +She actually rushed into the Duke's extended arms. And he kissed her, +and she kissed him--before the servants. + +"So you're not quite dead?" she cried. + +"I am almost," he said. + +She drew herself a little away from him. + +"Hereward, were you seriously hurt?" + +"Do you suppose that I could have been otherwise than seriously hurt?" + +"My darling! Was it a Pickford's van?" + +The Duke stared: + +"A Pickford's van? I don't understand. But come in here. Come along, +Ivor. Mabel, you don't see Ivor." + +"How do you do, Mr. Dacre?" + +Then the trio withdrew into a little ante-room; it was really time. +Even then the pair conducted themselves as if Mr. Dacre had been +nothing and no one. The Duke took the lady's two hands in his. He eyed +her fondly. + +"So you are uninjured, with the exception of that lock of hair. Where +did the villain take it from?" + +The lady looked a little puzzled: + +"What lock of hair?" + +From an envelope which he took from his pocket the Duke produced a +shining tress. It was the lock of hair which had arrived in the first +communication. "I will have it framed." + +"You will have what framed?" The Duchess glanced at what the Duke was +so tenderly caressing, almost, as it seemed, a little dubiously, +"Whatever is it you have there?" + +"It is the lock of hair which that scoundrel sent me." Something in +the lady's face caused him to ask a question: "Didn't he tell you he +had sent it me?" + +"Hereward!" + +"Did the brute tell you that he meant to cut off your little finger?" + +A very curious look came into the lady's face. She glanced at the Duke +as if she, all at once, were half afraid of him. She cast at Mr. Dacre +what really seemed to be a look of enquiry. Her voice was tremulously +anxious: + +"Hereward, did--did the accident affect you mentally?" + +"How could it not have affected me mentally? Do you think that my +mental organization is of steel?" + +"But you look so well?" + +"Of course I look well, now that I have you back again. Tell me, +darling, did that hound actually threaten you with cutting off your +arm? If he did, I shall feel half inclined to kill him yet." + +The Duchess seemed positively to shrink from her better-half's near +neighbourhood: + +"Hereward, was it a Pickford's van?" + +The Duke seemed puzzled. Well he might be: + +"Was what a Pickford's van?" + +The lady turned to Mr. Dacre. In her voice there was a ring of +anguish: + +"Mr. Dacre, tell me, was it a Pickford's van?" + +Ivor could only imitate his relative's repetition of her inquiry: + +"I don't quite catch you--was what a Pickford's van?" + +The Duchess clasped her hands in front of her: "What is it you are +keeping from me? What is it you are trying to hide? I implore you to +tell me the worst, whatever it may be! Do not keep me any longer in +suspense; you do not know what I already have endured. Mr. Dacre, is +my husband mad?" + +One need scarcely observe that the lady's amazing appeal to Mr. Dacre +as to her husband's sanity was received with something like surprise. +As the Duke continued to stare at her, a dreadful fear began to loom +upon his brain: + +"My darling, your brain is unhinged!" + +He advanced to take her two hands again in his; but, to his +unmistakable distress, she shrank away from him: + +"Hereward--don't touch me. How is it that I missed you? Why did you +not wait until I came?" + +"Wait until you came?" + +The Duke's bewilderment increased. + +"Surely, if your injuries turned out, after all, to be slight, that +was all the more reason why you should have waited, after sending for +me like that." + +"I sent for you--I?" The Duke's tone was grave. "My darling, perhaps +you had better come upstairs." + +"Not until we have had an explanation. You must have known that I +should come. Why did you not wait for me after you had sent me that?" + +The Duchess held out something to the Duke. He took it. It was a +card--his own visiting-card. Something was written on the back of it. +He read aloud what was written: + +"'Mabel, come to me at once with bearer. They tell me that they cannot +take me home.' It looks like my own writing." + +"Looks like it! It is your writing." + +"It looks like it--and written with a shaky pen." + +"My dear child, one's hand would shake at such a moment as that." + +"Mabel, where did you get this?" + +"It was brought to me in Cane and Wilson's." + +"Who brought it?" + +"Who brought it? Why, the man you sent." + +"The man I sent?" A light burst upon the Duke's brain. He fell back a +pace. "It's the decoy!" + +Her Grace echoed the words: + +"The decoy?" + +"The scoundrel! To set a trap with such a bait! My poor, innocent +darling, did you think it came from me? Tell me, Mabel, where did he +cut off your hair?" + +"Cut off my hair?" + +Her Grace put her hand up to her head as if to make sure that her hair +was there. + +"Where did he take you to?" + +"He took me to Draper's Buildings." + +"Draper's Buildings?" + +"I have never been in the City before, but he told me it was Draper's +Buildings. Isn't that near the Stock Exchange?" + +"Near the Stock Exchange?" + +It seemed rather a curious place to which to take a kidnapped victim. +The man's audacity! + +"He told me that you were coming out of the Stock Exchange when a van +knocked you over. He said that he thought it was a Pickford's van--was +it a Pickford's van?" + +"No, it was not a Pickford's van. Mabel, were you in Draper's +Buildings when you wrote that letter?" + +"Wrote what letter?" + +"Have you forgotten it already? I do not believe that there is a word +in it which will not be branded on my brain until I die." + +"Hereward! What do you mean?" + +"Surely you cannot have written me such a letter as that, and then +have forgotten it already?" + +He handed her the letter which had arrived in the second +communication. She glanced at it, askance. Then she took it with a +little gasp. + +"Hereward, if you don't mind, I think I'll take a chair." She took a +chair. "Whatever--whatever's this?" As she read the letter the varying +expressions which passed across her face were, in themselves, a study +in psychology. "Is it possible that you can imagine that, under any +conceivable circumstances, I could have written such a letter as +this?" + +"Mabel!" + +She rose to her feet, with emphasis: + +"Hereward, don't say that you thought this came from me!" + +"Not come from you?" He remembered Knowles's diplomatic reception of +the epistle on its first appearance. "I suppose that you will say next +that this is not a lock of your hair?" + +"My dear child, what bee have you got in your bonnet? This a lock of +my hair! Why, it's not in the least like my hair!" + +Which was certainly inaccurate. As far as color was concerned it was +an almost perfect match. The Duke turned to Mr. Dacre. + +"Ivor, I've had to go through a good deal this afternoon. If I have to +go through much more, something will crack!" He touched his forehead. +"I think it's my turn to take a chair." He also took a chair. Not the +one which the Duchess had vacated, but one which faced it. He +stretched out his legs in front of him; he thrust his hands into his +trousers-pockets; he said, in a tone which was not only gloomy but +absolutely gruesome: + +"Might I ask, Mabel, if you have been kidnapped?" + +"Kidnapped?" + +"The word I used was 'kidnapped.' But I will spell it if you like. Or +I will get a dictionary, that you may see its meaning." + +The Duchess looked as if she was beginning to be not quite sure if she +was awake or sleeping. She turned to Ivor: + +"Mr. Dacre, has the accident affected Hereward's brain?" + +The Duke took the words out of his cousin's mouth: + +"On that point, my dear, let me ease your mind. I don't know if you +are under the impression that I should be the same shape after a +Pickford's van had run over me as I was before; but, in any case, I +have not been run over by a Pickford's van. So far as I am concerned +there has been no accident. Dismiss that delusion from your mind." + +"Oh!" + +"You appear surprised. One might even think that you were sorry. But +may I now ask what you did when you arrived at Draper's Buildings?" + +"Did! I looked for you!" + +"Indeed! And when you had looked in vain, what was the next item in +your programme?" + +The lady shrank still further from him: + +"Hereward, have you been having a jest at my expense? Can you have +been so cruel?" Tears stood in her eyes. + +Rising, the Duke laid his hand upon her arm: + +"Mabel, tell me--what did you do when you had looked for me in vain?" + +"I looked for you upstairs and downstairs, and everywhere. It was +quite a large place, it took me ever such a time. I thought that I +should go distracted. Nobody seemed to know anything about you, or +even that there had been an accident at all--it was all offices. I +couldn't make it out in the least, and the people didn't seem to be +able to make me out either. So when I couldn't find you anywhere I +came straight home again." + +The Duke was silent for a moment. Then, with funereal gravity, he +turned to Mr. Dacre. He put to him this question: + +"Ivor, what are you laughing at?" + +Mr. Dacre drew his hand across his mouth with rather a suspicious +gesture: + +"My dear fellow, only a smile!" + +The Duchess looked from one to the other: + +"What have you two been doing? What is the joke?" + +With an air of preternatural solemnity the Duke took two letters from +the breast-pocket of his coat. + +"Mabel, you have already seen your letter. You have already seen the +lock of your hair. Just look at this--and that." + +He gave her the two very singular communications which had arrived in +such a mysterious manner, and so quickly one after the other. She read +them with wide-open eyes. + +"Hereward! Wherever did these come from?" + +The Duke was standing with his legs apart, and his hands in his +trousers-pockets. "I would give--I would give another five hundred +pounds to know. Shall I tell you, madam, what I have been doing? I +have been presenting five hundred golden sovereigns to a perfect +stranger, with a top-hat, and a gardenia in his button-hole." + +"Whatever for?" + +"If you have perused those documents which you have in your hand, you +will have some faint idea. Ivor, when its your funeral _I'll_ smile. +Mabel, Duchess of Dachet, it is beginning to dawn upon the vacuum +which represents my brain that I've been the victim of one of the +prettiest things in practical jokes that ever yet was planned. When +that fellow brought you that card at Cane and Wilson's--which, I need +scarcely tell you, never came from me--some one walked out of the +front entrance who was so exactly like you that both Barnes and Moysey +took her for you. Moysey showed her into the carriage, and Barnes +drove her home. But when the carriage reached home it was empty. Your +double had got out upon the road." + +The Duchess uttered a sound which was half a gasp, half sigh: + +"Hereward!" + +"Barnes and Moysey, with beautiful and childlike innocence, when they +found that they had brought the thing home empty, came straightway and +told me that you had jumped out of the brougham while it had been +driving full pelt through the streets. While I was digesting that +piece of information there came the first epistle, with the lock of +your hair. Before I had time to digest that there came the second +epistle, with yours inside, and, as a guarantee of the authenticity of +your appeal, the same envelope held this." + +The Duke handed the Duchess the half of the broken sixpence. She +stared at it with the most unequivocal astonishment. + +"Why, it looks just like my sixpence." She put her hand to her breast, +feeling something that was there. "But it isn't! What wickedness!" + +"It is wickedness, isn't it? Anyhow, that seemed good enough for me; +so I posted off the five hundred pounds to save your arm--not to dwell +upon your little finger." + +"It seems incredible!" + +"Its sounds incredible; but unfathomable is the folly of man, +especially of a man who loves his wife." The Duke crossed to Mr. +Dacre. "I don't want, Ivor, to suggest anything in the way of bribery +and corruption, but if you could keep this matter to yourself, and not +mention it to your friends, our white-hatted and gardenia-button-holed +acquaintance is welcome to his five hundred pounds, and----Mabel, what +on earth are you laughing at?" + +The Duchess appeared, all at once, to be seized with inextinguishable +laughter. + +"Hereward," she cried, "just think how that man must be laughing at +you!" + +And the Duke of Datchet thought of it. + + + + + THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN + CANTERSTONE JAIL. + + + CHAPTER I. + + MR. MANKELL DECLARES HIS INTENTION OF + ACTING ON MAGISTERIAL ADVICE. + +Oliver Mankell was sentenced to three months' hard labour. The +charge was that he had obtained money by means of false pretences. +Not large sums, but shillings, half-crowns, and so on. He had given +out that he was a wizard, and that he was able and willing--for a +consideration--to predict the events of the future--tell fortunes, in +fact. The case created a large amount of local interest, for some +curious stories were told about the man in the town. Mankell was +a tall, slight, wiry-looking fellow in the prime of life, with +coal-black hair and olive complexion--apparently of Romany extraction. +His bearing was self-possessed, courteous even, yet with something in +his air which might have led one to suppose that he saw--what others +did not--the humour of the thing. At one point his grave, almost +saturnine visage distinctly relaxed into a smile. It was when Colonel +Gregory, the chairman of the day, was passing sentence. After +committing him for three months' hard labour, the Colonel added-- + +"During your sojourn within the walls of a prison you will have an +opportunity of retrieving your reputation. You say you are a magician. +During your stay in jail I would strongly advise you to prove it. You +lay claim to magic powers. Exercise them. I need scarcely point out to +you how excellent a chance you will have of creating a sensation." + +The people laughed. When the great Panjandrum is even dimly suspected +of an intention to be funny, the people always do. But on this +occasion even the prisoner smiled--rather an exceptional thing, for as +a rule it is the prisoner who sees the joke the least of all. + +Later in the day the prisoner was conveyed to the county jail. This +necessitated a journey by rail, with a change upon the way. At the +station where they changed there was a delay of twenty minutes. This +the prisoner and the constable in charge of him improved by adjourning +to a public house hard by. Here they had a glass--indeed they had +two--and when they reached Canterstone, the town on whose outskirts +stood the jail, they had one--or perhaps it was two--more. It must +have been two, for when they reached the jail, instead of the +constable conveying the prisoner, it was the prisoner who conveyed the +constable--upon his shoulder. The warder who answered the knock seemed +surprised at what he saw. + +"What do you want?" + +"Three months' hard labour." + +The warder stared. The shades of night had fallen, and the lamp above +the prison-door did not seem to cast sufficient light upon the subject +to satisfy the janitor. + +"Come inside," he said. + +Mankell entered, the constable upon his shoulder. Having entered, he +carefully placed the constable in a sitting posture on the stones, +with his back against the wall. The policeman's helmet had tipped over +his eyes--he scarcely presented an imposing picture of the majesty and +might of the law. The warder shook him by the shoulder. "Here, +come--wake up. You're a pretty sort," he said. The constable's reply, +although slightly inarticulate, was yet sufficiently distinct. + +"Not another drop!" he murmured. + +"No, I shouldn't think so," said the warder. "You've had a pailful, it +seems to me, already." + +The man seemed a little puzzled. He turned and looked at Mankell. + +"What do you want here?" + +"Three months' hard labour." + +The man looked down and saw that the new-comer had gyves upon his +wrists. He went to a door at one side, and summoned another warder. +The two returned together. This second official took in the situation +at a glance. + +"Have you come from----?" naming the town from which they in fact had +come. Mankell inclined his head. This second official turned his +attention to the prostrate constable. "Look in his pockets." + +The janitor acted on the suggestion. The order for committal was +produced. + +"Are you Oliver Mankell?" + +Again Mankell inclined his head. With the order in his hand, the +official marched him through the side-door by which he had himself +appeared. Soon Oliver Mankell was the inmate of a cell. He spent that +night in the reception-cells at the gate. In the morning he had a +bath, was inducted into prison clothing, and examined by the doctor. +He was then taken up to the main building of the prison, and +introduced to the governor. The governor was a quiet, gentlemanly man, +with a straggling black beard and spectacles--the official to the tips +of his fingers. As Mankell happened to be the only fresh arrival, the +governor favoured him with a little speech. + +"You've placed yourself in an uncomfortable position, Mankell. I hope +you'll obey the rules while you're here." + +"I intend to act upon the advice tendered me by the magistrate who +passed sentence." + +The governor looked up. Not only was the voice a musical voice, but +the words were not the sort of words generally chosen by the average +prisoner. + +"What advice was that?" + +"He said that I claimed to be a magician. He strongly advised me to +prove it during my stay in jail. I intend to act upon the advice he +tendered." + +The governor looked Mankell steadily in the face. The speaker's +bearing conveyed no suggestion of insolent intention. The governor +looked down again. + +"I advise you to be careful what you do. You may make your position +more uncomfortable than it is already. Take the man away." + +They took the man away. They introduced him to the wheel. On the +treadmill he passed the remainder of the morning. At noon morning +tasks were over, and the prisoners were marched into their day-cells +to enjoy the meal which, in prison parlance, was called dinner. In +accordance with the ordinary routine, the chaplain made his appearance +in the round-house to interview those prisoners who had just come in, +and those whose sentences would be completed on the morrow. When +Mankell had been asked at the gate what his religion was, he had made +no answer; so the warder, quite used to ignorance on the part of new +arrivals as to all religions, had entered him as a member of the +Church of England. As a member of the Church of England he was taken +out to interview the chaplain. + +The chaplain was a little fussy gentleman, considerably past middle +age. Long experience of prisons and prisoners had bred in him a +perhaps unconscious habit of regarding criminals as naughty +boys--urchins who required a judicious combination of cakes and +castigation. + +"Well, my lad, I'm sorry to see a man of your appearance here." This +was a remark the chaplain made to a good many of his new friends. It +was intended to give them the impression that at least the chaplain +perceived that they were something out of the ordinary run. Then he +dropped his voice to a judicious whisper. "What's it for?" + +"For telling the truth." + +This reply seemed a little to surprise the chaplain. He settled his +spectacles upon his nose. + +"For telling the truth!" An idea seemed all at once to strike the +chaplain. "Do you mean that you pleaded guilty?" The man was silent. +The chaplain referred to a paper he held in his hand. "Eh, I see that +here it is written 'false pretences.' Was it a stumer?" + +We have seen it mentioned somewhere that "stumer" is slang for a +worthless cheque. It was a way with the chaplain to let his charges +see that he was at least acquainted with their phraseology. But on +this occasion there was no response. The officer in charge of Mankell, +who possibly wanted his dinner, put in his oar. + +"Telling fortunes, sir." + +"Telling fortunes! Oh! Dear me! How sad! You see what telling fortunes +brings you to? There will be no difficulty in telling your fortune if +you don't take care. I will see you to-morrow morning after chapel." + +The chaplain turned away. But his prediction proved to be as false as +Mankell's were stated to have been. He did not see him the next +morning after chapel, and that for the sufficient reason that on the +following morning there was no chapel. And the reasons why there was +no chapel were very curious indeed--unprecedented, in fact. + +Canterstone Jail was an old-fashioned prison. In it each prisoner had +two cells, one for the day and one for the night. The day-cells were +on the ground-floor, those for the night were overhead. At six a.m. a +bell was rung, and the warders unlocked the night-cells for the +occupants to go down to those beneath. That was the rule. That +particular morning was an exception to the rule. The bell was rung as +usual, and the warders started to unlock, but there the adherence to +custom ceased, for the doors of the cells refused to be unlocked. + +The night-cells were hermetically sealed by oaken doors of massive +thickness, bolted and barred in accordance with the former idea that +the security of prisoners should depend rather upon bolts and bars +than upon the vigilance of the officers in charge. Each door was let +into a twenty-four inch brick-wall, and secured by two ponderous bolts +and an enormous lock of the most complicated workmanship. These locks +were kept constantly oiled. When the gigantic key was inserted, it +turned as easily as the key of a watch--that was the rule. When, +therefore, on inserting his key into the lock of the first cell, +Warder Slater found that it wouldn't turn at all, he was rather taken +aback. "Who's been having a game with this lock?" he asked. + +Warder Puffin, who was stationed at the head of the stairs to see that +the prisoners passed down in order, at the proper distance from each +other, replied to him. + +"Anything the matter with the lock? Try the next." + +Warder Slater did try the next, but he found that as refractory as the +first had been. + +"Perhaps you've got the wrong key?" suggested Warder Puffin. + +"Got the wrong key!" cried Warder Slater. "Do you think I don't know +my own keys when I see them?" + +The oddest part of it was that all the locks were the same. Not only +in Ward A, but in Wards B, C, D, E, and F--in all the wards, in fact. +When this became known, a certain sensation was created, and that on +both sides of the unlocked doors. The prisoners were soon conscious +that their guardians were unable to release them, and they made a +noise. Nothing is so precious to the average prisoner as a grievance; +here was a grievance with a vengeance. + +The chief warder was a man named Murray. He was short and stout, with +a red face, and short, stubbly white hair--his very appearance +suggested apoplexy. That suggestion was emphasised when he lost his +temper--capable officer though he was, that was more than once in a +while. He was in the wheel-shed, awaiting the arrival of the prisoners +preparatory to being told off to their various tasks, when, instead of +the prisoners, Warder Slater appeared. If Murray was stout, Slater was +stouter. He was about five feet eight, and weighed at least 250 +pounds. He was wont to amaze those who saw him for the first time--and +wondered--by assuring them that he had a brother who was still +stouter--compared to whom he was a skeleton, in fact. But he was stout +enough. He and the chief warder made a striking pair. + +"There's something the matter with the locks of the night-cells, sir. +We can't undo the doors." + +"Can't undo the doors!" Mr. Murray turned the colour of a boiled +beetroot. "What do you mean?" + +"It's very queer, sir, but all over the place it's the same. We can't +get none of the doors unlocked." + +Mr. Murray started off at a good round pace, Slater following hard at +his heels. The chief warder tried his hand himself. He tried every +lock in the prison; not one of them vouchsafed to budge. Not one, that +is, with a single exception. The exception was in Ward B, No. 27. Mr. +Murray had tried all the other doors in the ward, beginning with +No. 1--tried them all in vain. But when he came to No. 27, the lock +turned with the customary ease, and the door was open. Within it was +Oliver Mankell, standing decorously at attention, waiting to be let +out. Mr. Murray stared at him. + +"Hum! there's nothing the matter with this lock, at any rate. You'd +better go down." + +Oliver Mankell went downstairs--he was the only man in Canterstone +jail who did. + +"Well, this is a pretty go!" exclaimed Mr. Murray, when he had +completed his round. Two or three other warders had accompanied him. +He turned on these. "Someone will smart for this--you see if they +don't. Keep those men still." + +The din was deafening. The prisoners, secure of a grievance, were +practising step-dances in their heavy shoes on the stone floors: they +made the narrow vaulted corridors ring. + +"Silence those men!" shouted Mr. Jarvis, the second warder, who was +tall and thin as the chief was short and stout. He might as well have +shouted to the wind. Those in the cells just close at hand observed +the better part of valour, but those a little distance off paid not +the slightest heed. If they were locked in, the officers were locked +out. + +"I must go and see the governor." Mr. Murray pursed up his lips. "Keep +those men still, or I'll know the reason why." + +He strode off, leaving his subordinates to obey his orders--if they +could, or if they couldn't. + +Mr. Paley's house was in the centre of the jail. Paley, by the way, +was the governor's name. The governor, when Mr. Murray arrived, was +still in bed. He came down to the chief warder in rather primitive +disarray. + +"Anything the matter, Murray?" + +"Yes, sir; there's something very much the matter, indeed." + +"What is it?" + +"We can't get any of the doors of the night-cells open." + +"You can't get--what?" + +"There seems to be something the matter with the locks." + +"The locks? All of them? Absurd!" + +"Well, there they are, and there's the men inside of them, and we +can't get 'em out--at least I've tried my hand, and I know I can't." + +"I'll come with you at once, and see what you mean." + +Mr. Paley was as good as his word. He started off just as he was. As +they were going, the chief warder made another remark. + +"By the way, there is one cell we managed to get open--I opened it +myself." + +"I thought you said there was none?" + +"There's that one--it's that man Mankell." + +"Mankell? Who is he?" + +"He came in yesterday. It's that magician." + +When they reached the cells, it was easy to perceive that something +was wrong. The warders hung about in twos and threes; the noise was +deafening; the prisoners were keeping holiday. + +"Get me the keys and let me see what I can do. It is impossible that +all the locks can have been tampered with." + +They presented Mr. Paley with the keys. In his turn he tried every +lock in the jail This was not a work of a minute or two. The prison +contained some three hundred night-cells. To visit them all +necessitated not only a good deal of running up and down stairs, but a +good deal of actual walking; for they were not only in different +floors and in different blocks, but the prison itself was divided into +two entirely separate divisions--north and south--and to pass from one +division to the other entailed a walk of at least a hundred yards. By +the time he had completed the round of the locks, Mr. Paley had had +about enough of it. It was not surprising that he felt a little +bewildered--not one of the locks had shown any more readiness to yield +to him than to the others. + +In passing from one ward to the other, he had passed the row of +day-cells in which was situated B 27. Here they found Oliver Mankell +sitting in silent state awaiting the call to work. The governor pulled +up at the sight of him. + +"Well, Mankell, so there was nothing the matter with the lock of your +door?" + +Mankell simply inclined his head. + +"I suppose you know nothing about the locks of the other doors?" + +Again the inclination of the head. The man seemed to be habitually +chary of speech. + +"What's the matter with you? Are you dumb? Can't you speak when you're +spoken to?" + +This time Mankell extended the palms of his hands with a gesture which +might mean anything or nothing. The governor passed on. The round +finished, he held a consultation with the chief warder. + +"Have you any suspicions?" + +"It's queer." Mr. Murray stroked his bristly chin. + +"It's very queer that that man Mankell's should be the only cell in +the prison left untampered with." + +"Very queer, indeed." + +"What are we to do? We can't leave the men locked up all day. It's +breakfast-time already. I suppose the cooks haven't gone down to the +cookhouse?" + +"They're locked up with the rest. Barnes has been up to know what he's +to do." + +Barnes was the prison cook. The cooks referred to were six +good-behaviour men who were told off to assist him in his duties. + +"If the food were cooked, I don't see how we should give it to the +men." + +"That's the question." Mr. Murray pondered. + +"We might pass it through the gas-holes." + +"We should have to break the glass to do it. You wouldn't find it +easy. It's plate-glass, an inch in thickness, and built into the solid +wall." + +There was a pause for consideration. + +"Well, this is a pretty start. I've never come across anything like it +in all my days before." + +Mr. Paley passed his hand through his hair. He had never come across +anything like it either. + +"I shall have to telegraph to the commissioners. I can't do anything +without their sanction." + +The following telegram was sent: + +"Cannot get prisoners out of night-cells. Something the matter with +locks. Cannot give them any food. The matter is very urgent. What +shall I do?" + +The following answer was received: + +"Inspector coming down." + +The inspector came down--Major William Hardinge. A tall, portly +gentleman, with a very decided manner. When he saw the governor he +came to the point at once. + +"What's all this stuff?" + +"We can't get the prisoners out of the night-cells." + +"Why?" + +"There's something the matter with the locks." + +"Have you given them any food?" + +"We have not been able to." + +"When were they locked up?" + +"Yesterday evening at six o'clock." + +"This is a very extraordinary state of things." + +"It is, or I shouldn't have asked for instructions." + +"It's now three o'clock in the afternoon. They've been without food +for twenty-one hours. You've no right to keep them without food all +that time." + +"We are helpless. The construction of the night-cells does not permit +of our introducing food into the interior when the doors are closed." + +"Have they been quiet?" + +"They've been as quiet as under the circumstance was to be expected." + +As they were crossing towards the north division the governor spoke +again: + +"We've been able to get one man out." + +"One!--out of the lot! How did you get him?" + +"Oddly enough, the lock of his cell was the only one in the prison +which had not been tampered with." + +"Hum! I should like to see that man." + +"His name's Mankell. He only came in yesterday. He's been pretending +to magic powers--telling fortunes, and that kind of thing." + +"Only came in yesterday? He's begun early. Perhaps we shall have to +tell him what his fortune's likely to be." + +When they reached the wards the keys were handed to the inspector, who +in his turn tried his hand. A couple of locksmiths had been fetched up +from the town. When the Major had tried two or three of the locks it +was enough for him. He turned to the makers of locks. + +"What's the matter with these locks?" + +"Well, that's exactly what we can't make out. The keys go in all +right, but they won't turn. Seems as though somebody had been having a +lark with them." + +"Can't you pick them?" + +"They're not easy locks to pick, but we'll have a try!" + +"Have a try!" + +They had a try, but they tried in vain. As it happened, the cell on +which they commenced operations was occupied by a gentleman who had +had a considerable experience in picking locks--experience which had +ended in placing him on the other side that door. He derided the +locksmiths through the door. + +"Well, you are a couple of keen ones! What, can't pick the lock! Why, +there ain't a lock in England I couldn't pick with a bent 'airpin. I +only wish you was this side, starving like I am, and I was where you +are, it wouldn't be a lock that would keep me from giving you food." + +This was not the sort of language Major Hardinge was accustomed to +hear from the average prisoner, but the Major probably felt that on +this occasion the candid proficient in the art of picking locks had a +certain excuse. He addressed the baffled workmen. + +"If you can't pick the lock, what can you do? The question is, what is +the shortest way of getting inside that cell?" + +"Get a watch-saw," cried the gentleman on the other side the door. + +"And when you've got your watch-saw?" inquired the Major. + +"Saw the whole lock right clean away. Lor' bless me! I only wish I was +where you are, I'd show you a thing or two. It's as easy as winking. +Here's all us chaps a-starving, all for want of a little hexperience!" + +"A saw'll be no good," declared one of the locksmiths. "Neither a +watch-saw nor any other kind of saw. How are you going to saw through +those iron stanchions? You'll have to burst the door in, that's what +it'll have to be." + +"You won't find it an easy thing to do." This was from the governor. + +"Why don't you take and blow the whole place up?" shouted a gentleman, +also on the other side of the door, two or three cells off. + +Long before this all the occupants of the corridor had been lending a +very attentive ear to what was going on. The suggestion was received +with roars of laughter. The Major, however, preferred to act upon the +workmen's advice. A sledge hammer was sent for. + +While they were awaiting its arrival something rather curious +happened--curious, that is, viewed in the light of what had gone +before. Warder Slater formed one of the party. More for the sake of +something to do than anything else, he put his key into the lock of +the cell which was just in front of him. Giving it a gentle twist, to +his amazement it turned with the greatest ease, and the door was open. + +"Here's a go!" he exclaimed. "Blest if this door ain't come open." + +There was a yell of jubilation all along the corridor. The prisoners +seemed to be amused. The official party kept silence. Possibly their +feelings were too deep for words. + +"Since we've got this one open," said Warder Slater, "suppose we try +another?" + +He tried another, the next; the same result followed--the door was +opened with the greatest of ease. + +"What's the meaning of this?" spluttered the Major. "Who's been +playing this tomfoolery? I don't believe there's anything the matter +with a lock in the place." + +There did not seem to be, just then. For when the officers tried again +they found no difficulty in unlocking the doors, and setting the +prisoners free. + + + CHAPTER II. + + THE CHAPLAIN AS AN AUTHORITY ON + WITCHCRAFT. + +Major Hardinge remained in the jail that night. He stayed in the +governor's house as Mr. Paley's guest. He expressed himself very +strongly about the events of the day. + +"I'll see the thing through if it takes me a week. The whole affair is +incredible to me. It strikes me, Paley, that they've been making a +fool of you." + +The governor combed his hair with his fingers. His official manner had +temporarily gone. He seemed depressed. + +"I assure you the doors were locked." + +"Of course the doors were locked, and they used the wrong keys to open +them! It was a got-up thing." + +"Not by the officers." + +"By whom then? I don't see how the prisoners could have lent a hand." + +"I know the officers, and I will answer for them, every man. As for +the wrong keys being used, I know the keys as well as any one. I tried +them, and not a lock would yield to me." + +"But they did yield. What explanation have you to give of that?" + +"I wish I could explain." And again the governor combed his hair. + +"I'll have an explanation to-morrow!--you see if I don't!" But the +Major never did. + +On the morrow, punctually at 6 a.m., an imposing procession started to +unlock. There were the inspector, governor, chief warder, second +warder, and the warder who carried the keys. + +"I don't think we shall have much difficulty in getting the men out of +their cells this time," remarked the Major. They did not. "Good--good +God!" he spluttered, when they reached the corridor; "what--what on +earth's the meaning of this?" He had predicted rightly. They would +have no difficulty in getting the men out of their cells: they were +out already--men, and bedding, and planks, and all. There was a man +fast asleep in bed in front of each cell-door. + +"I thought I had given instructions that a special watch was to be +kept all night," the Major roared. + +"So there has been," answered the chief warder, whose head and face +and neck were purple. "Warder Slater here has only just gone off duty. +Now then, Slater, what's the meaning of this?" + +"I don't know," protested Slater, whose mountain of flesh seemed +quivering like jelly. "It's not a minute ago since I went to get my +keys, and they was all inside their cells when I went down." + +"Who let them out, then?" + +The Major glared at him, incredulity in every line of his countenance. + +"I don't know. I'll swear it wasn't me!" + +"I suppose they let themselves out, then. You men!" + +Although this short dialogue had been conducted by no means +_sotto-voce_, the noise did not seem to have had the slightest effect +in rousing the prisoners out of slumber. Even when the Major called to +them they gave no sign. + +"You men!" he shouted again; "it's no good shamming Abraham with me!" +He stooped to shake the man who was lying on the plank at his feet. +"Good--good God! The--the--man's not dead?" + +"Dead!" cried the governor, kneeling by the Major's side upon the +stones. + +The sleeper was very still. He was a man of some forty years of age, +with nut-brown tangled hair and beard. If not a short-sentence man he +was still in the early stages of his term--for he lay on the bare +boards of the plank with the rug, blanket, and sheet wrapped closely +round him, so that they might take, as far as possible, the place of +the coir mattress, which was not there. The bed was not a bed of +comfort, yet his sleep was sound--strangely sound. If he breathed at +all, it was so lightly as to be inaudible. On his face was that dazed, +strained expression which we sometimes see on the faces of those who, +without a moment's warning, have been suddenly visited by death. + +"I don't think he's dead," the governor said. "He seems to be in some +sort of trance. What's the man's name?" + +"'Itchcock. He's one of the 'oppickers. He's got a month." + +It was Warder Slater who gave the information. The governor took the +man by the shoulder, and tried to rouse him out of sleep. + +"Hitchcock! Hitchcock! Come, wake up, my man! It's all right; he's +coming to--he's waking up." + +He did wake up, and that so suddenly as to take the party by surprise. +He sprang upright on the plank, nothing on but an attenuated prison +shirt, and glared at the officials with looks of unmistakable +surprise. + +"Holloa! What's up! What's the meaning of this?" + +Major Hardinge replied, suspicion peeping from his eyes: + +"That is what we want to know, and what we intend to know--what does +it mean? Why aren't you in your cell?" + +The man seemed for the first time to perceive where he was. + +"Strike me lucky, if I ain't outside! Somebody must have took me out +when I was asleep." Then, realising in whose presence he was--"I beg +your pardon, sir, but someone's took me out." + +"The one who took you out took all the others too." + +The Major gave a side glance at Warder Slater. That intelligent +officer seemed to be suffering agonies. The prisoner glanced along the +corridor. "If all the blessed lot of 'em ain't out too!" + +They were not only all out, but they were all in the same curiously +trance-like sleep. Each man had to be separately roused, and each woke +with the same startling, sudden bound. No one seemed more surprised to +find themselves where they were than the men themselves. And this was +not the case in one ward only but in all the wards in the prison. No +wonder the officials felt bewildered by the time they had gone the +round. + +"There's one thing certain," remarked Warder Slater to Warder Puffin, +wiping the perspiration from his--Warder Slater's--brow, "if I let +them out in one ward, I couldn't 'ardly let them out in all. Not to +mention that I don't see how a man of my build's going to carry +eight-and-forty men, bed, bedding, and all, out bodily, and that +without disturbing one of them from sleep." + +As the official party was returning through B ward, inspecting the +men, who were standing at attention in their day-cells, the officer in +charge advanced to the governor. + +"One man missing, sir! No. 27, sir! Mankell, sir!" + +The chief warder started. If possible, he turned a shade more purple +even than before. + +"Fetch me the key of the night-cells," he said. + +It was brought. They went upstairs--the Major, the governor, the chief +and second warders. Sure enough they found the missing man, standing +at attention in his night-cell, waiting to be let out--the only man in +the prison whom they had found in his place. The chief warder unlocked +him. In silence they followed him as he went downstairs. + +When the Major and Mr. Paley found themselves alone, both of them +seemed a little bewildered. + +"Well, Major, what do you think of it now?" + +"It's a got-up thing! I'll stake my life, it's a got-up thing!" + +"What do you mean--a got-up thing?" + +"Some of the officers know more about it than they have chosen to +say--that man Slater, for instance. But I'll have the thing sifted to +the bottom before I go. I never heard of anything more audacious in +the whole of my career." + +The governor smiled, but he made no comment on the Major's +observation. It was arranged that an inquiry should be held after +chapel. During chapel a fresh subject was added to the list of those +which already called for prompt inquiry. + +Probably there is no more delicate and difficult position than that of +a prison chaplain. If any man doubt this, let him step into a prison +chaplain's shoes and see. He must have two faces, and each face must +look in an exactly opposite way. The one towards authority--he is an +official, an upholder of the law; the other towards the defiers of +authority--he is the criminal's best friend. It requires the wisest of +men to do his duty, so as to please both sides; and he must please +both sides--or fail. As has already been hinted, Mr. Hewett, the +Chaplain of Canterstone Jail, was not the wisest of men. He was in the +uncomfortable--but not uncommon--position of being disliked by both +the rival houses. He meant well, but he was not an apt interpreter of +his own meaning. He blundered, sometimes on the prisoners' toes, and +sometimes on the toes of the officials. Before the service began, the +governor thought of giving him a hint, not--in the course of it--to +touch on the events of the last two days. But previous hints of the +same kind had not by any means been well received, and he refrained. +Exactly what he feared would happen, happened. Both the inspector and +the governor were present at the service. Possibly the chaplain +supposed this to be an excellent opportunity of showing the sort of +man he was--one full of zeal. At any rate, before the service was +over, before pronouncing the benediction, he came down to the +altar-rail, in the way they knew so well. The governor, outwardly +unruffled, inwardly groaned. + +"I have something to say to you." + +When he said this, those who knew him knew exactly what was coming; or +they thought they did, for, for once in a way, they were grievously +wrong. When the chaplain had got so far he paused. It was his habit to +indulge in these eloquent pauses, but it was not his habit to behave +as he immediately did. While they were waiting for him to go on, +almost forecasting the words he would use, a spasm seemed to go all +over him, and he clutched the rail and spoke. And what he said was +this-- + +"Bust the screws and blast 'em!" + +The words were shouted rather than spoken. In the very act of +utterance he clung on to the rail as though he needed its support to +enable him to stand. The chapel was intensely still. The men stared at +him as though unable to believe their eyes and ears. The chaplain was +noted for his little eccentricities, but it was the first time they +had taken such a shape as this. + +"That's not what I meant to say." The words came out with a gasp. Mr. +Hewett put his hand up to his brow. "That's not what I meant to say." + +He gave a frightened glance around. Suddenly his gaze became fixed, +and he looked intently at some object right in front of him. His eyes +assumed a dull and fish-like stare. He hung on to the rail, his +surpliced figure trembling as with palsy. Words fell from his lips +with feverish volubility. + +"What's the good of a screw, I'd like to know? Did you ever know one +what was worth his salt? I never did. Look at that beast, Slater, +great fat brute, what'd get a man three days' bread-and-water +as soon as look at him. A little bread and water'd do him +good. Look at old Murray--call a man like that chief warder. +I wonder what a chief fat-head's like? As for the governor--as for +the governor--as--for--the--governor----" + +The chapel was in confusion. The officers rose in their seats. Mr. +Paley stood up in his pew, looking whiter than he was wont to do. It +seemed as though the chaplain was struggling with an unseen +antagonist. He writhed and twisted, contending, as it were, with +something--or some one--which appeared to be in front of him. His +sentence remained unfinished. All at once he collapsed, and, sinking +into a heap, lay upon the steps of the altar--still. + +"Take the men out," said the governor's quiet voice. + +The men were taken out. The schoolmaster was already at the chaplain's +side. With him were two or three of the prisoners who sang in the +choir. The governor and the inspector came and looked down at the +senseless man. + +"Seems to be in a sort of fit," the schoolmaster said. + +"Let some one go and see if the doctor has arrived. Ask him to come up +here at once." With that the governor left the chapel, the inspector +going with him. "It's no good our staying. He'll be all right. I--I +don't feel quite well." + +Major Hardinge looked at him shrewdly out of the corner of his eyes. +"Does he drink?" + +"Not that I am aware of. I have never heard of it before. I should say +certainly not." + +"Is he mad?" + +"No-o--he has his peculiarities--but he certainly is not mad." + +"Is he subject to fits?" + +"I have not known of his having one before." + +When they reached the office the Major began to pace about. + +"That chaplain of yours must be stark mad." + +"If so, it is a very sudden attack." + +"Did you hear what he said?" + +"Very well indeed." + +"Never heard such a thing in my life! Is he in the habit of using such +language?" + +"Hardly. Perhaps we had better leave it till we hear what the doctor +says. Possibly there is some simple explanation. I am afraid the +chaplain is unwell." + +"If he isn't unwell, I don't know what he is. Upon my word, Paley, I +can't congratulate you upon the figure Canterstone Jail has cut during +the last few days. I don't know what sort of report I shall have to +make." + +The governor winced. When, a few minutes afterwards, the doctor +entered, he began upon the subject at once. + +"How is the chaplain, doctor?" + +Dr. Livermore gave a curious glance about him. Then he shook hands +with the inspector. Then he sat down. Taking off his hat, he wiped his +brow. + +"Well? Anything wrong?" + +"The chaplain says he is bewitched." + +The governor looked at the inspector, and the inspector looked at him. + +"Bewitched?" said Mr. Paley. + +"I told you the man was mad," the inspector muttered. + +"Hush!" the doctor whispered. "Here he comes." + +Even as he spoke the chaplain entered, leaning on the chief warder's +arm. He advanced to the table at which the governor sat, looking Mr. +Paley steadily in the face. + +"Mr. Paley, I have to report to you that I have been bewitched." + +"I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Hewett." He could not resist a smile. +"Though I am afraid I do not understand exactly what you mean." + +"It is no laughing matter." The chaplain's tone was cool and +collected--more impressive than it was used to be. "The man whose name +I believe is Oliver Mankell has bewitched me. He was the second man in +the third row on my right-hand side in chapel. I could make out that +his number was B 27. He cast on me a spell." + +There was silence. Even the inspector felt that it was a delicate +matter to accuse the chaplain outright of lunacy. An interruption came +from an unexpected quarter--from the chief warder. + +"It's my belief that man Mankell's been up to his games about those +cells." + +The interruption was the more remarkable, because there was generally +war--not always passive--between the chief warder and the chaplain. +Every one looked at Mr. Murray. + +"What is this I hear about the cells?" asked Dr. Livermore. + +The governor answered: + +"Yesterday the men were all locked in their night-cells. This morning +they were all locked out--that is, we found them all seemingly fast +asleep, each man in front of his cell-door." + +"They were all locked in except one man, and that man was Mankell--and +he was the only man who was not locked out." Thus the chief warder. + +"And do you suggest," said the doctor, "that he had a finger in the +pie?" + +"It's my belief he did it all. Directly I set eyes upon the man I knew +there was something about him I couldn't quite make out. He did it +all! Have you heard, sir, how he came to the gate?" + +Mr. Murray was, in general, a reticent man. It was not his way to +express decided opinions in the presence of authorities, or indeed of +any one else. Mr. Paley, who knew his man, eyed him with curiosity. + +"What was there odd about that?" + +"Why, instead of the constable bringing him, it was him who brought +the constable. When they opened the gate there was him with the +policeman over his shoulder." + +In spite of Mr. Murray's evident earnestness, there were some of his +hearers who were unable to repress a smile. + +"Do you mean that the constable was drunk?" + +"That's the queer part of it. It was John Mitchell. I've known him for +two-and-twenty years. I never knew him have a glass too much before. I +saw him soon afterwards--he was all right then. He said he had only +had three half-pints. He was quite himself till he got near the gate, +when all of a sudden he went queer all over." + +"Possibly the ale was drugged," suggested the doctor. + +"I don't know nothing about that, but I do know that the same hand +that played that trick was the same hand that played the tricks with +the cells." + +"Consider a moment what you are saying, Murray. How are three hundred +locks to be tampered with in the middle of the night by a man who is +himself a prisoner? One moment--But even that is nothing compared to +the feat of carrying three hundred men fast asleep in bed--bed and +all--through three hundred closed doors, under the very noses of the +officers on guard--think of doing all that singlehanded!" + +"It was witchcraft." + +When the chief warder said this, Major Hardinge exploded. + +"Witchcraft! The idea of the chief warder of an English prison talking +about witchcraft at this time of day! It's quite time you were +superannuated, sir." + +"The man, Mankell, certainly bewitched me." + +"Bewitched you!" As the Major faced the chaplain he seemed to find it +difficult to restrain his feelings. "May I ask what sort of idea you +mean to convey by saying he bewitched you?" + +"I will explain so far as I am able." The chaplain paused to collect +his thoughts. All eyes were fixed upon him. "I intended to say +something to the men touching the events of yesterday and this +morning. As I came down to the altar-rail I was conscious of a curious +sensation--as though I was being fascinated by a terrible gaze which +was burning into my brain. I managed to pronounce the first few words. +Involuntarily looking round, I met the eyes of the man Mankell. The +instant I did so I was conscious that something had passed from him to +me, something that made my tongue utter the words you heard. +Struggling with all my might, I momentarily regained the exercise of +my own will. It was only for a moment, for in an instant he had +mastered me again. Although I continued to struggle, my tongue uttered +the words he bade it utter, until I suppose my efforts to repel his +dominion brought on a kind of fit. That he laid on me a spell I am +assured." + +There was a pause when the chaplain ceased. That he had made what he +supposed to be a plain and simple statement of facts was evident. But +then the facts were remarkable ones. It was the doctor who broke the +silence. + +"Suppose we have the man in here, so that we can put him through his +facings?" + +The governor stroked his beard + +"What are you going to say to him? You can hardly charge him with +witchcraft. He is here because he has been pretending to magic +powers." + +The doctor started. + +"No! Is that so? Then I fancy we have the case in a nutshell. The man +is what old-fashioned people used to call a mesmerist--hypnotism they +call it nowadays, and all sorts of things." + +"But mesmerism won't explain the cells!" + +"I'm not so sure of that--at any rate, it would explain the policeman +who was suddenly taken queer. Let's have the man in here." + +"The whole thing is balderdash," said the Major with solemnity. "I am +surprised, as a man of sane and healthy mind, to hear such stuff +talked in an English prison of to-day." + +"At least there will be no harm in our interviewing Mr. Mankell. +Murray, see that they send him here." The chief warder departed to do +the governor's bidding. Mr. Paley turned to the chaplain. "According +to you, Mr. Hewett, we are subjecting ourselves to some personal risk +by bringing him here. Is that so?" + +"You may smile, Mr. Paley, but you may find it no laughing matter +after all. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt +of in man's philosophy." + +"You don't mean to say," burst out the Major, "that you, a man of +education, a clergyman, chaplain of an English prison, believe in +witchcraft?" + +"It is not a question of belief--it is a question of fact. That the +man cast on me a spell, I am well assured. Take care that he does not +do the same to you." + +The governor smiled. The doctor laughed. The enormity of the +suggestion kept the Major tongue-tied till Mankell appeared. + + + CHAPTER III. + + THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF THE PRISON + OFFICIALS. + +Although Mankell was ushered in by the chief warder, he was in actual +charge of Warder Slater. The apartment into which he was shown was not +that in which prisoners ordinarily interviewed the governor. There a +cord, stretched from wall to wall, divided the room nearly in half. On +one side stood the prisoner, with the officer in charge of him; on the +other sat the governor. Here there was no cord. The room--which was a +small one--contained a single table. At one end sat Mr. Paley, on his +right sat Major Hardinge, the chaplain stood at his left, and just +behind the Major sat Dr. Livermore. Mankell was told to stand at +the end which faced the governor. A momentary pause followed his +entrance--all four pairs of eyes were examining his countenance. He +for his part bore himself quite easily, his eyes being fixed upon the +governor, and about the corners of his lips hovered what was certainly +more than the suspicion of a smile. + +"I have sent for you," Mr. Paley began, "because I wish to ask you a +question. You understand that I make no charge against you, but--do +you know who has been tampering with the locks of the cells?" + +The smile was unmistakable now. It lighted up his saturnine visage, +suggesting that here was a man who had an eye--possibly almost too +keen an eye--for the ridiculous. But he gave no answer. + +"Do you hear my question, Mankell? Do you know who has been tampering +with the locks of the cells?" + +Mankell extended his hands with a little graceful gesture which +smacked of more southern climes. + +"How shall I tell you?" + +"Tell the truth, sir, and don't treat us to any of your high +faluting." + +This remark came from the Major--not in too amiable a tone of voice. + +"But in this land it would seem that truth is a thing that wise men +shun. It is for telling the truth that I am here." + +"We don't want any of your insolence, my man! Answer the governor's +question if you don't want to be severely punished. Do you know who +has been playing hanky-panky with the cells?" + +"Spirits of the air." + +As he said this Mankell inclined his head and looked at the Major with +laughter in his eyes. + +"Spirits of the air! What the devil do you mean by spirits of the +air?" + +"Ah! what do I mean? To tell _you_ that," laying a stress upon the +pronoun, "would take a year." + +"The fellow's an insolent scoundrel," spluttered the Major. + +"Come, Mankell, that won't do," struck in Mr. Paley. "Do I understand +you to say that you do know something about the matter?" + +"Know!" The man drew himself up, laying the index finger of his right +hand upon the table with a curiously impressive air. "What is there +that I do not know?" + +"I see. You still pretend, then, to the possession of magic powers?" + +"Pretend!" Mankell laughed. He stretched out his hands in front of him +with what seemed to be his favourite gesture, and laughed--in the face +of the authorities. + +"Suppose you give us an example of your powers?" + +The suggestion came from the doctor. The Major exploded. + +"Don't talk stuff and nonsense! Give the man three days' bread and +water. That is what he wants." + +"You do not believe in magic, then?" Mankell turned to the Major with +his laughing eyes. + +"What's it matter to you what I believe? You may take my word for it +that I don't believe in impudent mountebanks like you." + +The only reply Mankell gave was to raise his hand--if that might be +called a reply--in the way we sometimes do when we call for silence, +and there was silence in the room. All eyes were fixed upon the +prisoner. He looked each in turn steadily in the face. Then, still +serenely smiling, he gently murmured, "If you please." + +There still was silence, but only for a moment. It was broken +by Warder Slater. That usually decorous officer tilted his cap +to the back of his head, and thrust his hands into his breeches +pockets--hardly the regulation attitude in the presence of superiors. + +"I should blooming well like to know what this means! 'Ere have I been +in this 'ere jail eleven years, and I've never been accused before of +letting men out of their night-cells, let alone their beds and +bedding, and I don't like it, so I tell you straight." + +The chief warder turned with automatic suddenness towards the +unexpectedly and unusually plain-spoken officer. + +"Slater, you're a fool!" + +"I'm not the only one in the place! There's more fools here besides +me, and some of them bigger ones as well!" + +While these compliments were being exchanged, the higher officials sat +mutely looking on. When the chief warder seemed at a loss for an +answer, the chaplain volunteered a remark. He addressed himself to +Warder Slater. + +"It's my opinion that the governor's a bigger fool than you are, and +that the inspector's a still bigger fool than he is." + +"And it's my belief, Mr. Hewett," observed the doctor, "that you're +the biggest fool of all." + +"It would serve him right," remarked the governor, quietly, "if +somebody were to knock him down." + +"Knock him down! I should think it would--and kick him too!" + +As he said this the Major glared at the chaplain with threatening +eyes. + +There was silence again, broken by Warder Slater taking off his cap +and then his tunic, which he folded up carefully and placed upon the +floor, and turning his shirt-sleeves up above his elbows, revealing as +he did so a pair of really gigantic arms. + +"If any man says I let them men out of the cells, I'm ready to fight +that man, either for a gallon of beer or nothing. I don't care if it's +the inspector, or who it is." + +"I suspect," declared the chaplain, "that the inspector's too great a +coward to take you on, but if he does I'm willing to back Slater for +half-a-crown. I am even prepared to second him." + +Putting his hands under his coat-tails, the chaplain looked up at the +ceiling with a resolute air. + +"If you do fight Slater, Hardinge, I should certainly commence by +giving the chaplain a punch in the eye." + +So saying, the governor leaned back in his chair, and began drumming +on the table with the tips of his fingers. The doctor rose from his +seat. He gave the inspector a hearty slap on the back. + +"Give him beans!" he cried. "You ought to be able to knock an over-fed +animal like Slater into the middle of next week before he's counted +five." + +"I've no quarrel with Slater," the inspector growled, "and I've no +intention of fighting him; but as the chaplain seems to be so anxious +for a row, I'll fight him with the greatest pleasure." + +"If there's goin' to be any fighting," interposed the chief warder, +"don't you think I'd better get a couple of sponges and a pail of +water?" + +"I don't know about the sponges," said the governor; "I don't fancy +you will find any just at hand. But you might get a pail of water, I +think." + +The chief warder left the room. + +"I'm not a fighting man," the chaplain announced; "and in any case, I +should decline to soil my hands by touching such an ill-mannered +ruffian as Major Hardinge." + +"I say," exclaimed the doctor, "Hardinge, you're not going to stand +that?" + +The Major sprang from his seat, tore off his coat, and flung it on to +the ground with considerably less care than Warder Slater had done. He +strode up to the chaplain. + +"Beg my pardon, or take a licking!" + +The Major clenched his fists. He assumed an attitude which, if not +exactly reminiscent of the pets of the fancy, was at least intended to +be pugilistic. The chaplain did not flinch. + +"You dare to lay a finger on me, you bullying blackguard." + +The Major did dare. He struck out, if not with considerable science, +at any rate with considerable execution. The chaplain went down like a +log. At that moment the chief warder entered the room. He had a pail +of water in his hand. For some reason, which was not altogether plain, +he threw its contents upon the chaplain as he lay upon the floor. + +While these--considering the persons engaged--somewhat irregular +proceedings had been taking place, Mankell remained motionless, his +hand upraised--still with that smile upon his face. Now he lowered his +hand. + +"Thank you very much," he said. + +There was silence again--a tolerably prolonged silence. While it +lasted, a change seemed to be passing over the chief actors in the +scene. They seemed to be awaking, with more or less rapidity, to the +fact that a certain incongruity characterised their actions and their +language. There stood Warder Slater, apparently surprised and +overwhelmed at the discovery that his hat and coat were off, and his +shirtsleeves tucked up above his elbows. The chief warder, with the +empty pail in his hand, presented a really ludicrous picture of +amazement. He seemed quite unable to realise the fact that he had +thrown the contents over the chaplain. The inspector's surprise +appeared to be no less on finding that, in his pugilistic ardour, he +had torn off his coat and knocked the chaplain down. The doctor, +supporting him in the rear, seemed to be taken a little aback. The +governor, smoothing his hair with his hand, seemed to be in a hopeless +mist. It was the chaplain, who rose from the floor with his +handkerchief to his nose, who brought it home to them that the scene +which had just transpired had not been the grotesque imaginings of +some waking dream. + +"I call you to witness that Major Hardinge has struck me to the +ground, and the chief warder has thrown on me a pail of water. What +conduct may be expected from ignorant criminals when such is the +behaviour of those who are in charge of them, must be left for others +to judge." + +They looked at one another. Their feelings were momentarily too deep +for words. + +"I think," suggested the governor, with quavering intonation, "I +think--that this man--had better--be taken away." + +Warder Slater picked up his hat and coat, and left the room, Mankell +walking quietly beside him. Mr. Murray followed after, seeming +particularly anxious to conceal the presence of the pail. Mr. Hewett, +still stanching the blood which flowed from his nose, fixed his eyes +on the inspector. + +"Major Hardinge, if, twenty-four hours after this, you are still an +Inspector of Prisons, all England shall ring with your shame. Behind +bureaucracy--above it--is the English press." The chaplain moved +towards the door. On the threshold he paused. "As for the chief +warder, I shall commence by indicting him for assault." He took +another step, and paused again. "Nor shall I forget that the governor +aided and abetted the inspector, and that the doctor egged him on." + +Then the chaplain disappeared. His disappearance was followed by what +might be described as an abject silence. The governor eyed his +colleagues furtively. At last he stammered out a question. + +"Well, Major, what do you think of this?" + +The Major sank into a chair, expressing his thoughts by a gasp. Mr. +Paley turned his attention to the doctor. + +"What do you say, doctor?" + +"I say?--I say nothing." + +"I suppose," murmured the Major, in what seemed to be the ghost of his +natural voice, "that I did knock him down?" + +The doctor seemed to have something to say on that point, at any rate. + +"Knock him down!--I should think you did! Like a log of wood!" + +The Major glanced at the governor. Mr. Paley shook his head. The Major +groaned. The governor began to be a little agitated. + +"Something must be done. It is out of the question that such a scandal +should be allowed to go out into the world. I do not hesitate to say +that if the chaplain sends in to the commissioners the report which he +threatens to send, the situation will be to the last degree unpleasant +for all of us." + +"The point is," observed the doctor--"are we, collectively and +individually, subject to periodical attacks of temporary insanity?" + +"Speaking for myself, I should say certainly not." + +Dr. Livermore turned on the governor. + +"Then perhaps you will suggest a hypothesis which will reasonably +account for what has just occurred." The governor was silent. "Unless +you are prepared to seek for a cause in the regions of phenomena." + +"Supposing," murmured the Major, "there is such a thing as witchcraft +after all?" + +"We should have the Psychical Research Society down on us, if we had +nobody else, if we appended our names to a confession of faith." The +doctor thrust his thumbs into his waistcoat arm-holes. "And I should +lose every patient I have." + +There was a tapping at the door. In response to the governor's +invitation, the chief warder entered. In general there was in Mr. +Murray's bearing a not distant suggestion of an inflated bantam-cock +or pouter-pigeon. It was curious to observe how anything in the shape +of inflation was absent now. He touched his hat to the governor--his +honest, rubicund, somewhat pugnacious face, eloquent of the weight +that was on his mind. + +"Excuse me, sir. I said he was a witch." + +"Your saying that he was a witch--or wizard," remarked the governor, +dryly, "will not, I fear, be sufficient excuse, in the eyes of the +commissioners, for your throwing a pail of water over the chaplain." + +"But a man's not answerable for what he does when he's bewitched," +persisted the chief warder, with characteristic sturdiness. + +"It is exactly that reflection which has constrained me to return." + +They looked up. There was the chaplain standing in the doorway--still +with his handkerchief to his nose. + +"Mr. Murray, you threw a pail of water over me. If you assert that you +did it under the influence of witchcraft, I, who have myself been +under a spell, am willing to excuse you." + +"Mr. Hewett, sir, you yourself know I was bewitched." + +"I do; as I believe it of myself. Murray, give me your hand." The +chaplain and the chief warder solemnly shook hands. "There is an end +of the matter as it concerns us two. Major Hardinge, do I understand +you to assert that you too were under the influence of witchcraft?" + +This was rather a delicate inquiry to address to the Major. Apparently +the Major seemed to find it so. + +"I don't know about witchcraft," he growled; "but I am prepared to +take my oath in any court in England that I had no more intention of +striking you than I had of striking the moon." + +"That is sufficient, Major Hardinge. I forgive you from my heart. +Perhaps you too will take my hand." + +The Major took it--rather awkwardly--much more awkwardly than the +chief warder had done. When the chaplain relinquished it, he turned +aside, and picking up his coat, began to put it on--scarcely with that +air of dignity which is proper to a prison inspector. + +"I presume," continued Mr. Hewett, "that we all allow that what has +occurred has been owing to the malign influence of the man Oliver +Mankell?" + +There was silence. Apparently they did not all allow it even yet: it +_was_ a pill to swallow. + +"Hypnotism," muttered the doctor, half aside. + +"Hypnotism! I believe that the word simply expresses some sort of +mesmeric power--hardly a sufficient explanation in the present case." + +"I would suggest, Major Hardinge," interposed the governor, "all +theorising aside, that the man be transferred to another prison at the +earliest possible moment." + +"He shall be transferred to-morrow," affirmed the Major. "If there is +anything in Mr. Hewett's suggestion, the fellow shall have a chance to +prove it--in some other jail. Oh, good Lord! Don't! He's killing me! +Help--p!" + +"Hardinge!" exclaimed the doctor; "what's the matter now?" + +There seemed to be something the matter. The Major had been delivering +himself in his most pompously official manner. Suddenly he put his +hands to the pit of his stomach, and began to cry out as if in an +ecstacy of pain, his official manner altogether gone. + +"He'll murder me! I know he will!" + +"Murder you? Who?" + +"Mankell." + +"Oddly enough, I too was conscious of a very curious sensation." + +As he said this, the governor wiped the cold dew of perspiration from +his brow. He seemed unnaturally white. As he adjusted his spectacles, +there was an odd, tremulous appearance about his eyes. + +"It was because you spoke of transferring him to some other jail." The +chaplain's tone was solemn. "He dislikes the idea of being trifled +with." + +The Major resented the suggestion. + +"Trifled with? He seems uncommonly fond of trifling with other people. +Confound the man! Oh--h!" + +The Major sprang from the floor with an exclamation which amounted to +a positive yell. They looked each other in the face. Each man seemed a +little paler than his wont. + +"Something must be done," the governor gasped. + +The chaplain made a proposition. + +"I propose that we summon him into our presence, and inquire of him +what he wishes us to do." + +The proposition was not received with acclamation. They probably felt +that a certain amount of complication might be expected to ensue if +such inquiries began to be addressed to prisoners. + +"I think I'll go my rounds," observed the doctor. "This matter +scarcely concerns me. I wish you gentlemen well out of it." + +He reached out his hand to take his hat, which he had placed upon a +chair. As he did so, the hat disappeared, and a small brown terrier +dog appeared in its place. The dog barked viciously at the +outstretched hand. The doctor started back just in time to escape its +teeth. The dog disappeared--there was the hat again. The appearance +was but momentary, but it was none the less suggestive on that +account. The doctor seemed particularly affected. + +"We must have all been drinking, if we are taking to seeing things," +he cried. + +"I think," suggested the chaplain, almost in a whisper, "that we had +better inquire what it is he wishes us to do." There was silence. +"We--we have all clear consciences. There--there is no reason why we +should be afraid." + +"We're--we're not afraid," gasped the governor. "I--I don't think you +are entitled to infer such a thing." + +The Major stammeringly supported him. + +"Of--of course we--we're not afraid. The--the idea is preposterously +absurd." + +"Still," said the doctor, "a man doesn't care to have hanky-panky +tricks played with his top hat." + +There was a pause--of considerable duration. It was again broken by +the chaplain. + +"Don't you think, Mr. Paley, that we had better send for this man?" +Apparently Mr. Paley did. + +"Murray," he said, "go and see that he is sent here." + +Mr. Murray went, not too willingly--still he went. + + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER WHICH THE OFFICIALS + OF CANTERSTONE JAIL PRESENTED MR. MANKELL + WITH A TESTIMONIAL. + +Oliver Mankell was again in the charge of Warder Slater. Warder Slater +looked very queer indeed--he actually seemed to have lost in bulk. The +same phenomenon was observable in the chief warder, who followed close +upon the prisoner's heels. Mankell seemed, as ever, completely at his +ease. There was again a suspicion of a smile in his eyes and about the +corners of his lips. His bearing was in striking contrast to that of +the officials. His self-possession in the presence of their evident +uneasiness gave him the appearance, in a sense, of being a giant among +pigmies; yet the Major, at least, was in every way a bigger man than +he was. There was silence as he entered, a continuation of that +silence which had prevailed until he came. The governor fumbled with a +paper-knife which was in front of him. The inspector, leaning forward +in his chair, seemed engrossed by his boots. The doctor kept glancing, +perhaps unconsciously, at his hat. The chaplain, though conspicuously +uneasy, seemed to have his wits about him most. It was he who, +temporarily usurping the governor's functions, addressed the prisoner. + +"Your name is Oliver Mankell?" The prisoner merely smiled. "You are +sentenced to three months' hard labour?" The prisoner smiled again. +"For--for pretending to tell fortunes?" The smile became more +pronounced. The chaplain cleared his throat. "Oliver Mankell, I am a +clergyman. I know that there are such things as good and evil. I know +that, for causes which are hidden from me, the Almighty may permit +evil to take visible shape and walk abroad upon the earth; but I also +know that, though evil may destroy my body, it cannot destroy my +soul." + +The chaplain pulled up. His words and manner, though evidently +sincere, were not particularly impressive. While they evidently had +the effect of increasing his colleagues' uneasiness, they only had the +effect of enlarging the prisoner's smile. When he was about to +continue, the governor interposed. + +"I think, Mr. Hewett, if you will permit me. Mankell, I am not a +clergyman." The prisoner's smile almost degenerated into a grin. "I +have sent for you, for the second time this morning, to ask you +frankly if you have any reason to complain of your treatment here?" +The prisoner stretched out his hands with his familiar gesture. "Have +you any complaint to make? Is there anything, within the range of the +prison rules, you would wish me to do for you?" Again the hands went +out. "Then tell me, quite candidly, what is the cause of your +behaviour?" + +When the governor ceased, the prisoner seemed to be considering what +answer he should make. Then, inclining his head with that almost +saturnine grace, if one may coin a phrase, which seemed to accompany +every movement he made: + +"Sir, what have I done?" he asked. + +"Eh--eh--we--we won't dwell upon that. The question is, What did you +do it for?" + +"It is perhaps within your recollection, sir, that I have my +reputation to redeem, my character to reinstate." + +"Your character? What do you mean?" + +"In the first interview with which you favoured me, I ventured to +observe that it would be my endeavour, during my sojourn within these +walls, to act upon the advice the magistrate tendered me." + +"What"--the governor rather faltered--"what advice was that?" + +"He said I claimed to be a magician. He advised me, for my character's +sake, to prove it during my sojourn here." + +"I see. And--and you're trying to prove it--for your character's +sake?" + +"For my character's sake! I am but beginning, you perceive." + +"Oh, you're but beginning! You call this but beginning, do you? May I +ask if you have any intention of going on?" + +"Oh, sir, I have still nearly the whole three months in front of me! +Until my term expires I shall go on, with gathering strength, unto the +end." + +As he said this Mankell drew himself up in such a way that it almost +seemed as though some inches were added to his stature. + +"You will, will you? Well, you seem to be a pleasant kind of man!" The +criticism seemed to have been extracted from the governor almost +against his will. He looked round upon his colleagues with what could +only be described as a ghastly grin. "Have you any objection, Mankell, +to being transferred to another prison?" + +"Sir!" the prisoner's voice rang out, and his hearers +started--perceptibly. Perhaps that was because their nerves were +already so disorganised. "It is here I was sent, it is here I must +remain--until the end." + +The governor took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. + +"I am bound to tell you, Mankell, judging from the experiences of the +last two days, if this sort of thing is to continue--with gathering +strength!--the end will not be long." + +The prisoner seemed lost in reflection. The officials seemed lost in +reflection too; but their reflections were probably of a different +kind. + +"There is one suggestion I might offer." + +"Let's have it by all means. We have reached a point at which we shall +be glad to receive any suggestion--from you." + +"You might give me a testimonial." + +"Give you what?" + +"You might give me a testimonial." + +The governor looked at the prisoner, then at his friends. + +"A testimonial! Might we indeed! What sort of testimonial do you +allude to?" + +"You might testify that I had regained my reputation, redeemed my +character--that I had proved to your entire satisfaction that I was +the magician I claimed to be." + +The governor leaned back in his seat. + +"Your suggestion has at least the force of novelty. I should like to +search the registers of remarkable cases, to know if such an +application has ever been made to the governor of an English jail +before. What do you say, Hardinge?" + +The Major shuffled in his chair. + +"I--I think I must return to town." + +The prisoner smiled. The Major winced. + +"That--that fellow's pinned me to my chair," he gasped. He appeared to +be making futile efforts to rise from his seat. + +"You cannot return to town. Dismiss the idea from your mind." + +The Major only groaned. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his +brow. The governor looked up from the paper-knife with which he was +again trifling. + +"Am I to understand that the testimonial is to take the shape of a +voluntary offering?" + +"Oh, sir! Of what value is a testimonial which is not voluntary?" + +"Quite so. How do you suggest it should be worded?" + +"May I ask you for paper, pens, and ink?" + +The prisoner bent over the table and wrote on the paper which was +handed him. What he had written he passed to the governor. Mr. Paley +found inscribed, in a beautifully fair round hand, as clear as +copperplate, the following "testimonial":-- + +"The undersigned persons present their compliments to Colonel Gregory. +Oliver Mankell, sentenced by Colonel Gregory to three months' hard +labour, has been in Canterstone Jail two days. That short space of +time has, however, convinced them that Colonel Gregory acted wrongly +in distrusting his magic powers, and so casting a stain upon his +character. This is to testify that he has proved, to the entire +satisfaction of the undersigned inspector of prisons and officials of +Canterstone Jail, that he is a magician of quite the highest class." + +"The signatures of all those present should be placed at the bottom," +observed the prisoner, as the governor was reading the "testimonial." + +Apparently at a loss for words with which to comment upon the paper he +had read, the governor handed it to the inspector. The Major shrank +from taking it. + +"I--I'd rather not," he mumbled. + +"I think you had better read it," said the governor. Thus urged, the +Major did read it. + +"Good Lord!" he gasped, and passed it to the doctor. + +The doctor silently, having read it, passed it to the chaplain. + +"I will read it aloud," said Mr. Hewett. He did so--for the benefit, +probably, of Slater and Mr. Murray. + +"Supposing we were to sign that document, what would you propose to do +with it?" inquired the governor. + +"I should convey it to Colonel Gregory." + +"Indeed! In that case he would have as high an opinion of our +characters as of yours. And yourself--what sort of action might we +expect from you?" + +"I should go." + +The governor's jaw dropped. + +"Go? Oh, would you!" + +"My character regained, for what have I to stop?" + +"Exactly. What have you? There's that point of view, no doubt. Well, +Mankell, we will think the matter over." + +The prisoner dropped his hands to his sides, looking the governor +steadily in the face. + +"Sir, I conceive that answer to convey a negative. The proposition +thus refused will not be made again. It only remains for me to +continue earnestly my endeavours to retrieve my character--until the +three months are at an end." + +The chaplain was holding the testimonial loosely between his finger +and thumb. Stretching out his arm, Mankell pointed at it with his +hand. It was immediately in flames. The chaplain releasing it, it was +consumed to ashes before it reached the floor. Returning to face the +governor gain, the prisoner laid his right hand, palm downwards, on +the table: "Spirits of the air, in whose presence I now stand, I ask +you if I am not justified in whatever I may do?" + +His voice was very musical. His upturned eyes seemed to pierce through +the ceiling to what there was beyond. The room grew darker. There was +a rumbling in the air. The ground began to shake. The chaplain, who +was caressing the hand which had been scorched by the flames, burst +out with what was for him a passionate appeal: + +"Mr. Mankell, you are over hasty. I was about to explain that I should +esteem it quite an honour to sign your testimonial." + +"So should I--upon my soul, I should!" declared the Major. + +"There's nothing I wouldn't do to oblige you, Mr. Mankell," stammered +the chief warder. + +"Same 'ere!" cried Warder Slater. + +"You really are too rapid in arriving at conclusions, Mr. Mankell," +remarked the governor. "I do beg you will not suppose there was any +negative intention." + +The darkness, the rumbling, and the shaking ceased as suddenly as they +began. The prisoner smiled. + +"Perhaps I was too hasty," he confessed. "It is an error which can +easily be rectified." + +He raised his hand. A piece of paper fluttered from the ceiling. It +fell upon the table. It was the testimonial. + +"Your signature, Major Hardinge, should head the list." + +"I--I--I'd rather somebody else signed first." + +"That would never do: it is for you to lead the van. You are free to +leave your seat." + +The Major left his seat, apparently not rejoicing in his freedom. He +wrote "William Hardinge" in great sprawling characters. + +"Add 'Inspector of Prisons.'" + +The Major added "Inspector of Prisons," with a very rueful +countenance. + +"Mr. Paley, it is your turn." + +Mr. Paley took his turn, with a really tolerable imitation of being +both ready and willing. Acting on the hint which had been given the +Major, he added "Governor" of his own accord. + +"Now, doctor, it is you." + +The doctor thrust his hands into his trousers' pockets. "I'll sign, if +you'll tell me how it is done." + +"Tell you how it is done? How what is done?" + +"How you do that hanky-panky, of course." + +"Hanky-panky!" The prisoner drew himself straight up. "Is it possible +that you suspect me of hanky-panky? Yes, sir, I will show you how it's +done. If you wish it, you shall be torn asunder where you stand." + +"Thank you,--you needn't trouble. I'll sign." + +He signed. The chaplain shook his head and sighed. + +"I always placed a literal interpretation on the twenty-eighth chapter +of the first book of Samuel. It is singular how my faith is +justified!" + +The chief warder placed his spectacles upon his nose, where they +seemed uneasy, and made quite a business of signing. And such was +Warder Slater's agitation, that he could scarcely sign at all. But at +last the "testimonial" was complete. The prisoner smiled as he +carefully folded it in two. + +"I will convey it to Colonel Gregory," he said. "It is a gratification +to me to have been able to retrieve my character in so short a space +of time." + +They watched him--a little spellbound, perhaps; and as they watched +him, even before their eyes--behold, he was gone! + + + + + TWINS! + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE FIRST LADY. + +"Mrs. And Miss Danvers." + +Mr. Herbert Buxton, standing at the office window of the hotel, +glancing at the visitors' book on the desk at his right, saw the names +among the latest arrivals. They caught his eye. "Pontresina" was +stated to be the place from which they had lately come. + +"It is _the_ Danvers, for a fiver--Cecil's Danvers." + +Strolling from the office window, he took a letter--a frayed +letter--from his pocket-book. It was post-marked "Pontresina." The +signature was "Cecil Buxton"--it was from his brother. + +"Dear Hubert," it ran, "you really must get something to do! Your +request for what you call an advance is absurd. So far from advancing +you anything I shall have to cut short the allowance I have been +making you. I have met here a Mrs. and Miss Danvers. I have asked Miss +Danvers to do me the honour to marry me. She has consented. When that +event comes to pass--which will be very shortly--your allowance will +recede to a vanishing point. That you will get something to do is, +therefore, the advice of your affectionate brother, Cecil Buxton." + +"It would be an odd coincidence," reflected Hubert, "if that Miss +Danvers is this Miss Danvers." + +An idea occurred to his fertile--too fertile--brain. As the first +glimmerings of the idea burst on him, Hubert smiled. + +In giving birth to Cecil and Hubert Buxton, Nature had been indulging +in one of her freaks. They were twins--born within a few seconds of +each other. Cecil came first. Hubert came, with all possible +expedition, immediately after. Babies are proverbially alike. These +babies were so much alike that, when they were undressed, no one ever +pretended to be able to tell one from the other. The resemblance +outlived babyhood. As the years went on, Cecil was always being taken +for Hubert, Hubert for Cecil. The unfortunate part of the business was +that the resemblance was merely superficial. Inside, they were +altogether different. Cecil was solid and steady, while Hubert--well, +at that particular moment he was quartered at that fashionable +Bournemouth hotel, without money in his pocket with which to pay his +hotel bill, and with nobody within reach from whom he could borrow a +five-pound note. + +"If," he told himself, "_this_ Danvers is that Danvers, I might make +something out of that fatal likeness after all." + +It would not be, by any means, the first time he had made something +out of the "fatal likeness," but on that, in this place, we need not +dwell. He strolled along the corridor, the open letter in his hand, +biting his nails and thinking over things as he went. As he approached +the glass door which led into the grounds, it opened to admit a lady. +At sight of him she stopped. + +"Cecil!" she exclaimed. + +Hubert looked at her. She was a magnificent woman, planned altogether +on a magnificent scale, with a profusion of red-gold hair, and a pair +of the biggest and brightest eyes Hubert, with all his wide +experience, ever remembered to have seen. + +"It _is_ the Danvers!" he inwardly decided. "What a 'oner'!" + +But he was equal to the occasion. He generally was--more than equal. +He held out his hand to her with a little sudden burst. + +"You!" he cried. + +The lady, however, did not immediately respond to his advances. On the +contrary, she put her hands behind her back. + +"This is an unexpected pleasure. I didn't expect to see you here. I +thought you were in Paris." + +As a matter of fact according to the most recent advices, Cecil was in +Paris. But, of course, Hubert had nothing to do with that. + +"I only arrived last night. You--you don't seem glad to see me?" + +"It is rather I who should ask the question. Are you glad to see me?" + +There was a dryness in her tone which grated on Hubert's ears. + +"This is a case in which diplomacy is required. I wonder what there's +been between them." Aloud he remarked, "Can you not forget and +forgive?" + +"Cecil, do you mean it?" She glanced behind her as if in sudden +agitation. "I cannot stop now. Meet me in the garden after dinner." + +She was gone before he even had a ghost of a chance of feeling his +way. + + + CHAPTER II. + + THE SECOND LADY. + +"Cecil! Where are you? Here?" + +Hubert, who had been leaning against the wall, came out into the +moonlight. The lady stood on the top of the steps. The moon shone full +upon her. It lit up the glory of her red-gold hair. She was clad in +full evening dress. Her little opera cloak, which had slipped off her +shoulders, revealed, rather than concealed, her magnificent +proportions. Hubert, eying her critically from below, told himself +that she was certainly a "oner!" + +"I am afraid I am late. I hope you haven't been waiting long." + +"Nothing to speak of. Just time enough to enjoy a cigar--and to dream +of you." + +"Cecil! For shame! Is it damp? I have only my thin shoes on." + +She held one out in evidence. Hubert liked the look of it. + +"It is as dry as tinder; just the night for lovers." + +"I really think it is." She came down the steps. "How glorious!" +Laying her hand upon his arm, she looked into his eyes with her big +ones. "As you say, it is just the night for lovers." + +They began to stroll. She spoke-- + +"It seems strange, after all that has passed between us, that you and +I should be walking here together." + +"It does seem strange." It certainly did. + +"After all the hard things you have thought and said of me." There was +a pause. She looked down, speaking softly. "Call me by my pet name." + +He slightly started. But he was not the sort of man to remain long at +a loss. As he turned to her and answered, in his voice there was a +ring of passionate intensity. + +"Tell me by what name to call you!" + +"Call me Angel." + +"Angel! My angel of love! My angel of all good things!" + +"Cecil!" + +Their lips met in a kiss. As they did so, he told himself that if she +was Cecil's idea of an angel, she wasn't his. But she was certainly a +"oner." He wondered if she had been christened "Angel" Danvers. What a +weapon with which to chastise a wife! + +"Cecil, let us understand each other. You are not trifling with me +again?" + +"Need you ask?" This time he was fairly startled. "I am afraid that +after all which has passed between us, I need----" + +"You do mean to make me your wife?" + +"Make you my wife? Good heavens! What do you suppose I mean?" + +"Then you do not believe I cheated?" + +"Cheated!" + +"Then you do not believe that man? You don't believe the lies they +said of me?" + +"Never for one single instant." + +His outspoken denial seemed to take her aback. + +"Then, if you didn't believe it, why--but never mind! Cecil, it would +be useless to pretend to you that I have been the best of women, but I +swear that I will be a good wife to you until I die." + +"My own," he murmured. To himself he said, "There seems to have been a +good deal more romance about this little affair of Cecil's than I +supposed." + +Her manner changed. + +"Let us talk of something else! Let us talk of you. Tell me of +yourself, my love!" + +"Well," said Hubert, the ever-ready, "for the moment I am in rather an +awkward predicament." + +"What is it?" + +"The fact is"--he looked her straight in the face, and never turned a +hair--"my remittances seem to have all gone wrong. I am landed here +with empty pockets." + +She laughed. "Let me be your banker, will you?" + +"With pleasure." + +"I'm quite rich, for me. I've got a heap of money in my purse, if I +can only find it." She found it, after long seeking. "How much would +you like--twenty pounds?" + +"Thank you." + +"Should I make it thirty?" + +"If you could make it thirty." + +Some bank-notes changed hands. He thrust them into his +waistcoat-pocket, telling himself that that was something on account +at any rate. + +"Now, your remittances must make haste and come. Thirty pounds is +nothing to you; it is a deal to me. Now _I_ am destitute." + +She held out her purse for him to see. It still contained a couple of +bank-notes and some gold. + +"I suppose you couldn't manage to spare the rest?" he said. + +"You greedy thing! I can scarcely believe you are the Cecil Buxton I +used to know--he would never have condescended to borrow thirty pounds +from me. Do you know, it isn't only that you are nicer, but, somehow, +even your manner and your voice seem different." + +"Do you think so?" They were standing under the shadow of a tree. He +leaned back against the tree. "By the way, I have been remiss. I ought +to have inquired after your mother." + +"My mother?" She started. + +"I see your names are bracketed in the visitors' book together." + +"Our names bracketed in the visitors book together! You are dreaming!" + +"I saw them there--Mrs. and Miss Danvers." + +"Mrs. and Miss Danvers! Cecil! what do you mean?" + +It was his turn to stare. Her manner had all at once become quite +singular. + +"What do _you_ mean? Isn't your mother with you?" + +"Cecil, are you making fun of me?" + +Hubert felt that, in some way, he was putting his foot in it--though +he did not quite see how. + +"Nothing is further from my thoughts than to make fun of you. But when +I saw Mrs. Danvers' name in the visitors' book----" + +"Whose name?" + +"When I saw Mrs. and Miss Danvers there as large as life----" + +The lady moved a step away from him. All at once she became, as it +were, a different woman entirely. + +"I see that you are the same man after all. The same Mr. Cecil Buxton. +The same cold, calculating, sneering cynic. Only you happen to have +broken out in another place. I presume you have been having a little +amusement at my expense on a novel plan of your own. But this time, my +friend, you have gone too far. You have asked me, in so many words, to +be your wife--I dare you to deny it! You have borrowed money--I dare +you to deny that too! I am not so unprotected as you may possibly +imagine. I took the precaution to wire this morning for a friend. You +will marry me, or we shall see!" + +The lady swept him a splendid curtsey, and--walked off. He was so +taken aback by the sudden change in her deportment that he made not +the slightest attempt to arrest her progress. He stared after her, in +the moonlight, open-eyed and open-mouthed. + +"Well----! I've done something, though I don't know what. And I've +done it somehow, though I don't know how. Cecil ought to be grateful +to me for ridding him of her. They'd never have been happy together, +I'll stake my life on it. Hallo! Who's this? More adventures!" + +There was a rustling behind him. He turned. Someone came out of the +shadow of the tree. It was a young girl. She was clad in a plain black +silk dinner dress. A shawl was thrown over her shoulders. He could see +that she had brown hair and pleasant features. She addressed to him a +question which surprised him. + +"Who is that woman?" she asked. + +She pointed after the rapidly retreating "Angel" with a gesture which +was almost tragic. He raised his hat. + +"I beg your pardon? I don't think I have the pleasure----" + +She paid no attention to his words. + +"Who is that woman?" she repeated. + +"Which woman?" + +"That woman?" + +"Really I--I think there's some mistake----" + +To his amazement she burst into a passion of tears. "Cecil, don't +speak to me like that--don't! don't! don't!" + +Hubert stared. The young lady dropped her hands from before her face. +She looked at him with streaming eyes. + +"Who is that woman? Tell me! I've been longing for your coming, +thinking of all that I should say to you, wishing that the minutes +were but seconds--and you've been here all the time! You must have +come hours before you told me that your train was due. What is the +meaning of it all?" + +"That is precisely what I should like to know." + +"I came out here that I might be alone before our meeting. I heard the +sound of voices, and I thought that one of them was yours--I could not +believe it. I listened. I heard you talking to that woman. I saw her +kiss you. Oh, Cecil! Cecil! my heart is broken!" + +She tottered forward, all but falling into Hubert's arms. He tried to +soothe her. _Sotto voce_ he told himself that Cecil had more romance +in his nature than he had given him credit for. His complications in +the feminine line appeared to be worthy of the farces at the Palais +Royal. In the midst of her emotion, the young lady in his arms +continued to address him. + +"Why--did you--tell me--you were coming--by one train--when--all the +time--you must have meant--to come by another. I--have your letter +here----" + +From the bosom of her dress she drew an envelope. Hubert made a dash +at it. + +"My letter? Permit me for an instant!" + +With scant ceremony he took it from her hand. He glanced at the +address--recognising Cecil's well-known writing. + +"Miss--Miss Danvers! Are you--are _you_--Miss Danvers?" + +The girl shrank from him. Her tears were dried. Her face grew white. +"Cecil!" she exclaimed. + +"Forgive me if my question seems a curious one, but--_are_ you Miss +Danvers?" + +The girl shrank away still more. Her face grew whiter. She spoke so +faintly her words were scarcely audible. + +"Cecil! Give me back my letter, if you please!" + +He handed her back her envelope. "Miss Danvers, I entreat you----" + +But the look of scorn which was on her face brought even Hubert to a +standstill. As he hesitated, she "fixed him with her eyes." He had +seldom felt so uncomfortable as he did just then. He seemed to feel +himself growing smaller simply because of the scorn which was in her +glance. + +"Good evening, _Mister_ Buxton." + +She slightly inclined her head--and was gone. Hubert stared after her +dumfounded. When he did recover the faculty of speech he hardly knew +what use to make of it. + +"Well--I've done it! If _she's_ Miss Danvers--_who_ is 'Angel?' Cecil +will thank me for the treat which I'm preparing for him. I knew this +fatal likeness would dog me to the grave. Why was I born a twin?" + +He strolled slowly toward the building. As he entered the hall a lady +was coming along the corridor. At sight of him she quickened her pace. +She advanced to him with outstretched hands. She was a lady of perhaps +forty years of age. + +"Cecil!" she cried. + +But Hubert was not to be caught with salt. He had had enough, for the +present, of Cecil and--of Cecil's feminine friends. Ignoring her +outstretched hands, he slightly raised his hat. + +"Pardon me, you have the advantage of me, Madame." + +The lady seemed bewildered. She stared at him as if she could not +believe her eyes and ears. The door through which Hubert had just +entered from the grounds was re-opened at his back. A figure glided +past him. It was the young girl from whom he had just parted--in not +too cordial a manner. She went straight to the lady, slipping her arm +through hers. + +"Mamma, Mr. Buxton has declined to acknowledge my acquaintance as he +declined to acknowledge yours. I think I can give you a sufficient +reason for his doing so, if you will come with me, dear mother." + +"Hetty!" murmured the elder woman, still plainly at a loss. + +"Come!" said the girl. They went, leaving Hubert to stare. + +"Well--I've gone one better! That's Mrs. Danvers, I presume. So I've +contrived to insult the mother and the daughter too. Cecil will shower +blessings on my head. Who _can_ that Angel be?" + +As he was about to follow the ladies along the corridor, someone +touched him on the arm. Turning, he saw that a stranger in a black +frock coat stood at his side. + +"What were you saying to those ladies?" this person asked. + +"What the deuce is that to do with you? And who the devil are you?" + +"It has this to do with me, that I am the manager of this hotel, and +that it is sufficiently obvious that your presence is objectionable to +those ladies. Moreover, under existing circumstances, it is +objectionable to me. It is a rule of this hotel that accounts are paid +weekly. You have been here more than three weeks, and your first +week's bill is yet unpaid. You have made sundry promises, but you have +not kept them. I don't wish to have any unpleasantness with you, sir, +but I regret that I am unable to accommodate you with a bed, in this +hotel, to-night." + +Hubert felt a trifle wild. He was capable of that feeling now and +then. As they were advancing in one direction, two gentlemen, a tall +and a short one, were advancing towards them in the other. They were +coming to close quarters. Hubert was conscious that the manager's +outspoken observations could not be altogether inaudible to the +approaching strangers. So he rode as high a horse as he conveniently +could. + +"As for your bill, I will see it hanged first. As for your insolence, +I will report it to your employers. As for myself, I shall only be too +glad to go at once." + +One of the approaching strangers--the tall one--suddenly standing +still, placed himself in front of Hubert in such a way as to bar his +progress. With the finger tips of his right hand he tapped him lightly +on the chest. + +"Not just at once, dear Buxton, not just at once. Not before you have +said a few words to me." + +"And to me," said the short man, who stood beside his taller +companion. Hubert looked from one to the other. + +"And pray who may you be?" he inquired. + +"You do not know me?" asked the big stranger. + +"Nor me?" echoed the little one. + +"But it does not matter. Perhaps you have a bad memory, my dear +Buxton." + +The big man's manner was affable. He turned to the manager. "You must +excuse us for one moment, we have just a word to say to our friend +Buxton. Here is our little private sitting-room most convenient--just +a word." + +Before Hubert had altogether realised the situation, the big man had +thrust his arm through his, and drawn him into a sitting-room which +opened off the corridor from the left. When they were in, the big man +locked the door--he not only locked the door, but in an ostentatious +manner he pocketed the key. + + + CHAPTER III. + + THE UNFORTUNATE RESULT OF BEING A TWIN. + +"So, Mr. Buxton, you don't know me?" + +"Nor me?" + +The larger stranger stood against the door. The lesser one, who +appeared to be acting as echo, leaned against a table. He began, with +a slightly overacted air of carelessness, to roll a cigarette. There +was something about this little man which Hubert did not like at all. +He was a short, wiry individual, with long, straight black hair, +hollow, sallow, shaven cheeks, high projecting cheek-bones, and a pair +of small black eyes, which he had a trick of screwing up until only +the pupils could be seen. His personal attractions were not enhanced +by a huge mole which occupied a conspicuous place in the middle of his +left cheek. But if he liked the appearance of the small man little, it +was not because he liked the appearance of the tall man more. This was +a great hulking fellow, with sandy whiskers and moustache, and a +manner which, in spite of its greasy insinuation, Hubert felt was +distinctly threatening. + +"Is it really possible, Mr. Buxton, that I have had the misfortune to +escape your memory?" + +"And me?" + +Hubert glanced from one to the other. That the little man was a +foreigner, probably an Italian, he made up his mind at once. As to the +nationality of the big man he was not so sure. He had had dealings +with some strange people in his time, both at home and abroad. But he +could not recollect encountering either of these gentlemen before. + +"I do not remember having ever seen either of you." + +"Oh, you do not remember?" The big man came a step nearer. "You do not +remember that pleasant evening in that little room at Nice?" + +"You do not remember slapping my face?" quickly exclaimed the little +man, suddenly slapping his own right cheek with startling vigour. + +"You do not remember accusing me of cheating you at cards?" + +"You do not remember placing an insult on me! on me! on me?" + +All at once, abandoning the process of manufacturing his cigarette, +the little man came and placed himself in even uncomfortable proximity +to Hubert's person. "My friend, my cheek is burning to this very +hour." + +Hubert did not like the look of things at all. He was _sure_ he had +never seen these men before. + +"I understand the position exactly. You are doing what people +constantly are doing--you are mistaking me for my brother." + +"Mistaking you for your brother? I am mistaking you for your brother?" + +"And me!" cried the little man, again saluting his own cheek smartly. +"You liar!" + +The big man's manner was insulting. Hubert felt he must resent it. + +"How dare you----" + +But the sentiment died down into his boots as the big man came at him +with a sudden ferocity which seemed to cause the beating of his heart +to cease. + +"How dare I! You dare to speak a word to me. Liar! I will kill you +where you stand." + +"As for me," remarked the short man, affably, "I have this, and this." +From one recess in his clothing he took a revolver. From another, a +long, glittering, and business-like, if elegant, knife. + +"All these years I have not been able to make up my mind if I will +shoot you like a dog, or stick you like a pig--which you are." + +"Gentlemen," explained Hubert, with surprising mildness, "I assure you +you are under a misapprehension. The likeness between my brother and +myself is so striking that our most intimate friends mistake one for +the other." + +"For whom, then, did my sister mistake you this morning and to-night?" + +A light flashed upon Hubert's brain. "You mean Angel?" + +"You call her Angel! He calls her Angel!" + +"I hear," observed the little man. + +"If you will allow me to explain!" + +The big man made a gesture of refusal. But the little man caught him +by the arm. "Let the liar speak," he said. + +The big man, acting on his friend's advice, let the--that is, he let +Hubert speak. Availing himself of the courteously offered permission, +Hubert did his best to make things clear. + +"I am not--as I would have told you before if you would have let me--I +am not Cecil, but Hubert Buxton." The big man made another gesture. +Again the little man restrained him. "We are twins. All our lives it +has been difficult to tell one from the other. Of recent years, I +understand, the resemblance between us has grown even greater. But the +likeness is only skin deep. Cecil is the elder by, I believe, about +thirty seconds. He is a rich man, and I am a poor man--bitterly poor." + +The big man spoke. "And you dare to tell me that you have been making +love to my sister under a false name? Very good, I have killed a man +for less. But I will not kill you--not yet----Is your handwriting as +much like your brother's as you are?" + +"My fist is like Cecil's." + +"So! Sit down." Hubert sat down. "Take that pen." He took the pen. He +dipped it in the ink. "Write, 'I promise to marry----'" + +"What's the good of my promising to marry anyone? Don't I tell you +that I'm without a sou with which to bless myself?" + +"Write, my friend, what I dictate. 'I promise to marry----'" Hubert +wrote it--"'Marian Philipson Peters----'" + +"And who the----something is Marian Philipson Peters?" + +"Marian Philipson Peters--Mrs. Philipson Peters, is my sister." + +It seemed to be a tolerably prosaic paraphrase of "Angel." Hubert, if +the expression of his features could be trusted, appeared to think so. + +"And what possible advantage does your sister propose to derive from +my promising, either in black and white or in any other way, to marry +her? Does the lady propose to pay my debts, or to provide me with an +income?" + +"Attend to me, my friend--write what I dictate." The big man laid his +hand on Hubert's shoulder with an amount of pressure which might mean +much--or more! Hubert looked up. The pressure increased. "Write it." + +The little man was standing on the other side of the unwilling scribe. +He had his revolver in one hand, his knife in the other. "Write it!" +he said. + +Up went Hubert's shoulders--he wrote it. The big man continued his +dictation. + +"'Within three months after date.'" + +"What on earth----" + +"Write--'Within three months after date.'" + +"Oh, I'll write anything. I'll promise to marry her within three +minutes--to oblige you." + +The big man examined what Hubert had written. + +"Very like!--very like indeed. So like Cecil Buxton's handwriting that +I plainly perceive, my friend, that you are the prince of all the +liars. Now sign it." He arrested Hubert's hand. "Sign it--'Cecil +Buxton.'" + +Hubert glanced up. He dropped his pen. "Now I see!" + +"Pick up that pen." + +"With pleasure." He picked it up. + +"Sign it--'Cecil Buxton."' + +The big man spoke in a tone of voice which could not, truthfully, be +described as friendly. + +"In other words--commit forgery." + +The tall man turned to the short one. + +"Eugene, who is to use your revolver? Is it you or I? I swear to you +that if this scoundrel, this contemptible villain, does not make all +the reparation to my sister that is in his miserable power, I will +blow his brains out as he is sitting here." + +The short man smiled--not pleasantly. + +"Leave to me, my friend, that sacred duty--the sacred duty of being +executioner. I have long had a little grudge of my own against Mr. +Cecil Buxton. I have one of those little insults to wipe out which can +only be wiped out by--blood. I have not doubted all the time that this +is Mr. Cecil Buxton. I doubt it still less now that I have seen him +write." + +"I swear to you----" + +The big man cut Hubert uncivilly short. He repeated his command. "Sign +it--'Cecil Buxton.'" + +Hubert looked from one face to the other. He was conscious--painfully +conscious!--that his was not a pleasant situation. He saw murder on +the short man's face. He did not like the look of his revolver. He +held it far too carelessly. That he was the sort of man who would +entertain no kind of conscientious scruple against shooting him, to +use his own words, like a dog, he felt quite certain. + +"Let me say one word?" he pleaded. + +The big man refused him even that grace. "Not one!" + +While Hubert hesitated, the pen between his fingers, there came a +rapping at the door. + + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE ARRIVAL OF THE OTHER TWIN. + +The cause of that rapping at the door was this. + +Cecil Buxton arrived by the train by which he had informed Miss +Danvers, by letter, that he would arrive. Hastily seeing his luggage +on to a cab, he drove off to the hotel. In the hall he encountered a +porter. + +The porter greeted him in rather a singular manner, scarcely as hotel +porters are wont to greet arriving guests. + +"What! Back again!" Cecil stared, as, under the circumstances, any man +would stare. "This won't do, you know. I know all about it--you've +been chucked. My orders is, not let you into the place again." + +"My good man," said Cecil, fully believing that what he said was true, +"you're drunk." + +Just then a lady came down the staircase. He recognised her--recognised +her well. He rushed towards her. + +"Hetty!" he cried. + +The lady gave a start, but not the sort of start he had reason, and +good reason, to expect. She turned, she looked at him--with scornful +eyes. She drew back, seeming to remove her very gown from any risk of +personal contact. + +"I half expected to see you at the station. Hetty, what--what's the +matter?" + +The lady said nothing, but she looked at him--and she walked away, her +head held very high in the air. + +"Now you've got to come out of this!" The porter who had followed him +across the hall laid his hand upon his shoulder. Cecil swung round. +And he not only swung round, but he swung the porter off, and that +with a degree of vigour which possibly took that official by surprise. + +"Remove your hand!" he cried. + +There was a moment's pause, and during that moment's pause another +lady came down the stairs. The bewildered Cecil rushed to her. + +"Mrs. Danvers, has everybody gone mad? What is the matter with Hetty?" +There was no mistake about it this time. The lady was so desirous that +none of her garments should come into contact with Cecil that, the +better to draw them away from him, she clutched her skirts with both +her hands. _She_ spoke-- + +"How dare you, sir, address yourself to me?" She turned to the porter +with an air of command. "Desire this person to stand out of my way." + +And she swept off, Cecil staring at her like a man in a dream. + +"Well, sir?" Cecil turned. A decently-attired, and even gentlemanly, +individual was standing at his side. "Have you returned to pay your +bill?" + +Cecil looked him up and down. In his appearance he noted no signs of +insanity, nor of intoxication either. + +"Are you the manager of this establishment?" + +"You know very well that I am. Pray don't let's have any nonsense." + +"Allow me to give you my card." Cecil handed him his "pasteboard." "I +left Paris last night. I have been travelling all day. I arrived five +minutes ago in your hotel. What is the meaning of the treatment which +has been accorded me?" + +The manager regarded him with a smile which scarcely came within the +definition of a "courteous smile." + +"You are certainly a character." + +"Explain yourself." + +"Surely not much explanation is required. It is only a few minutes ago +since I informed you that your presence in this establishment could no +longer be permitted, and now you favour me with this amazing story." + +Cecil started forward. A new light came into his eyes. + +"Has anyone been staying here resembling me?" + +"So much resembling you that we shall be obliged if you will pay his +bill, which lies, unpaid, on the cashier's desk." + +Cecil gave an exclamation--not of pleasure. + +"By Jove! It's Hubert! I see it all! He has been up to some of his +infernal tricks with Hetty and her mother! If he has!" He turned upon +the manager, "Where is he?" + +The manager hesitated. + +"Where is who? _You_ are standing here. When I last saw you, you were +entering a private sitting-room with two gentlemen who happened to +have a particular desire for your society." + +"Where is this sitting-room?" + +"I will show you if you really don't know." The manager led the +way--still smiling. Cecil went after him. As they moved along a +corridor, into which the manager turned, they came upon a lady who was +standing outside one of the sitting-rooms, and who, not to put too +fine a point on it, seemed listening at the door. Her back was turned +towards them as they advanced. It was only when they were quite close +to her that she seemed to become conscious of their approach. When she +arrived at such a state of consciousness she sprang up--she had been +stooping a good deal forward before--and sprang round. She was in +evening dress. A fine, tall, generously proportioned woman, with big +bright eyes, and red-gold hair, she was Hubert's "oner"--"Angel." As +her glance fell upon Cecil she gave a start--a most melodramatic +start--so melodramatic a start that she bumped herself, quite +unintentionally, but with considerable force, against the wall. + +"You!" she exclaimed. + +Cecil, on his part, appeared to recognise the lady. + +"You!" he said--without any appearance of undue deference in his +manner. + +His arrival on the scene seemed to have thrown the lady into a state +of really curious agitation. She stood with her back against the wall, +staring at him as if he were a ghost. She positively trembled. + +"How--how did you get out?" she asked--speaking in a sort of gasp. + +"I was never in." Cecil turned to the manager. "It's a little +complicated, but I think that I begin to understand the situation." He +turned to the lady. He pointed to the sitting-room, outside which she +was standing. "Who is in there?" + +Angel did not answer. Leaning forward, she rapped with her knuckles +against the panel of the door. + + + CHAPTER V. + + THE TWINS CONFRONT EACH OTHER. + +When there came that rapping at the door, Hubert started back. + +"Who's that?" he cried. + +The big man still retained his grasp on Hubert's shoulder. He +tightened it. + +"Never mind who it is. Sign that paper." + +There was a voice without. "Open the door!" + +Hubert slipped from the man's grasp. He sprang to his feet. He threw +the pen from him on to the floor. "It's Cecil!" + +The two men looked at him. He looked at them. Again there was the +voice without. "Open the door!" + +"It's Cecil! It's my brother! Now you will see if I lied." + +In Hubert's manner there was positively something approaching an air +of triumph. The associates exchanged glances. The big man addressed +himself again to Hubert. + +"Look here, my friend, you will sign that paper." + +He moved a step forward. Hubert grasped the back of a chair. + +"You touch me! By George! I'll smash you!" + +The big man hesitated. Hubert seemed to have gained a sudden access of +energy. He continued to address his companions in a strain which was +distinctly not pacific. "You couple of cowardly curs! You get me into +a room, you lock the door, you come at me, the pair of you, with a +revolver and a knife, when you know that I haven't got so much as a +toothpick in my pocket! Why, you miserable brutes, I'll smash you +both!" + +Hubert brandished the chair about his head. The big man still +hesitated. The shorter gentleman addressed this inquiry to his friend, +"Shall I shoot him? Shall I put six shots into his carcass--shall I?" + +Hubert did not wait to hear the other's answer. He turned to the door. +"Cecil! Cecil! break down the door. The brutes will murder me! Break +down the door!" + +These words, uttered with the full force of Hubert's lungs, seemed to +create, as was not unnatural, some sensation without. Several voices +were heard speaking together. There was a loud knocking at the door. +Someone said, evidently not Cecil, "Open the door immediately! I am +the manager of the hotel! Open at once!" + +The associates looked at each other. The clamour without seemed to +mean business. Hubert had slipped from their control. If they were not +careful their friendly little interview might be disagreeably +interrupted. The shorter man shrugged his shoulders right up to his +ears. + +"What is the use? You had better open the door. What is the use of +playing a losing game too far?" Then, to Hubert, "With you, my friend, +I will settle some other time." + +"And I," chimed in the big man, playing the part of echo for once. + +"I don't care that," Hubert snapped his fingers in the air, "for +either, or both of you, you curs!" + +The comrades still hesitated--they probably resented the alteration in +the young gentleman's demeanour. But the clamour at the door +continued. The big man, doubtless perceiving that the position was +becoming desperate, took the key out of his pocket. He unlocked the +door. As he did so, his companion's weapons disappeared into the +hidden recess of his apparel. The moment the door was opened Hubert +advanced. + +"Cecil! so it is you. Now, gentlemen, you will be able to see if I +lied. These gentlemen, Cecil, are friends of yours, not of mine. _I_ +have never seen them before to-night. You appear to have offended +them. They have been endeavouring to visit your offence on me. I +cannot congratulate you on your acquaintance. That little scoundrel +there, who appears to be an Italian bravo, has a knife in one pocket, +and a revolver in the other. He would have murdered me if you had +delayed your appearance on the scene." + +"Bah!" Again the little man's shoulders went up to his ears. "It was +but a little game." + +"And was this a little game?" + +Hubert snatched up the paper, the unsigned promise of marriage, from +the table on which it was lying; he held it out in front of him. The +big man, in his turn, snatched it from his grasp. He tore it into +minute shreds. While Hubert still was staring, a lady advanced. It was +Angel. + +"So, all the time you were amusing yourself at my expense. You are a +charming person. Where are my thirty pounds?" + +Hubert was not at all embarrassed. He twirled his moustache. + +"Cecil, this lady appears to be a friend of yours. Where are her +thirty pounds?" + +Cecil stepped up to him. "What confounded tricks have you been up to?" + +Hubert's air of injured innocence was, in its way, superb. + +"Cecil, this is too much; too much! In mistake for you I have been +insulted, all but murdered, and all"--he turned to the assembled +company--"and all, upon my word of honour, because I was so +unfortunate as to have been born a twin." + + + + + A VISION OF THE NIGHT. + + + CHAPTER I. + + ASLEEP. + +"Charlie, do you believe in dreams?" + +It was in the great hall of the Pouhon spring at Spa. The band was +playing. The motley crowd which gathers in the season at Spa to drink, +or not to drink, the waters, were talking, smoking, drinking coffee, +something stronger, looking at the papers, or listening to the music. +Among the crowd were Gerald Lovell and his friend Charles Warren. At +the particular moment in which Mr. Lovell put his question, Mr. Warren +was puffing rings of cigarette smoke into the air. + +"Ask me," he said, with distinct irreverence, "another." + +"A queer thing happened to me last night." + +"If you have any malicious intention of inflicting on me a dream, +young man, there'll be a row. I have an aunt who dreams. She's a +dreaming sort. She's always dreaming. And she tells her dreams--such +dreams! Ye Goths! At the mere mention of the word 'dreams' the +nightmare figure of my aunt rises to my mind's eye. So beware." + +"But I'm not sure that this was a dream. Anyhow, just listen." + +"If I must!" said Mr. Warren. And he sighed. + +"I dreamt that a woman kissed me!" + +"If I could only dream such a thing. Some men have all the luck." + +"The queer thing was, that it was so real. I dreamt that a woman came +into my room. She came to my bedside. She stood looking down upon me +as I slept. Suddenly she stooped and kissed me. That same instant I +awoke. I felt her kiss still tingling on my lips. I could have sworn +that someone had just kissed me. I sat up in bed and called out to +know if anyone was there. I got up and lit the gas and searched the +room. There was nothing and no one." + +"It was a dream!" + +"If it was, it was the most vivid dream I remember to have heard of; +certainly the most vivid dream I ever dreamt. I saw the woman so +distinctly, and her face, as she stooped over me, with laughter in her +eyes. To begin with, it was the most beautiful face I ever saw, and +hers were the most beautiful eyes. The whole thing had impressed me so +intensely that I took my sketch-book and made a drawing of her then +and there. I have my sketch-book in my pocket--here is the drawing." + +Mr. Lovell handed his open sketch-book to his friend. It was open at a +page on which was a drawing of a woman's face. When Mr. Warren's eyes +fell on this drawing, he sat up in his chair with a show of sudden +interest. + +"Gerald! I say! You'll excuse my saying so, but I didn't think you +were capable of anything so good as this. Do you know that this is the +best drawing of yours I have ever seen, young man?" + +"I believe it is." + +"It looks to me--I don't want to flatter you; goodness knows you've +conceit enough already!--but it looks to me as though it were a +genuine bit of inspiration." + +"Joking apart, it seems to me almost as if it were an inspiration." + +"I wish an inspiration of the same kind would come to me. I'd be +considerably grateful--even for a nightmare. Do you know what I should +do with this? I should use it for a picture." + +"I thought of doing something of the kind myself." + +"Just a study of a woman's face. And you might call it--the title +would be apposite--'A Vision of the Night!'" + +"A good idea. I will." + +And Mr. Lovell did. When he returned to his Chelsea studio, he chose +a moderate-sized canvas, and he began to paint on it a woman's +face--just a woman's face, and nothing more. She was looking a little +downwards, as a woman might look who was about to stoop to kiss +someone lying asleep in bed--say a sleeping child--and she glanced +from the canvas with laughing eyes. Mr. Warren came in to look at it +several times while it was progressing. When it was finished, he +regarded it for some moments in silent contemplation. + +"I call that," he declared, sententiously, with what he supposed, +perhaps erroneously, to be a Yankee twang, "a gen-u-ine work of art. I +do. _The_ thing. Young man, if you forward that, with your +compliments, or without 'em, to the President, Fellows, and Associates +of the Royal Academy, I'll bet you five to one it's hung!" + +His prediction was verified--it was hung. It was the first of Mr. +Lovell's pictures which ever had been hung--which made the fact none +the less gratifying to Mr. Lovell. It was hung very well, too, +considering. And it attracted quite a considerable amount of attention +in its way. It was _sold_ on the opening day. That fact was not +displeasing to Mr. Lovell. + +One morning, about the middle of June, a card was brought in to Mr. +Lovell, while he was working in his studio. On it was inscribed a +name--Vicomte d'Humières. The card was immediately followed by its +owner, a tall, slightly built gentleman; unmistakably a foreigner. He +saluted Mr. Lovell with a bow which was undoubtedly Parisian. + +"Mr. Gerald Lovell?" + +The accent was French, but, for a Frenchman, the English was fair. + +"I am Gerald Lovell." + +"Ah! That is good! You are a gentleman, Mr. Lovell, whom I +particularly wish to see." The stranger had been carrying his stick in +one hand and his hat in the other. These he now deposited upon one +chair; himself he placed upon a second--uninvited. He crossed his +legs. He folded his black gloved hands in front of him. "I believe, +Mr. Lovell, that we are not strangers--you and I." + +Mr. Lovell glanced at the card which he still was holding. + +"You are the Vicomte d'Humières?" + +"I am." + +"I am afraid--it is unpardonable remissness on my part; but I am +afraid that, if I have ever had the pleasure of meeting you before, it +is a pleasure which has escaped my memory." + +"It is not that we have ever met before--no, it is not that. It is my +name to which you are not a stranger." + +Mr. Lovell glanced again at the card. "Your name? I am afraid, +Vicomte, that I do not remember having ever heard your name before." + +"Ah! Is that so?" The stranger regarded his polished boots. He spoke +as if he were addressing himself to them. "Is it possible that she can +have given another name? No, it is not possible. She is capable of +many things. I do not believe she is capable of that." He looked up +again at Mr. Lovell. "My business with you, Mr. Lovell, is of rather a +peculiar kind. You will think, perhaps, that mine is rather a singular +errand. I have come to ask you to acquaint me with the residence of my +wife." + +"With the--did you say, with the--residence of your wife?" + +"That is what I said. I have come to ask you to acquaint me with the +residence of my wife." The artist stared. + +"But, so far as I am aware, I do not know your wife." + +"That is absurd. I do not say, Mr. Lovell, that you are conscious of +the absurdity. But still--it is absurd--_I_ was not aware that you +were acquainted with my wife until I learned the fact, this morning, +at your Academy." + +"At our Academy?" + +"Precisely. Upon the walls of your Academy of Painting, Mr. Lovell." + +Mr. Lovell began to wonder if his visitor was not an amiable French +lunatic. + +"Is that not rather a singular place in which to learn such a fact?" + +"It is a singular place. It is a very singular place, indeed. But that +has nothing to do with the matter. It is as I say. You have a picture, +Mr. Lovell, at the Academy?" + +"I have." + +"It is a portrait." + +"Pardon me, it is not a portrait." + +"Pardon me, Mr. Lovell, in my turn; it is a portrait. As a portrait, +it is a perfect portrait. It is a portrait of my wife." + +"Of your wife! You are dreaming!" + +"You flatter me, Mr. Lovell. Is it that you suppose I am an imbecile? +Are not the features of a wife familiar to a husband? Very good. I am +the husband of my wife. Your picture, Mr. Lovell, is a portrait of my +wife." + +"I cannot but think you have mistaken some other picture for mine. +Mine is a simple study of a woman's face. It is called 'A Vision of +the Night.'" + +"Precisely. And 'A Vision of the Night'--is my wife." + +"It is impossible!" + +"Do I understand you to say, Mr. Lovell, of a thing which I say is +so--that it is impossible?" + +The Vicomte rose. His voice had a very significant intonation. Mr. +Lovell resented it. + +"I do not know, Vicomte, that I am _called_ upon to explain to you. +But, in face of your remarkable statement, I will _volunteer_ an +explanation. I saw the face, which I have painted, in a dream." + +"Indeed; is that so? What sort of dream was it in which you saw my +wife's face, Mr. Lovell?" + +The young man flushed. The stranger's tone was distinctly offensive. + +"It was in a dream which I dreamt last August, at Spa." + +"Ah! This is curious. At what hotel were you stopping last August at +Spa?" + +"At the Hôtel de Flandre--though I don't know why you ask." + +"So! We approach a point at last. Last August, my wife and I, we were +at Spa. We stayed, my wife and I, at the Hôtel de Flandre. It was at +the Hôtel de Flandre my wife left me. I have never seen her since. +Perhaps, Mr. Gerald Lovell, you will be so good as to inform me what +sort of dream it was in which you saw my wife's face, at the Hôtel de +Flandre, last August, at Spa?" + +Mr. Lovell hesitated. He perceived that caution was advisable. He felt +that if he entered into minute particulars of his dream, there might +be a misunderstanding with the Vicomte. So he temporized--or he +endeavoured to. + +"I have already told you that I saw the face in my picture in a dream. +It is the simple fact--that I have no other explanation to offer." + +"Is that so?" + +"That is so." + +"Very good, so far, Mr. Gerald Lovell. I thought it possible that you +might have some explanation of this kind to offer. I was at the +Academy with a friend. When I perceived my wife's portrait on the +walls, and that it was painted by a Mr. Gerald Lovell, I said to my +friend: 'I will go to this Mr. Lovell, and I will ask him, among other +things, who authorized him to exhibit my wife's portrait in the +absence of her husband, in a place of public resort, as if it were an +advertisement.' My friend proposed to accompany me. But I said: 'No. I +will go, first of all, alone. I will see what sort of explanation Mr. +Gerald Lovell has to offer. If it is not a satisfactory explanation, +then we will go together, you and I.' I go to seek my friend, Mr. +Lovell. He is not very far away. Shortly we will return. Then I will +request, of your courtesy, an explanation of that very curious dream +in which you saw my wife's face at the Hôtel de Flandre. Mr. Lovell, I +wish you, until then, good day." + +The Vicomte withdrew, with the same extremely courteous salutation +with which he had entered. The artist, left alone, looked at his +visitor's card, which he still retained in his hand, with a very +puzzled expression of countenance. + +"If the Vicomte d'Humières returns, it strikes me there'll be a little +interesting conversation." + +He laid down the card. He resumed the work which had been interrupted. +But the work hung fire. A painter paints, not only with his hand, but +with his brain. Mr. Lovell's brain was, just then, preoccupied. + +"It was a dream. And yet, as I told Warren at the time, it certainly +was the most vivid dream I ever dreamt." Deserting his canvas he began +to move about the room. "Supposing it wasn't a dream, and the woman +was a creature of flesh and blood! Then she must have come into my +room, and kissed me while I slept. I'll swear that someone kissed me. +By Jove! the Vicomte won't like to be told a tale like that! As he +says, a man ought to know his own wife's face when he sees it, even in +a portrait. And if the picture is a portrait of his wife, then it was +his wife who came into my room--and kissed me. But whatever made her +do a thing like that? There's no knowing what things some women will +do. I rather fancy that I ought to have made a few inquiries before I +took it for granted that it was nothing but a dream. They would have +been able to tell me at the hotel if the original of my dream had been +staying there. As it is, unless I mind my P's and Q's, I rather fancy +there'll be a row." + +"Pardon!--may I enter?" + +Mr. Lovell was standing with his back to the door. The inquiry, +therefore, was addressed to him from behind. The voice in which it was +uttered was feminine, and the accent foreign. The artist turned--and +stared. For there, peeping through the partly open door, was the woman +of his dream! There could not be the slightest doubt about it. +Although the head was covered with the latest thing in Parisian hats, +there was no mistaking, when one once had seen it--as _he_ had seen +it--that lovely face, those laughing eyes. He stared--and gaped. The +lady seemed to take his silence to imply consent. She advanced into +the room. + +"You are Mr. Gerald Lovell?" + +As she came into the room, he perceived that she was not only most +divinely fair, but most divinely tall. Her figure, clad in the most +recent coquetries of Paris, was the most exquisite thing in figures he +had lately seen. So completely had she taken his faculties of +astonishment by storm, that he could only stammer a response. + +"You are the painter of my portrait?" For the life of him, he knew not +what to say. "But, if you are Mr. Gerald Lovell, it is certain that +you are. Besides, I see it in your face. There is genius in your eyes. +Mr. Lovell, how am I to thank you for the honour you have done me?" +Moving to him, she held out to him her hand. He gave her his. She +retained it--or, rather, part of it--in her small palm. "If I am ever +destined to attain to immortality, it is to your brush it will be +owing. Monsieur, permit me to salute the master!" + +Before he had an inkling of her intention, she raised his hand and +touched it with her lips. He withdrew it quickly. + +"Madame!" + +She exhibited no signs of discomposure. + +"I was at your Academy, with a friend--not half an hour ago. I +beheld miles of mediocrity. Suddenly I saw--my face! my own face! +glancing at me from the walls! _Ah, quel plaisir!_ But my face--how +many times more lovely! How many times more beautiful! My +face--depicted by the hand of a great artist! by the brush of a poet, +and a genius!--Monsieur, you have placed on me ten thousand +obligations." + +She gave him the most sweeping curtsey with which he ever had been +favoured--and in her eyes was laughter all the time. He was recovering +his presence of mind. He felt that it was time to put a stop to the +lady's flow of flowery language. He was about to do so--when a +question she put to him again sent half his senses flying. + +"There is one thing which I wished to ask you, Monsieur. When and +where did I sit to you for my portrait? I do not remember to have had +the pleasure and the honour of meeting you before." The lady's +laughing eyes were fixed intently on his face. "And yet, as I +look at you, a sort of shadowy recollection comes to me of a +previous encounter; it is very strange! Monsieur, where was it we +encountered--you and I?" + +"Madame!" + +Seeing how evidently he was at a loss for words, she put out her hand +to him as if to give him courage. + +"Do not be afraid. Tell me--where was it that you saw me?" + +"I saw you in a dream." + +"A dream? Monsieur! To hear you speak--it is like a poem. Monsieur, +where did you dream this dream in which you dreamt of me?" + +"It was last year, at Spa." + +"At Spa--that horrible place?" + +"I did not find it a horrible place." + +"No? Was it that dream which you dreamt of me which robbed it of its +horror?" He did not speak. He allowed her to infer a compliment, but +he did not proffer one. "But Monsieur, I was only at Spa one afternoon +and a single night." + +"It was that night I dreamed of you." + +"You dreamed? How? Tell me about this dream." + +"I dreamed that you came into my room while I was asleep in bed, and +kissed me!" + +She continued to look at him intently a moment longer, as if she did +not realize the full meaning of his words. Then--let us do her +justice!--the blood rushed to her face, her cheeks flamed fiery red. +With her hands she veiled her eyes. She gave a little cry. + +"_Ah, mon Dieu!_ It was you--I remember. _Quelle horreur!_" + +There was silence. Before she removed her hands from her eyes she +turned away. She stood with her back towards him, trifling with a +brush which he had placed upon the table. She spoke scarcely above a +whisper. + +"Monsieur, I thought you were asleep." + +"I was asleep. I saw you in a dream." + +"Then did--did I wake you?" + +"You must have done. I woke--you must forgive my saying so--with a +kiss tingling on my lips." The lady put her hands up to her eyes +again. "The dream had been so vivid I could not understand it. I got +up to see if anyone was in the room." + +"If you had caught me!" + +"There was no one. But so acutely had your face impressed itself on my +imagination that I took my sketch-book, and made a drawing of it then +and there. In the morning I showed this drawing to a friend. He +advised me to use it for a picture I did. That picture is 'A Vision of +the Night'!" + +"It is the most extraordinary thing, Monsieur; you will suppose I am a +very peculiar person. It is but a lame explanation I have to offer. Of +that I am but too conscious. But such as it is, I entreat that you +will suffer me to give it you. Monsieur, I am married"--Mr. Lovell +bowed. He did not mention that he was aware of that already--"to the +most capricious husband in the world--to a husband whom I love, but +whom I cannot respect." Mr. Lovell thought that that was good--from +her. "He is a man who is extremely _difficile_, Monsieur. I do not +think you have a word which expresses what I would say in English. He +is extremely jealous; he is enraged that his wife should use the eyes +which are in her head! The very day on which we arrived at Spa we had +a dreadful quarrel. I will not speak of the treatment to which I was +subjected; it is enough to say that he locked the door so that I +should not leave the room--he wished to make of me a prisoner. +Monsieur, directly he was gone, I perceived that there were two doors +to the room--the one which he had locked, and another, which I tried I +found that it was open. Monsieur, when a prisoner desires to escape, +he escapes by any road which offers. I was a prisoner; I desired to +escape; I made use of the only road which I could find. I entered the +door; I found myself in a room in which there was--how shall I say +it?--in which there was a man asleep. Monsieur, it was you!" + +It must be owned that at this point the lady certainly did look down. + +"I was, that night, in a wicked mood. I glanced at you; I perceived +that you were but a boy"--Mr. Lovell flushed: he did not consider +himself a boy--"but a handsome boy." She peeped at him with malicious +laughter in her eyes. "I regarded myself as your mother, or your +sister, or your guardian angel. Monsieur will perceive how much I am +the elder." Again, a glance of laughing malice from those bewitching +eyes. "I am afraid it is too true that I approached the sleeping +lips." There was silence. Then, so softly that her listener was only +able to catch the words: "I pray that Monsieur will forgive me." + +"There is nothing for which Madame needs forgiveness." + +"Monsieur but says so to give me pleasure. But one thing Monsieur must +permit me to observe: If every woman were to be rewarded, as I have +been, for what I did, half the women in France would commit--a similar +little indiscretion." Mr. Lovell was silent; he did not know exactly +what to say. "Monsieur will permit me to regard him, from this day +forward, as my friend? Mr. Gerald Lovell, permit me to introduce to +you--the Vicomtesse d'Humières!" + +The lady favoured him with another sweeping curtsey. + +"I have already the pleasure of being acquainted with Madame's name." + +"From whom did you learn it? From the people at the hotel?" + +"I but learned it a few minutes before Madame herself came here." + +"So! From whom?" + +"I learnt it from the Vicomte d'Humières." + +"The Vicomte d'Humières! My husband! Are you acquainted with him, +then?" + +"I can scarcely claim to be acquainted with the Vicomte. It seems, +Madame, that this has been a morning of coincidences. It would appear +that just before Madame perceived my little picture at the Academy, +the Vicomte d'Humières perceived it too." + +"Truly! But how magnificent!" + +The lady clasped her hands in a little ecstacy. + +"The Vicomte d'Humières did not seem to consider it magnificent. He +took a distinctly contrary view." + +"But that is certain!" + +"He requested me to furnish him with your address. When I informed him +that I was not acquainted with Madame, he desired to know who had +authorized me to send your portrait to a public exhibition. I observed +that I was not aware that it was the portrait of Madame, since the +face in the picture was but the study of a face which I had seen in a +dream." + +"In a dream! You did not tell him--the little history?" + +"I entered into no particulars." + +"I entreat you, Monsieur, not to tell him the little history. There +will be a scandal; he is so quick to misconceive." + +"I will endeavour to observe Madame's wishes." + +"It is like a little romance, is it not, Monsieur? Perhaps I should +explain myself a little further. _That_ night"--she emphasized the +_that_--"I left my husband. In effect, he had become unbearable. I +have seen and heard nothing of him since. But I am beginning to become +conscious of a desire to meet with him again. I know not why! I +suppose, when one loves one's husband truly, one wishes to meet +him--once a year. I do not wish our reconciliation to be inaugurated +by a quarrel--no, I entreat you, Monsieur, not recount to him that +little history." + +"I should inform Madame that I expect the Vicomte d'Humières to +return." + +"Return? Where? Here? When?" + +"Very shortly--with a friend. In fact, unless I am mistaken, he comes +already." + +The lady listened. + +"It is Philippe's voice! _Mon Dieu!_ He must not find me here." + +"But, Madame----" + +"Ah, the screen! It is like a farce at the Palais Royal--is it not a +fact? I will be your model, Monsieur, behind the screen!" + +"Madame!" + +Before he could interpose to prevent her, the lady vanished behind the +screen. The door of the studio opened, and the Vicomte d'Humières +entered, accompanied by his friend. + + + CHAPTER II. + + AND AWAKE. + +The Vicomte's friend was a gentleman of a figure which is not uncommon +in France, even to-day. His attitude suggested a ramrod, he breathed +powder and shot; and he bristled--what shall we say?--with bayonets. +The last person in the world with whom a modern Briton should have a +serious difference of opinion. The ideas of that sort of person upon +matters which involve a difference of opinion are in such contrast to +ours. The Vicomte performed the ceremony of introduction. + +"Mr. Gerald Lovell, permit me to introduce to your courteous +consideration my friend, M. Victor Berigny!" + +M. Berigny bowed, ceremoniously. Mr. Lovell only nodded--his thoughts +were behind the screen. The Vicomte turned to his friend. + +"Victor, I have explained to you that I have already had the pleasure +of an interview with Mr. Gerald Lovell." M. Berigny bowed. "I have +also explained to you that I have desired him to inform me by whose +authority he exhibits a portrait of my wife in a public exhibition. To +that he has replied that his picture, 'A Vision of the Night,' is not +a portrait of my wife. I request you, Victor, to state, in Mr. Gerald +Lovell's presence, whether that picture, in your opinion, is or is not +a portrait of my wife." + +"Certainly, it is a portrait." + +M. Berigny's accent was more marked than the Vicomte's, but still he +did speak English. + +"I thank you, Victor. It remains for me to once more request, in your +presence, Mr. Gerald Lovell to explain how it was that he happened to +dream of the face of my wife last August, in the Hôtel de Flandre, at +Spa. Mr. Gerald Lovell, I have the honour to await your explanation." + +The Vicomte, his arms crossed upon his chest, his left foot a little +protruding, his head thrown back, awaited the explanation. + +Mr. Lovell's thoughts ran screenwards. + +"What the deuce shall I do if he discovers her behind the screen?" + +"Monsieur, I am waiting." + +"If he does discover her--there'll be a row." + +"I still am waiting, Mr. Gerald Lovell." + +With each repetition of the statement the Vicomte's tone became more +acidulated. The artist arrived at a sudden resolution. + +"Then I am afraid, Vicomte, that you will have to wait." + +The Vicomte looked at the artist with an evident inclination to add a +cubit to his own stature. + +"Is it possible that I understand your meaning, Mr. Gerald Lovell?" + +"My language is sufficiently simple." + +"In France, Mr. Gerald Lovell, an artist is supposed to be a +gentleman." + +"And so in England, Vicomte. And therefore, when an artist is +interrupted at his work by another gentleman, he feels himself at +liberty to beg that other gentleman--to excuse him." + +Mr. Lovell waved his hand, affably, in the direction of the door. The +Vicomte's countenance assumed a peculiar pallor. + +"You are a curious person, Mr. Gerald Lovell." + +His friend interposed. + +"Philippe, you had better leave the matter to me." + +M. Berigny approached the painter--with a ramrod down his back. + +"I have the honour, Monsieur, to request from you the name of a +friend." + +"Of a friend? What for?" + +"Ah, Monsieur--to arrange the preliminaries!" + +"What preliminaries?" + +"Is it that Monsieur amuses himself?" + +"Is it possible that you suppose that I am going to fight a duel?" + +"Monsieur intends, then, to offer an explanation to my friend?" + +"M. Berigny, I do not wish to say to you anything uncourteous, or +anything unworthy an English gentleman; but I do beg you to believe +that, because you choose to be an idiot, and your friend chooses to be +an idiot, it does not follow that I choose to be an idiot, too." + +"Monsieur!" + +"One other observation. I have not seen much of you, M. Beringy, but +that little has not disposed me to see more. May I therefore ask +you--to leave my studio?" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Or--must I turn you out?" + +"Turn me out!" + +The Vicomte had been listening to this little dialogue. He now turned +towards his friend. + +"Ah, my friend, it is as he says! He will turn you out, neck and crop, +as the English say. He will throw you down the stairs, he will heave +half a brick at your head, to help you on your way. Then, when you +require satisfaction, he will refer you to a magistrate. You will +summon him--it will be in the papers--he will be fined half-a-crown! +That is how they manage these affairs in England. It is true!" + +"But--among gentlemen!" + +"_Ah, mon ami, voila!_ In England, nowadays, there are no gentlemen!" + +Mr. Lovell moved a step towards M. Berigny. + +"I have asked you, as a gentleman, to leave my studio." + +"Monsieur, you are a coward!" + +The painter's eyes gleamed. But he kept his temper pretty well, +considering. + +"You appear to have been taught singularly ill manners in your native +country, sir. I will endeavour to teach you better manners here. Are +you going? Or must I eject you?" + +"_Polison!_" + +That was M. Berigny's answer. There was just a momentary hesitation. +Then, grasping M. Berigny firmly by the shoulders, Mr. Lovell began to +move him, more rapidly than gently, in the direction of the door. The +Vicomte came forward, with the evident intention of interposing. There +would probably have been a slightly undignified scramble had not a +diversion been created by the opening of the door, and the entrance of +Mr. Warren. That gentleman glanced from one person to another. + +"I beg your pardon," he observed. "I hope I don't intrude!" + +Mr. Lovell laughed, a little forcedly. His complexion was distinctly +ruddy. + +"Not at all! I wish you had come in sooner. The most ridiculous thing +has happened." + +"Indeed! I have an eye for the ridiculous." + +"You know that picture of mine, 'A Vision of the Night'?" + +"I've heard of it." + +"This gentleman says that it's a portrait of his wife." + +Mr. Lovell pointed to the Vicomte d'Humières. + +"No? Then, in that case, this gentleman's wife came into your bedroom +in the middle of the night, and--kissed you, wasn't it?" + +Mr. Warren spoke in the innocence of his heart, but, at that moment, +Mr. Lovell could have struck his boyhood's friend. There was a +listener behind the screen. The young gentleman's cheeks grew crimson, +as the lady's had done a few minutes before. He was conscious, too, +that the Vicomte's unfriendly eyes were fixed upon his face. + +"So! That is it! You--you----" The Vicomte moved a step forward, then +checked himself. "Tell me, where is my wife at this instant?" + +Mr. Lovell could have told him, but he refrained. + +"I decline to give you any information of any kind whatever." + +"You decline?" The Vicomte raised his hand. He would have struck the +artist. Mr. Warren interposed to avert the blow. + +"He declines for the very simple reason that he has never seen your +wife; isn't that so, Gerald?" + +Mr. Lovell hesitated. He scarcely saw his way to a denial while the +lady was behind the screen. + +"You see! He does not even dare to lie!" + +"Don't talk nonsense, sir! Gerald, why don't you tell the man that you +have never seen the woman in your life?" + +"I repeat that I decline to give this person any information of any +kind whatever." + +"You decline?" + +The Vicomte uttered the words in a kind of strangled screech. His +patience was exhausted. He seemed to think that he was being subjected +to treatment which was more than flesh and blood could bear. He rushed +at Mr. Lovell. Mr. Lovell, probably forgetting himself on the impulse +of the moment--or he would have been more careful--swung the Vicomte +round against the screen. It tottered, reeled, and, raising a cloud of +dust, it fell with a bang to the floor! + +It was a leaf out of Sheridan. + +For an instant the several members of that little party did not +distinctly realize what it was that had happened. Then they saw. There +was a pause--a curious pause. Their attitudes betrayed a charming +diversity of emotions. The Vicomte, his coat a little disarranged, +owing to the somewhat rough handling which he had just received, stood +and glared. M. Berigny, more ramroddy than ever, stared. Mr. Warren +gasped. Mr. Lovell's quickened breathing, crimsoned cheeks, and +flashing eyes seemed to suggest that his breast was a tumult of +conflicting feelings. The lady, whose presence had been so +unexpectedly revealed, stood behind the fallen screen, with the most +charming air of innocence in the world, and she smiled. + +It was she who broke the silence. She held out her hand to the +Vicomte. + +"_Bon jour_, Philippe!" + +"Ah-h-h!" The Vicomte drew himself away with a sort of shuddering +exclamation. "Antoinette! It is you! It cannot be!" + +"My dear Philippe--why not?" + +"Why not?" + +"Why not? She asks why not!" The Vicomte held out his hands, as though +he appealed to the eternal verities. "_Traîtresse!_ Once more is woman +false and man betrayed!" + +The Vicomte's gesture was worthy of the tragic stage--in France. The +lady still held out her hand, and still she smiled. + +"My dear Philippe--try comedy!" + +"Comedy? Ah, yes, I will try comedy--the comedy of r-r-revenge!" The +Vicomte distinctly rolled his r's. He turned to Mr. Lovell. "I will +kill you, even though for killing you, by the law of England, I am +hanged. Victor, where is my hat?" + +The Vicomte put this question to his friend with a peculiar coldness. +M. Berigny shrugged his shoulders. + +"How should I know? It is not a question of a hat." + +"As you say, it is not a question of a hat. It is a question"--the +Vicomte moved towards Mr. Lovell--"of that!" + +He raised his hand with the intention of striking the artist on the +cheek. Mr. Lovell never flinched; but the lady, rushing forward, +caught her husband by the wrist. She looked at him, still with +laughter in her eyes. + +"Try not to be insane." + +The Vicomte glared at her with a glare which, at least, was +characteristic. + +"Why do I not kill her--why?" + +The lady only smiled. + +"They say that a woman is devoid of humour. How is it then sometimes +with a man? You, Philippe, are always thinking of the Porte St. +Martin--I, of the Bouffes Parisiens." + +The Vicomte turned to his friend. + +"Victor, why do I not kill this woman?" + +M. Berigny only shrugged his shoulders. Possibly because he was not +ready with a more adequate reply. The lady turned to the artist. + +"Monsieur, I offer you ten thousand apologies, which my husband will +one day offer you himself, as becomes a gentleman of France." + +The Vicomte repeated his inquiry: + +"Victor, why do I not kill this woman?" + +Only a shrug in reply. The lady went on: + +"You have immortalized my poor face, Monsieur; my husband insults you +in return." + +The Vicomte folded his arms across his chest. + +"It is certain, Victor, that she still lives!" + +"One night, Monsieur, my husband locked me in my room. He designed to +make of me a prisoner. Why? Ah, do not ask me why? When he had left +me, I escaped, not by the door which he had locked, but by a door he +had not noticed. This door led into an apartment in which there was a +stranger sleeping. I was but an instant in that apartment--but the +instant in which it was necessary to pass through. The sleeper never +spoke to me; he never saw me with his waking eyes. But, even in his +sleep, my poor, frightened face so flashed upon his brain that, even +in his waking hours, it haunted him so that he made of it a picture--a +picture of that Vision of the Night!" + +The Vicomte approached closer to his friend. He addressed him in a +sort of confidential, but still distinctly audible, aside: + +"Victor, is it possible that this is true?" + +"I beg, my friend, that of me you will ask nothing." + +"Monsieur, this morning I was at your Academy. I saw my own +countenance looking at me from the walls. For the first time I learned +that my poor, frightened woman's face had appeared to a sleeping +stranger in a Vision of the Night. Oh, Monsieur, Monsieur!" + +The lady covered her face with her hands. It would, perhaps, be rash +to say that she cried; but, at least, she seemed to cry, and if it was +only seeming, she did it very well. + +"Victor," again inquired the Vicomte of his friend, "is it possible +that this is true?" + +M. Berigny wagged his finger in the Vicomte's face. + +"D'Humières, it now becomes a question of hats." The Vicomte laid his +hand on his companion's arm. + +"One instant, Victor--still one instant more." + +The lady, uncovering her eyes--which actually were sparkling with +tears--continued to address the artist. + +"Monsieur, I will not speak to you of my love for my husband--my +Philippe! I will not speak to you of how we have been parted for a +year--a whole, long year--_mon Dieu_, Monsieur, _mon Dieu!_ I will not +speak to you of how, every instant of that long, long year I have +thought of him, of how I have yearned for him, of how I have longed +for one touch of his hand, one word from his lips, one glance from his +eyes. No, Monsieur, I will not speak to you of all these things. And +for this reason: That, with me all things are finished. I go, never to +return again. My face--you have made immortal; the rest of me--will +perish. For the woman whose heart is broken there remains but one +place--the grave. It is to that place I go!" + +The lady had become as tragic as her husband--even more so, in +her way. She moved across the room with the air of a tragedy +queen--Parisian. The Vicomte was visibly affected. He fastened a +convulsive clutch upon M. Berigny's arm. + +"Victor, tell me, what shall I do? Advise me, oh, my friend! This is a +critical moment in my life! It is impossible that I should let her go. +Antoinette!" + +The Vicomte advanced, just in time, between the lady and the door. + +"Monsieur, I entreat of you this last boon, to let me go. You have +insulted me in the presence of a stranger; for me, therefore, nothing +else remains. You have inquired if you should kill me. No, Philippe, +you need not kill me; it is myself I will kill!" + +"Antoinette!" + +"I am no longer Antoinette; I am the woman whose happiness you have +destroyed. It is only when I am dead that you will learn what is +written on my heart for you." + +"Antoinette," the strong man's voice faltered, "Antoinette, am I +never, then, to be forgiven?" + +There was a momentary pause. Then the lady held out both her hands. +"Philippe!" + +"My heart! my soul! thou treasure of my life! thou star of my +existence! Is it possible that a cloud should have interposed itself +between thy path and mine?" + +He took her in his arms. He pressed her to his breast. M. Berigny +turned away. From his attitude it almost seemed as if the soldier--the +man of ramrods and of bayonets!--wiped away a tear. + +"Philippe! Take care, or you will derange my hat!" + +"Antoinette! My beautiful, my own!" + +"Philippe, do you not think you should apologize--take care, my +friend, or you certainly will derange my hat!--to the stranger who has +made immortal the face of the woman who loved you better than her +life--my friend, take care!--who has made her appear on canvas so much +more beautiful than she is in life?" + +"No, Antoinette, that I will not have. It is impossible. Beauty such +as yours in not to be rendered by a painter's brush!" + +"If that be so, all the more reason why we should be grateful to Mr. +Lovell for endeavouring the impossible." + +The lady peeped at Mr. Lovell with the quaintest malice in her eyes. + +"Certainly, Antoinette, there is something in what you say. And, after +all, it is a charming painting. I said, Victor, when I saw it, there +can be no doubt, as a painting, it is charming--did I not say so?" M. +Berigny inclined his head. With his handkerchief the Vicomte smoothed +his moustache. He advanced towards Mr. Lovell: "Monsieur, a +Frenchman--a true Frenchman--seldom errs. On those rare occasions on +which he errs he is always willing, under proper conditions, to +confess his error. Monsieur, I perceive that I have done you an +injustice. For the injustice which I have done you--I desire to +apologize." + +Mr. Lovell smiled. He held out his hand. + +"My dear fellow! There's nothing for which you need apologize." + +The Vicomte grasped the artist's hand in both of his. + +"My dear friend!" he cried. + +"Philippe," whispered the lady into her husband's ear, "do you not +think that you would like Mr. Lovell and his friend to favour us with +their company at luncheon?" + +The Vicomte seemed to think he would. They lunched together--all the +five! Why not? + + + + + THE WAY OF A MAID WITH A + MAN. + + (Miss Whitby writes to her Mother.) + + +MY DEAREST MAMMA,--You will be surprised, and I hope you will be +pleased to hear that I am engaged to be married! You are not to +smile--it would be cruel--this, really, is serious. Charlie is all +that a husband should be--you are not to laugh at that--you know +exactly what I mean. I am nearly twenty, and, this time, I feel that +my happiness really is at stake. I may not be able to keep my looks +for long--some girls lose them when they are quite young--and +something seems to tell me that I ought to begin to look life +seriously in the face, and become responsible. I almost wish that I +had taken to district visiting, like Emma Mortimer--it might have +balanced me. Poor Emma! what a pity she is so plain. + +Will you mind hinting to Tom Wilson that I think he might be happy +with Nora Cathcart? It is true that I made him promise that he would +never speak to her again, but all that is over. I hope you will not +think me fickle, dear mamma. I enclose the ring Tom gave me. Will you +please give it to him? And point out to him that I am now persuaded +that boy and girl attachments never come to anything serious. + +By the way, do not forget to tell them to send two pairs of evening +shoes. Those which I have are quite worn out. Let both pairs be +perfectly plain bronze. Charlie thinks that they make my feet look +almost ethereal. Is he not absurd? But I hope that you will not think +so, when you come to know him, for he loves your child. You might +also ask them to send me a dozen pairs of stockings--nice ones. All +mine seem to be in holes. You know I like them as long as you can get +them. + +I have been here nearly a month, and I have been almost engaged to +three different men. How time does seem to fly! Lily says I am a +heartless little flirt. I think that perhaps I was, until he came. He +has been here just a week, and I seem to have known him years. + +Lily seems to be under the impression that I was engaged to Captain +Pentland. She is wrong. Captain Pentland has some very noble +qualities. He is destined to make some true woman profoundly happy. Of +that I have no doubt whatever. But I am not that woman. No, dear +mamma, I feel that now. Besides, he wears an eyeglass. As you are +aware, I have always had an insuperable objection to an eyeglass. It +seems to savour of affectation. And affectation I cannot stand. And +then he lisps. As I told you, when I wrote you last, when I sprained +my ankle on Highdown Hill, he carried me in his arms for over a mile. +Of course, I was grateful. And, between you and me, dear mamma, he +held me so very closely to him, that, afterwards I felt as if I ought +to marry him. I have explained everything to Charlie. He quite agrees +with me that it is absurd for Captain Pentland to think himself +ill-used. + +While I think of it, when you are in town will you tell them to send +me a box of assorted chocolates? You know the kind I like. There is +nothing of that sort to be had here, and I do so long for some. + +Charlie is Lily's cousin. Do you think that cousins ought to kiss each +other? I wish I could get the opinion of someone on whose judgment I +could implicitly rely. At any rate, even supposing that they ought I +am quite sure that there should be limits. Before long I am afraid +that I shall have to give Charlie a hint that I do not think, under +the circumstances, that he ought to kiss Lily quite as much as he does +me. She may be his cousin, but she is young, and she is pretty. And +cousins are not sisters. It is nonsense for people to pretend they +are. + +The odd part of it is that if Charlie had not been so fond of kissing +Lily I might not be going to marry him now. I knew that he was coming. +And I was sitting alone in the drawing-room, in a half-light, with my +back to the door, when suddenly someone, putting his arm round my +waist, lifting me off my feet, twisted me right round, and began +kissing me on my eyes and lips and everywhere. + +I thought it was Captain Pentland. Though I was astonished at such +behaviour even from him--because it was only that morning we +quarrelled. You may judge of my astonishment when I was again able to +look out of my own eyes, to find myself being held, as if I were a +baby, or a doll, in the arms of a perfect giant of a man, whom I had +never seen before. You may imagine how shocked I felt, because, as you +know well, my views on such subjects--which I owe to your dear +teaching--are, if anything, too severe. I will do him the justice to +admit that he seemed to be almost as much shocked as I was. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, "ten thousand times. I thought that you +were Lily." + +He put me down very much as you handle your Chelsea cups, mamma--softly +and delicately, as if he had been afraid of chipping pieces off me. + +"I suppose you're Charlie?" + +I spoke more lightly and more cheerfully than I felt. He seemed so +ashamed of himself, and so confused, that I pitied him. You know, dear +mamma, that when people know, and feel, that they have done wrong, I +always pity them. I cannot help it. It is my nature. All flesh is +weak. I myself am prone to err. When Lily did appear, we were talking +quite as if we knew each other. And that is how it began. It is odd +how these sort of things sometimes do begin. As you are aware, I speak +as one who has had experience. I shall always believe that it was only +the breaking of a shoelace which first brought Norman Eliot and me +together. + +But those chapters in my life are closed. In the days which are past I +may have seemed to hesitate, to occasionally have changed my mind. But +now my life is linked to Charlie's by bonds which never shall be +broken. I feel as if I were already married. The gravity of existence +is commencing to weigh upon my mind. A woman when she is nearly twenty +is no longer young. + +While I remember it, when you send the chocolates don't send any +walnuts. I am sick of them. Variously flavoured creams are what I +really like. And let two pairs of the stockings be light blue, with +bronze stripes high up the leg. + +I cannot truly say that Lily is behaving to me quite nicely in my +relations with Charlie. I do not wish to wrong her, even in my +thoughts--she is the very dearest friend I have!--but, sometimes, I +cannot help thinking that she had an eye on Charlie for herself. +Because when the other morning I was telling her how strongly I +disapproved of cousins marrying, if she had not been Lily--whose +single-hearted affection I have every faith in--I should have said +that she was positively rude. Charlie only proposed to me last night, +yet, although she must have seen what was coming, in the afternoon she +was actually talking to me of Norman Eliot--as if I had been to blame! +Mr. Eliot and I never really were engaged--some people jump to +conclusions without proper justification. And am I compelled to answer +a person's letters if, for reasons of my own--quite private reasons--I +do not choose to? + +She came to my bedroom last night, just as I was going to bed. I told +her what Charlie had said, and what I had said. Of course I expected +her to congratulate me--as, in circumstances such as mine, a girl's +best friend ought to do. She heard me to an end, and she looked at me, +and said: + +"So you've done it again." + +"I don't know about again, dear Lily," I replied. "But it would seem +as if I had done it at last. I am feeling so happy that it almost +makes me afraid." + +"Some girls would feel afraid if they had reason to be conscious of +the fact that they had engaged themselves to marry three men at once." + +I could not help but notice that a jarring something was in her tone. +But I paid no heed to it. + +My thoughts were elsewhere. + +"How wrong it is," I murmured, "for people to scoff at love. They +cannot know what love is--as I do." + +"Perhaps not. I should think that what you don't know about love, May, +isn't worth knowing." I sighed. + +"I fancy, Lily dear, that I have heard stories about you." + +"I daresay; but I never snapped up your favourite cousin from under +your nose. Possibly you will not mind telling me if you do mean to +marry one of them, and, if so, which." + +"Lily! How can you ask me such a question? Have I not just been +telling you that there is only one man in the world for me, henceforth +and for ever, and that his name is Charlie?" + +"Exactly. Only last week you told me precisely the same story, and his +name was Jim, while about a fortnight ago, it was Norman." + +My dearest mamma, you see I am making a clean breast of everything to +you. I own, quite candidly, that since I have been here I have not +behaved precisely as I might have done, and, indeed, ought to have +done. I do not know how it is, I meant to be good; I am sure that +nothing could have been better than my resolutions. I had no idea that +they could have been so easily broken. It only shows, after all, how +fragile we are. I felt that, strange and sad though it seems, Lily was +not wholly unjust. I got up from my chair, and I knelt at her feet, +and I pillowed my head in her lap and I cried: + +"Oh, Lily, I've been so wicked! You can't think how sorry I am, now +that it's too late. I wish you'd help me, and tell me what I ought to +do." + +"I'm a bit of a dab at a cry myself," she said. "So, if you take my +advice, to begin with, you'll literally dry up." + +Was it not unkind? And was it not vulgar? But I sometimes think that +Lily's heart is like the nether millstone--so hard, you know. She went +on: + +"If you do mean business with Charlie, and you do want my advice, +you'll just tell him everything you have been doing, and leave the +solution of the situation to him." + +I made up my mind there and then that that was exactly what +I would do. I resolved that I would have no secrets from my +husband--particularly as he would be sure to be told them by +unfriendly lips if he did not learn them from mine. Besides, in such +matters, a man is so much more generous, and so much more sympathetic +than a woman--especially the man. Nor does he value you any the less +because he finds that someone else happens to value you a little too. + +So, directly Lily had gone I let my hair down, and I put on my light +blue dressing-jacket and a touch of powder, and I waited. Presently I +heard steps coming along the passage. I opened the door. Sure enough +it was Charlie, just going to bed. At sight of me he started. I was +conscious that I was, perhaps, acting with some imprudence. But I +could not help it. My entire happiness was at stake. You know, dear +mamma, that I do look nice in that pretty dressing-jacket, with my +hair, not at all untidy, but simply let down. You yourself have told +me that, in every sense of the word, I look so young. He held out his +hands to me--under a misapprehension. I shrank back. + +"Mr. Mason," I began very softly, with, in my voice, a sort of sob, "I +could not rest until I had told you all that has passed between us +to-night must be considered as unsaid." + +He started as if I had struck him. I could see that his face went +white. + +"Miss Whitby! May! What do you mean?" He seemed to gasp for breath. +"After all, it is only natural that you should not love a great +hulking idiot such as I am." + +"You are mistaken. You are not a great hulking idiot. And I do love +you. I shall never love anyone but you. It is you who will not love me +when you have heard all I have to say." + +"What nonsense are you talking?" + +Again he held out his arms to me. And again I shrank away. + +"It is not nonsense. I wish it were. So far is it from being nonsense +that I felt that I could not be at peace until my conscience was +unburdened." I paused. I felt the crucial moment was arriving. My +voice sank lower. "Someone else was staying here before you came." + +"Yes, I know; Lily told me--a man named Pentland." + +"Oh, Lily told you so much, did she? Did Lily also tell you that the +man named Pentland had bad taste enough to fancy that he had fallen in +love with me?" + +"Bad taste, you call it. I know nothing about the man, but there, +evidently, can be no sort of doubt about his perfect taste." + +"But, Charlie--I mean, Mr. Mason." + +"You don't--you mean Charlie." + +Dear mamma, once more I sighed. I perceived that it would have to be. +Some men are so dictatorial. + +"The worst of it is that he worried and worried me so--I was staying +in the same house, and couldn't get away from him, you see--that he +made me almost think I cared for him. But now you have come, and made +me see what a mistake it was." + +"My little love." + +For the third time he held out his arms to me. And, this time, he took +me in them. I could not find it in my heart to resist him any longer; +it might be the last time he would ever hold me there. I continued my +remarks with my head not very far away from his waistcoat. He smoothed +my hair, very softly, with his great right hand. + +"Unfortunately, I am not at all sure that Captain Pentland does not +think that, in a sort of way, I am engaged to him. Oh, Charlie, +whatever shall I do?" + +"Tell him the truth. Say that you're sorry for him, poor chap, but +even the best regulated girls will make mistakes. I'm the mistake +you've made." + +I was silent. Then I whispered: + +"Will you forgive me?" + +"It strikes me that it is I who ought to ask you to forgive me--for +not having been the first to come upon the scene." + +This was throwing a new light upon the subject. It had not occurred to +me to look at it from that point of view before. But I had not come to +the end of my confessions. Dear mamma, how careful we women ought +to be! It is these crises in our lives which make us feel what +short-sighted mortals we actually are. + +"Before Captain Pentland came"--I was pulling at one of the buttons on +his waistcoat as I spoke, and I realised what a big heart Charlie's +must be, if it was at all in proportion to his chest--"another friend +of Lily's was stopping in the house." + +"Ye-es." + +I could not help but be conscious of a certain hesitation in his +pronunciation of the word. + +"His name was Eliot." + +"Well?" + +There had been a moment's silence before he spoke. And, when he had +spoken, there ensued a portentous pause. I hid my face still more from +his examining gaze. My voice seemed almost to die away. + +"He, also, professed to bestow on me the gift of his affection." + +"The devil he did!" + +Yes, mamma, that was precisely what he said. It made me shiver. But he +was sorry as soon as the words had passed his lips. + +"Forgive me! I didn't mean it! After all, it is only to be expected +that every man who sees you will fall in love with you at sight." + +I wondered if he would talk to me like that in years to come. Do +husbands of ten years' standing say such things unto their wives? Oh, +how ashamed of myself I felt as I thought of what I still had to +admit! Dear mamma, I will try hard never again to do what my +conscience tells me is not right. If only we would always listen to +the still small voice which seeks to guide us! + +"Charlie, you have no notion how foolish I have been! Until you came I +had no proper conception of the actualities of existence. Mr. Eliot +caused me to confuse the issues just as Captain Pentland did." + +He held me out a little way in front of him, trying to look into my +face. I was careful not to let him see too much of it. I hung down my +head with what, I do hope, mamma, was proper penitence. + +"Let me know, clearly, where we are, little girl. Am I to understand +you to say that both these men asked you to marry them?" + +"I am afraid, Charlie, that you are to understand something of the +kind." + +"And that you gave both of them encouragement?" + +I looked up at him--such a look, mamma! My eyes were swimming in +tears. I knew he would not tell me to "dry up." My heart seemed to be +rising to my lips. + +"Not real encouragement. I never gave anyone real encouragement, +Charlie, till I knew you. Even in your case I fear I ought to have +been more reticent. But you cannot have the least idea of what a wide +world of love you seem to have opened out to me. Won't you forgive me +for encouraging you?" + +Dear mamma, he collapsed. Of what took place during the moments which +immediately followed. I can give you no definite description. I know I +began to think that the end of the world had come. When he had quite +finished, he said: + +"Look here, young lady, what is past is past. We will make no further +allusions to what took place before the war. But, in the future, +perhaps you will kindly manage not, as you put it, to confuse the +issues, but will continue to confine yourself to encouraging me." + +Was it not noble of him? And so sweet! I am persuaded that his +character is one of singular beauty. + +Dear mamma, the passages which ensued were too sacred even for your +dear eyes. When he left me I felt certain it was to dream of him. I +know that, all night long, I dreamt of him. And, on my knees, beside +my bed, I registered a vow that, in the time to come, I will be as +good as I possibly can. + +Do not forget the shoes, and the stockings, and the chocolates! And do +give Tom his ring! I am registering this letter, so you are sure to +get it safe. + +I will bring, or send, Charlie to you, on approval, whenever you +please. + + I am, my dearest mamma, + + Your ever loving daughter, + + MAY. + + + + + AUNT JANE'S JALAP. + + + CHAPTER I. + + BEFORE TAKING. + +"There's a fortune in it!" + +"For the bottlemakers." + +"If for them, then what for us? We shan't want more bottles than we +can sell. Besides, we can make our own bottles if it comes to that. +Cost of bottle, contents, cork, label, and all, one penny. Selling +price, eightpence. Sale, at a moderate estimate, one million bottles a +year. How does that figure for a profit?" + +"It figures nicely. But give me facts. How long do you suppose it will +take us to reach that sale?" + +"No time. The name will sell it! 'Aunt Jane's Jalap!' There isn't an +old woman in England who, seeing those words staring her in the face, +won't press a longing hand to her inside." + +"Outside, I presume, you mean. But no matter." + +Hughes placed the bottle on the table. He looked at it with loving +eyes. Then he shook his head. + +"There's only one thing we want." + +"Customers?" + +"Testimonials! There's something in it. I know there is." + +"Not much, perhaps, but still something." + +"That bottle, sir, contains a remedy for all known diseases, and all +unknown ones, for all that I can tell. In fact, I have a suspicion +that it is to the unknown diseases that it will come as the greatest +blessing. Patent medicines generally do. Those mysterious maladies +which, up to the advent of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' have baffled all the +resources of medical science. Give me a day or two and I will prove +it. I will bring you testimonials which will make your hair stand up +on end, and--" He paused, looking me fixedly in the face--"all +genuine." + +That evening I had a small dinner-party. It was rather an occasion. +The suggestion, I am bound to admit, had come from Margaret. + +"My dear George, it's the easiest thing in the world, and you could do +it nicely! Why don't you ask us to dinner? Aunt and I, and old Pybus +to round it off." Square it off, I suspect she meant, because, of +course, that would make four with me. But I didn't correct her. "And +then you and I could look over the house together--after dinner." + +So I asked them. And they came. Old Pybus said he would be delighted. +I don't care for Pybus myself, but Mrs. Chalmers does, and this was an +occasion on which her taste had to be consulted rather than mine. And +during dinner I began on "Aunt Jane's Jalap." + +"Well, it's all settled with Hughes." + +I addressed myself to Margaret. + +"What about?" + +"'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +Mrs. Chalmers put down her spoon. This was while the soup was on. + +"'Aunt Jane's Jalap!' Whatever's that?" + +"The new patent medicine--the coming boom. You must know that my +friend Francis Hughes has a wonderful old nurse, and this wonderful +old nurse has the most wonderful medicine, which she used to +administer to all her charges. Hughes has obtained the receipt from +her." + +"How much did he give her for it? Half-a-crown?" + +I crushed Pybus. + +"That is a private matter, but _rather_ more than half-a-crown." + +As a plain statement of fact he hadn't given her anything as yet. But, +of course, we should both of us see that she made a good thing of it +when the sale got up. + +"I need scarcely observe what fortunes have been made in patent +medicines." + +"And lost in them, my boy." + +This was just like Pybus--but I let it pass. + +"Millions, literally millions, have been made, and, I may safely say, +that none of them can compare with 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +"Have you tried the stuff upon yourself?" + +"No, Pybus, I have not. I am ready at any time to try it upon you. +Well, Hughes has supplied the medicine, and I am going to supply part +of the capital." + +"What part?" + +"That is another private matter, Pybus. Sufficient, I trust, to bring +the matter before the public eye." + +"Don't you think the name is rather a funny one?--'Aunt Jane's +Jalap!'" + +This was hard, coming from Margaret. + +"My dear Margaret, the name is half the battle. Hughes thinks it's a +splendid one." + +"But don't you think it makes one think of indigestion?" + +"That's exactly what it's meant to do." + +"Before, or afterwards?" + +This, of course, was Pybus. + +"Let those laugh who win. Wait till you see the name blazoned on every +dead wall. Then you'll welcome 'Aunt Jane's Jalap' as a friend." + +That dinner, I confess, was a little patent mediciney. More than once +I rather wished that I had kept the subject out of it. Pybus told some +pleasant and characteristic anecdotes about injurious effects of +patent medicines. How he had known whole families killed by taking +them. How more than half the infant mortality of Great Britain was +owing to their unrestricted sale. How the habit of taking patent +medicines was worse than the habit of dram drinking, and the why, and +the wherefore, and so on. I could not, at my own table, take the man +by the scruff of the neck and drop him from the first floor window. +But I know that Margaret didn't like it--and I didn't either. Mrs. +Chalmers seemed undecided. She herself swears by some noxious +compound, which is absurdly named "Daddy's Delight," and which I know, +by the mere smell of it, is nothing else but poison. + +"Have you any of the stuff in the house?" she asked. + +"I have a bottle of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' which is not stuff, my dear +Mrs. Chalmers, but a most invaluable medicine. Hughes brought it this +afternoon as a sample." + +"Trot it out," said Pybus. + +Pybus is fifty-five, if he is a day, but he uses the slang of a +schoolboy. I was not going to act on such a hint as that, but when +Mrs. Chalmers expressed a wish to look at it I fetched the bottle. It +was a small black bottle, such as is used for "samples" of wines, +about quarter-bottle size. I held it in my hand. + +"This, ladies and gentlemen, is 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' It is a name +which I trust will soon be familiar in your mouths as household words. +This, however, is its first appearance on the scene, and I propose, to +mark the importance of the occasion, that we drink to its success. I +propose, ladies and gentlemen, that we drink to 'Aunt Jane's Jalap' +_in_ 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' Brooks, bring four claret glasses." + +I drew the cork. + +"George, you don't mean that we're to drink the stuff?" + +"I do, my dear Margaret, why not? The dose is a wine-glassful, to be +taken immediately after meals. Mrs. Chalmers, allow me to offer you a +glass of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +She sniffed at it. + +"It has a very disagreeable smell." + +That was good. I protest that I have smelt "Daddy's Delight" when I +was passing the house, and took it--till I knew better--for drains. + +"Margaret, a glass of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +"But, George, I assure you that I never do take medicine." + +"Some people's wine is no better than medicine. We drink that, and +pretend we like it. Why not jalap?" + +This was Pybus! As he had just before been making insinuations about +my wine, the allusion was pointed. But the man's proverbial. + +"No heeltraps--'Aunt Jane's Jalap'--with the honours!" + +We all stood up. I drained my glass. I immediately wished I hadn't. +The others drained their glasses. I saw they wished they hadn't too. I +do not think I ever tasted anything quite so nasty. I wished I had +sampled it before. As it was, it took me by surprise, so much by +surprise that my first impulse was to fly for shelter. It was +like--well, the taste was really so exceedingly disagreeable that +comparison fails me. + +"It is a case of kill or cure," observed Pybus, with the most +extraordinary expression of countenance I ever saw. "The man who takes +much of that stuff will be killed if he isn't cured. Death for me, +rather than 'Aunt Jane's Jalap'--if it _is_ jalap." + +"It is rather pungent," I owned. + +"I don't know about pungent," continued Pybus, who certainly seemed to +be suffering; "but with ice pudding it's a failure." + +"Never," declared Mrs. Chalmers, who was leaning back in her chair, +and had her handkerchief in her hand, "never did I taste anything like +it! Never! and after dinner, too!" + +Margaret's feelings seemed for the moment to be too strong for speech. +I perceived the thing had been a failure. Still, I endeavoured to pass +it off, which was difficult, for I myself felt really ill. + +"Ah! it is to the after effects we must look forward." + +"It is the after effects I'm thinking of," said Pybus. + +That was almost more than I could bear; it was the after effects I was +thinking of as well. + +"Come, let's adjourn and have a little music." + +"Have we finished the bottle of jalap?" inquired Pybus. + +"I really must apologise; I confess I had no idea what a peculiar +taste it had; it certainly is peculiar." Mrs. Chalmers put her +handkerchief up to her eyes. + +"And after dinner, too!" + +We accompanied the ladies to the drawing-room, as well as we could. +Pybus went with Mrs. Chalmers, I took Margaret. As we went I whispered +in her ear: + +"Now, you and I can look over the house together." + +"I am afraid, George, you must excuse me. I--I couldn't walk about +just yet. Do take me to a chair!" + +We had planned that we would examine the house together from attic to +basement; indeed, the whole affair had been got up for that express +purpose. Everything was in apple-pie order and ready for inspection. +The servants were on the tiptoe of expectation. As we went, Margaret +was to make suggestions for alterations which would fit the house for +its mistress. And opportunities might arise for a little confidential +intercourse. But, of course, I could not drag the girl about the place +against her will. Love works wonders. But there _are_ circumstances +which prove too strong. + +The atmosphere of the drawing-room was depressing. It was no use my +talking to Margaret, because she wouldn't talk to me. And general +conversation seemed out of the question. So I tried another line. + +"Pybus, give us a song." (Pybus thinks he can sing. He may have been +able to--once.) "Here's 'Drink to me only.' That's a favourite of +yours." (You should hear him sing it.) "Margaret will play the +accompaniment." + +"Lucas," he said, "Do you think, by any chance, that dose of jalap was +too strong? I ask the question because I remember, when I was a boy, +hearing of a family being poisoned by an overdose of jalap. In their +case they took it by mistake. Though, judging from the taste of your +jalap, I can't see how that could be. Still, if there is likely to be +any danger it is as well that we should be prepared for it." + +"Margaret," murmured Mrs. Chalmers, "let's go home." + +"Why, aunt? It will pass off in time." + +In time! At that moment I heartily wished that Hughes had been at +Jericho before he induced me to dabble in his patent medicines. I +always did hate them, even as a child. + +"It is quite impossible," continued Pybus, "that the sensations which +I am now experiencing are the ordinary and natural outcome of a dose +of jalap." + +"Margaret," groaned Mrs. Chalmers, "I insist upon your coming home." + +"Aunt, what is the use of going home?" + +"You haven't got a book in the house, Lucas, treating of poisons?" + +"I wish you wouldn't talk like that, Pybus. It really is unfair. I +quite perceive that I made a mistake in administering the dose after +dinner; in fact, I am myself inclined to believe that I misunderstood +Hughes, and that the dose ought to be administered before a meal." + +"Good God!" + +"Pybus!" + +"I can't help it. I really cannot help it, sir. The idea of a +reasonable person voluntarily swallowing such a concoction as that +before his dinner is enough to make any man profane!" + +"I don't think, Mr. Lucas," murmured Mrs. Chalmers, "that you have the +least idea how ill I feel." + +"My dear Mrs. Chalmers, if--if there is anything I can do for you." +"Yes," said Pybus, "another bottle." + + + CHAPTER II + + AFTER TAKING. + +Just then Brooks came in. + +"Mr. Hughes, sir, wishes to speak to you." + +"Excuse me one moment--I'll be back directly." + +I found Hughes waiting for me in my snuggery. + +"Sorry to interrupt you, old man, but I just called in to prevent +accidents." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You know that bottle I brought you this afternoon. I thought it was +'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' but it isn't. I found it out directly I got home. +You see, I keep all sorts of bottles in my cupboard--regular chemist's +shop!--and I caught hold of the wrong one by mistake." + +"Not 'Aunt Jane's Jalap!'" + +"No, it's laudanum." + +"Laudanum? Hughes!" + +"The fact is--Lucas!--What's the matter?--You don't mean to say you +have been drinking some?" + +"Is--is it poison?" + +"Poison!--Why, it's pure laudanum!" + +"Would--would a wineglassful do any harm?" + +"A wineglassful! Lucas, old man, don't say you've drank a +wineglassful!" + +"We all have." + +"All have!" + +"Margaret, and Mrs. Chalmers, and Pybus. + +"Great powers!" + +"We--we thought it was 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' and we drank to its +success." + +"Are they dead?" + +"Dead! Hughes!" + +"How long ago is it since they took it?" + +"Not long. After dinner." + +"But--a wineglassful! Are they conscious?" + +"They were when I just now left them. But they weren't feeling well. +I--I'm not either. We couldn't understand it. This--this explains it. +Hughes, you--you've murdered us!" + +"Never mind, old man. Keep your head; I'll pull you through. Trust all +to me. The great thing in a case like this is to keep your head. Don't +sit down; keep yourself in constant circulation! Just one second! +Brooks! Brooks! Run, Brooks, to the nearest doctor, and then to +half-a-dozen others, and tell them there's a case of laudanum +poisoning, and they're to come at once." + +"Laudanum poisoning, sir! What, in the house?" + +"Yes, in the house. Don't stand there like a pig in a fit. It's a +question of life or death!" + +"One moment, sir, while I get my hat." + +"Go without your hat. Here; take mine. Now, run for your life. +Remember, if anything happens through you, you will be held +responsible in the eyes of the law. Come along, Lucas, let's go in to +them. Keep yourself awake, old man; jump about. Don't say a word to +them about what has happened. Don't let them even suspect from your +manner that anything is wrong. The great thing is to keep them in +entire ignorance. And keep cool--keep cool." + +He gave a jerk at my arm which almost pulled me forward on my face. + +"I say, Hughes, don't!" + +"But I must, old man, I must. I must keep you alive, at any cost. Oh, +Lucas, old man, if anything should happen---- But I won't talk like +that, or I shall make a fool of myself. Come along, old man, and mind +what I say. Keep cool." + +We went along--that is to say, he took me by the arm and dragged me +towards the drawing-room. My emotions I am unable to describe. I +always think that when a man is able to describe his emotions he +hasn't had any worth describing. But through it all I had a dim +perception that, in spite of his repeated adjurations, Hughes himself +kept anything but cool. Outside the drawing-room door I brought the +procession to a standstill. I gripped his arm. + +"Hughes, do you think that she will die?" + +"Who?" + +"Margaret." + +"Nonsense! Don't I tell you no one's going to die? For goodness' sake +don't talk like that. Don't I keep telling you to keep cool?" + +He did. But it was scarcely with an air of coolness that he threw the +door wide open, and with so much force that it seemed as if he were +trying to wrench it from its hinges. I fancy our entry made a slight +sensation. It was strange if it didn't. They were certainly not +unconscious--yet! Even amidst my own agitation it was with quite a +sensation of relief that I perceived so much. Mrs. Chalmers was +reclining on the couch, with her head thrown back, and a look about +her which I did not like. Margaret was on a settee, seeming as though +the proceedings had lost all interest for her. Pybus sat in an arm +chair, his hands crossed upon his stomach. + +"Good evening," said Hughes. I could see he did not like the look of +things. "I--I've just dropped in." + +Pybus rose. + +"I'm just dropping out. Good evening, Lucas. I have to thank you for a +very pleasant evening. I'll send you the doctor's bill when I get it." + +Hughes looked at me, then at Pybus. + +"You're not going, Mr. Pybus?" + +"Do you wish me to be ill here?" + +"But I was looking forward to a song, or a dance, or something." + +"Dance! I feel like dancing; and singing, too. I've been the victim of +an outrage, Mr. Hughes. I've been introduced to 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +"I've heard of it. Lucas ought not to have given it you." + +"And after dinner!" + +This was a murmur from the couch. + +"That was wrong--quite wrong. The dose should have been administered +before the meal." + +"In that case," I observed, a little nettled, "we should all of us +been dead by now." + +Pybus glanced at me sharply. + +"Dead! What do you mean?" + +Hughes turned on me in a rage. + +"Yes. What do you mean?" + +I felt I had made a mistake. + +"I--I mean nothing. Only--only I think Hughes was as much to blame as +I was." + +Hughes took Pybus away. They went to Mrs. Chalmers. So far as I could +judge, the lady was rapidly sinking into a lethargic condition. I +remained standing where I was. I began gradually to realise my +situation--the approaching tragedy in which, by fate or circumstance, +I was cast as an actor. A strange leaden feeling seemed to be stealing +over me, but, in spite of it, I began to understand that at any moment +the drawing-room, this drawing-room, my drawing-room, might be strewed +with corpses. I knew nothing of the effects of laudanum poisoning, but +Hughes seemed to be surprised that we were not all of us dead already. +Here was Margaret, the woman I loved best in all the world, upon my +right. There was her aunt, for whom, I own, my love was less, upon the +couch. There was old Pybus. That old man's blood was also on my hands. + +What would they call me? A suicide? The irony! In the full flush of +health and strength, with fortune, all the world before me, and a +wife. A wife whom I loved with a great fulness of love which was quite +old-fashioned. I had wrought this hecatomb. I felt impelled to scream +aloud. To warn my victims of the frightful fate which was stealing +fast upon them, and of which they were still unconscious. + +Someone touched me on the arm. I turned. It was Margaret! + +"George, what is the matter?" + +"Margaret!" + +My voice trembled. There was a choking in my throat. I wished to take +her in my arms before them all. It might be a last embrace. + +"George, tell me, what is wrong?" + +I made an effort to pull myself together. + +"Oh! there's nothing wrong. I--I'm only a bit upset." + +She put her arm through mine. She led me across the room. I required +leading. She drew me into an alcove, which was formed by a window bay. + +"Now, George, tell me what is wrong. I know there is something wrong. +Tell me what it is." + +I was at a loss for words. I trifled with her. + +"Margaret! What do you mean?" + +"George, was"--her voice sank to a whisper--"was there anything wrong +about that stuff you gave us?" + +What could I say to her? + +"It--it was a mistake drinking it after dinner." + +"Is that all? Was it the right stuff, George?" + +"It--it was the stuff Hughes gave me." + +"You are trifling with me? I know that there is something wrong. I can +see it in your manner and in Mr. Hughes's. See how strangely Mr. +Hughes is behaving now." + +I peeped round the corner. Hughes was behaving strangely. He was +frantically urging Mrs. Chalmers to stand up and dance, though anyone +looking less like dancing than she did I never saw. He was evidently +forgetting his own axiom--keep cool. A curious qualm came over me. +Almost without knowing it I leaned for support against the wall. + +"George! What is the matter? You are ill." + +Margaret's eager face looked into mine. + +"It will be all right in a minute." + +"It won't! I know it won't! Tell me what it is. There was something +the matter with that stuff you gave us. I knew it directly I had +swallowed it. Do you think I am a coward? Do you think I am afraid? +But it is only fair that you should tell me. If you won't tell me, +George, I will go to Mr. Hughes and insist upon his telling me." + +"Don't, Margaret. The doctor will be here directly." + +"The doctor?" She drew herself straight up. A strange look came into +her eyes. + +She spoke almost in a whisper. "What is the doctor coming for?" + +"Hughes thought that he had better come." + +"Is it so bad as that? George, what was that stuff you gave us?" + +"I have not said that it was anything. The--the dose was too strong." + +"Was it poison?" + +"Margaret!" + +I took her two hands in mine. She came into my arms. I held her to my +breast. + +"Was it poison? If you love me half as much as I love you you will +tell me, George." + +"Margaret!" + +"What poison was it?" + +"Laudanum!" + +She drew herself away from me. She looked at me with her great wide +open eyes. Then her eyes were closed. Before I had the least suspicion +of what was going to happen she had fallen to the ground. I knelt +beside her. + +"Margaret!" I cried. I cried to her in vain. I was seized with a great +horror. "She is dead!" I exclaimed. + +Hughes came running forward. I almost sprang at him. + +"You have killed her!" + +"Don't be an idiot, Lucas! She _can't_ be dead!" + +"She is dead. And it is your work. For the matter of that, all our +blood is upon your head. But we shall not die alone. You shall come, +too, my friend." + +"If you don't take your hands away, Lucas, I shall have to do you a +mischief." + +"Mr. Lucas! Mr. Hughes! Have you both of you gone mad? Are you aware +that there are ladies present?" + +The interference came from Pybus. He dragged us asunder. He showed +more presence of mind, and more coolness, too, than I had credited him +with. He was a great deal calmer than either Lucas or I. + +"What is the meaning of this extraordinary behaviour? And what is the +matter with Miss Hammond?" + +"He has killed her." + +"Who has killed her?" + +"That scamp; with his infernal negligence." + +"I don't in the least understand you. And I think that instead of +wrangling here your attentions were better bestowed upon Miss +Hammond." + +I threw myself at her side. I was like a man distraught in the +whirlwind of conflicting emotions which came sweeping over me. + +"My darling! Oh, my darling! I shall soon be with you. Already the +poison is stealing through my veins. May my end be as rapid as was +yours. Why doesn't the doctor come? I don't believe that you have sent +for him. Go and fetch him." + +Again I sprang at Hughes. And again Pybus interposed. + +"Mr. Lucas, may I ask for an explanation of your singular conduct? Has +Miss Hammond fainted?" + +"Fainted! He has poisoned her!" + +"Poisoned her!" + +"Yes, and you and me and all of us! We all, like her, are doomed to +die." + +"Mr. Lucas!" + +"Lucas, you're--you're mad, you know." + +This was Hughes. But a piercing scream came from the couch. + +"I knew that I was poisoned!" + +Mrs. Chalmers might know that she was poisoned, but that was no reason +why, on the strength of her knowledge, she should develope violent +hysterics, which she immediately did. I had never seen so much of the +man in Pybus as he showed just then. He gave one look at Mrs. +Chalmers, and then he turned to Hughes. + +"Mr. Hughes, will you be so good as to tell me if there is any meaning +in Mr. Lucas's words?" + +Hughes was ghastly white. + +"The great point is to bring Miss Hammond back to life again. While we +are talking here she may be dying at our feet. I appeal to your +manhood, Mr. Pybus, to help me bring her back to consciousness." + +Hughes knelt down by Margaret. Pybus turned to me. + +"What does he mean?" he said. + +I did not answer. I knelt down by Hughes. He had my darling's hand in +his. I saw that he was putting great restraint upon himself. Beads of +perspiration were on his brow. + +"She is not dead," he stammered. "She is in a faint or something. At +any cost we must bring her back to consciousness. Be a man, Lucas, and +help me. Her life should be even more precious to you than to me." + +"Don't talk like that, Hughes. Don't you see that I am nearly mad +already? What can I do?" + +"Help me to raise her." + +Between us we raised her to a perpendicular position. + +"Mr. Pybus, can I trouble you to order some brandy? Stay, she is +coming back to life again!" + +She was. She sighed. She opened her eyes, as if she were waking out of +sleep. She turned to me. + +"George!" + +"My darling!" + +I caught her in my arms. I held her to my breast. What mattered it if +there were others there? We were standing by an open grave! + +"I do so love you, George!" + +She was dreaming. She thought we were alone. + +"Margaret!" + +I kissed her. Something caused her to look round. There was old Pybus +standing at her side. She drew herself away from me. She blushed a +rosy red; then her glance travelled round the room. She pressed her +hands against her bosom. A startled look came into her eyes. + +"Then--it wasn't all a dream." + +Hughes slipped his arm through hers. + +"Miss Hammond, I must insist upon your taking exercise. Take a sharp +turn or two round the room with me. Lucas, I wish you'd sit down and +play us a dance. Or, better still, let me sit down and play, and you +and Miss Hammond take a few turns together. Mr. Pybus, you must dance +with Mrs. Chalmers. A flyaway gallop, or a rattling polka. They're +better than valses." + +There was a remarkable expression upon old Pybus's enamelled +countenance. So far as that goes, I expect there was on mine--but, as +to that, no matter. + +"Might I ask, once more, for an explanation of these very singular +proceedings?" + +"I warn you, Mr. Pybus, that if you do not dance with Mrs. Chalmers, +you must be responsible for the consequences, both as they regard +yourself and the lady." + +Pybus's eyes wandered from Hughes to Mrs. Chalmers. The lady was +making noise enough for ten. She did not strike the imagination as +being a promising partner for a dance. So Pybus seemed to think. +Hughes struck up, "You should see me dance the polka," playing it at +the rate of about sixty miles an hour. Margaret looked at me. + +"Are you and I to dance? Why dance?" + +I shook my head. + +"Hughes," I said, "I can't." + +"You must, man, you must! Are you mad?" + +"I can't." + +I couldn't. A numbness seemed to be settling on my brain. My legs +refused to support me. I sank into a chair. Margaret hesitated for +just one second. I could see her trembling. Then she sat on the ground +close to my feet. She leaned her arm upon my knee. Her face was turned +towards mine. + +"Nor can I. If we must die, George, let us die together; but not +dancing." + +"What on earth," inquired Pybus, "is all this talk of dying, Mr. +Hughes? I insist upon an answer, sir." + +In a sort of fury Hughes leaped from the music-stool. + +"And I insist, Mr. Pybus, upon your dancing with Mrs. Chalmers. I warn +you that if you don't you will be morally guilty, not only of murder, +but of suicide." He turned to me. "As for you--are you a man? Do you +think that it is your life only which is hanging in the balance? I +tell you that the only hope for Miss Hammond is to keep her +circulating. Do that, and I will answer for it with my own life, that +all will yet be well." + +"Come, while I can, let me keep you circulating, Maggie!" + +It was not often that I called my "rare, pale Margaret" Maggie. But, +at that master moment of our lives, I felt that the endearing name was +best. She rose, my darling. I put my arm about her waist. + +"George, whatever you think it best." + +"That's better," said Hughes. + +"Now let me see you go it. Give her fits, my boy." + +Again he dashed into Mr. Grossmith's popular air. I never heard it +played at such a rate before. Possibly with a view of raising our +spirits, he shouted out the chorus in a tone of voice which must have +been audible quite two streets away. It was deafening! + + + You should see me dance the polka, + You should see me cover the ground; + You should see my coat-tails flying-- + + +My coat-tails were anything but flying. We made no attempt at keeping +time with Hughes. Under the most favourable circumstances the thing +would have been impossible. We moved, Margaret and I, as if we were +treading a funeral measure. My legs were going at the knees. I felt +her frail frame quivering in my arms. + +"Now, then, Pybus," shouted Hughes, "off you go with Mrs. Chalmers. +Don't ask her; make her. Pull her off the couch and jump her about!" + +Pybus appeared to be endeavouring to persuade Mrs. Chalmers to join +him in the mazy dance. The lady had suddenly become still, which, for +some reasons, the chief one being the noise which Hughes was making, +was perhaps as well. + +"How can I pull her off the couch," answered Pybus, "when she's in a +fit, or dead, or something?" + +Up jumped Hughes. + +"Keep going, you two! Don't stop for a single instant. Lucas, +everything depends upon your keeping Miss Hammond circulating." + +"I can't," I said. + +"Nor can I," said Margaret. + +The utterances were almost simultaneous. Simultaneously we sank into +an ottoman. + +"Mrs. Chalmers! Mrs. Chalmers!" shouted Hughes, "Pybus, help me to +lift her off the couch. Now, then, you two, what have you stopped +for?" + +He turned to Margaret and me. Something in our faces or in our +attitudes appeared to frighten him. He ran to the door yelling in a +manner which absolutely frightened me. + +"Brooks! Brooks! Oh, my God, why doesn't the doctor come?" + + + CHAPTER III. + + DOCTORS TO THE RESCUE! + +Just as he reached the door it was opened. A very tall, and very +stout, old gentleman entered. He had a black bag in his hand. But he +did not seem to be the least in a hurry. + +"Good evening. I trust there is nothing serious the matter." + +I suppose that in the agitated state of his nervous system, the +stranger's sudden appearance took Hughes by surprise. He stared at him +as though he were a ghost. + +"Are--are you the doctor?" + +"I am the doctor--Dr. Goldsmith." + +I had already recognised him as the doctor who lived at the corner of +the square. Although I had not the pleasure of his personal +acquaintance, I had more than once wondered why he did not try +Banting. Leaving off sugar, and butter, and milk, and trying a piece +of lemon in your tea, is an excellent method of reducing the flesh. He +looked round the room, and bowed--a little vaguely. Then he said, +addressing Hughes, whom he apparently took to be the master of the +house, "Where is the patient?" + +"They're--they're all patients." + +This answer seemed to cause the doctor to experience a slight sense of +mystification. He placed a pair of gold glasses upon the bridge of his +nose. He cast another glance around the room. + +"All patients?" + +Pybus came forward. Pybus knows everyone. + +"How are you, Dr. Goldsmith?" + +"How are you, Mr. Pybus? Charmed to see you." + +"Whether I am charmed to see you remains to be seen. May I ask--and +don't think it's an impertinent question--what you have come for?" + +"Come for? I----" The doctor threw a glance of interrogation towards +Hughes. "I--someone came to my house and said that I was wanted for a +case of----" + +Old Pybus laid his hand upon the doctor's arm. + +"Case of what?" + +"A case of laudanum poisoning." + +"Laudanum poisoning!" + +"I understood that it was a----" The doctor ceased. Pybus's face had +assumed a very singular hue. "I--I hope that I have said nothing----" + +"No, you have said nothing. Laudanum poisoning?" He turned to Hughes. +"So that is it." And then to me. "So that was 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' +It's--it's rather hard--that a man of my years--should--die +of--jalap." + +Pybus took a seat. The doctor stared at him. + +"Mr. Pybus, I hope that nothing is the matter." + +"Nothing, only--I'm the man--that's poisoned." + +"You!" + +"Me, Sam Pybus. I've been dining with a man, who asked me to meet--his +girl--and smooth the tabby--and he gives me--jalap, which is another +name for laudanum." + +The doctor seemed bewildered. + +"I am afraid I don't understand." + +Hughes endeavoured to explain. He was suffering as much as either of +us. The words fell from his stammering lips. + +"What Mr. Pybus says is correct. There's been a mistake." + +"Yes," said Pybus, "there's been a mistake." + +"My friend, Lucas, thought he was giving his guests 'Aunt Jane's +Jalap,' and instead of that he was giving them--I am afraid, through +my carelessness--pure laudanum." + +"Oh, it was through your carelessness, was it?" Pybus assumed towards +Hughes a little air of ferocity. But it soon disappeared. "But what +does it matter if I must die?" + +"Pure laudanum!" said the doctor. "Of what strength?" + +"The highest possible." + +"In what quantity?" + +"Enough to kill a dozen men. A bottleful." + +"A bottleful of laudanum!" + +The words were uttered by a newcomer--a little man who came running in +as if he ran a race. It was Dunn, another doctor, who had recently +started practice round the corner. In appearance he was a complete +contrast to Goldsmith. He was a little, wiry, hungry-looking man, who +seemed as though he never could keep still. He hurried past Pybus, +patting him on the shoulder as he went. Had Pybus been more himself he +would have resented the insult to the death. + +"Come, my dear sir, keep yourself alive. That's the great secret; let +us keep our spirits up!" he paused in front of Margaret. "Now, my dear +young lady, don't we feel quite well? Just a little out of sorts. +Come, wake up!" + +He actually caught Margaret by the shoulder and shook her. I don't +know what Margaret's feelings were, but if I myself had not been quite +so prostrate, I fancy that I should have let him know that he +presumed. Then he turned and shook me. + +"Come, my dear sir, wake up, wake up, wake up! We must keep ourselves +awake." He wheeled round; he marched to the couch. When he saw Mrs. +Chalmers lying on it, still in a dead faint--so far as I know no one +had moved a finger to bring her round--he shook his head. + +"Serious; I am afraid it's very, very serious. But we will do our +best; always do our best. Let all the servants in the house be +summoned, and let assistance be given to carry the poor dear sufferers +up to their beds." + +The little man took command of everything. The servants were summoned +and they came trooping in. Several other doctors came in also. There +is no necessity to specify their number. Brooks liberally carried out +the instructions Hughes had given him. He fetched as many as he could. +There were not one or two, but several. I have their bills. + + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE MISTAKE EXPLAINED. + +I will not dwell upon the dreadful details of that night. There are +scenes, not necessarily pathetic scenes, on which a curtain should be +drawn. Through it all I never once lost consciousness. I wish I had. +One need but allude to the stomach pump to draw up visions from the +vasty deep. Over such agonies let a veil be drawn. This is not an +episode of vivisection. And, afterwards, when--when a too eager +medical man, thinking the process had not gone far enough--he meant +well; it was his zeal; may he be forgiven--tried emetics, mustard and +water, and other preparations from the medical pharmacop[oe]ia--do not +let us touch upon these subjects. Never, when the sea was at its +wildest, among passengers entirely unused to the mysteries of +navigation, was ever seen the like. I still live, and I was through it +all. It is wonderful what a vigorous constitution will endure. + +Mrs. Chalmers was put into my bedroom. There was nothing particular of +mine lying about, but I would rather they had put her somewhere else. +Margaret had the best guest-room, Pybus the second best, and I was put +into an apartment which had not been occupied for years. It was done +in the confusion, I suppose. Looking back, I am surprised they did not +overlook me altogether. I wish they had. And all through the night the +issue was hanging in the balance. Hamlet's question was waiting for an +answer. "To be, or not to be?" What their sufferings were--Margaret's, +her aunt's, and Pybus's--I can imagine when I let memory hark back to +my own. But none of them succumbed. And in the morning I, for one, was +able to leave my room; in fact, I insisted on doing so. Had I remained +any longer in that dreadful chamber I should certainly have died. Pale +and ghastly, with my dressing-gown wrapped round my trembling limbs, I +descended to my snuggery. I felt that I was but the wreck of what once +I was. Hughes was there--the sight of me seemed to give him pain--well +it might!--and Dr. Dunn, and Dr. Goldsmith, and a Dr. Casey. He was a +tall, thin man, with a serious manner. I always think of Dr. Casey +when I think of Mr. Stiggins. Dunn seemed in quite a cheerful frame of +mind. + +"Well, that's over. With a little care, Mr. Lucas, you'll forget all +about it in a week." + +Never! But I did not tell him so. And he went on: + +"And this all comes of what I venture to call a trifling indiscretion. +You think it's jalap, and it's laudanum." + +"Laudanum is not a thing to trifle with," said Dr. Casey. + +"It certainly isn't a thing to drink in pailfuls." + +As he said this, Dr. Goldsmith rattled his keys and coppers. + +"Nor is it to be recommended as a liqueur with dessert--eh, Mr. +Lucas?" Dunn rubbed his hands, and grinned at me. + +"The poor lady," said Dr. Casey, "whom I treated found it a very +serious matter." + +This was Mrs. Chalmers. + +"The sweet young thing," said Goldsmith, "for whom I did my best, did +not seem to think that the occasion was altogether a festive one," and +this was how he spoke of her. + +"I dare say, Mr. Lucas," sniggered Dunn, "that you have spent far more +agreeable nights." + +Dunn was the fiend who had pushed his zeal too far. And now he laughed +at me! + +"Dr. Lambert," observed Dr. Casey, "who treated the other gentleman, +assured me that his patient asked him to put him out of his misery +rather than push his treatment further." + +That was Pybus. I could easily believe it. Death was preferable to +Dunn's emetics. + +"Now, where is the bottle which contained the cause of all the +mischief?" + +The fatal bottle had been brought into my snuggery for safety. It was +handed to Dunn. He sniffed at it. + +"Hum!" He sniffed again. "Hum!" He seemed surprised. "Rather--rather +an odd smell for laudanum. Smell that!" + +He handed it to Goldsmith. + +"Very"--sniff!--"odd"--sniff!--"indeed"--sniff. "You are sure it is +the bottle?" + +There was not the slightest doubt about its being the bottle. It was +passed to Casey. He had a smell. + +"This isn't laudanum," he declared. + +"_Not_ laudanum!" Back it went to Dunn. + +"It doesn't smell like laudanum." + +"It isn't laudanum," said Goldsmith. + +"Not a trace of it," said Casey. + +NOT laudanum! I looked at Hughes. He looked at me. Then he staggered +towards that fatal bottle. + +"Let me--let me smell it." + +They let him. An extraordinary change came over his countenance as he +applied it to his nose. He staggered against the wall. + +"Good--good heavens!" + +What was it? Had he mistaken the poison? Was it strychnine, arsenic, +prussic acid? Would the treatment have to be gone through all over +again? For me, death rather than that. + +"I see it all," cried Hughes, "I see the mistake I made. After all, it +was not the bottle I supposed. I remember now that I placed that upon +the shelf above." + +"What is it?" I screamed. + +"It's--it's what I thought it was." + +"What you thought it was?" + +"It's 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +"'Aunt Jane's Jalap!'" + +The words came from the three medical gentlemen in a sort of chorus. +As for me, in spite of my piteous condition, I felt inclined to tear +my hair--and Hughes's! + +"I see, quite clearly, how the mistake arose. It was in this way. +There were two sample bottles of the mixture, only in one of them the +quantities were wrong. I placed it where I generally keep my +laudanum--so that I shouldn't mistake it. And when I found it missing, +of course I thought it was the laudanum which had gone." + +"Was it--was it poison?" + +"Not a bit of it, dear boy! The finest medicine in the world! Only in +that particular bottle there was a little too much jalap, and, taking +it on the top of such a dinner as you'd been eating, it a little upset +you--that was all." + +That was all? + +I thought of how those doctors had spent the night in practising on us +their dreadful arts, of their bills, and----that was all. + + + + + WILLYUM. + + +I had been seated in the next chair to hers for at least two minutes. +I felt that it was time to introduce myself. + +"It's a fine evening." + +She turned, she looked me up and down, then she looked straight in +front of her again. + +"I don't know you." + +But I was not to be crushed; there was something about the shape of +her that which suggested sociability. + +"That is my misfortune, rather than my fault." + +"I don't know nothing at all about that. I do not speak to strangers +as a rule. Sometimes there's never no knowing who they are." + +I felt that I was getting on--so I went on. + +"What do you think of the band?" + +"It's not loud enough for me. I like a band as I can hear." + +One suspected there might be occasions on which one could almost like +a band which one could not hear, but I did not say so. That broke the +ice, and the conversation drifting on to personal topics she explained +to me that she had a young man, who, so to speak, was "resting," owing +to what she called a "difference" which she had had with him. It +struck me that the tale, as she told it, contained elements of +tragedy. + +"Bakers," she observed, "is what I like. I have a sister who likes +butchers. To me there's always the smell of the meat about a butcher. +But it's as you're made. The worst of bakers is, they're such a +thirsty lot." + +"Possibly," I suggested, "that is in a measure owing to the nature of +their occupation." + +"That may be, but still there is a limit, and when a man is always +drinking, I think it's time for him to stop." + +I thought so too, but she went on: + +"My young man, his name is Willyum Evans, is a baker, and him and me +have been walking out together four years come next month. So I said +to him, 'Willyum, it's my day out, Tuesday. I shall expect you to take +me somewhere.' So he said, 'I will.' So I said, 'Hyde Park Corner, +half-past ten.' I was there as the clock was striking, and a fine +scuffle I had to get there too; and, if you'll believe me, he kept me +waiting two hours and three-quarters by the clock what's over the +gatekeeper's lodge--which is longer than any gentleman ought to keep a +lady waiting, I don't care who he is. So when he did come, I was a bit +huffy. + +"So I said, 'Well, Willyum, I hope I've put you to no hurry, and it's +a pity you should have troubled yourself to come at this time of day, +seeing as how I'm just off home.' So he said, and he wiped his lips, +and I could see he had had a moistener, if not more, 'It's like +this--I accidentally had an appointment, which was of the nature of +business, and which I couldn't help; and that's how it is I'm a little +behind!' 'I see,' I said, 'and it had something to do with pint pots, +I have no doubt.' So he sat down on a seat, which was wet, owing to +there being a drizzle on, and as it seemed silly for me to stand +whilst he was sitting, I sat down likewise. + +"So there we sat, neither of us saying nothing, till I began to feel a +little damp, because I had my thin things on, and it was beginning to +come down heavy. So I said, 'Well, Willyum, have you forgotten it's my +day out? I thought you was going to take me somewhere.' He said, 'So I +am.' So I said, 'Where are you going to take me to? It's getting on, +and I'm likewise getting wet'--which I was. So he said, 'What do you +say to Battersea Park?' So I said, 'I say nothing. And the idea, +Willyum, of your talking about taking me to Battersea Park, when, as +you very well know, it is raining cats and dogs, is not what I +expected'-because, as he could very well see, I only had a parasol, +which was red, and the rain was coming through, and the colour coming +out. But he didn't care for the rain no more than nothing; because, as +I tell you, he being a baker, to him it was a kind of a change. + +"You must know that Willyum is that near about money that I never saw +nothing like him; not that it's a bad thing in a man, though it may be +carried too far and I must say I do think Willyum do carry it too far. +He has never given me nothing which he didn't want me to pay for, not +even half a pint of beer. So I was not surprised when he said, 'The +fact is Matilda'--which is me--'I haven't got no money.' 'Well,' I +said, 'that's a nice thing, to promise to take me out, and then to +have no money.' So he said, 'If you was to pay the expenses for both +the two of us, it might make things more pleasant.' So I said, 'No, I +thank you,' because I had been had that way before, and more than +once. So I got up, and I said, 'Well, Willyum, I will now wish you a +good day; because I have been here since half-past ten, and it +is now past two, and my clothes is sticking to me, and I don't +care to stop no longer.' So he said, 'Now, Matilda, don't you get +disagreeable'--which I was beginning to feel it, and so I own. 'We +are both of us having a day out,' he said, 'and don't let no bad +tempers spoil our pleasure. I may have some money somewhere, +unbeknown to myself, so I will look and see; though I must say I do +think it hard that all the expenses should be borne by me!' + +"So he begins feeling in his pockets, and, presently, he gives a kind +of a start, and he brings out half-a-crown. 'There,' he said, 'is +half-a-crown; and if you put five shillings to it, it will make it +seven and six!' 'No!' I said, 'I shall put no five shillings of mine +to no half-crown of yours, and so the least said the soonest mended. +And, if you don't mind, I will go and get myself something to eat, +being hungry, and having, I am thankful to say, money of my own with +which to pay for it.' Then he gives another kind of start, and he +says, 'There! If I didn't make a pasty for you, last night, with my +own hands, and I've been sitting on it all the time,' which he had, +and anything like the mess he'd made of it you never saw. He held it +out to me. 'No,' I said. 'I thank you. I am particular about my +vittles, and I never eat no scraps, and, still less, things what have +been sat down upon.' 'Well,' he said, 'it's a pity it should be +wasted, I'll eat it myself.' Which he did, and me standing in the rain +there looking on. That did put my back up. 'Mr. Evans,' I said, short +and sharp, 'I wish you a good day. I am going.' So I goes. And he +comes running after me, picking at the bits of pasty what was stuck to +the paper; I must say this for Willyum, that it takes a deal to get +his temper up. So I pulls up. 'Now, let us understand each other. +Willyum, if you please, are you going to pay for something for me to +eat, or are you not?' He gives himself a kind of a shake, so as to get +his courage up, and he says, 'You shall have anything you like to eat, +at my expense, Matilda, so long as the cost does not exceed'--then he +hesitated--'ninepence.' Then he gave himself another kind of shake, +which I took as a sign that his courage was running down, 'for both +the two of us.' + +"That made me fairly wild it really did. To think that he had promised +to take me somewhere, and that I had been more than three hours there +in the rain, and got wet through, and my things all spoiled--which it +was a new dress I had on, what I had got special for the occasion, and +it had only come home from the dressmaker's the day before--and the +colour was coming out of my parasol--which was likewise new--and my +hair all coming out of curl, and me feeling as limp as a rag, +and starving hungry, and that he should want to put me off with +fourpence-halfpenny worth of food, drawn from him as if it were his +eye-tooth--it did make me feel really wild. + +"I never said a word to him, but I walks right out of the park. He +comes running after me, and he catches hold of my arm and he says, +'Now, Matilda, what did I say just now about letting no bad tempers +spoil our pleasure?' I said, 'I don't know what your idea of pleasure +is, but it isn't mine, and as I don't want to have no more to do with +you, Mr. Evans, perhaps you will be so kind as to let me go.' But he +holds on to me all the tighter, and he says, 'I tell you what, +Matilda, a idea has just come into my head 'My brother, as you have +heard me talk about, lives close by here, we will go and dine with +him. He being a married man, and with a comfortable home, he will be +glad to see us.' + +"Well, I didn't know what to do, not liking to have no quarrel with +him in the street, so off we starts for his brother's. He took me to a +mews what led out of Park Lane, and, as we was turning the corner, he +said, 'There's only this one thing about my brother, him and me has +had a little difference of opinion, and he is not of a forgiving +disposition.' So I said, 'Now, Willyum, what do you mean by that?' So +he said, 'No. 32, on the other side, is where he lives, and if you was +to go on and knock at the door, and ask for Mrs. Henry Evans, what is +my brother's wife, so to speak, it might smooth the way.' So I said, +'I do not understand you. Just now you was saying as how your brother +would be glad to see us. Are you now insinuating otherwise?' He +catches a glimpse of my eye, and he sees the kind of mood I was in, +and he plucks up, and he walks on, and he says, 'We will hope for the +best. Do not let us spoil our day's pleasure by no disagreeable +observations. There is never no knowing what might happen.' All of a +sudden he cries out, 'There is my brother! Now, Matilda, don't you let +him start hitting me.' And he jumps behind me, so as to get into the +shadow, as it were. So I says, 'Willyum, whatever is the matter now? +Your conduct do seem to me to be of the most extraordinary character.' + +"And there was a great big giant of a man on the other side of the +road, washing a carriage, with a bucket of water and I don't know +what, and as I moves on one side he catches sight of Willyum, and +anything like the way in which he started swearing you never heard. +'Hollo' he says, 'there's that putty-faced brother of mine. I've been +looking for you for some time. Here's something for you, Willyum.' And +before I had no idea of what he was going to do, he catches up the +bucket of water and he throws it over Willyum, and some of it went +over me. Oh, dear me, you never saw nothing like the mess that I was +in! And he grabs hold of Willyum by the collar, and he says, 'Hang me +if I don't wipe down the street with you!' And he shouts out, +''Enrietta, here's Brother Willyum. Haven't you got anything for him? +You bet your life he's come for something.' And a window opens over +the way, and a woman puts her head out, and she empties something out +of a pail over Willyum, and again some of it went over me. Oh dear! oh +dear! And that giant of a man he set about Willyum something cruel; +and all the mews was in a uproar, and I hurried away as hard as ever I +could, I was that frightened, and I got into a cab, just as I was--and +you should have seen how the cabman stared, and drove right away to a +sister of mine what lives at Camberwell, and I nearly cried my eyes +out, and I've never spoken to Willyum nor set eyes on him since then, +which it's a fortnight the day after to-morrow, and if you had been in +my place, and had been treated as I was, would you have let things go +on as usual, just as if there hadn't been no difference?" + +No, I said, I should not. I should have insisted on their going on in +quite a different kind of way. + +And so I told her. + + + + + HIS FIRST EXPERIMENT. + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE LADY. + +Last winter George Pownceby spent some weeks at the Empire Hotel. One +morning he was coming along the corridor leading from the smoking-room +when he met Mrs. Pratt. The lady stopped. + +"What is that you have in your hand?" she asked. + +Mr. Pownceby had in his hand a slim pamphlet, in a green paper cover. +He held it up. + +"I've got it!" + +"No?" + +"Yes!" + +"Oh, I say!" + +These remarks are not given here as examples of English conversation, +but with a view of presenting the reader with an accurate report of +what was spoken. There was a pause. Then the lady said, with great +solemnity:-- + +"You don't mean to say that it has actually come?" + +"I do!" Mr. Pownceby held out the slim pamphlet at arm's length in +front of him. He pointed at it with the index-finger of his other +hand: "'How to Hypnotise. A Practical Treatise. Hints to Amateurs. +With full instructions for marvellous experiments. Price 7d. post +free, eight stamps.'" + +"Oh, Mr. Pownceby, I am so sorry." + +"Sorry, Mrs. Pratt! Why, it was, at your instigation I plunged to the +extent of those eight stamps." + +"But you don't understand; my husband's coming; I have to meet him at +the station at 12.32." Mr. Pownceby stroked his moustache; there was +not much, but he was fond of stroking what there was of it. Mrs. +Pratt's husband had been rather a joke. People who winter in hotels +are, as a rule, quite prepared to be epigrammatic at the expense of a +pretty married woman whose husband is not in evidence. And Mrs. +Pratt's husband had not been in evidence--as yet. + +"I don't quite follow you." Mr. Pownceby spoke with a little malice. +"Whence your sorrow? Because your husband is coming by the 12.32?" + +"Don't you see, I want to be the first to be experimented on. I've +been waiting for that book two days, and now it just comes when I +can't stay. Don't' you think there's time? Come into my sitting-room." + +They went into her sitting-room. When they were there, the lady again +assailed the gentleman with the inquiry: + +"Don't you think there's time?" + +"It depends. I think you're going too fast. To commence with, I've +been looking through the thing in the smoking-room, and I believe it's +a swindle." + +"A swindle! Oh, don't say that." + +"It's nothing but a hash of old mesmeric tricks I've seen performed at +country fairs." + +"But doesn't it tell you how to do them?" + +"It pretends to. It gives some ridiculous directions--but I don't +believe they can be done that way." + +"Try!--do!--on me!" + +Mr. Pownceby laughed. Mrs. Pratt amused him; and not for the first +time either. + +"To begin with, we have to sit face to face and stare at each other +for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour." + +"Come along! Let's begin." + +The lady brought forward a couple of chairs and they sat down on them, +face to face; and very close together. Opening the pamphlet, Mr. +Pownceby searched for further instructions. + +"You're not staring at me," remarked the lady. + +"Half a minute; I'm looking for what comes next." + +"What does it say? Read it aloud." + +"After I've stared at you long enough----It doesn't sound civil, does +it?" + +"Never mind the civility; go on!" + +"'After I've stared at you long enough, you begin to feel queer. +Then'"--Mr. Pownceby read from the pamphlet, "'Place the thumb of your +left hand on the subject's forehead'--you're the subject--'just above +the nose, and level with the eyebrows.'" Mrs. Pratt placed her pretty +little hand above her pretty little nose to point out the exact spot +denoted. Mr. Pownceby read on. "'This is the locality of the +Phrenological Organ of Individuality.'" + +"Is it?" said Mrs. Pratt in an awe-struck whisper. The reader +continued: + +"'Rest the ends of your fingers on the top of the subject's head. At +the same time take hold of the left hand with your right hand, applying +the inside part of your thumb to the middle of the palm of the hand.' +I'm punctuating this," interpolated Mr. Pownceby, "as I go on. The man +who printed it seems to have had a fount of type containing no other +stops but commas. 'The object of this is for the operator to get in +contact with two very important nerves that pass in the palm of the +hand which are called Ulnar and Median nerves'--I don't know if that's +true, or what it means, but it says so here--'with your left hand, +still keeping the thumb on the forehead between the eyes, and the +fingers resting on the subject's head, which must be inclined slightly +back. Say, "Look into my eyes." After gazing in his eyes intently for +a few seconds, say in a loud, clear, firm tone of voice, "Close your +eyes quite tight." Let him remain a few seconds like this,'--and the +trick is done. There's a lot more nonsense to follow, but when +you've remained for a few seconds like that you're supposed to be +mesmerised, or hypnotised, or whatever they call the thing." + +"Really! It sounds quite simple." + +"It does--simple folly." + +"Hush! You shouldn't speak like that. Perhaps, if you don't believe, +you mayn't succeed." + +"It says something to that effect in these precious pages." + +"Then try to believe. Let us begin." + +They began. The lady was preternaturally solemn, but the gentleman was +tortured by a desire to smile. He felt that the lady might resent his +laughter. Under these circumstances the ten minutes' stare was trying. +Mrs. Pratt had sweet blue eyes, which were large and round--the sort +of eyes which the average man would not object to stare at for ten +minutes or even longer. As the appointed space of time drew to a +conclusion even Mr. Pownceby became reconciled to his lot. He placed +his left thumb on the lady's forehead above her nose. + +"Is that level with my eyebrows?" she inquired. He reproved her. + +"I don't think you ought to speak. You destroy the connection." + +Mrs. Pratt was dumb. Mr. Pownceby proceeded in accordance with the +directions contained in the pamphlet. He rested the tips of his +fingers on the top of the lady's head. He took hold of her left hand +with his right. He applied the "inside part" of his thumb to the +centre of her palm. He said to her: + +"Look into my eyes." + +She looked into his eyes, her head inclined a little backwards. This +part of the proceedings was, so far as the gentleman was concerned, on +the whole agreeable. He gazed fixedly into her pretty eyes. Then he +added, in a "loud, clear, firm tone of voice": + +"Close your eyes quite tight." + +She closed her eyes. There was a pause for a few seconds. Remembering +the instructions contained in the pamphlet, he proceeded another step: + +"You cannot open your eyes," he said. "Your eyes are fast, quite +fast." + +The pamphlet had it, "Should the subject be very sensitive he will be +unable to open them." Apparently the subject, though in this case +feminine, was very sensitive. At least Mrs. Pratt kept her eyes shut +fast. Mr. Pownceby was a little startled. He removed his touch from +her brow and released her hand. + +"Mrs. Pratt, are you hypnotised already?" Mrs. Pratt was silent. "Mrs. +Pratt, you don't mean you're really hypnotised?" Still silence. He +leant forward and stared at the lady, not in the same way he had done +before, but quite as fixedly. "By Jove! I believe she is!" He got up +from the chair. He glanced at the pamphlet. He wanted to know how to +reverse the process--how to bring the lady to again. + +"This is a pretty state of things! The thing is not such a swindle as +I thought it was. But it's all nonsense. She can't be magnetised, or +mesmerised, or hypnotised, or whatever it is. If she is, the thing's +as easy as winking. If I'd only known it I'd have been mesmerising +people since the days of childhood. Mrs. Pratt!" + +But Mrs. Pratt was silent. If she was not "hypnotised," then she was +in some condition which was equally curious. She sat back in her +chair, with her face turned up to the ceiling, in a state of the most +complete quiescence. Something in her appearance struck Mr. Pownceby +as even unpleasantly odd. He recommenced searching down the page of +the green covered pamphlet for the reversal process. It was +beautifully simple. + +"In order to release him," the pamphlet said--throughout the writer +had taken it for granted that the "subject" would be masculine--"blow +a sharp, cold wind from your mouth on his eyes, and say with +authority, 'Now you can open them.' Repeat if necessary. It is +important to recollect that a cold wind blown from the operator +destroys the effect and demagnetises." + +One could not but suspect that some subjects might not like this. But +its simplicity was charming. If that was all that was necessary, then, +so far as Mr. Pownceby was concerned, the whole science of hypnotism +was already mastered. + +He approached Mrs. Pratt. He bent over her, devoutly hoping that no +one might enter the room as he was engaged in doing so. Quite a shock +went through him as he advanced his face towards hers, the expression +of her countenance was so very much like death. He blew a "cold wind" +on her eyes--those pretty blue eyes, whose cerulean hue he had veiled. + +"Now you can open them." + +The words were spoken with as much "authority" as he could muster in +the then agitated state of his mind; but Mrs. Pratt did not open them. +The pamphlet said, "Repeat if necessary." Mr. Pownceby repeated. He +blew, and he blew. He blew the "cold wind" all out of him, so that the +beads of perspiration stood upon his brow, but still the "subject" +gave no signs. + +"Mrs. Pratt! Mrs. Pratt! I say, Mrs. Pratt, for heaven's sake do look +at me!" + +All signs of "authority" had gone from him now. But wind and voice +alike were ineffectual. Apparently it was easier to hypnotise than to +do the other thing. In his trouble Mr. Pownceby told himself that the +writer of that pamphlet was--well, untrustworthy. Or else something +had gone wrong in the working. But what could it be? He looked at his +watch. + +"Half-past twelve! I shall have her husband here directly. I imagine +that he will make some observations if he finds his wife like this." + +Such a contingency was only to be expected. When a man, after long +absence from his wife, returns to find a stranger experimenting on +her, and she in a "hypnotic" condition, from which the stranger cannot +release her, his first feelings towards that stranger are not, in +civilised countries, invariably friendly. Mr. Pownceby, when he had +blown the "cold wind" all out of him, arrived at a resolution. + +"I will tell Doris. I must get her to help me. It is quite certain +that, whatever happens, I mustn't let that man come and find me alone +with his wife." + +It was only the dread of such a catastrophe that brought him to the +"sticking-point" of his resolution. Miss Haseltine--christened +Doris--was Mr. Pownceby's betrothed. She also was wintering in the +hotel with her mamma. Mr. Pownceby was aware, even painfully aware, +that the young lady's feelings towards Mrs. Pratt were not of the +warmest possible kind. He was equally conscious that her impression +was that his feelings were, if anything, _too_ warm. He would rather +anything had happened, almost, than that he should have been reduced +to the necessity of acquainting Miss Haseltine with the situation he +was in. But it was certainly impossible for him to allow the returning +husband to come in and find him there, alone with his wife, and she +apparently in a chronic hypnotic condition. + +So he went in search of the young lady. Of course he found her where +he would have least wished to find her--in the drawing-room with the +ladies. He had to call her out, and at first she wouldn't come. + +But as it would have been impossible for him to tell his tale in the +presence of a dozen sharp-eared and sharp-tongued women, he protested +that there was something of the utmost importance which he must say to +her alone. "Well, what is it?" she asked, directly he had got her +outside the door. He perceived that she was not in one of her +sentimental moods. Perhaps something in his manner had roused her +suspicions. + +"Mrs. Pratt has fainted." + +"Indeed? What has that to do with me? Let her faint. She looks to me +as though she were the sort of person who could faint at pleasure." + +"Doris, for goodness' sake hear me out; I want your help. It's through +me she's fainted." + +"Pray what do you mean?" + +"It's--it's this confounded thing." Mr. Pownceby held out the slim, +green-covered pamphlet. "You know I told you I'd written for that +pamphlet, 'How to Hypnotise.' Well, the thing came this morning; here +it is! I've been experimenting on her, and I've not only hypnotised +her, but, by George, I can't get her round again." + +"A pretty state of things, upon my word." + +"Don't pitch into me now, Doris, don't. There she is in her +sitting-room in a fit or something; I don't know what's the matter +with her; and her husband's coming this morning." + +"He is coming at last, is he?" + +"I expect him every moment; he's due at 12.32." + +"She seems to have told you all about it." + +"She told me so much, at any rate. I know I've been an ass, I can see +that now, but lend me a hand first, and let me have it afterwards. I +was obliged to come to you. I couldn't let him find me alone with her +in such a state as that. Come and see what you can do for her, there's +a darling, do! After all, it's for me, you know, not her." + +Miss Haseltine yielded so far as to advance with him along the +corridor. There was a fresh arrival when they reached the hall--a +gentleman. He was speaking to the young lady, who acted as +book-keeper, through the office window. + +"My name is Pratt--Gilead J. Pratt. I believe my wife is staying +here." + +Mr. Pownceby clutched Miss Haseltine's arm. + +"It's he!" he whispered. + +"There is a Mrs. Pratt staying here," replied the book-keeper. "Her +sitting-room is No. 13." + +The new arrival was about to be ushered into No. 13, when Mr. Pownceby +interposed. He hurried across the hall and touched him on the +shoulder. "Excuse me, may I speak to you? My name is Pownceby." + +The new arrival turned and faced him. As he did so Mr. Pownceby +perceived, a little dimly perhaps, what sort of a man he was. He was +of medium height, slightly built, about forty years of age, very dark, +with a clean-shaven face and a pair of keen black eyes, which looked +at Mr. Pownceby as though they meant to pierce him. + +"Delighted to hear you speak, or any man, even if his name's not +Pownceby." + +Directly the words were spoken Mr. Pownceby became conscious that the +new arrival was an American. + +"I believe you are Mr. Pratt--Mrs. Pratt's husband." + +"I am--worse luck." + +"Eh--she intended to meet you at 12.32." + +"She did, did she? That's her all through. As she used to be. She +never did get farther than intentions. It is about two years since I +saw her, and I don't see her now. Have you a message to deliver? Does +she desire that I should go away for another two years? If so, I'm +willing." + +As this was said out loud, without the slightest attempt at +concealment, so that every word was audible, not only to Mr. Pownceby, +to whom the remarks were addressed, but also to Miss Haseltine, and +the book-keeper, and the porter, and the boots, and the waiter, and +the chambermaid, and any other straggler who might happen to be within +fifty yards or so, it would seem that in her husband Mrs. Pratt +possessed a man of character. But Mr. Pownceby was not fond of such +publicity. + +"Can I say a word to you alone?" + +"No, sir, you cannot. If you have a message from my wife, say it. If +not, lead on to No. 13." + +"The fact is, Mr. Pratt, eh--Mrs. Pratt is not--eh--quite well." + +"Is that so? I'm glad to hear it. It's a comfort to know that only +sickness would keep her from her husband; though it wouldn't need much +of that to keep her from a chance of seeing me." + +"The fact is, I wish, Mr. Pratt, you would let me speak to you alone." + +"No, sir, I will not. If she's dead, don't spare my feelings. If she +has left me for a better man, don't spare my feelings either." + +"The fact is, she's in a hypnotic state." + +"In a what state?" + +"A hypnotic state." + +"What state's that?" + +"'Hypnotic' 's a new word--it's been brought in lately--it means +'mesmeric.'" + +Mr. Pratt paused before replying. He looked Mr. Pownceby up and down. + +"Look here, Mr. ---- I think you mentioned Pownceby; I don't know who +you are, but you seem a friendly kind of man. Take my advice and get +something off your chest. I see you've got it on." + +Mr. Pownceby smiled, rather faintly. He did not lack presence of mind, +as a rule, though just then the situation was as much as he could +manage. He made a dash at it. + +"I wish you would give me half a minute alone; but, since you will +not, I must try to tell my story where we are. You see this book?" Mr. +Pownceby held up the fatal treatise. "It contains instructions for the +performance of mesmeric experiments. Mrs. Pratt insisted on my +performing one of them on her. I succeeded in producing the mesmeric +state, but I--I couldn't get her out of it." + +There was a curious twinkle in Mr. Pratt's eyes. + +"I don't catch on," he said. + +"I say that I hypnotised her--that is, produced the mesmeric state, +but that I--I couldn't get her out of it." + +"Well?" + +"She's in it now." + +"In what?" + +"The mesmeric state." + +"Does she seem to like it?" + +"That is more than I can say. I had just induced Miss Haseltine to +come to my assistance when we were so fortunate as to encounter you." + +"Then I am to understand that when she ought to have been at the depôt +looking out for me, she was engaged in looking out for the mesmeric +state along with you; is that so?" + +"I'm afraid it is." + +"Where is she?" + +"In her sitting-room, No. 13." + +"Lead on to No. 13." + +The procession started. The waiter went first, Mr. Pratt next, and +after him Miss Haseltine and Mr. Pownceby. Miss Haseltine's demeanour +was severe. Either her severity or something else seemed to weigh upon +her lover, who did not appear to be altogether at his ease. They +reached No. 13. The waiter knocked. There was no reply. He knocked +again; still no reply. Mr. Pratt turned towards Mr. Pownceby. + +"I guess she's still in that state of yours. I think we'll all go in." +He turned the handle of the door and entered. "I guess she's quitted." + +The room was empty. + + + CHAPTER II. + + AND THE GENTLEMAN. + +It was undoubtedly the case, unless they were to suppose that she had +hidden under the sofa, or behind the curtains. Mr. Pownceby looked +about him, conscious of a slight feeling of bewilderment. There were +the two chairs, exactly as he left them, but the one which Mrs. Pratt +had occupied was vacant. + +"It's very odd," he murmured. + +"How?" + +"She was certainly unconscious when I left her." + +"Perhaps the knowledge that she was failing in her duty as a wife came +to her in that mesmeric state; came to her so strongly that she +started off to the depôt, just then and there, to look for me. If +she's at the depôt now, in the state you say she was, I guess she'll +soon be popular." + +"Don't you think I'd better go and look for her?" + +"I do not. If she's gone, she's gone, and if she comes back again she +comes, but I'm not the man to put my friends out for a trifle. My +friend, if you will allow me to call you so, give me your hand." +Before Mr. Pownceby was quite aware of it, Mr. Pratt had possession of +his hand. "I thank you. You have placed me under an obligation to you +this day. But it may be that I shall cry you evens yet. Let's liquor. +Perhaps the young lady will pool in?" Miss Haseltine, however, making +some inaudible remark having reference to her mamma, vanished out of +sight. Mr. Pratt was not at all abashed. He addressed the waiters. +"Champagne--a large bottle--and a bucket of ice." + +Mr. Pownceby protested. + +"You are very kind, but I don't drink at this hour of the day, and +only so----" + +Mr. Pratt cut him short. + +"Fetch the drink." The waiter fled. "If, after performing those +pleasing experiments on the wife, you refuse to drink with the +husband, I shall take it quite unkindly." + +"But don't you think some inquiries ought to be made for Mrs. Pratt?" + +"I do not. What I do think is that I ought to cultivate your +friendship now that I have the chance. A man who knows the wife so +well should know something of the husband too." + +The drink came. Mr. Pratt saw two bumpers filled. Mr. Pownceby, who +was an abstemious man, had a difficulty in escaping being compelled to +drain his draught. + +"Bring another bottle when I ring," said Mr. Pratt as the waiter left +the room. + +The two gentlemen were left alone. Mr. Pownceby still did not feel +quite easy in his mind. Champagne generally disagreed with him at any +time, always in the morning. He had some glimmerings of an idea that, +if he refused to drink, Mr. Pratt would seek in his refusal an +occasion to quarrel. He had heard and read of some curious customs in +the States; how, for instance, to refuse, under certain circumstances, +to drink with a citizen of the Great Republic was to place on him an +insult which could only be wiped out by blood--blood in which +six-shooters played a part. He half suspected that Mr. Pratt was a +citizen like that. Certainly he was unlike any American he had seen. +His indifference to his wife's fate was almost brutal. Mr. Pownceby +felt this, but he also felt that it was impossible for him to insist +on making inquiries if the husband declined to sanction them. Nor was +his uneasiness lessened by Mr. Pratt's appearance of entire ease. That +gentleman leaned back in his chair--the one his wife had occupied--his +summer coat unbuttoned, his hat tilted on to the back of his head. + +"So you hypnotised my wife?" Mr. Pownceby smiled faintly; the subject +was beginning to be unpleasant. "Hypnotise me." + +Mr. Pownceby started. + +"I suppose you're joking?" + +"Why? My wife had an inquiring mind, why shouldn't I have too? Perhaps +you prefer trying those sort of experiments on wives rather than on +their husbands." + +Mr. Pownceby was not quite sure if this remark was intended +disagreeably. It made him wince. + +"Perhaps you think I have been trying these experiments all my life. +Until this pamphlet was brought by this morning's post I knew no more +about hypnotism than you do. My first experiment was tried, at her own +urgent request, upon your wife." + +"I take after her; I'm fond of experiments too. That book must be a +treasure. Oblige me with a glance at it." + +Mr. Pownceby handed it to him. Mr. Pratt began reading at the end. + +"There's a nice little bit as a finish." Mr. Pratt read it aloud: "'In +conclusion, I would earnestly ask all my readers to remember that this +valuable science should not be abused, especially in the case of +females, and that, in all cases when making experiments, they should +have friends or other persons present.' That's sound advice. Did you +notice it?" + +"I--I think it caught my eye!" + +Mr. Pownceby seemed a little fidgety. Mr. Pratt turned to the +beginning. + +"I see it mentions that the subject is to stare at the operator, and +the operator is to stare at the subject, for about ten minutes or a +quarter of an hour. Did you work the thing like that?" + +"I followed, to the best of my ability, the instructions contained in +the pamphlet." + +"Did you stare at my wife?" + +"It sounds uncivil, but I'm afraid I did." + +"For ten minutes or a quarter of an hour?" + +"About that." + +"And did my wife stare at you?" + +Mr. Pownceby laughed. He was conscious that Mr. Pratt's line of +examination was tending to place him in a false position. + +"I perceive you've marked this work with your pencil where it says, +'Place the thumb of your left hand on the subject's forehead, just +above the nose, and level with the eyebrows.' Did you place the thumb +of your left hand on my wife's forehead just above the nose, level +with the eyebrows?" + +"Really, Mr. Pratt, I can only say that, with the view of making a +little experiment, I followed, to the best of my ability, the +instructions generally." + +"You seem to have seen the thing well through. It says that you've +next to rest the ends of your fingers on the top of the subject's +head. Did you rest the ends of your fingers on the top of my wife's +head?" + +"You may take it for granted that I did whatever the book directs." + +"May I? That's kind. You increase my sense of obligation. Then you're +to say to the subject, 'Look into my eyes.' Did you ask my wife to +look into your eyes?" + +"I did--certainly." + +"Certainly. Of course. You're thorough--like the book. The man who put +this book together had seen it done before. Then you're to say, 'Close +your eyes quite tight.' Did you tell my wife to close her eyes quite +tight?" + +"I did. It was at that point that she went off into the hypnotic +state." + +"Was it now? This is really interesting. And what did you do next?" + +"I tried to bring her to." + +"Now, hark at that! And after all the trouble you had taken to send +her off. And did she come?" + +"I am sorry to say, as I have already explained to you, that my +efforts were not attended with success." + +"That was mean of her--real mean. And I suppose that, when you were +performing these little experiments of yours upon my wife, this room +was filled with a large assemblage?" + +"We were alone together. I wish, now, it had been otherwise." + +"Why?" + +"After the questions you have already put to me, that needs no +answer." + +"Think not? Well, let me fill up your glass for you, Mr. Pownceby." + +"I am obliged to you, but must beg you to excuse me." + +"Is that so? You don't show yourself so friendly towards me as towards +my wife. Perhaps, Mr. Pownceby, you're not aware that for the last two +years I've been trotting round the world picking up the pieces to +throw into her lap. She's English, and I'm American. She's not at all +times fond of me, and we sometimes differ; but I love her, in my way. +So you may think that when the first thing I hear, when I come to +catch a sight of her after a two years' parting, is this little tale +of yours, I find it a pleasing tale entirely. I find it that, I do +assure you. Now, the only thing I should like you to do would be to +play those little tricks on me which you played upon my wife. I should +like to be hypnotised, uncommonly." + +"If I were to attempt to do so I don't think that I should succeed. +But, in any case, after my experience of this morning, it will be a +long time before I make any more experiments on any one." + +"Is that so? Think it over, Mr. Pownceby, while I lock this door and +slip the key into my pocket." + +Mr. Pratt locked the door and "slipped," as he called it, the key into +his pocket. + +"Mr. Pratt, I insist upon your unlocking that door." + +"Mr. Pownceby, I was raised out West, and I was raised fighting, and I +learnt to smell a fight when it was coming, and there's as big a fight +now coming as ever I yet smelt." + +"Why do you use this language, sir, to me?" + +"It's my ignorance, may be. But in those parts where I was raised, +when one man played upon another man's wife the tricks you've played +on mine, it generally ended up in fighting. You bet it's going to end +in fighting now." Mr. Pownceby made a movement towards the bell. Mr. +Pratt sprang in front of him. "You can ring the bell, sir, afterwards; +but first you'll listen to me. They'll have to break the door down to +get into this room, and that'll be a scandal; and while they're +breaking it down I'll be whipping you. You'd better, take it fighting. +I've got a shooter." Putting his hand to his pistol-pocket, Mr. Pratt +flashed the barrel of a revolver in Mr. Pownceby's face. "But I know +your English notions, and I don't want to use it in a little affair +like this. Let's strip to the waist, and clear the furniture out of +the middle of the room, and have a little prize-fight all to +ourselves." + +"Do you take me for a madman, Mr. Pratt? If you don't immediately +unlock the door I shall summon assistance, and if you use any violence +towards me, I shall give you into the charge of the police." + +"Is that your line? That's mine!" + +Dropping the hand which held the revolver, Mr. Pratt delivered with +his left. Delivered so neatly, in the centre of Mr. Pownceby's +forehead, that that gentleman was hurled backwards on to the floor. + +"If you like you can take it lying down, and you can summon assistance +while you are taking it; but you'll take it somehow--that you bet." + +Mr. Pownceby, lying on the floor, looked up at Mr. Pratt standing over +him. + +"Let me get up." He got up. The blow had cut the skin, and the blood +was trickling through. With his handkerchief he staunched the flow. +"In America, Mr. Pratt, they may think the sort of thing that you +propose heroic. In England they consider a row of any sort +ridiculous." + +"Consider! It isn't what they consider I'm thinking of, it's how +you're going to take it." + +Mr. Pownceby fixed his glance on Mr. Pratt's keen black eyes. He +smiled. + +"Take it? I'll take it fighting, like the converter of Colonel Quagg!" + +"I thought you would. I smelt it coming on." + +As he spoke Mr. Pratt placed his revolver on the mantelshelf. Mr. +Pownceby was still smiling. + +"Do you propose to settle it now?" + +"I do. I propose to settle it before you leave this room." + +"In that case don't you think we'd better pull the blind down, or +people walking on the terrace will be able to see the fun? If we are +going to make asses of ourselves, we may as well do it, as far as +possible, in private." + +Mr. Pratt pulled the blind down. The sun was shining outside. The room +was still quite light. + +"I guess," said Mr. Pratt, "we had better clear the furniture out of +the middle of the room." + +Mr. Pownceby assisted him in doing so, what little there was to clear. +The bottle of champagne and the two glasses they placed with the +revolver on the mantelshelf. They then proceeded to strip. As they +were doing so Mr. Pownceby asked a question. + +"How shall we manage about time?" + +"We will call time when we feel we want it. You understand, this is +not only a fight; it's a whipping. I'm whipping you." + +Mr. Pownceby smiled as he answered: "I understand exactly." + +When they were in position there was not much, so far as appearance +went, for a lover of the "fancy" to choose between the two. Now that +they were peeled, both seemed thoroughly fit--as fit almost as though +they had been trained. Mr. Pownceby was fair, Mr. Pratt was dark; that +was about the only difference. Both would have turned the scale at +something near eleven stone, and both measured something under five +foot eight. Nor did it take long to show that both could use their +hands. There was none of that waiting for each other which so often +tries the patience of the spectators round a ring. Mr. Pratt came at +once to business; with, perhaps, rather too much self-confidence. He +was apparently under the impression that it was going to be a case of +whipping his opponent from the first; which was the reason, doubtless, +that Mr. Pownceby succeeded in returning the compliment which had been +paid himself, and landing Mr. Pratt upon his back. That gentleman +seemed surprised. + +"I say," he asked, lying where he had fallen, "what's this?" + +Mr. Pownceby replied politely: "I hope I haven't hurt you?" + +"You haven't hurt me--much. You've surprised me--more. I reckon we'll +continue." + +The proceedings recommenced. But this time Mr. Pratt had changed his +tactics. Instead of coming up with the apparent intention of wiping +his opponent off the face of the earth with a single blow, he played +his game more cautiously. He fenced; but, becoming tired of this, and +feeling possibly that the whipping was not proceeding fast enough, he +led off with his right, and followed on with his left, and Mr. +Pownceby countered and returned--returned with such effect that for +half a minute Mr. Pratt was dancing about while Mr. Pownceby was +performing on him much in the fashion which the regimental drummer +beats to quarters on his drum. + +"Time!" he cried. + +The round was over. A pause ensued, during which his feelings were +plainly too deep for words. + +"Have you ever had a whipping before?" he asked. + +Mr. Pownceby smiled; it was evident that his smile was a smile of +enjoyment at last. + +"One or two," he said. + +"Like this?" + +"Not exactly. In England we don't, as a rule, indulge in this form of +amusement in the private sitting-room of an hotel." + +"Don't you? Well, it's as well. I smelt that a big fight was coming, +and it's come. I'm going to enjoy myself entirely. You've closed up +one of my eyes, I should say, from the feel of it, for ever. You've +broken the bridge of my nose; what there'll be to pay for the blood +upon the carpet--there's a quart gone from me already--is more than I +quite care to think. Before I've finished whipping you I reckon I'll +be slain." + +"Come, Mr. Pratt, don't you think this foolish business had better +cease? If you require an apology I am willing to tender one in any +form you like. What passed between your wife and myself was simply in +the nature of a little scientific experiment." + +"It'll be in the nature of a little scientific experiment what's going +to pass between us too. I'm fond of experiments as well as you. Time!" + +Mr. Pratt fell into position. He struck at Mr. Pownceby. Mr. Pownceby +laughed as he warded off the blow. + +"Come, Mr. Pratt, why will you persist in this absurdity?" + +"I'm going to whip you, sir." + +"In that case you really must excuse me for putting on the steam. If a +waiter or someone were to come and find me engaged like this, I should +never hear the last of it as long as I lived. Here goes!" + +It went. He had been warding off Mr. Pratt's blows while he was +speaking. When he ceased the battle really joined. Mr. Pratt's guards +were nowhere. In spite of all that he could do to save himself, his +antagonist proceeded to administer severe punishment in thoroughly +workmanlike style. The blows rang out upon his head and body. Mr. +Pownceby wound up with one under the chin which lifted him off his +feet and laid him on his back. He lay where he fell. The blow had +knocked him senseless. Mr. Pownceby proceeded to revive him with the +remains of the champagne. + +"This," he murmured, opening his eyes and looking up, "is nice." + +Mr. Pownceby propped him up upon a chair. + +"You compelled me to rush the thing; but I hope I haven't hurt you +much." + +"Well," said Mr. Pratt, "you haven't killed me--quite. I never enjoyed +whipping a man so much before. Say, stranger, is this the first little +fight you've had?" + +"I've sparred for the amateur championship, and won it twice. I'm +going in for it again next week." + +"You might have mentioned that before the game began." + +"If the inherent absurdity of your proposal could not deter you, I +doubt if any information I might have imparted would have been of much +avail." + +"There's something in that. Time!" + +Mr. Pratt rose from his chair. He stood on his feet--rather +doubtfully. + +"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Pownceby. + +"I'm going on whipping you." + +"Look here, Mr. Pratt, each time you stand up I shall simply knock you +down again. Of course you can go on with that sort of thing as long as +you like." + +"That is so; I can. And that's a sort of thing of which one doesn't +care to get more than enough." + +Mr. Pratt rested his hand on the back of a chair. It seemed as though, +without some support of that kind, he could not stand. Mr. Pownceby +advanced to him. + +"Mr. Pratt, give me your hand." + +Mr. Pratt gave it to him, it would seem, mechanically. The two men +stood looking at each other in silence--the one almost without a +scratch, the other a battered ruin. While they were so engaged the +latch of the French window was opened from without, the blind was +thrust aside, and a lady entered. It was Mrs. Pratt. When she saw what +met her eyes she stared, which, as a breach of good manners, was, +under the circumstances, excusable. + +"Mr. Pownceby! Gilead! What have you been doing?" + +"I've been whipping him," said Mr. Pratt. "I must be off my ordinary, +for I never whipped a man that way before." + +Mr. Pownceby slipped on his jacket. He helped Mr. Pratt to put on his. + +"It's my fault, Mrs. Pratt. When I told your husband of our little +experiment and that I found myself unable to release you from the +hypnotic state which I had induced he thought I must have done you a +serious injury, and that he naturally resented." + +Mrs. Pratt looked at Mr. Pownceby. There was a twinkle of intelligence +in her sweet blue eyes. + +"I see. Miss Haseltine is looking for you. You'll find her in the +drawing-room." + +"Thank you," said Mr. Pownceby. "I--I'll go and look for her." + +As he sneaked out of the room, with his shirt and waistcoat under his +arm, devoutly hoping that no one might encounter him on his journey to +his own apartment, he heard Mrs. Pratt make this remark to her +husband--the first after two years absence: + +"So, Gilead, you've been at it again." + +He heard Mr. Pratt reply: + +"I have. I was raised fighting, and I reckon that fighting I shall +die. If I have to whip that Pownceby again it is a certainty I shall." + + + + + AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS. + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE PROMISE. + +"An old-fashioned Christmas.--A lively family will accept a gentleman +as paying guest to join them in spending an old-fashioned Christmas in +the heart of the country." + +That was the advertisement. It had its points. I was not sure what, in +this case, an old-fashioned Christmas might happen to mean. I imagine +there were several kinds of "old-fashioned" Christmases; but it could +hardly be worse than a chop in my chambers, or--horror of horrors!--at +the club; or my cousin Lucy's notion of what she calls the "festive +season." Festive? Yes! She and her husband, who suffers from +melancholia, and all the other complaints which flesh is heir to, and +I, dragging through what I call a patent-medicine dinner, and talking +of everybody who is dead and gone, or else going, and of nothing else. + +So I wrote to the advertiser. The reply was written in a sprawling +feminine hand. It was a little vague. It appeared that the terms would +be five guineas; but there was no mention of the length of time which +that fee would cover. I might arrive, it seemed, on Christmas Eve, but +there was no hint as to when I was to go, if ever. The whole thing was +a trifle odd. There was nothing said about the sort of accommodation +which would be provided, nothing about the kind of establishment which +was maintained, or the table which was kept. No references were +offered or asked for. It was merely stated that "we're a very lively +family, and that if you're lively yourself you'll get on uncommonly +well." The letter was signed "Madge Wilson." + +Now it is a remarkable thing that I have always had an extraordinary +predilection for the name Madge. I do not know why. I have never known +a Madge. And yet, from my boyhood upward, I have desired to meet one. +Here was an opportunity offered. She was apparently the careworn +mother of a "lively family." Under such circumstances she was hardly +likely to be "lively" herself, but her name was Madge, and it was the +accident of her Christian name which decided me to go. + +I had no illusions. No doubt the five guineas were badly wanted; even +a "lively family" would be hardly likely to advertise for a perfect +stranger to spend Christmas with them if they were not. I did not +expect a princely entertainment. Still I felt that it could hardly be +worse than a chop or cousin Lucy; the subjects of her conversation I +never cared about when they were alive, and I certainly do not want to +talk about them now they are dead. As for the "pills" and "drops" with +which her husband doses himself between the courses, it makes me ill +even to think of them. + +On Christmas Eve the weather was abominable. All night it had been +blowing and raining. In the morning it began to freeze. By the time +the streets were like so many skating rinks it commenced to snow. And +it kept on snowing; that turned out to be quite a record in the way of +snow-storms. Hardly the sort of weather to start for an unknown +destination "in the heart of the country." But, at the last moment, I +did not like to back out. I said I would go, and I meant to go. + +I had been idiot enough to load myself with a lot of Christmas +presents, without the faintest notion why. I had not given a Christmas +present for years--there had been no one to give them to. Lucy cannot +bear such trifling, and her husband's only notion of a present at any +time was a gallon jar of somebody's Stomach Stirrer. I am no dealer in +poisons. + +I knew nothing of the people I was going to. The youngest member of +the family might be twenty, or the oldest ten. No doubt the things I +had bought would be laughed at, probably I should never venture to +offer them. Still, if you have not tried your hand at that kind of +thing for ever so long, the mere act of purchasing is a pleasure. That +is a fact. + +I had never enjoyed "shopping" so much since I was a boy. I felt quite +lively myself as I mingled with the Christmas crowd, looking for +things which might not turn out to be absolutely preposterous. I even +bought something for Madge--I mean Mrs. Wilson. Of course, I knew that +I had no right to do anything of the kind, and was aware that the +chances were a hundred to one against my ever presuming to hint at its +existence. I was actually ass enough to buy something for her +husband--two things, indeed; alternatives, as it were--a box of +cigars, if he turned out to be a smoker, and a case of whiskey if he +didn't. I hoped to goodness that he would not prove to be a +hypochondriac, like Lucy's husband. I would not give him pills. What +the "lively family" would think of a perfect stranger arriving +burdened with rubbish, as if he had known them all their lives, I did +not dare to think. No doubt they would set him down as a lunatic right +away. + +It was a horrible journey. The trains were late, and, of course, +overcrowded; there was enough luggage in our compartment to have +filled it, and still there was one more passenger than there ought to +have been; an ill-conditioned old fellow who wanted my hat-box put +into the van because it happened to tumble off the rack on to his +head. I pointed out to him that the rack was specially constructed for +light luggage, that a hat-box was light luggage, and that if the train +jolted, he ought to blame the company, not me. He was impervious to +reason. His wrangling and jangling so upset me, that I went past +the station at which I ought to have changed. Then I had to wait +three-quarters of an hour for a train to take me back again, only to +find that I had missed the one I intended to catch. So I had to cool +my heels for two hours and a half in a wretched cowshed amidst a +bitter, whirling snowstorm. It is some satisfaction for me to be able +to reflect that I made it warm for the officials, however cold I might +have been myself. + +When the train did start, some forty minutes after scheduled time, it +jolted along in a laborious fashion at the rate of about six miles an +hour, stopping at every roadside hovel. I counted seven in a distance, +I am convinced, of less than twenty miles. When at last I reached +Crofton, my journey's end, it turned out that the station staff +consisted of a half-witted individual, who was stationmaster, porter, +and clerk combined, and a hulking lad who did whatever else there was +to do. No one had come to meet me, the village was "about half a +mile," and Hangar Dene, the house for which my steps were bent, "about +four miles by the road"--how far it was across ploughed fields my +informant did not mention. + +There was a trap at the "Boy and Blunderbuss," but that required +fetching. Finally the hulking lad was dispatched. It took him some +time, considering the distance was only "about half a mile." When the +trap did appear it looked to me uncommonly like an open spring cart. +In it I was deposited, with my luggage. The snow was still descending +in whirling clouds. Never shall I forget the drive, in that miserable +cart, through the storm and those pitch black country lanes. We had +been jogging along some time before the driver opened his mouth. + +"Be you going to stop with they Wilsons?" + +"I am." + +"Ah!" + +There was something in the tone of his "Ah!" which whetted my +curiosity, near the end of my tether though I was. + +"Why do you ask?" + +"It be about time as someone were to stay with them as were a bit +capable like." + +I did not know what he meant. I did not ask. I was beyond it. I was +chilled to the bone, wet, tired, hungry. I had long been wishing that +an old-fashioned Christmas had been completely extinct before I had +thought of adventuring in quest of one. Better cousin Lucy's notion of +the "festive season." + +We passed through a gate, which I had to get down to open, along some +sort of avenue. Suddenly the cart pulled up. + +"Here we be." + +That might be so. It was a pity he did not add where "here" was. There +was a great shadow, which possibly did duty for a house, but, if so, +there was not a light in any of the windows, and there was nothing +visible in the shape of a door. The whereabouts of this, however, the +driver presently made clear. + +"There be the door in front of you; you go up three steps, if you can +find 'em. There's a knocker, if none of 'em haven't twisted it off. If +they have, there's a bell on your right, if it isn't broken." + +There appeared to be no knocker, though whether it had been "twisted" +off was more than I could say. But there was a bell, which creaked +with rust, though it was not broken. I heard it tinkle in the +distance. No answer; though I allowed a more than decent interval. + +"Better ring again," suggested the driver. "Hard. Maybe they're up to +some of their games, and wants rousing." + +Was there a chuckle in the fellow's voice? I rang again, and again +with all the force I could. The bell reverberated through what seemed +like an empty house. + +"Is there no one in the place?" + +"They're there right enough. Where's another thing. Maybe on the roof; +or in the cellar. If they know you're coming perhaps they hear and +don't choose to answer. Better ring again." + +I sounded another peal. Presently feet were heard advancing along the +passage--several pairs it seemed--and a light gleamed through the +window over the door. A voice inquired: "Who's there?" + +"Mr. Christopher, from London." + +The information was greeted with what sounded uncommonly like a chorus +of laughter. There was a rush of retreating feet, an expostulating +voice, then darkness again, and silence. + +"Who lives here? Are the people mad?" + +"Well--thereabouts." + +Once more I suspected the driver of a chuckle. My temper was rising. I +had not come all that way, and subjected myself to so much discomfort, +to be played tricks with. I tolled the bell again. After a few +seconds' interval the pit-pat of what was obviously one pair of feet +came towards the door. Again a light gleamed through the pane. A key +was turned, a chain unfastened, bolts withdrawn; it seemed as if some +one had to drag a chair forward before one of these latter could be +reached. After a vast amount of unfastening, the door was opened, and +on the threshold there stood a girl, with a lighted candle in her +hand. The storm rushed in; she put up her hand to shield the light +from danger. + +"Can I see Mrs. Wilson? I'm expected. I'm Mr. Christopher, from +London." + +"Oh!" + +That was all she said. I looked at her; she at me. The driver's voice +came from the background. + +"I drove him over from the station, Miss. There be a lot of luggage. +He do say he's come to stay with you." + +"Is that you, Tidy? I'm afraid I can offer you nothing to drink. We've +lost the key of the cellar, and there's nothing out, except water, and +I don't think you'd care for that." + +"I can't say rightly as how I should, Miss. Next time will do. Be it +all right?" + +The girl continued to regard me. + +"Perhaps you had better come inside." + +"I think I had." + +I went inside; it was time. + +"Have you any luggage?" I admitted that I had. "Perhaps it had better +be brought in." + +"Perhaps it had." + +"Do you think that you could manage, Tidy?" + +"The mare, she'll stand still enough. I should think I could, miss." + + + CHAPTER II. + + AND THE PERFORMANCE. + +By degrees my belongings were borne into the hall, hidden under an +envelope of snow. The girl seemed surprised at their number. The +driver was paid, the cart disappeared, the door was shut; the girl and +I were alone together. + +"We didn't expect that you would come." + +"Not expect me? But it was all arranged; I wrote to say that I would +come. Did you not receive my letter?" + +"We thought that you were joking." + +"Joking! Why should you imagine that?" + +"We were joking." + +"You were? Then I am to gather that I have been made the subject of a +practical joke, and that I am an intruder here?" + +"Well, it's quite true that we did not think you were in earnest. You +see, it's this way, we're alone." + +"Alone? Who are 'we'?" + +"Well, it will take a good while to explain, and you look tired and +cold." + +"I am both." + +"Perhaps you're hungry?" + +"I am." + +"I don't know what you can have to eat, unless it's to-morrow's +dinner." + +"To-morrow's dinner!" I stared. "Can I see Mrs. Wilson?" + +"Mrs. Wilson? That's mamma. She's dead." + +"I beg your pardon. Can I see your father?" + +"Oh, father's been dead for years." + +"Then to whom have I the pleasure of speaking?" + +"I'm Madge. I'm mother now." + +"You are--mother now?" + +"The trouble will be about where you are to sleep--unless it's with +the boys. The rooms are all anyhow, and I'm sure I don't know where +the beds are." + +"I suppose there are servants in the house?" + +She shook her head. + +"No. The boys thought that they were nuisances so we got rid of them. +The last went yesterday. She wouldn't do any work, so we thought she'd +better go." + +"Under those circumstances I think it probable that you were right. +Then am I to understand that there are children?" + +"Rather!" + +As she spoke there came a burst of laughter from the other end of the +passage. I spun round. No one was in sight. She explained. + +"They're waiting round the corner. Perhaps we'd better have them here. +You people, you'd better come and let me introduce you to Mr. +Christopher." + +A procession began to appear from round the corner of boys and girls. +In front was a girl of about sixteen. She advanced with outstretched +hand and an air of self-possession which took me at a disadvantage. + +"I'm Bessie. I'm sorry we kept you waiting at the door, but the fact +is that we thought it was Eliza's brother who had come to insult us +again." + +"Pray, don't mention it. I am glad that it was not Eliza's brother." + +"So am I. He is a dreadful man." + +I shook hands with the rest of them. There were six more, four boys +and two girls. They formed a considerable congregation as they stood +eyeing me with inquiring glances. Madge was the first to speak. + +"I wondered all along if he would take it as a joke or not, and you +see he hasn't. I thought all the time that it was a risky thing to +do." + +"I like that! You keep your thoughts to yourself then. It was you +proposed it. You said you'd been reading about something of the kind +in a story, and you voted for our advertising ourselves for a lark." + +The speaker was the biggest boy, a good-looking youngster, with sallow +cheeks and shrewd black eyes. + +"But, Rupert, I never meant it to go so far as this." + +"How far did you mean it to go then? It was your idea all through. You +sent in the advertisement, you wrote the letters, and now he's here. +If you didn't mean it, why didn't you stop his coming?" + +"Rupert!" + +The girls cheeks were crimson. Bessie interposed. + +"The thing is that as he is here it's no good worrying about whose +fault it is. We shall simply have to make the best of it." Then, to +me, "I suppose you really have come to stay?" + +"I confess that I had some notion of the kind--to spend an +old-fashioned Christmas." + +At this there was laughter, chiefly from the boys. Rupert exclaimed: + +"A nice sort of old-fashioned Christmas you'll find it will be. You'll +be sorry you came before it's through." + +"I am not so sure of that." + +There appeared to be something in my tone which caused a touch of +silence to descend upon the group. They regarded each other +doubtfully, as if in my words a reproof was implied. Bessie was again +the spokeswoman. + +"Of course, now that you have come, we mean to be nice to you, that is +as nice as we can. Because the thing is that we are not in a condition +to receive visitors. Do we look as if we were?" + +To be frank, they did not. Even Madge was a little unkempt, while the +boys were in what I believe is the average state of the average boy. + +"And," murmured Madge, "where is Mr. Christopher to sleep?" + +"What is he to eat?" inquired Bessie. She glanced at my packages. "I +suppose you have brought nothing with you?" + +"I'm afraid I haven't. I had hoped to have found something ready for +me on my arrival." + +Again they peeped at each other, as if ashamed. Madge repeated her +former suggestion. + +"There's to-morrow's dinner." + +"Oh, hang it!" exclaimed Rupert. "It's not so bad as that. There's a +ham." + +"Uncooked." + +"You can cut a steak off, or whatever you call it, and have it +broiled." + +A meal was got ready, in the preparation of which every member of the +family took a hand. And a room was found for me, in which was a +blazing fire and traces of recent feminine occupation. I suspected +that Madge had yielded her own apartment as a shelter for the +stranger. By the time I had washed and changed my clothes, the +impromptu dinner, or supper, or whatever it was, was ready. + +A curious repast it proved to be; composed of oddly contrasted dishes, +cooked--and sometimes uncooked--in original fashion. But hunger, that +piquant sauce, gave it a relish of its own. At first no one seemed +disposed to join me. By degrees, however, one after another found a +knife and fork, until all the eight were seated with me round the +board, eating, some of them, as if for dear life. + +"The fact is," explained Rupert, "we're a rum lot. We hardly ever sit +down together. We don't have regular meals, but whenever anyone feels +peckish, he goes and gets what there is, and cooks it and eats it on +his own." + +"It's not quite so bad as that," protested Madge, "though it's pretty +bad." + +It did seem pretty bad, from the conventional point of view. From +their conversation, which was candour itself, I gleaned details which +threw light upon the peculiar position of affairs. It seemed that +their father had been dead some seven years. Their mother, who had +been always delicate, had allowed them to run nearly wild. Since she +died, some ten months back, they appeared to have run quite wild. The +house, with some six hundred acres of land, was theirs, and an income, +as to whose exact amount no one seemed quite clear. + +"It's about eight hundred a year," said Rupert. + +"I don't think it's quite so much," doubted Madge. + +"I'm sure it's more," declared Bessie. "I believe we're being robbed." + +I thought it extremely probable. They must have had peculiar parents. +Their father had left everything absolutely to their mother, and the +mother, in her turn, everything in trust to Madge, to be shared +equally among them all. Madge was an odd trustee. In her hands the +household had become a republic, in which every one did exactly as he +or she pleased. The result was chaos. No one wanted to go to school, +so no one went. The servants, finding themselves provided with eight +masters and mistresses, followed their example, and did as they liked. +Consequently, after sundry battles royal--lively episodes some of them +had evidently been--one after the other had been got rid of, until, +now, not one remained. Plainly the house must be going to rack and +ruin. + +"But have you no relations?" I inquired. + +Rupert answered. + +"We've got some cousins, or uncles, or something of the kind in +Australia, where, so far as I'm concerned, I hope they'll stop." + +When I was in my room, which I feared was Madge's, I told myself that +it was a queer establishment on which I had lighted. Yet I could not +honestly affirm that I was sorry I had come. I had lived such an +uneventful and such a solitary life, and had so often longed for +someone in whom to take an interest--who would not talk medicine +chest!--that to be plunged, all at once, into the centre of this troop +of boys and girls was an accident which, if only because of its +novelty, I found amusing. And then it was so odd that I should have +come across a Madge at last! + +In the morning I was roused by noises, the cause of which, at first, I +could not understand. By degrees the explanation dawned on me; the +family was putting the house to rights. A somewhat noisy process it +seemed. Someone was singing, someone else was shouting, and two or +three others were engaged in a heated argument. In such loud tones was +it conducted that the gist of the matter travelled up to me. + +"How do you think I'm going to get this fire to burn if you beastly +kids keep messing it about? It's no good banging at it with the poker +till it's alight." + +The voice was unmistakably Rupert's. There was the sound of a scuffle, +cries of indignation, then a girlish voice pouring oil upon the +troubled waters. Presently there was a rattle and clatter, as if +someone had fallen from the top of the house to the bottom. I rushed +to my bedroom door. + +"What on earth has happened?" + +A small boy was outside--Peter. He explained, + +"Oh, it's only the broom and dustpan gone tobogganing down the stairs. +It's Bessie's fault; she shouldn't leave them on the landing." + +Bessie, appearing from a room opposite, disclaimed responsibility. + +"I told you to look out where you were going, but you never do. I'd +only put them down for a second, while I went in to empty a jug of +water on to Jack, who won't get out of bed, and there are all the +boots for him to clean." + +Injured tones came through the open portal. + +"You wait, that's all! I'll soak your bed tonight--I'll drown it. I +don't want to clean your dirty boots, I'm not a shoe-black." + +The breakfast was a failure. To begin with, it was inordinately late. +It seemed that a bath was not obtainable. I had been promised some hot +water, but as I waited and waited and none arrived, I proceeded to +break the ice in my jug--it was a bitterly cold morning, nice +"old-fashioned" weather--and to wash in the half-frozen contents. As I +am not accustomed to perform my ablutions in partially dissolved ice, +I fear that the process did not improve my temper. + +It was past eleven when I got down, feeling not exactly in a +"Christmassy" frame of mind. Everything, and everyone, seemed at sixes +and sevens. It was after noon when breakfast appeared. The principal +dish consisted of eggs and bacon; but as the bacon was fried to +cinders, and the eggs all broken, it was not so popular as it might +have been, Madge was moved to melancholy. + +"Something will have to be done! We can't go on like this! We must +have someone in to help us!" + +Bessie was sarcastic. + +"You might give Eliza another trial. She told you, if you didn't like +the way she burned the bacon, to burn it yourself, and as you've +followed her advice, she might be able to give you other useful hints +on similar lines." + +Rupert indulged himself in the same vein. + +"Then there's Eliza's brother. He threatened to knock your blooming +head off for saying Eliza was dishonest, just because she collared +everything she laid her hands on; he might turn out a useful sort of +creature to have about the place." + +"It's all very well for you to laugh, but it's beyond a jest. I don't +know how we're going to cook the dinner." + +"Can I be of any assistance?" I inquired. "First of all, what is there +to cook?" + +It seemed that there were a good many things to cook. A turkey, a +goose, beef, plum pudding, mince pies, custard, sardines--it seemed +that Molly, the third girl, as she phrased it, could "live on +sardines," and esteemed no dinner a decent dinner at which they did +not appear--together with a list of etceteras half as long as my arm. + +"One thing is clear; you can't cook all those things to-day." + +"We can't cook anything." + +This was Rupert. He was tilting his chair back, and had his face +turned towards the ceiling. + +"Why not?" + +"Because there's no coal." + +"No coal?" + +"There's about half a scuttle full of dust. If you can make it burn +you'll be clever." + +What Rupert said was correct. Madge confessed, with crimson cheeks, +that she had meant, over and over again, to order some coal, but had +continually forgotten it, until finally Christmas Day had found them +with an empty cellar. There was plenty of wood, but it was not so dry +as it might have been, and anyhow, the grate was not constructed to +burn wood. + +"You might try smoked beef," suggested Rupert. "When that wood goes at +all it smokes like one o'clock. If you hung the beef up over it, it +would be smoked enough for anyone by the time that it was done." + +I began to rub my chin. Considering the breakfast we had had, from my +point of view the situation commenced, for the first time, to look +really grave, I wondered if it would not be possible to take the whole +eight somewhere where something really eatable could be got. But, when +I broached the subject, I learned that the thing could not be done. +The nearest hostelry was the "Boy and Blunderbuss," and it was certain +that nothing eatable could be had there, even if accommodation could +be found for us at all. Nothing in the shape of a possible house of +public entertainment was to be found closer than the market town, +eight miles off; it was unlikely that even there a Christmas dinner +for nine could be provided at a moment's notice. Evidently the only +thing to do was to make the best of things. + +When the meeting broke up Madge came and said a few words to me alone. + +"I really think you had better not stay." + +"Does that mean that you had rather I went?" + +"No; not exactly that." + +"Then nearly that?" + +"No; not a bit that. Only you must see for yourself how awfully +uncomfortable you'll be here, and what a horrid house this is." + +"My dear Madge"--everybody called her Madge, so I did--"even if I +wanted to go, which I don't--and I would remind you that you +contracted to give me an old-fashioned Christmas--I don't see where +there is that I could go." + +"Of course, there's that. I don't see, either. So I suppose you'll +have to stay. But I hope you won't think that I meant you to come to a +place like this--really, you know." + +"I'm sorry; I had hoped you had." + +"That's not what I mean. I mean that if I had thought that you were +coming, I would have seen that things were different." + +"How different? I assure you that things as they are have a charm of +their own." + +"That's what you say. You don't suppose that I'm so silly as not to +know you're laughing at me? But as I was the whole cause of your +coming, I hope you won't hate the others because of me." + +She marched off, brushing back, with an impatient gesture, some +rebellious locks which had strayed upon her forehead. + +That Christmas dinner was a success--positively. Of a kind--let that +be clearly understood. I am not inferring that it was a success from +the point of view of a "chef de cuisine." Not at all; how could it be? +Quite the other way. By dint of ransacking all the rooms, and emptying +all the scuttles, we collected a certain amount of coal, with which, +after adding a fair proportion of wood, we managed. Not brilliantly, +but after a fashion. I can only say, personally, I had not enjoyed +myself so much for years. I really felt as if I were young again; I am +not sure that I am not younger than I thought I was. I must look the +matter up. And, after all, even if one be, say forty, one need not be +absolutely an ancient. Madge herself said that I had been like a right +hand to her; she did not know what she would have done without me. + +Looking back, I cannot but think that if we had attempted to prepare +fewer dishes, something might have been properly cooked. It was a +mistake to stuff the turkey with sage and onions; but as Bessie did +not discover that she had been manipulating the wrong bird until the +process of stuffing had been completed, it was felt that it might be +just as well to let it rest. Unfortunately, it turned out that some +thyme, parsley, mint, and other things had got mixed with the sage, +which gave the creature quite a peculiar flavour; but as it came to +table nearly raw, and as tough as hickory, it really did not matter. + +My experience of that day teaches me that it is not easy to roast a +large goose on a small oil stove. The dropping fat caused the flame to +give out a strong smelling and most unpleasant smoke. Rupert, who had +charge of the operation, affirmed that it would be all right in the +end. But, by the time the thing was served, it was as black as my hat. +Rupert said that it was merely brown; but the brown was of a sooty +hue, and it reeked of paraffin. We had to have it deposited in the +ashbin. I daresay that the beef would not have been bad if someone had +occasionally turned it, and if the fire would have burned clear. As it +was, it was charred on one side and raw on the other, and smoked all +over. The way in which the odour and taste of smoke permeated +everything was amazing. The plum-pudding, came to the table in the +form of soup, and the mince pies were nauseous. Something had got into +the crust, or mincemeat, or something, which there, at any rate, was +out of place. + +Luckily we came upon a tin of corned beef in a cupboard, and with the +aid of some bread and cheese, and other odds and ends, we made a sort +of picnic. Incredible though it may seem, I enjoyed it. If there was +anywhere a merrier party than we were, I should like to know where it +was to be found. It must have been a merry one. When I produced the +presents, in which a happy inspiration had urged me to invest, "the +enthusiasm reached a climax"--I believe that is the proper form of +words which I ought to use. As I watched the pleasure of those +youngsters, I felt as if I were myself a boy again. + + * * * * * + +That was my first introduction to "a lively family." They came up to +the description they had given of themselves. I speak from knowledge, +for they have been my acquaintances now some time. More than +acquaintances, friends; the dearest friends I have. At their request, +I took their affairs in hand, Madge informally passing her trusteeship +on to me. Things are very different with them now. The house is spick +and span. There is an excellent staff of servants. Hangar Dene is as +comfortable a home as there is in England. I have spent many a happy +Christmas under its hospitable roof since then. + +The boys are out in the world, after passing with honour through +school and college. The girls are going out into the world also. +Bessie is actually married. Madge is married too. She is Mrs. +Christopher. That is the part of it all which I find is hardest to +understand--to have told myself my whole life long that the name of my +ideal woman would be Madge, and to have won that woman for my own at +last! That is greater fortune than falls to the lot of most men. I +thought that I was beyond that kind of thing; that I was too old. But +Madge seemed to think that I was young enough. And she thinks so +still. + +And now there is a little Madge, who is big enough to play havoc with +the sheets of paper on which I have been scribbling, to whom, one day, +this tale will have to be told. + + + + + BY DEPUTY. + + A REMINISCENCE OF TRAVEL. + + + CHAPTER I. + + DESPOILED. + +"It would seem, Greenall, as if you couldn't even shoot." + +"It would seem like it, wouldn't it." + +As I sauntered back to the hotel I was conscious of a slight feeling +of exacerbation. As if I had been "got at," "had." No man likes +to feel that he is a laughing-stock. I felt that I had been made a +laughing-stock just then; that, indeed, the process of manufacture had +been going on ever since I showed my face in Ahmednugger. The men I +had met were nice enough--in their way. Indeed, they were almost too +nice--also in their way. They appeared to have so little to do, in the +way of actual work, that they had made it the business of their lives +to perfect themselves in what are usually regarded, say, as +accomplishments. I was, and am, a plain civilian. I have worked for, +and earned, my little pile, such as it is, and until I set out upon +that pleasure tour in the East, it had never occurred to me that a man +could be regarded as an uneducated idiot if he could not, say, run +into double figures every time he took up his cue at billiards. A +suspicion that a man might be so regarded had been dawning upon me +ever since I arrived in India; but until I came to Ahmednugger I had +never quite realised how shockingly my education had been neglected on +exactly those points on which it ought to have been most carefully +attended to. The men of Ahmednugger were the most sporting individuals +I had ever yet encountered. Possibly I have not moved much among the +congregations of the sporting men, but I certainly have seen something +of men of business. These men of Ahmednugger were not only the keenest +sportsmen I had encountered, they were the keenest men of business, +too. And talk of the rigour of a competitive examination! They formed +themselves into an examining board, which very soon took the +"stiffening" out of me. They insisted on putting me through my paces +before I had been a week in the place. They examined me in every game +of cards which has been invented--and found me wanting in them all. +They examined me as a rider, as a driver, as a shootist, as a cueist, +in fact, in a range of subjects which I will not even venture to +enumerate. They refused me one solitary "pass." They "plucked" me in +them all. It did not add to my sense of satisfaction, that I found my +ignorance expensive. + +The joke of the thing was, that before I came to India I had rather +fancied myself as an amateur sportsman. I flattered myself that I had +a decent seat in a saddle, whether across country or on the flat. I +thought that I made a tolerable fourth at whist; that I had some +notion, at any rate, of English billiards, and of a hazard off the +red. I certainly was under the impression that I could see with +tolerable accuracy along the barrel of a gun. But these vain delusions +were scattered, at once and for ever, by the men of Ahmednugger. My +all-round, purblind, insensate ignorance had been so convincingly +displayed, that, as I have said, I was the laughing-stock of all the +place. + +My latest performance in the exhibition line had been in a match with +young Tebb, the youngest and the latest joined of the subalterns. +Young Tebb had lured me on to skittles. Mr. Tebb--who would have been +more correctly designated as "Master" Tebb--was an awkward +hobbledehoy, who, at any other place than Ahmednugger, I should have +looked down upon with the most supreme contempt. When he challenged me +to see who could smash most glass balls with a rifle bullet, he or I, +I rashly took his challenge up. I flattered myself that, at last, I +had a "soft thing" on. I had, myself, been found a "soft thing" so +many times, that I looked forward to a little change. I had no notion +(it was rather late at night when the challenge was thrown down, and +taken up) how difficult it really was to hit a glass ball with a rifle +bullet. I had never fired at a glass ball, nor had I ever seen anyone +else do so. But I conceived, that at any rate, young Tebb would find +at least as much difficulty in the thing as I should. + +We were each to fire at fifty glass balls, which were to be sent up +into the air out of a trap. We were, of course, to fire at them while +they were in the air. Out of my fifty I smashed one. Out of his fifty +young Tebb smashed forty-nine. It was the most mirth-provoking +exhibition that was ever seen. Of course, the young scoundrel had been +doing nothing else but fire at glass balls his whole life long. It was +when I handed over the two hundred rupees which I had staked and lost, +that Mr. Tebb made his remark to the effect that "I couldn't even +shoot." + +When I returned to the hotel, a man was standing in the doorway. He +addressed me as I came up the steps. + +"It strikes me that you and I might shake hands, sir." + +I asked him what he meant. + +"I've made myself one kind of ass, and you've made yourself another +kind. We'd be a pair of beauties." + +I did not like being addressed in this manner, especially by a +stranger, and especially by a stranger like this stranger. He was a +short, undersized man, with a vacuous expression of countenance. His +attire suggested seediness. Perceiving that I did not appreciate his +manner, he explained. + +"No offence intended, sir. But I just now saw you playing pantaloon to +that youngster's clown, and I thought that he made the end of the +poker rather hot. As for me, I'm an ass all over. My name's Johns. I +came to this place to shear the sheep. There's been some shearing, but +it's the sheep that's done it. They've about sheared me. I happened to +have a trifle of money, so I came to these parts to see if I could do +a bit of bookmaking. I've done a bit. The gentlemen in these parts +have also done a bit. They've got hold of pretty well every blessed +mag I had." + +I did not encourage Mr. Johns; quite the contrary. I had heard of him +before. The regimental races had recently been held; a bookmaker had +appeared upon the scene--Mr. Johns. Nearly every man in the place had +had bets with him, and to nearly every man in the place he had lost +his money. With a vengeance had the Philistine been spoiled. + + + CHAPTER II. + + THE GAME. + +Later in the day on which I had shot off that match with Mr. Tebb I +encountered Mr. Johns again. I was in the billiard-room of what was +called "the club." As regards membership, it was very free-and-easy +"club" indeed. A local celebrity was taking the floor. The room was +tolerably full. On one of the side seats was Mr. Johns. + +The local celebrity was a Mr. Colson. Mr. Colson was stud groom to the +Rajah of Ahmednugger. He was also, and at the same time, one of the +most obnoxious persons I have, in the course of my career, had the +pleasure of meeting. There never was such a loud-voiced braggart. It +set one's nerves on edge to hear him. To listen to him, there was +nothing he could not do. The misfortune was, that some of the things +which he said he could do, he could do, and do well. I had found that +out to my cost, soon after my arrival in Ahmednugger. And, in +consequence, he had sat on me heavily ever since. He was a horrible +man. + +That evening Mr. Colson was holding forth in his usual style, on the +subject of billiards. I should mention that, at the period of which I +am writing, Mr. John Roberts, the famous player, was on a tour in +India. + +"I saw John Roberts at Calcutta," observed Mr. Colson, "and he saw me. +He also saw me play. When he saw me play, he said he doubted if he +could give me fifteen in a hundred. I told him that I should like to +see him do it. But he wouldn't take it on." + +"Is that so?" asked Mr. Johns. + +"That is so. I should like to see him give me ten in a hundred, either +John Roberts or any man now living." + +"I should like to have a game with you, Mr. Colson." + +"You would?" Mr. Colson looked at Mr. Johns. He looked him up and +down. Mr. Colson was large and florid. Mr. Johns was small and +underfed. Mr. Colson was, at least, expensively attired. About Mr. +John's costume there was certainly no suspicion of expense. "I don't +mind having you a hundred up, my lad. How many shall I give you?" + +"I am no player, Mr. Colson, but I'd like to play you even, if only +for the sake of saying that I'd had the cheek to do it." + +"You shall have that pleasure. And how much would you like to have +on--if only for the sake of saying that you had the cheek to have it +on?" + +And Mr. Colson winked at the company in general. + +"Well, Mr. Colson, you and the other gentlemen have won all my money; +but, I daresay, I might manage ten rupees." + +"Put 'em up, my lad. Here's my ten. We'll play for the twenty." + +They played for the twenty. And, to my satisfaction, and I believe to +the satisfaction of most of the others who were in the room, it was +Mr. Johns who won. I am bound to say that it seemed to me to be rather +a fluky win. Mr. Colson, whose disgust was amusing, had no doubt +whatever about the fluke. + +"Never saw anything like it, never! The balls never broke for me, not +once! As for you; why, you did nothing else but fluke." + +"Do you think so? I'll play you again double or quits, and I'll give +ten in the hundred, Mr. Colson." + +Mr. Colson seemed amazed. In fact, I have no doubt he was amazed. + +"I like your modesty! You'll give me ten! Here's my twenty. I'll take +you on." + +Mr. Colson took him on. And, by way of fair exchange, Mr. Johns took +him off. That is to say, he took off the stakes and the game. He did +it rather neatly: just running in as Mr. Colson looked like winning. +Mr. Colson was adjectival. + +"Never saw anything like it--never, in all my born days! Never saw +anything like my somethinged, somethinged, somethinged luck! And as +for your fluking--why, it just beats anything." + +"Think so? I'll play you again, Mr. Colson, and again double or quits; +and this time I'll give you twenty in a hundred." + +"You'll give me--you'll give me--twenty in a hundred? You will? Come +on! That'll be forty rupees a side--here's mine! Macbee, put me on +twenty, and we'll see what I can do." + +We did see what he could do. We also saw that Mr. Johns seemed able to +do a little better. Once more he won the game. I am sure that we were +all enjoying ourselves very much--much more than we had had any reason +to anticipate. As for Mr. Colson, he went purple. He showered on Mr. +Johns a volley of that sort of language which I had found pretty +fashionable at Ahmednugger. Mr. Johns listened to him in silence, +while he pocketed the spoils. Then he had his say. + +"You say I fluke? Why, my dear sir, you've no idea what a fluke is. +You've no idea of any sort about billiards. You can no more play +billiards than you can play the gentleman--you can't! You're the sort +of person whom it is just as well, once in a way, to expose. You're a +humbug, Mr. Colson, you're a humbug. As for John Roberts doubting if +he could give you fifteen in a hundred--why, he could give you +ninety-nine in a hundred, and beat you single-handed. I tell you what +I will do, Mr. Colson. I will play you five hundred up, for five +hundred rupees a side. I will give you four hundred start, and I will +lay two to one against you with any gentleman who cares to back you. +I don't think that's an unfair offer, Mr. Colson." + +It struck me as, at any rate, a rash offer. Mr. Colson was not such a +tyro as Mr. Johns made out. He had made mincemeat of me--I do know +that. Yet the offer did not seem to be made in any spirit of +braggadocio. I fancy that the quiet, matter-of-fact manner in which it +was made impressed Mr. Colson more than he altogether cared to own. My +impression it that, if he had had his own way, he would have changed +the subject. But the odds offered him were such, and the challenge was +made in such a public manner, that he probably felt that, if he wished +to preserve a rag of reputation, now or never was the time to show the +stuff that he was made of. Anyhow, the offer was accepted, and the +terms of the match were definitely arranged before the parties left +the room. + + + CHAPTER III. + + THE COALITION. + +As I was retiring to rest, some one tapped at my bed-room door. In +response to my invitation to enter, Mr. Johns came in. Without any +preamble, he plunged at once into the purport of his presence in my +chamber at that hour of the night, or, rather, morning. + +"I have come, Mr. Greenall, to ask you to lend me five hundred +rupees." + +I turned. I looked at him. He met my glance without showing any signs +of discomposure. + +"You have come to--what?" + +He repeated his remark--quite as though it were a matter of course. + +"To ask if you will lend me five hundred rupees." + +"I don't know if you are in earnest, Mr. Johns. If you are, I would +remark, first, that I am not a money lender; and, second, that you are +a complete stranger to me." + +"I want the money to stake in my match with Mr. Colson." + +"Indeed. Is that so? Then that is an added reason why I should decline +to lend it to you. In my opinion, Mr. Johns, your chances of success +in that match are, to say the least of it, remote." + +"Look here, Mr. Greenall, I'm the last man in the world to wish to +make myself offensive, but if we can understand each other I think +that you and I might do each other a good turn. I know all about how +you've been treated by the fellows here. I know how they've all been +taking pop shots at you. From what I hear they've made you look like +the biggest all-round muff that ever left his mammy. I daresay it's +cost you something, too." + +I did not altogether appreciate this gentleman's free-and-easy style +of conversation. But to a certain extent I, so to speak, dissembled. + +"I do not know what warrant you have, Mr. Johns, for your remarks; +and, in any case, I fail to see what business it is of yours." + +"It's this way; if you like, you can be even with all the lot of +them--and more than even." + +"How? By lending you five hundred rupees, and letting you have, as you +put it, a pop-shot at me with the rest of them. Thank you, Mr. Johns. +By the way, I fancy I have heard of some person or persons taking +pop-shots at you. I think I did hear that you came here to make a +fortune. Did you make it, Mr. Johns?" + +"No, I didn't--hang 'em! I'm like you, I owe them one. And I mean to +pay them, with compound interest. And, if you like to say the word, +I'll pay them that little lot you owe them too. Look here, Mr. +Greenall, I don't mind owning that a keener lot of gentlemen than the +gentlemen here I don't think I ever had to do with. I won't say they +robbed me, but they certainly cut me up into very nice little pieces, +and they handed me round. I've seldom seen any thing of the kind which +was better done. But never mind--my turn's coming! I'm not fond of +bragging--quite the other way. If it wasn't that I was in a hole, I +wouldn't say a word. But it is the simple truth that, at all the +things at which these fellows think they're dabsters, I'm as far ahead +of them as they're ahead of you,--no offence intended. You can take my +word for it that I know what I'm talking about. It doesn't follow +because, just once in a way, they happened to muck up my book, that +I'm a flat. As for being able to give Colson four hundred out of five +hundred at billiards,--if I choose, and I shall choose, he's simply +bound to lose. I don't mean to say that I'm a John Roberts, because +I'm not. But I do know how to play, and that in a sense which Colson +hasn't even begun to understand. I've heard that Mr. Colson hasn't +behaved over well to you. I thought that you'd like to see him taken +down a peg or two." + +I should. I should have liked to have seen more than one of them taken +down a peg or two, though I said nothing of that to Mr. Johns. + +"How came you to match yourself, Mr. Johns, when you were aware that +you were not in possession of the required stakes?" + +"I took it for granted that I should get the stakes from you." + +Mr. Johns was frank, at any rate. + +"From me? What claim did you suppose yourself to have on me?" + +"No claim; but you see, sir, they've had me, and they've had you. +They've had both of us, in fact, pretty smartly. And I thought that +you might like to be even with some of them, by deputy." + +By deputy. If it was workable, that was not a bad idea. I felt that I +should like to be even with some of them, beginning, say, with Mr. +Colson--how that man had squelched me beneath his elephantine foot! +the brute!--even, as it were, by deputy. + +"What guarantee have I that you will not lose my money, as you already +have lost your own?" + +"If we get up early, we shall have the billiard room all to ourselves. +If you like, I will give you some idea of what I can do upon a +billiard table." + +We did get up early. We did have the billiard room all to ourselves. +And Mr. Johns did give me some idea of what he could do upon a +billiard table. For one thing, he got "on the spot," and he stopped +there. He continued to put the red down, without once missing, until +the marker appeared. When the marker did appear, we thought that +perhaps the proceedings had better cease. If I can trust my memory, +before the proceedings ceased, Mr. Johns had put the red down +something like two hundred times in succession. I thought that was +good enough, even for Mr. Colson. I agreed to advance the necessary +number of rupees. + +The match came off. It was a beautiful match. The room was crowded to +overflowing. Mr. Johns had managed to back himself to a very fair +amount. Even I, in my small way, had managed to back him too. But +there was not so much readiness shown to support the local champion as +I had expected. They were keen, were the men of Ahmednugger. I fancy +that already they had begun to smell a rat. And not only so; they were +always willing to "make a bet." But on that particular occasion they +were almost equally willing to see Mr. Colson come to grief. I think +that, in those parts, Mr. Colson was not so popular as he deserved to +be. I verily believe that there were some who objected to him almost +as much as I did. + +Poor Mr. Colson! He was painfully nervous. His nervousness prevented +his showing even his usual form. He had made fifteen, when Mr. Johns, +getting on the spot, stayed there. He ran out without once putting +down his cue. Nothing like it had ever been seen before in +Ahmednugger. When the marker notified the fact that Mr. Johns had +completed his fifth hundred, Mr. Colson was, for a moment, speechless. +He seemed unable to realize that the thing was so. + +"It's a--something swindle!" + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Colson--it's a what?" + +Mr. Colson's tone was loud and threatening. Mr. Johns' tone was quiet, +and almost indifferent. Yet Mr. Colson did not seem to altogether like +it. He began to bluster. "You did not tell me that you were a +professional." + +"No; I did not tell you that I was a professional." + +"You didn't play the other night as you have played to-day. It looks +to me uncommonly like a put-up thing." + +"It looks to you like a put-up thing, does it, Mr. Colson. Well, I'll +give you a chance of showing _your_ professional side. I believe you +can drive?" + +"Drive!" Mr. Colson looked at the little man as if he would like to +eat him. "I'm the finest whip in India." + +"Indeed! Is that so? Well, I'll drive you either four, or eight, in +hand, for a thousand rupees a side, although you are the finest whip +in India." + +Mr. Colson snapped at his offer, before it was fairly out of his +mouth, and I felt that Mr. Johns was going a little too far. It was +one thing to match him at billiards, another thing to match him at +driving. There Mr. Colson was on his native heath. When I was alone +with Mr. Johns I told him so. + +"I don't know if you are aware, Mr. Johns, that Mr. Colson really is a +first-rate whip. I am informed that it was his magnificent driving +which first attracted the Rajah's attention." + +Mr. Johns did not exhibit much appearance of concern. + +"I guess I'll fix him, anyhow. I haven't driven a stage over some of +the worst country in the western states of America for nothing. I'll +back myself to drive a coach-and-four along a wall just wide enough to +hold the wheels--and I'll take you as a passenger, if you like to +come." + +"Thank you, Mr. Johns, my tastes do not incline that way." + +"Don't you worry, Mr. Greenall. I mean to take on the whole lot of 'em, +one after the other, and show 'em a thing or two all round. These +gentlemen here fancy they know a little, but we'll be more than even +with them before we've done." + +The driving match came off. I do not know how they manage similar +affairs in England. I have sometimes wondered. But I am under the +impression that they are not managed on the lines on which they +managed that driving match in Ahmednugger. + +The way in which they managed it there was this. Mr. Colson was to +drive upon the Monday, Mr. Johns upon the Wednesday. Each was to drive +the same team--eight-in-hand. The horses, by-the-way, came out of the +Rajah's stables. The course was to be up and down the streets of +Ahmednugger, and then for a certain distance outside the city. The +judges occupied the front of the coach. I had a seat among the +insignificant people at the back. On the whole, I was content to sit +behind. The proceedings, in the streets of Ahmednugger, were +distinctly exciting--almost too exciting, I felt, for me. Those +streets were very narrow, and they were blocked with traffic, be it +understood. Mr. Colson and Mr. Johns, each with his eight horses, and +a coach load of passengers, went down those streets at full speed, as +if they had been fifty yards wide, and as if there had not been a soul +in sight. What damages were done, and what was the list of the killed +and wounded, I have never been informed. I never quite realized what +it meant to belong to a subject race, till then. It appeared to me +that, in the eyes of my companions, a native had, as a matter of +course, no rights at all. We drove over whole streets full of them, in +style. My heart was in my mouth most of the time. We dashed round +impossible corners, shaking native tenements to their foundations. But +we kept ourselves alive somehow. The peaceful pedestrians were slain. +I am no judge of coachmanship--of such coachmanship as that, at any +rate. Those who were judges, without a dissentient voice, awarded the +palm to Mr. Johns and, in consequence it was said, Mr. Colson entered +himself as a candidate for delirium tremens. He was a dreadful man. + +It seemed as if Mr. Johns was prepared to match himself against the +men of Ahmednugger at exactly those things at which each man fancied +he was strongest. That is what he did do. He challenged any one to +meet him at driving, or at billiards. And, when his challenge--for +what seemed to me to be sufficient reasons--met with no response, he +challenged any one to ride him. That challenge was taken up. But he +beat all takers. He had a way with a horse which seemed little else +than magical. A horse would jump six feet for him, when, apparently, +it would not jump six inches for any other man in Ahmednugger. I don't +know how it was, but so it was. I know nothing of Mr. Johns, beyond +what I am writing. I never heard his story, nor how it was that a man +of genius--he was a man of genius--came to find himself a broken-down +small bookmaker in that little town "up country." Perhaps he was +another exemplification of the fact that only mediocrity succeeds. + +I know that I was more than even with the men of Ahmednugger--by +deputy. The band played to them, as it had played to me. He made them +face the music, and there was not one of them who did not leave his +scalp upon the ground. My belt was adorned with trophies--by deputy. +When Mr. Johns had beaten the men of Ahmednugger--as they had beaten +me--at riding, and at driving, and at billiards, he took them on at +shooting. And, so to speak, he shot their heads off. He showed them +that, in the presence of this man, they were as nothing, and less than +nothing. He even challenged Mr. Tebb to smash glass balls. He fixed +the point from which they were to fire at an abnormal distance, and, +if I remember rightly, he beat Mr. Tebb by about a score. After he had +annihilated that presumptuous young vagabond, Mr. Johns informed me +that shooting at glass balls really was not shooting. I was quite +prepared to admit it. He said that it was only a trick. When you had +once mastered the trick, it was impossible to miss. Perhaps. I have +never fired at glass balls since then, so I have no reason to suppose +that I have mastered the trick. When I do again fire at glass balls I +am inclined to think that I shall not experience the slightest +difficulty in missing every one of them. + + + CHAPTER IV. + + EVENS. + +When Mr. Johns had beaten the men of Ahmednugger at almost everything +at which they could be beaten, he began to amuse himself by taking a +hand in various little games at cards. It was remarked that, to say +the least of it, his luck was wonderful. There was scarcely a man in +Ahmednugger who had not been compelled by Mr. Johns to take a lower +seat; to take a lower seat, too, just where he felt that his claim was +strongest to take the highest one. Naturally, here and there, a man +resented it. An even stronger spirit of resentment was evinced when +the men of Ahmednugger found that their money was going in search of +their vanished reputations. There were some disagreeable little +scenes. Then there was a royal row; it was at the club. Mr. Johns had +been carrying everything in front of him. Things were said; then other +things were said Then Mr. Johns laid down his cards; he faced the +company. + +"Gentlemen, I wish to inform you that you are, individually and +collectively, a set of curs." + +There were sounds which suggested neither the ways of pleasantness nor +the paths of peace. + +"Softly. Postpone the fighting for one minute. I would remind you +that, when Mr. Greenall appeared in Ahmednugger, you all, with one +accord, took shots at him. You used him as if he had been a variety of +old Aunt Sally. When I made my appearance, you put your heads +together, and you bested me. You see, we were strangers, and you took +us in. Neither Mr. Greenall nor I quite liked this sort of thing, so +we put our heads together, and, in our turn, we've bested you. We've +used you as old Aunt Sallies. We've made you all sit up. We've made +you all sing small. Even at games of mingled chance and skill, I've +beaten you. Instead of taking your punishment like men, you begin to +whimper. Therefore, gentlemen, I repeat that you are, individually and +collectively, a set of curs." + +Colonel Smith interposed so soon as Mr. Johns ceased speaking. I fancy +that the Colonel had only just entered the room. + +"Mr. Johns, you very much forget yourself." + +"On the contrary, Colonel, I am remembering myself. It is the +gentlemen you have the honour to command, who forget themselves. +Should there be any one present who resents the words which I have +used, I shall be happy to meet that person, either with the gloves, or +without them, or with any weapon he may choose--for the honour of +Ahmednugger." + +There was silence--grim silence. Probably there was more than one +there who would have liked to have ground Mr. Johns between the upper +and the nether millstones. But, after all, they were gentlemen--in +their way. Bean stood up, the adjutant of the ----th. He was a big +fellow, head and shoulders taller than the audacious little +challenger. He went round to where Mr. Johns was sitting. + +"Mr. Johns, you will either apologise for the words which you have +just now used, or take a thrashing." + +"I will take a thrashing," said Mr. Johns. + +He took it. What is more, he took it there and then. The meeting was +immediately adjourned; and in the moonlight, the little argument came +off. The proceedings were a trifle irregular; perhaps over here we +should deem them so. I am not prepared to say that any dignitaries +were actually present. Still there was a goodly gathering. The two men +"peeled." In a very short space of time the little man had knocked the +big man senseless. This is not a fairy tale. It is a simple record of +a sober matter-of-fact. It almost seems as if Mr. Johns was a lineal +descendant of the Admirable Crichton. Looking back, I really fancy +that he must have been. + +When Mr. Bean's satisfaction had been signified in what, I believe, is +the usual manner, Mr. Johns addressed the lookers-on: + +"Is there any other gentleman present who would like to thrash me--for +the honour of Ahmednugger?" + +Someone came out of the shadow--someone who, in those parts, was a +very great man indeed. + +"Mr. Johns, you will be so good as to leave Ahmednugger within +four-and-twenty-hours." + +Mr. Johns looked the great man up and down. He seemed to be in no way +awed, even though he stood there in the moonlight without his shirt. + +"I am at a loss, sir, to understand by what authority you address +yourself to me in such a manner. I am in no way answerable for my +movements to you. I have not broken the law. I have not even broken +the peace. As it happens, I do intend to leave Ahmednugger, and in +less than four-and-twenty hours. Not in deference to your orders, but +simply because I have had enough of Ahmednugger, having taught your +compatriots hereabouts what, it strikes me, was a much-needed +lesson--the next time they encounter strangers, except in the +scriptural sense--not to take them in." + +The next day Mr. Johns did leave Ahmednugger. And I went too. He went +his way, I went mine. I have neither seen nor heard of him since. But, +as I continued on my journeyings, I felt that after all I had been +even, and more than even, with the men of Ahmednugger--by deputy. + + + + + MR. WHITING AND MARY ANN. + + +I did not mean to kiss her; it was a pure accident. Her face was close +to mine, or my face was close to hers, and then her lips came into +contact with my lips, or my lips came into contact with her lips--I +don't know which it was--and then at that moment her mother came into +the room, and she said, "Mr. Whiting, may I ask what is the meaning of +this?" I said it meant nothing--nothing! Absolutely nothing! Only I +found it difficult to explain, and when I did explain she would not +understand. Her manner was not at all the sort of thing I care for. +The result is that I am engaged to Mary Ann Snelling without being +conscious of having entertained any intention of the kind. + +Not that I have a word to say against Mary Ann, except that I never +knew a girl with quite so many relations. To begin with she had six +brothers and five sisters, and she is the eldest of the batch, and +there's not one of the brothers whom I feel drawn to. Her father is a +most remarkable person, to say the least. + +After they had arranged between them that I was engaged to Mary Ann (I +was really not allowed to have a voice in the matter) her father +remarked, with a pointed air, which I cannot but think, under the +circumstances, was unusual, that he thought it was about time that I +did come to the scratch, and that if I had kept on dilly-dallying much +longer he would have had a word to say to me of a kind. I do not know +what he meant, and would rather not attempt to imagine. But it is +quite plain to me that all the arrangements for my wedding are going +to be made by the Snellings. + +I do not know when it is going to be, but it will be either next week +or the week after, certainly at the earliest possible moment, and I +shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that all Mary Ann's "things" +had been already bought, and perhaps some of them marked. + +We are to live in a house which belongs to a cousin of Mr. Snelling; +it is to be furnished by a brother of Mrs. Snelling, the house linen +is to be supplied by the father of the young man to whom Jane Matilda +is engaged, and the ironmongery by the uncle to whom George Frederic +is apprenticed. All, apparently, that is left for me to do, is to pay +for everything. It is most delightful. It might just as well be some +one else's wedding, so unimportant is the part which I am set to play +in it. + +And it is all the result of an accident. I deny that for the last +six months I have been using Mr. Snelling's home as if it were a +boarding-house. Nothing of the kind. The mere suggestion is absurd. It +is true that I have dropped in to dinner now and then, or to spend the +evening, or for an afternoon call, or for an hour or two in the +morning; but that has been simply and solely because the Snelling +family have evinced so marked a desire for my society. The alteration +which has taken place in their demeanour since my accident with Mary +Ann is, therefore, all the more amazing. For instance, look at their +behaviour in the matter of the ring. + +The accident in question occurred upon the Sunday evening. I had been +with Mary Ann to church, and had seen her home, and had had a little +supper, and it was after supper that it happened. I did not go and +purchase the engagement ring the first thing on the Monday morning, I +own it. Certainly not. Nor did I take any steps in that direction +during the whole of that week. I was not pressed for time. + +Besides, I was turning things over in my mind. But that was no reason +why, the Monday week following, four of her brothers should have +called on me on their way to the office, when I was scarcely out of +bed, and actually breakfasting, and assailed me in the way in which +they did. + +There was William Henry, John Frank, Ferdinand Augustus, and Stephen +Arthur. Each of them twice my size and all of them frightfully +ignorant and wholly regardless of the sensitive little points of those +with whom they came in contact. There is no circumlocution about them. +They go straight at what they want; and were scarcely inside my door +before they blurted out the purport of their coming. It was Frederick +Augustus; if the thing is possible he is, if anything, more direct +even than the rest of his family. + +"Look here, Whiting, how about Mary Ann's ring? The girl is fretting, +but you don't seem to notice it. And as you don't appear to know what +is the proper thing to do in a case of this kind, and don't understand +that the ring ought to be bought straight away, we've bought it for +you." + +I gasped--positively gasped. + +"Am I to understand that you've purchased my engagement ring?" + +"That's it; on your account. From a cousin of ours who's in that +line." + +I never saw people like the Snellings for possessing relatives in all +sorts of "lines." No matter what you want, or do not want, and never +will want, they are sure to have some relative who has dealt in it, +his or her whole life long. + +They produced the ring, and told me what I had to pay for it. A +handsome price it was. I was persuaded that somebody besides that +cousin got a profit out of Mary Ann's engagement ring. But I handed +over the amount. I did not want any unpleasantness; and I am quite +sure there would have been unpleasantness had I demurred. + +Later in the day I took it with me when I went to call on Mary Ann. +She appeared to be surprised almost into speechlessness when I +presented it to her. Her head dropped on my shoulder, and she kissed +me under the chin, observing, "You dear old Sam." The moments when I +am alone with Mary Ann are alleviations for those more frequent +moments when I am not alone with Mary Ann. Still I noticed that the +ring fitted her perfectly, and I could not but wonder if she had tried +it on before. + +At the same time I am beginning to be comforted by a suspicion that +Mary Ann is on my side; on my side, that is, as against the rest of +her family. There has been a difference of opinion as to where we are +to spend our honeymoon. It is from her action in that matter that my +suspicion springs. + +The Snellings have an aunt who lives in an out-of-the-way hole at the +other end of nowhere. The woman's name is Brady. There she owns a +cottage, or it may be a pigstye for all I know. When she heard of my +engagement with Mary Ann, she wrote and suggested that we should spend +our honeymoon in her cottage, or pigstye, and that I should pay her +rent for it. The matter was talked about at dinner. Mary Ann was +silent for some time; then she quietly remarked: + +"Don't trouble yourselves to discuss Aunt Brady's proposal. I shall do +nothing of the kind." + +This observation was followed by perfect silence. The members of the +family looked at one another. But, after a very considerable pause, +her mother said, with quite unusual mildness, "Very well, my dear. +Then, it's settled." + +After dinner I took advantage of an opportunity which offered to thank +Mary Ann for her action in the matter, because, of course, I had no +wish to spend my honeymoon in a place of which I knew nothing, to +oblige an aunt of whom I knew still less. Mary Ann beamed at me, and +she said, "You dear old man!" Presently she continued: + +"Do you know that in marrying me you are doing the best thing for +yourself that you ever did in all your life?" + +I endeavoured to explain to her that I felt sure of it; but I fear +that my explanation was a little stumbling. But she went on with the +most perfect fluency. There were no signs of faltering about her flow +of language. + +"You want someone who can look after you; and you could not, by any +chance, have chosen a person who will look after you better than I +shall." + +Such an assurance was most satisfactory. We had a long confidential +chat on matters of business. I found that as a woman of business she +was beyond all my expectations. + +I told her exactly what my income was; and the source from which it +came, and all about it. She drew up a plan on which we were to lay it +out. It was an admirable plan. I had never had one, but I saw clearly +that in that way the money would go twice as far. + +It turned out that she had a little money of her own; about a hundred +and thirty pounds a year. And, of course, I had my expectations, and +she had hers. It was plain that together we should manage most +comfortably. Delightfully, in fact. On the subject of wedding +presents, too, her ideas were the most lucid I ever yet encountered. +It was wonderful to listen to her--really wonderful. + +"I shall make papa give me five hundred pounds, at least. 'A bird in +the hand is worth two in a bush'--and it will be something to have by +us." + +I quite agreed with her remarks about the bird in the hand; and it +certainly will be something to have by us. + +"I know what mamma can afford to give, and I will see she gives it. +And I will see that there is no shirking about the boys--or about the +girls either. I will take care that my relations do their duty. I have +drawn up a list of all the people who ought to give us a present, and +I shall tell them what they ought to give--it won't be my fault if I +don't get it. Of course there are some people with whom you can't be +perfectly plain, but I shall be as plain as I can; there's a way and a +manner of doing that kind of thing. I have no intention of being +presented with an endless collection of duplicates, or a lot of +useless rubbish which I don't know what to do with. If you take my +advice you will follow in my footsteps." + +I endeavoured to. At least I drew up a list of people who ought to +meet the occasion, and I tried in more than one instance to drop a +hint of what, as I felt, they ought to meet it with. + +But I am bound to admit that so far my success has been as nothing +compared with hers. Hers has been prodigious. It is certain that we +have a large collection of really valuable property about the +house--the wedding presents to Mary Ann. She has a knack of getting +people to do what she wishes and to give her what she wants, which is +a little short of miraculous. + +A singular feature about the situation is that people are actually +beginning to pity me--to sympathise with me for being about to marry +Mary Ann. I notice that they are generally persons who have already +tendered their offerings. The fact of having given Mary Ann a wedding +present seems to fill them with a feeling of rancorous acidity which, +to me, is inexplicable. My belief is that they have been induced to +spend at least twice as much as they intended, and that they resent +it. Such is the selfishness of human nature. But why, on that account, +they should pity me, I altogether fail to understand. + +"We have all been giving Mary Ann presents, and I suppose you, Mr. +Whiting, have been giving her something too." That was what Mrs. +Macpherson said to me only the other day. I have given Mary Ann two or +three trifles, and I said so. "And what," inquired Mrs. Macpherson, +"has Mary Ann given you?" + +"Her love." + +Someone sniggered. I cannot pretend to explain why, except on the +supposition that romance is dead; at least in that circle of society +in which the Snellings move. But that is not the only society the +world contains. + +As a matter of fact, Mary Ann has given me a pair of slippers, worked +by her own hands. It is true that they are a trifle large for me, and +that I shall never be able to keep them on my feet except when I am +sitting still. But Mary Ann does not seem to think that that matters, +so why should I? Her youngest sister, Clara Louisa, has quite +gratuitously informed me that she has had them by her for some +considerable time, and that, not to put too fine a point on it, they +were originally designed for another individual altogether--a Mr. +Pilbeam. But even supposing that what Clara Louisa says is true--of +which I have no evidence--I have, surely, cause to congratulate myself +on standing literally in Mr. Pilbeam's shoes, even if they are a +little spacious. + +On the whole I do not know that I regret that accident I had with Mary +Ann. It is true that there are times when I am a little disposed to +wish that she were not quite so good a manager; now and then every man +likes to call his soul his own. On the other hand, she is well +qualified to protect me from the rest of the family. She will keep +them at bay. Because it is beginning to dawn on me that, singlehanded, +she is more than a match for them all. Which is just as well. If she +had been like me they would have rent us limb from limb. As it is, +unless I am mistaken, some of the rending will be on our side. And +they know it! + +P.S.--The cards are out for the wedding. It is to take place on +Tuesday fortnight. We are going for our honeymoon to Italy and the +South of France. A second cousin of Mary Ann's is in the Cook's Tours +line. He has given us free passes all the way to the end of our +journey, and all the way back again; and coupons for free board and +lodging at the hotel. It's a wedding present. So that, as Mary Ann +says, our honeymoon need cost us practically nothing. Besides which we +can always sell the coupons and railway passes which we don't use. + +Nothing could be more delightful. + + + + + A SUBSTITUTE. + + THE STORY OF MY LAST CRICKET-MATCH. + + + CHAPTER I. + + I AM APPOINTED CAPTAIN. + +I have some idea of cricket--not much, perhaps, but I certainly have +some. I was not in the 'Varsity team, nor near it; but I played in the +Freshman's match, and provided myself with spectacles. I was nearly in +the school team once. That was when I carried my bat for forty-five. I +must own that my performance was a surprise to everyone--and to myself +among the rest. But as I never repeated it--or anything like it--they +left me, very wisely, out of the eleven. + +Thus it will be seen that, from a cricketing point of view, I did not, +even in my best days, come up to first-rate form; and my best days +were, reckoning from last summer, quite fifteen years ago. During +those fifteen years I do not remember once handling a bat, far less +hitting at a cricket-ball with one; and yet, in this state of +unpreparedness, I had the presumption last summer to captain a team, +and to lead them on--well, not to victory but to disgrace. It's a fact. +The match was Storwell _v_. Latchmere. Storwell was _my_ team; and as +I do not think a more remarkable match was ever known in the whole +annals of cricketing history, I here venture to report it. + +When they first asked me to play I thought they were mad. +Storwell-on-Sea is a village on the south coast--I beg pardon; I +believe it is called by the inhabitants a town. It is a pretty place, +and not unknown--in the locality. It has a season and all that kind of +thing, and it was during the season I was there. And one day a +deputation of the inhabitants called on me at my lodgings to ask if I +would lead the local cricket club to, say, victory. As I have said, my +first impression was that they were mad; either that, or else that +they were "playing it off" on the unprotected stranger. + +I hinted so much to the deputation. The deputation smiled. The chief +spokesman was the local barber; his name was Sapsworth. He explained +that Mr. Wingrave had sent them there. Wingrave was the vicar; we were +"up" together, and he must have known quite well whereabouts my +cricketing form came in. I decided to crush the deputation before the +thing went farther. + +"To show you the sort of man you propose should captain you, I need +only mention that it is more than fifteen years since I had a bat in +my hand." + +But the admission did not crush them: quite the other way. It opened +the floodgates of their eloquence. + +"That's nothing," Mr. Sapsworth cried. "There's Hedges here; we've had +to put him in; he don't even know the rules of the game, and he's just +turned sixty-one." + +I glanced at Mr. Hedges, thus frankly referred to. He was a smiling, +red-faced, bald-headed old gentleman, who, if not considerable in +height, was great in girth. He would certainly have turned the scale +at sixteen stone. I felt that, to cricketers who intended to play Mr. +Hedges, any objections which I might urge would appear quite trivial. + +"When is the match to be?" I asked. + +"To-morrow," was the startling reply. + +I was speechless. That I, after fifteen years' total abstention, +should be asked to captain a team the members of which were entire +strangers to me, and of whose individual styles of play I had not the +faintest notion, in a match against an unknown foe, at four-and-twenty +hours' notice, was a little hard to credit. It was altogether too +preposterous. I told them so. But they could not be brought to see it. + +The end of it was that I agreed to play. No man knows to what a depth +of folly he can sink until he tries. + + + CHAPTER II. + + MR. BENYON BOWLS. + +The match was to be played on Mr. Stubbs's field. Mr. Stubbs was a +local butcher. Mr. Sapsworth had kindly promised to come and escort me +to the scene of action. He arrived at half-past nine, just as I was +opening my morning's letters. On the way he gave me a chart of the +country. It appeared that in batting we were not strong, in fielding +we were weak, and that our bowling was more than shaky. + +"But we shall pull through," Mr. Sapsworth added; "especially now," +and he glanced at me. + +"I hope you are under no delusion as to my powers, Mr. Sapsworth. I +never was a first-rate cricketer, and, as I have already told you, it +is more than fifteen years since I handled a bat." + +"If you'll excuse my saying so, sir, I've generally noticed that them +who doesn't say much does a deal." + +That was one way of looking at it, no doubt; but if I did a deal, I +could only say that it would be a pleasant surprise to me. + +"And our opponents--what sort of a team are they?" + +Mr. Sapsworth turned up his nose--not metaphorically, but as a matter +of fact. + +"If we're bad," he said, "they're wuss. There's only one thing I've +ever seen those Latchmere blokes much good at, and that is cheating. +You'll have to keep a sharp eye on them, or they'll have all our chaps +out when they ain't; and they won't go out themselves, not even when +you've bowled their three stumps down all of a row." + +"Surely," I suggested, "those sort of questions are for the umpires to +decide." + +"Umpires!" Up went Mr. Sapworth's nose again. "They bring their own +umpire, and he's got his own ideas of umpiring, he has. But we've got +our own umpire as well as them." + +I said nothing; but Mr. Sapsworth's words conveyed to my mind pleasant +impressions of the strict rigour of the game. + +When we arrived there was a goodly gathering already assembled in Mr. +Stubbs's field. A tent was erected; in and about it was a nondescript +collection of men and boys; some forty or fifty others, availing +themselves of the opportunity afforded them for a little practice, +were actually disporting themselves on the pitch on which we were +presently to play. I consoled myself with the reflection that the +worse the ground was the more _my_ bowling would tell. + +Mr. Sapworth introduced me to the crowd _en masse_. Several persons +touched their caps to me; others nodded their heads; some grinned. + +"Good-morning, gentlemen. We're going to have a fine day for our +match. Our team all here?" + +Mr. Sapworth took upon himself to answer; he had been searching about +him with his eyes. + +"They're here all right. I suppose those Latchmere chaps ain't come +yet?" + +They had not come, and they did not come for an hour or more. I +employed the interval in becoming acquainted with the individual +members, arranging the order of going in, and their positions in the +field; matters in appearance simple enough, but more difficult in +practice. But at last the preliminaries were settled somehow, and the +Latchmere men appeared upon the ground. + +Their captain, coming up, was introduced to me. I was informed +afterwards that he was a blacksmith. I thought he was by the way in +which he grasped my hand. His opening speech was a little surprising. + +"We ain't going to play you if you've got eleven men, you know." + +I inquired into his meaning. + +"We've only got ten," he said. "And one of them's Soft Sawney, and +another's Sprouts." + +I do not know if those were the correct names of the gentlemen +referred to, or only fancy ones by which they were known to their +friends; but he laid his hand on two of his followers and hauled them +to the front. One was a long, weedy youth, who, one saw at a glance, +was more than half an imbecile; and the other was a portly old +gentleman of fifty-five or six, with a corporation like a barrel. + +Mr. Sapsworth intervened. + +"What's that?" he cried. "We've got Hedges!" + +He brought Mr. Hedges forward. I could not but feel that, to say the +least of it, Mr. Hedges balanced Mr. Sprouts. If Mr. Hedges could run +more than a dozen yards without pausing to take breath, I was almost +ready to express my willingness to eat my hat. + +"But we've only got ten men," persisted Mr. Barker. "You'll only have +to have ten. If you think we're going to play against your eleven we +won't play you at all, so that's all about it." + +There was a prospect of unpleasantness even before the match began. It +seemed that one of us would have to retire, in satisfaction of Mr. +Barker's rather unjustifiable demand. I was about to retire +myself--for I instinctively felt that, as a captain, I was no match +for Mr. Barker--when a rather curious incident occurred. + +On a sudden a newcomer appeared upon the scene. I say on a sudden, for +no one had noticed his approach, and yet, all at once, there he was, +standing between the Latchmere captain and myself. To me at any rate +his presence was so unexpected, and, indeed, so startling, that I +stared. He seemed to have come out of space. He was a big, burly +fellow, with smooth cheeks, round face, bullet-shaped head, and +sleepy-looking black eyes. + +"Let me play for you?" he said. + +For a moment Mr. Barker stared at the stranger in surprise, in common +with the rest of us. Then he jumped at the offer. + +"Let you! rather!" He thrust out his hand and caught the stranger's +palm in his. But no sooner had he got it firmly gripped than he +dropped it with an exclamation: "Why, what's the matter with you? +Ain't you well? Your hand's as cold as a frozen corpse." + +I went a little aside with Mr. Sapsworth. + +"Who is he?" I asked. + +"I don't know, and yet I seem somehow to have seen his face before. +But let them have him. He doesn't look as though he were up to much." + +He did not. Anyone looking less like a cricketer I have seldom +seen. His costume was ridiculous. He had on a pair of large check +trousers--a check of the kind which the Oxford tailor explained to the +undergraduate was a _leetle_ too large to be seen to advantage on a +single pair of understandings. He had on a huge top hat, of a size and +shape which would have made the fortune of a "lion comique." A red +woollen muffler was wound several times round his neck, and his +capacious person was enveloped in an enormous overcoat, the like of +which I had never seen before. The day promised to remind us of the +torrid zone, yet Mr. Barker had cried out that the stranger's hand +felt cold. + +In the toss for innings victory fell to us. So we went in. I led the +van. My associate was a youth named Fenning. He was a mere lad, and +looked too much of a lout to be much of a cricketer. Mr. Barker led +the bowling. I soon saw that if he had any strength it was not as a +bowler. If I kept my head, I told myself, and he carried away my +bails, it would be owing to the ground; for a rougher piece of turf, I +suppose, few wickets have been pitched upon. But I was far too nervous +to take liberties even with Mr. Barker. And, indeed, when the first +over was finished, and I found myself still in, I drew a long breath +of self-congratulation. + +The other bowler was, in his own line, as meritorious a specimen as +his captain. So, on the whole, things were going better than I had +expected. I had scored eleven, six off Mr. Barker, and the rest off +his friend. Even Fenning had hit up two--_literally_ hit up. I was +really beginning to think that I was getting set, which, in my +palmiest days had only happened once--thrice happy day!--when +something took place which showed me, not for the first time, the +advisability of never counting your chickens till the eggs are +hatched. + +Mr. Barker was just about to commence an over. He actually had the +ball in his hand, when the substitute--the stranger who had +volunteered to fill the place of the eleventh man--came marching right +across the field. Mr. Barker saw him coming, and called out to him to +stay where he was. But, wholly unheeding, the substitute strode on. He +reached Mr. Barker, and, without saying a word, so far as I could +perceive, he coolly held out his hand for the ball. I fully expected +that the Latchmere captain would remonstrate, and not only +remonstrate, but remonstrate strongly; but, to my surprise, he +instantly surrendered the ball, and slunk rather than walked to the +place which the stranger had just quitted. So the substitute was left +to bowl. + +Without doubt he was an eccentric character. Up to that moment he had +been fielding in his woollen muffler, his overcoat, and, last but not +least, his wonderful top hat. These, however, he now doffed, and laid +in a heap upon the ground. Their disappearance revealed the fact that +he wore a tight-fitting jacket which was the same wonderful pattern in +checks as his trousers. From the look of him, I certainly never +supposed that he could bowl. My surprise was, therefore, all the +greater when I discovered that he could. His action was peculiar. He +went right up to the wicket, and stood quite still, delivering the +ball with a curious flourish of the wrist. Its pace was amazing. It +pitched a good two feet to the off, and broke right in--perhaps aided +by the ground, though he certainly had found a spot. I was so +astounded by the pace--which reminded me of the old stories told of +Lillywhite; you could hear it "humming" in the air--that I never even +moved my bat. It was that which saved me. As it was the bat was all +but driven out of my hand. I told myself that on the arrival of a +second edition I should have to go. Yet I did manage to stop the next +four balls--how, I have not the faintest notion; but the sixth--for it +seemed that, in those parts, they bowled six to the over--took my +middle stump, breaking it clean off at the top. + +As I entered the tent the scorer cried out-- + +"What name?" + +"Tom Benyon," replied the bowler. + +Mr. Hedges, who was seated at the scorer's side, brought down his fist +upon the trestle-table with a bang. + +"I knew it was! I knowed him all along!" Mr. Hedges was in a state of +odd excitement. "That chap who bowled you ain't a man, sir--he's a +ghost." + +"He manages to put a good deal of pace on the ball for a ghost," I +answered. + +"And so he ought to. Did you hear what name he said? He said Tom +Benyon! There wasn't a better cricketer in all these parts than Tom +Benyon used to be. He played up in Lunnon more than once, I know, and +got well paid for playing too. But he always was a queer sort, was +Tom. I knew him well. I saw him buried. And if it is him, and not his +ghost, he ain't grown a day older these twenty years, he ain't." + +I laughed. I supposed the old gentleman was jesting. But not a bit of +it. When our second man had gone to the wicket Mr. Sapsworth drew me +aside. + +"I don't like the look of this," he said. + +"Nor I," I answered, supposing he referred to Mr. Benyon's bowling. +"He'll bring down our stumps like ninepins." + +"It isn't that. It--it's the man," he said. + +"Do you mean the ghost?" I asked jokingly. + +"It's easy to laugh. But----" Mr. Sapsworth paused. I could see he was +ashamed of himself, yet had his suspicions none the less. "I thought I +had seen him before, and I had. It _is_ Tom Benyon." + +"He says he is Tom Benyon, and I suppose he should know best." + +"Yes." Mr. Sapsworth fidgeted. "But Tom Benyon's been dead these +twenty years." + +"Dead!" I cried, and laughed. "He showed himself too much alive for +me, at any rate." + +"When I was a youngster," continued Mr. Sapsworth, "Tom Benyon used to +come into my father's shop to be shaved. He was always on the drink. +One morning I was all alone, minding the shop for father, when he came +in, mad drunk. I never shall forget that morning, never. He made me +sit in the shaving-chair, and set about to shave me. He soaped me all +over--face and hair and all. I was that there frightened I couldn't +make a sound. I never shall forget how I sat and watched him, with the +soap all in my eyes, as he put an edge upon the razor. Then he set +about shaving off my hair. He had got off about half of it, and I was +streaming with blood, when who should come in but my father. If he +hadn't Tom Benyon would have made an end of me." + +He paused. I perceived that the mere recollection of his little +adventure affected him unpleasantly. + +"There was something queer about his death. Some people said it was +drink had done for him, some of 'em said he had done for himself. +Anyhow, the whole country-side was at his funeral. I was there. I +remember it as plainly as though it was yesterday." + +While I was looking at Mr. Sapsworth, and pondering his words, there +came the sound of laughter from the middle of the ground. It was not a +loud laugh, but it was a distinctly disagreeable one. I looked round. +Mr. Benyon was laughing at Mr. Fenning's discomfiture. He had served +him as he had served me--he had taken his middle stump right out of +the ground. I turned to Mr. Sapsworth. + +"You follow." + +"Me!" Mr. Sapsworth turned several shades whiter. "Me!" He looked +about him with a frightened air. "Mr. Trentham, I--I can't," he said. + +"Nonsense, Sapsworth! You don't mean to say that you are going to +allow yourself to be frightened by any nonsense about a ghost, and in +broad daylight too!" + +The little man did not look by any means reassured by my tone of +derision. He seemed more inclined to take to his heels than to take +his place at the wickets. It is not impossible that he might have done +so had he not been addressed from a different quarter. + +"Bob Sapsworth!" It was Mr. Benyon calling to the little barber right +across the field. "Come and be shaved!" + +I own that I myself was startled. The words were apposite, to say the +least of it. We had just been speaking of Mr. Sapsworth's experience +of the shaver's art as practised by Mr. Benyon's hands, and here was +Mr. Benyon's namesake inviting him, if not to be cut, at least to come +again. On Mr. Sapsworth the effect of the invitation was surprising. +He had on his pads, his bat was in his hand. Without a word he +shuffled towards the stumps. If ever I saw a man go to the wickets in +a state of "mortal funk," I saw him then. + +I myself moved towards the scoring-tent. The state of things within it +at once impressed me as peculiar. It had been filled, a little time +ago, with jovial faces. Now, the owners of those faces might have been +attendants at a funeral. And many a man has had a livelier following +to the grave than I saw assembled then. + +Fenning came shambling into the tent. I spoke to him. + +"Mr. Benyon's bowling was too much for you, eh, Fenning?" + +Unless I am mistaken, Mr. Fenning wiped a tear out of his eye. He +certainly put up his hand and rubbed the optic with his knuckles. + +"I never seed such bowling! 'Tain't fair!" he said. + +"What is there unfair about it, Fenning?" + +"It comes so sharp. I never seed the ball afore there was my wickets +down." + +I smiled. Not so the company. They regarded Mr. Fenning's words with +different eyes. Mr. Hedges gave expression to the general opinion. + +"You ain't never seen such bowling afore, and you won't never see such +bowling again. 'Cause why? 'Cause it's a ghost that's bowling, not a +man!" + +Mr. Fenning looked about him with open eyes, and with open mouth as +well. "A ghost!" he mumbled. + +"A ghost!" said Mr. Hedges. + +I expostulated. + +"Come, Mr. Hedges, you frighten the lad. I am surprised, too, that a +man of your age and experience and wisdom should talk nonsense about +ghosts." + +Mr. Hedges looked up at me a little sharply. + +"If he ain't a ghost, what's become of the things that he's took off?" + +I asked him what he meant. He pointed across the ground. + +"He took off his hat and his coat and his scarf, and he laid 'em on +the grass. He ain't touched 'em, and no one ain't took 'em, yet +they're gone! We saw 'em go. If he ain't a ghost, what's become of the +things that he's took off?" + +Mr. Hedges grew a little excited. I looked in the direction in which +the old gentleman was pointing. The garments he referred to had +apparently vanished, but, of course, their disappearance was +susceptible of a most natural explanation. I should have maintained +this proposition with more confidence had it not been for something +which immediately occurred. + +Mr. Benyon was preparing to deliver his first ball to Mr. Sapsworth, +and as I eyed him I noted the extremely unworkmanlike attitude in +which Mr. Sapsworth awaited the delivery. Preparatory to delivering +the ball Mr. Benyon divested himself of his remarkable coat, which +matched his trousers, and in so doing disclosed a waistcoat which +matched his coat. Neatly folding up the garment, he laid it beside him +on the ground. No sooner did it touch the ground than it disappeared. +I am unable to say how, but it did, and that before the eyes of all +the lookers-on. This singular behaviour on the part of that curious +garment took me by surprise. + +After that I was prepared to excuse a certain amount of nervousness on +the part of Mr. Sapsworth. To Mr. Benyon Mr. Sapsworth's nervousness +seemed to afford positive pleasure. He cried, in a tone which was +perhaps _meant_ to be jovial: + +"Now, Bob Sapsworth, prepare to be shaved!" + +The ball went from his hand like lightning. Mr. Sapsworth yelled. Mr. +Benyon sent down his second ball--whack! not against the bat, but, I +should say, as nearly as possible against the same portion of Mr. +Sapsworth's frame which it had struck before. Any cricketer might have +been demoralised after receiving two such blows, but he would at least +have tried to get out of the way of the ball instead of in it. Mr. +Sapsworth placed his person exactly where the ball might be expected +to come, and, for once in a way, expectation was realised--it did +come. The third, fourth, and fifth balls found an exactly similar +billet, and the sixth not only knocked his bat out of his trembling +hands, but all three of his stumps clean out of the ground. + +"I said I'd shave you, Bobby!" shouted Mr. Benyon, as the victim went +limping from the place of execution. + +"Next man in," I said. + +"I ain't going in," courteously rejoined the player whose turn it was +to follow. I was about to ask him why, when I was saved the trouble by +Mr. Benyon. + +"Jack Hawthorn!" Oddly enough, the man's name was Hawthorn, though how +Mr. Benyon came to know that he was next man in is more than I can +say. Mr. Hawthorn was a huge fellow quite six feet high; but at the +sound of Mr. Benyon's voice he rose, docile as a child. "I'm waiting +for you." + +Without pads Mr. Hawthorn went striding across the turf, content to +use the bat which Mr. Sapsworth had left lying on the ground. That +hero came limping into the tent. + +"It's a ghost," he said. + +I could not but feel that the fellow was something of a cur. To this +feeling I gave expression. + +"Ghost or no ghost, rather than let him pound me all over the body +with the ball, I would have made one try to hit at it. And you told me +that you were an all-round player." + +No doubt the man must have been suffering considerable pain, but I was +too much annoyed at his cowardice to feel for him. Besides, the whole +thing was so preposterous. + +Undoubtedly, as a trundler Mr. Benyon was superb. I have no hesitation +in saying that I do not remember to have seen finer bowling than his +on any ground in England. He combined two things which, so far as I am +aware, are not to be found together in any living player--pace _and_ +break. But it was not his bowling, fine as it was, which promised to +work our ruin, so much as the absurd belief entertained by the members +of the team that he--check trousers and all--was a ghost. An idea came +into my head. I resolved that I would ask him, point-blank, in the +face of all the people, if he was a ghost. If his answers did not +satisfy the doubters nothing would. + +The opportunity occurred just as he was about to begin his following +over. Moving from the tent, I advanced towards the wickets. + +"Excuse me, Mr. Benyon, but before you commence to bowl might I speak +to you a word?" + +He turned and looked at me. As he did so I was conscious that, in the +most emphatic sense of the word, his appearance was peculiar. He +looked as though he were a corpse, and an unhealthy corpse to +boot--the sort of corpse that no man would spend a night with +willingly. And this unpleasant appearance was accentuated by his +ridiculous attire. Fancy a dead man, of a bloated habit of body, +taking his walks abroad in a suit of checks--each check twelve inches +square! I was so uncomfortably conscious that Mr. Benyon did not look +a clubbable kind of man that I faltered in my speech. + +"You will excuse me, Mr. Benyon, if the question I am about to put to +you appears to you even worse than absurd, but the members of my team +have some ridiculous notion in their heads that you are a certain Tom +Benyon who died twenty years ago, and who now lies buried in the +churchyard. I am sure, therefore, you will forgive my asking, are you +a ghost?" + +Mr. Benyon eyed me, and I eyed him--not willingly, but because, for +some reason or other, I could not help it. At last he answered, +speaking in a sort of shout, + +"I am." + +Of course such an answer was absurd--ridiculously absurd. As I sit +here writing no man could be more conscious of its absurdity than I +am. But _then_ it was not _that_ I was so conscious of as of a cold +shiver going all down my back, and of a sort of feeling as though +Providence had sent me out into the world knock-kneed. I struggled +against a strong inclination to sit down upon the turf and stop there. +But being at the same time dimly aware that I was making an unexampled +fool of myself, I made a frantic effort to regain the use of my +tongue. + +"Oh, you--you are a ghost! I--I thought so. Tha--thanks." + +How I got back to the tent I have not the faintest notion. But I do +know that after that exhibition of the sort of stuff that I was made +of, disaster followed hard upon disaster. + +The first wicket--my own--had fallen for thirteen runs. The second, +and the third, had seen the score unaltered. Hawthorn was the fourth +man in. He was so fortunate as to appear upon the scene just as I put +my fatal question--it was to give him a chance I put it. The answer +settled him--that is, if there was anything left to settle. I am not +able to state exactly what became of him, but I have a clear +impression that he was out at the end of the over. Moreover, of this I +am well assured, that nine wickets fell without an addition being made +to the score. I suppose that is, in its way, a record. + +Whether Mr. Benyon owed the inhabitants of his native place a grudge +the evidence before me does not enable one to decide; but, if he did, +he certainly paid it in full that day. Although he bowled at the +wickets he hit the players first. Nor was this, so far as appearances +went, in any way his fault; they seemed to have a singular knack of +getting just in the way of the ball. The order of the innings was +this: the ball hit each man five times, and the wickets once. At the +end of each of Mr. Benyon's overs a batsman returned to the tent a +sadder and a lamer man. + +One case in particular was hard. It was the case of Mr. Hedges. He was +the last man in; when his turn came, with the score still at thirteen +runs, he stuck to his seat like glue. + +"Won't somebody go in for me?" he asked, as he saw his doom +approaching. "I ain't no cricketer," he added, a little later on. "Now +am I?" He asked the question of his friends, but his friends were +still. He addressed himself to Mr. Sapsworth. "Bob Sapsworth, you +asked me to play, now didn't you? You says to me, 'If you play, +William Hedges,' you says, 'I shouldn't be surprised but what the gent +as we're going to ask to captain us stands you a free lunch,' you +says, 'not to speak of drinks,' you says." I pricked up my ears at +this, but held my tongue. "But you says nothing about being bowled at +by a ghost, now did you now; I ask you, Bob Sapsworth, did you now?" + +Mr. Sapsworth was silent. The old gentleman went on: + +"I shan't go in," he announced. That was when the ninth batsman had +received Mr. Benyon's first ball--upon his person. "Nothing shan't +make me go in to be bowled at by a ghost." This second announcement +followed the delivery of the second ball upon the batsman's person. "I +ain't no cricketer, and I don't know nothing about the rules of the +game, and I ain't going to stand up to be chucked at by a ghost," and +Mr. Hedges struck his fist upon the board. There came a yell from the +wickets; Mr. Hedges gripped his seat tightly with his hands. "I won't +go in!" he cried. Another ball, another yell. Mr. Hedges repeated his +determination over and over again, as if in its reiteration he sought +for strength to keep it. "I won't! I won't! I won't!" + +The last ball of the over, and the ninth of our hopes had fallen. A +pause ensued. The batsman came limping towards the tent. Mr. Hedges' +time was come; he clutched at the seat with the frenzy of despair. + +"Bill Hedges!" sang out Mr. Benyon; but Mr. Hedges gave no sign. "Bill +Hedges!" Still no reply. "Bill Hedges, have I got to come and fetch +you?" + +At that awful threat the old gentleman did rise. His ample form went +waddling across the ground. + +"I--I'm a-coming, Tom. I--I ain't no cricketer, Tom. Do--don't you be +too hard on me. If you must hit me, let it be behind." + +"Where's your bat?" + +The inquiry came from Mr. Benyon. Mr. Hedges had arrived at the wicket +without that batsman's requisite. He scratched his head. + +"My bat? I--I don't want no bat. I--I ain't no cricketer. You can hit +me quite as well without it, Tom." + +"Go and get your bat!" + +Mr. Hedges went and got it. When he had it it was evident that he had +but rudimentary notions of its uses. He held it gingerly, round side +foremost, as though he were afraid that if he grasped it tightly it +would burn him. + +"Bill Hedges, do you remember those drinks you paid for me the +Saturday week before I died?" + +"No, Tom; I can't say rightly as how I do." + +"You did. It was at the 'Crown and Anchor.' I had no money. I said if +you'd stand Sam I'd pay you back again; but I never did. I'll pay you +now." + +Mr. Benyon paid him, five times over. The old gentleman bore it like a +lamb. Whack--whack--whack--whack--whack! and the fall of his wicket at +the end. As he returned towards the tent he wiped his wrinkled brow. + +"I always said I wasn't no cricketer, and I ain't," he said. + + + CHAPTER III. + + AND BATS. + +Our innings was over--for thirteen runs. We sat there, moping in a +crowd, I among the rest, when Mr. Benyon, bustling up, reminded me of +my duties as a captain. + +"Now then, turn out. Send your men into the field. We can't stop here +all day. I'm first man in; soon I'll have to go, and I haven't had a +smack at a cricket-ball these twenty years!" + +We looked at each other. One part of his address gave us a certain +gratification--that part in which he stated that he soon would have to +go. We turned out. I suppose a more unpromising set of fieldsmen never +yet took their places in the field. The Latchmere men went slouching +towards the tent; some of them, I noticed, instead of going in stole +towards the rear. These, I suspect, stole off the ground; I never set +eyes on them again. + +"Mr. Trentham, I--I can't bowl," whispered Mr. Sapsworth to me as we +moved across the turf. + +He and I had agreed that we should start the bowling. I confess that I +felt no more inclined to act up to the letter of our agreement than he +did. But Mr. Benyon intervened. + +"Now, Bob Sapsworth, you take the bowling one end, and let your +captain take the other. Captain, you take first over." + +I obeyed without a murmur. It might have been quite a usual thing to +see in a match a member of one team ordering about the captain of the +other. I do not think that our field was arranged on scientific +principles; I may certainly claim that I had nothing to do with its +arrangement. There is a suspicion floating through my mind that at one +or two points--two, or more--men were placed unusually close together. +For instance, at deep mid-off--very deep mid-off--Mr. Hawthorn and Mr. +Hedges were not only doing their best to trample on each other's toes, +but each was seeking for a place of security behind the other's back. + +Mr. Barker shared with Mr. Benyon the honour of being first man in. +The Latchmere captain, as a captain, had become quite as much a +figurehead as I had. His bearing was indicative of extreme depression. +I think he had learned that to take, off-hand, the first substitute +who offered, was, now and then, unwise. + +To enable him to bat with more advantage, Mr. Benyon had removed his +waistcoat, which matched his trousers and his coat. What he had done +with it I cannot say; possibly it had vanished, with his other +garments, into air. Now he had on a bright red flannel shirt--his +tastes in costume seemed a trifle lurid--the sleeves of which were +turned up above the elbows. His pose was almost as peculiar as his +costume. He stood bolt upright, his legs together, his feet drawn heel +to heel; not at all in the fashion of a modern cricketer, who seeks to +guard his wickets with his legs. His bat he held straight down in +front of him, the blade swinging gently in the air. + +I am afraid I wasted more time in preparing to deliver my first ball +than I need have done; but if Mr. Benyon had not had a smack with a +bat for twenty years it was a good fifteen since I had bowled a ball. +After such a lapse of time one requires to pull oneself together +before exhibiting one's powers to a cricketer of Mr. Benyon's calibre. +He, however, did not seem to recognise the necessity which I myself +felt that I was under. + +"Hurry up, sir! Don't I tell you that soon I'll have to go?" + +I hurried up. I gave him an overhand full pitch which would have made +a decent catch for point, if point had been close in, which he wasn't. +However, in any case Mr. Benyon would have saved him the trouble. He +hit the ball a crack the like of which I had never seen before. He +drove it over the hedge, and over the trees, and up to the skies, and +out of sight. + +"I don't think that's a bad little smack to start with," he observed. +"I like your kind of bowling, mister. I suppose that's a boundary." He +called to the scorer--if there was one, which I doubt--"Put down Tom +Benyon six!" He turned again to me. "It's no good wasting time looking +for that ball. I've another in my pocket you can have." + +He put his hand into his trousers' pocket. Those remarkable garments +fitted him like eel-skins. I had certainly never supposed that he +could by any possibility have such a thing as a cricket-ball in one of +the pockets. But it appeared that he had. He drew one out and threw it +up to me. + +My second ball was a colourable imitation of my first, only this time +it was wide to leg. To long-leg Mr. Benyon sent it flying. + +"Put down Tom Benyon another six!" he cried. "I _do_ like your +bowling, mister. I've got another ball which you can have." + +He produced a second ball from the same pocket from which the first +had come. I could scarcely believe my eyes. But I was discovering, +with Horatio, that there were more things in heaven and earth than had +been contained in my philosophy. Since Mr. Benyon professed such +affection for the style of bowling which I favoured, I sent him down +another sample. This time it was fairly straight--by which I mean that +it would not have pitched more than a yard from the wickets if Mr. +Benyon had allowed it to pitch, which he didn't. He treated it as he +had done the first--he drove it, with terrific force, right above my +head. + +"Never mind about the ball," he said. "I've got another in my pocket." + +He had--the third. And in the same pocket from which the other two had +come. + +My fourth ball he treated to a swipe to square-leg. He seemed to have +a partiality for swiping. Quite unnecessarily he allowed that this was +so. + +"I do like a ball which I can get a smack at," he remarked as he +produced a fourth ball from the same pocket of his tightly-fitting +trousers which had contained the other three. "A swipe does warm me +so. Your kind of bowling, mister, 's just the thing." + +It was kind of him to say so; though, to my thinking, his remark did +not convey a compliment. When he sent my fifth ball out of sight I +wished that his love for swiping had been less, or my bowling of +another kind. The sixth, however, which he also produced from the same +wondrous store contained in his breeches pocket, he contented himself +with what he called "snicking." + +"That's what I call a pretty snick," he said. + +The "snick" in question was a tremendous drive to deep mid-off. It was +stopped, quite involuntarily, by Mr. Hawthorn and Mr. Hedges. So far +as I could see, it stunned the pair of them. Neither of them made the +slightest attempt to return the ball. + +"Run it out!" cried Mr. Benyon. He and Mr. Barker began to run. They +ran four, and then they ran two more, and still the ball was not +thrown in. Mr. Benyon urged the fielders on. "Hurry up, Bill Hedges!" + +Mr. Hedges did not hurry up; he never could have hurried up, even if +his manner of "fielding" the ball had not wholly deprived him of his +wind. But the ball was at last thrown in--when the pair had run +eleven. Forty-one runs off his first over was a result calculated to +take the conceit out of the average bowler. And Mr. Benyon's last +performance, his "snick," had placed him at the other wicket, prepared +to receive Mr. Sapsworth's bowling--when it came. + +"Now, Bob Sapsworth, I'll have a smack at you!" he said. + +He had. I felt for Mr. Sapsworth. But since I had suffered it was only +fair that he should suffer too. Crack--smack--whack went the balls out +of sight in all directions. And for each ball that disappeared Mr. +Benyon produced another from his breeches pocket. I felt that these +things must be happening to me in a dream. I was rapidly approaching +the condition in which Alice must have been in Wonderland--prepared +for anything. + +Time went on. Mr. Sapsworth and I bowled over after over. Mr. Benyon +was making a record in tall scoring. No performance of "W. G.'s" ever +came within many miles of it. And the balls he lost! And the balls +which he produced! And the diabolical ingenuity with which he managed, +at the close of every over, to change his end! If Mr. Barker did no +hitting, he did some running. He never had a chance to make a stroke, +but his partner took care to make him run an incredibly large odd +number as a wind up to every over. Mr. Benyon did not seem to be +distressed by the exertion in the least; Mr. Barker emphatically did. + +Mr. Benyon had buoyed us up by his statement that he would soon have +to go. His ideas of soon were different from ours. I suppose, at the +outside, our innings had lasted half an hour. How long we bowled to +Mr. Benyon is more than I can say. I know that I bowled until I felt +that I should either have to stop or drop. By degrees one fact began +to be impressed upon me. It was this--that the number of spectators +was growing smaller by degrees and beautifully less. Originally there +had been quite a crowd assembled. In course of time this had dwindled +to half a dozen stragglers. A little later on even these had gone. And +not only spectators but cricketers had disappeared. If my eyes did not +deceive me, there was not a member of the Latchmere team left on the +ground. They had had enough of Mr. Benyon--or his ghost. + +What was more, some of our own team took courage, and leg-bail. I +caught one of them--the lad Fenning--in the act of scrambling through +the hedge. But I had not the heart to stop him. I only wished that I +had been so fortunate as to have led the van. + +The thing grew serious. So far as I could see, Mr. Hawthorn, Mr. +Hedges, Mr. Sapsworth, and I were the only members of the Storwell +team left on the ground. And the reflection involuntarily crossed my +mind--what fools we were to stay! The amount of running about we had +to do! And the way in which Mr. Benyon urged us on! The perspiration +was running off from us in streams--I had never had such a "sweater" +before! + +"I do like your kind of bowling, mister," Mr. Benyon would constantly +remark. + +If I had had an equal admiration for his kind of batting we should +have been quits, but I had not; at least not then. + +A little later, looking round the field, I found that Mr. Hawthorn had +disappeared, and that Mr. Hedges, stuck in a hedge, was struggling +gallantly to reach safety on the other side. It was the last ball of +Mr. Sapsworth's over. Mr. Benyon ran thirteen for a hit to leg. He +made Mr. Barker run them too--it was the proverbial last straw. As Mr. +Barker was running the thirteenth run, instead of going to his wicket +he dropped his bat--the bat which he had never had a chance to +utilise--and bolted off the field as though Satan was behind him. Mr. +Benyon called out to him, but Mr. Barker neither stopped nor stayed. +It seemed that the match was going to resolve itself into a game of +single wicket. + +To make things better, when I came up to bowl I perceived that Mr. +Sapsworth's power of endurance had reached its tether. The position he +had taken up in the field had not much promise of usefulness. He first +stood close up to the hedge, then he stood in the middle of the hedge, +then--I doubt if he _stood_ upon the other side. But at least he had +vanished from my ken. And I was left alone to bowl to Mr. Benyon. That +over! + +"I do like your kind of bowling, mister," he observed when, as usual, +he sent my first ball out of sight. "Never mind about the ball. I've +got one in my pocket you can have." + +He had. He produced it--always from the same pocket. It was about the +second thousand. + +"It does warm me so to swipe." This he said when he had sent my second +ball on a journey to find its brother. Then a ball or two later on, "I +call that a tidy smack." The "smack" in question had driven the ball, +for anything I know to the contrary, a distance of some five miles or +so. + +The next ball I fielded. It was the first piece of fielding I had done +that day, and that was unintentional. It laid me on the ground. It was +some moments before I recovered myself sufficiently to enable me to +look round. When I did so no one was in sight. I was alone in the +field. The opposite wicket was deserted. The bat lay on the ground. +And Mr. Benyon had gone! + + + + THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Amusement Only, by Richard Marsh + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMUSEMENT ONLY *** + +***** This file should be named 38188-8.txt or 38188-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/1/8/38188/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + +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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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: Amusement Only + +Author: Richard Marsh + +Release Date: December 2, 2011 [EBook #38188] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMUSEMENT ONLY *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + + + + + +</pre> + + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Note:<br> + + +1. Page scan source:<br> +http://books.google.com/books?id=IzYPAAAAQAAJ +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h3>NEW NOVELS AT THE LIBRARIES.</h3> + +<h4>In Single Volume form, each Six Shillings.</h4> + +<hr class="W20"> + +<p class="hang1"><b>A SUFFOLK COURTSHIP.</b> By <span class="sc">M. Betham-Edwards</span>. +Author of "Kitty," "Dr. +Jacob," "Brother Gabriel," "The Lord of the Harvest," &c.</p> + +<p class="hang1"><b>THE DISHONOUR OF FRANK SCOTT.</b> By <span class="sc">M. +Hamilton</span>, Author of "A +Self-Denying Ordinance," "McLeod of the Camerons," &c.</p> + +<p class="hang1"><b>A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. A Romance.</b> By <span class="sc"> +Joanna B. Wood</span>, Author of "The +Untempered Wind," "Judith Moore," &c.</p> + +<p class="hang1"><b>THE WORLD'S SLOW STAIN.</b> By <span class="sc">Harold +Vallings</span>, Author of "The +Transgression of Terence Clancy," "A Month of Madness," &c.</p> + +<p class="hang1"><b>MOTHER-SISTER.</b> By <span class="sc">Edwin Puqh</span>, +Author of "Tony Drum," "The Man of +Straw," &c.</p> + +<hr class="W20"> + +<h4>LONDON: HURST & BLACKETT, LIMITED.</h4> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>AMUSEMENT ONLY</h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>AMUSEMENT ONLY</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h5>BY</h5> +<h2>RICHARD MARSH</h2> + +<h5>AUTHOR OF</h5> +<h4>"THE BEETLE," "THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN,"<br> +"FRIVOLITIES," "MARVELS AND MYSTERIES," <span class="sc">Etc</span>.</h4> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4><i>IN ONE VOLUME</i></h4> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4>LONDON</h4> +<h3>HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED</h3> +<h4>13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET</h4> +<h4>1901</h4> +<h5><i>All rights reserved</i></h5> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h5>PRINTED BY KELLEY'S DIRECTORIES LIMITED<br> +LONDON AND KINGSTON.</h5> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> +<br> +<div style="margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold"> +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_lost" href="#div1_lost"><span class="sc">The Lost Duchess.</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_strange" href="#div1_strange"><span class="sc">The Strange Occurrences in Canterstone Jail.</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_twins" href="#div1_twins"><span class="sc">Twins!</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_vision" href="#div1_vision"><span class="sc">A Vision of the Night.</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_way" href="#div1_way"><span class="sc">The Way of a Maid with a Man.</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_aunt" href="#div1_aunt"><span class="sc">Aunt Jane's Jalap.</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_willyum" href="#div1_willyum"><span class="sc">Willyum.</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_first" href="#div1_first"><span class="sc">His First Experiment.</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_old" href="#div1_old"><span class="sc">An Old-fashioned Christmas.</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_deputy" href="#div1_deputy"><span class="sc">By Deputy.</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_whiting" href="#div1_whiting"><span class="sc">Mr. Whiting and Mary Ann.</span></a></p> + +<p class="normal"><a name="div1Ref_sub" href="#div1_sub"><span class="sc">A Substitute.</span></a></p> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>AMUSEMENT ONLY.</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_lost" href="#div1Ref_lost">THE LOST DUCHESS.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + + +<h4>THE DUCHESS IS LOST.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Has the Duchess returned?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Knowles came further into the room. He had a letter on a salver. When +the Duke had taken it, Knowles still lingered. The Duke glanced at +him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is an answer required?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, your Grace." Still Knowles lingered. "Something a little singular +has happened. The carriage has returned without the Duchess, and the +men say that they thought her Grace was in it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I hardly understand myself, your Grace. Perhaps you would like to see +Barnes."</p> + +<p class="normal">Barnes was the coachman.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Send him up." When Knowles had gone, and he was alone, his Grace +showed signs of being slightly annoyed. He looked at his watch. "I +told her she'd better be in by four. She says that she's not feeling +well, and yet one would think that she was not aware of the fatigue +entailed in having the Prince to dinner, and a mob of people to +follow. I particularly wished her to lie down for a couple of hours."</p> + +<p class="normal">Knowles ushered in not only Barnes, the coachman, but Moysey, the +footman, too. Both these persons seemed to be ill at ease. The Duke +glanced at them sharply. In his voice there was a suggestion of +impatience.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is the matter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Barnes explained as best he could.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you please, your Grace, we waited for the Duchess outside Cane and +Wilson's, the drapers. The Duchess came out, got into the carriage, +and Moysey shut the door, and her Grace said, 'Home!' and yet when we +got home she wasn't there."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She wasn't where?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Her Grace wasn't in the carriage, your Grace."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What on earth do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Her Grace did get into the carriage; you shut the door, didn't you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Barnes turned to Moysey. Moysey brought his hand up to his brow in a +sort of military salute--he had been a soldier in the regiment in +which, once upon a time, the Duke had been a subaltern:</p> + +<p class="normal">"She did. The Duchess came out of the shop. She seemed rather in a +hurry, I thought. She got into the carriage, and she said, 'Home, +Moysey!' I shut the door, and Barnes drove straight home. We never +stopped anywhere, and we never noticed nothing happen on the way; and +yet when we got home the carriage was empty."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke stared.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you mean to tell me that the Duchess got out of the carriage while +you were driving full pelt through the streets without saying anything +to you, and without you noticing it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The carriage was empty when we got home, your Grace."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Was either of the doors open?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, your Grace."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You fellows have been up to some infernal mischief. You have made a +mess of it. You never picked up the Duchess, and you're trying to palm +this tale off on to me to save yourselves."</p> + +<p class="normal">Barnes was moved to adjuration:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'll take my Bible oath, your Grace, that the Duchess got into the +carriage outside Cane and Wilson's."</p> + +<p class="normal">Moysey seconded his colleague:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will swear to that, your Grace. She got into the carriage, and I +shut the door, and she said, 'Home, Moysey!'"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke looked as if he did not know what to make of the story and +its tellers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What carriage did you have?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Her Grace's brougham, your Grace."</p> + +<p class="normal">Knowles interposed:</p> + +<p class="normal">"The brougham was ordered because I understood that the Duchess was +not feeling very well, and there's rather a high wind, your Grace."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke snapped at him:</p> + +<p class="normal">"What has that to do with it? Are you suggesting that the Duchess was +more likely to jump out of a brougham while it was dashing through the +streets than out of any other kind of vehicle?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke's glance fell on the letter which Knowles had brought him +when he first had entered. He had placed it on his writing-table. Now +he took it up. It was addressed:</p> +<br> + +<p style="text-indent:50%">"To His Grace</p> + +<p style="text-indent:50%">"The Duke of Datchet.</p> + +<p style="text-indent:5%">"Private!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Very Pressing!!!"</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The name was written in a fine, clear, almost feminine hand. The words +in the left-hand corner of the envelope were written in a different +hand. They were large and bold; almost as though they had been painted +with the end of the penholder instead of being written with the pen. +The envelope itself was of an unusual size, and bulged out as though +it contained something else besides a letter.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke tore the envelope open. As he did so something fell out of it +on to the writing-table. It looked as though it was a lock of a +woman's hair. As he glanced at it the Duke seemed to be a trifle +startled. The Duke read the letter:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your Grace will be so good as to bring five hundred pounds (£500) in +gold to the Piccadilly end of the Burlington Arcade within an hour of +the receipt of this. The Duchess of Datchet has been kidnapped. An +imitation duchess got into the carriage, which was waiting outside +Cane and Wilson's and she alighted on the road. Unless your Grace does +as you are requested the Duchess of Datchet's left-hand little finger +will be at once cut off, and sent home in time to receive the Prince +to dinner. Other portions of her Grace will follow. A lock of her +Grace's hair is enclosed with this as an earnest of our good +intentions.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Before</i> 5.30 <i>p.m</i>. your Grace is requested to be at the Piccadilly +end of the Burlington Arcade with five hundred pounds (£500) in gold. +You will there be accosted by an individual in a white top-hat, and +with a gardenia in his button-hole. You will be entirely at liberty to +give him into custody, or to have him followed by the police. In which +case the Duchess's left arm, cut off at the shoulder, will be sent +home for dinner--not to mention other extremely possible +contingencies. But you are <i>advised</i> to give the individual in +question the five hundred pounds in gold, because in that case the +Duchess herself will be home in time to receive the Prince to dinner, +and with one of the best stories with which to entertain your +distinguished guests they ever heard.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Remember! <i>not later than</i> 5.30, unless you wish to receive her +Grace's little finger."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke stared at this amazing epistle when he had read it as though +he had found it difficult to believe the evidence of his eyes. He was +not a demonstrative person as a rule, but this little communication +astonished even him. He read it again. Then his hands dropped to his +sides and he swore.</p> + +<p class="normal">He took up the lock of hair which had fallen out of the envelope. Was +it possible that it could be his wife's, the Duchess? Was it possible +that a Duchess of Datchet could be kidnapped, in broad daylight, in +the heart of London, and be sent home, as it were, in pieces? Had +sacrilegious hands already been playing pranks with that great lady's +hair? Certainly, <i>that</i> hair was so like <i>her</i> hair that the mere +resemblance made his Grace's blood run cold. He turned on Messrs. +Barnes and Moysey as though he would have liked to rend them:</p> + +<p class="normal">"You scoundrels!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He moved forward as though the intention had entered his ducal heart +to knock his servants down. But, if that were so, he did not act quite +up to his intention. Instead, he stretched out his arm, pointing at +them as if he were an accusing spirit:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Will you swear that it was the Duchess who got into the carriage +outside Cane and Wilson's?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Barnes began to stammer:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I'll swear, your Grace, that I--I thought----"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke stormed an interruption:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't ask what you thought. I ask you, will you swear it was?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke's anger was more than Barnes could face. He was silent. +Moysey showed a larger courage:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Could have sworn that it was at the time, your Grace. But now it +seems to me that it's a rummy go."</p> + +<p class="normal">"A rummy go!" The peculiarity of the phrase did not seem to strike the +Duke just then--at least, he echoed it as if it didn't. "You call it a +rummy go! Do you know that I am told in this letter that the woman who +had entered the carriage was not the Duchess? What you were thinking +about, or what case you will be able to make out for yourselves, you +know better than I; but I can tell you this--that in an hour you +will leave my service, and you may esteem yourselves fortunate if, +to-night, you are not both of you sleeping in gaol. Knowles! take +these men to a room, and lock them in it, and set some one to see that +they don't get out of it, and come back at once. You understand, at +once--to me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Knowles did not give Messrs. Barnes and Moysey a chance to offer a +remonstrance, even if they had been disposed to do so. He escorted +them out of the room with a dexterity and a celerity which did him +credit, and in a remarkably short space of time he returned to the +ducal presence. He was the Duke's own servant--his own particular man. +He was a little older than the Duke, and he had been his servant +almost ever since the Duke had been old enough to have a servant of +his very own. Probably James Knowles knew more than any living +creature of the Duke's "secret history"--as they call it in the +<i>chroniques scandaleuses</i>--of his little peculiarities, of his strong +points, and his weak ones. And, in the possession of this knowledge, +he had borne himself in a manner which had caused the Duke to come to +look upon him as a man in whom he might have confidence--that +confidence which a penitent has in a confessor--to look upon him as a +trusted and a trustworthy friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Knowles reappeared the Duke handed him the curious epistle with +which he had been favoured.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Read that, and tell me what you think of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Knowles read it. His countenance was even more of a mask than the +Duke's. He evinced no sign of astonishment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am inclined, your Grace, to think that it's a hoax."</p> + +<p class="normal">"A hoax! I don't know what you call a hoax! That is not a hoax!" The +Duke held out the lock of hair which had fallen from the envelope. "I +have compared it with the hair in my locket, and it is the Duchess's +hair."</p> + +<p class="normal">"May I look at it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke handed it to Knowles. Knowles examined it closely.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It resembles her Grace's hair."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Resembles! It is her hair."</p> + +<p class="normal">Knowles still continued to reflect. He offered a suggestion.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Shall I send for the police?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The police! What's the good of sending for the police? If what that +letter says is true, by the time I have succeeded in making a +thick-skulled constable understand what has happened the Duchess will +be--will be mutilated!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke turned away as if the thought were frightful--as, indeed, it +was.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that all you can suggest?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Unless your Grace proposes taking the five hundred pounds."</p> + +<p class="normal">One might almost have suspected that the words were spoken in irony. +But before he could answer another servant entered, who also brought a +letter for the Duke. When his Grace's glance fell on it he uttered an +exclamation. The writing on the envelope was the same writing that had +been on the envelope which had contained the very singular +communication--like it in all respects down to the broomstick-end +thickness of the "Private!" and "Very pressing!!!" in the corner.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who brought this?" stormed the Duke.</p> + +<p class="normal">The servant appeared to be a little startled by the violence of his +Grace's manner.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A lady--or, at least, your Grace, she seemed to be a lady."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where is she?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"She came in a hansom, your Grace. She gave me that letter, and said, +'Give that to the Duke of Datchet at once--without a moment's delay!' +Then she got into the hansom again, and drove away."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why didn't you stop her?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your Grace!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The man seemed surprised, as though the idea of stopping chance +visitors to the ducal mansion <i>vi et armis</i> had not, until that +moment, entered into his philosophy. The Duke continued to regard the +man as if he could say a good deal, if he chose. Then he pointed to +the door. His lips said nothing, but his gesture much. The servant +vanished.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Another hoax!" the Duke said, grimly, as he tore the envelope open.</p> + +<p class="normal">This time the envelope contained a sheet of paper, and in the sheet of +paper another envelope. The Duke unfolded the sheet of paper. On it +some words were written. These:</p> + +<p class="normal">"The Duchess appears so particularly anxious to drop you a line, +that one really hasn't the heart to refuse her. Her Grace's +communication--written amidst blinding tears!--you will find enclosed +with this."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Knowles," said the Duke, in a voice which actually trembled, +"Knowles, hoax or no hoax, I will be even with the gentleman who wrote +that."</p> + +<p class="normal">Handing the sheet of paper to Mr. Knowles, his Grace turned his +attention to the envelope which had been enclosed. It was a small +square envelope, of the finest quality, and it reeked with perfume. +The Duke's countenance assumed an added frown--he had no fondness for +envelopes which were scented. In the centre of the envelope were the +words "To the Duke of Datchet," written in the big, bold, sprawling +hand which he knew so well.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mabel's writing," he said to himself, as, with shaking fingers, he +tore the envelope open.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sheet of paper which he took out was almost as stiff as cardboard. +It, too, emitted what his Grace deemed the nauseous odours of the +perfumer's shop.</p> + +<p class="normal">On it was written this letter:</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Hereward,--For Heaven's sake do what these people require! I +don't know what has happened or where I am, but I am nearly +distracted! They have already cut off some of my hair, and they tell +me that, if you don't let them have five hundred pounds in gold by +half-past five, they will cut off my little finger too. I would sooner +die than lose my little finger--and--I don't know what else besides.</p> + +<p class="normal">"By the token which I send you, and which has never, until now, been +off my breast, I conjure you to help me.--MABEL.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward--<i>help me!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">When he read that letter the Duke turned white--very white, as white +as the paper on which it was written. He passed the epistle on to +Knowles.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose that also is a hoax?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He spoke in a tone of voice which was unpleasantly cold--a coldness +which Mr. Knowles was aware, from not inconsiderable experience, +betokened that the Duke was white-hot within.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Knowles's demeanour, however, betrayed no sign that he was aware +of anything of the kind, he being conscious that there is a certain +sort of knowledge which is apt, at times, to be dangerous to its +possessor. He read the letter from beginning to end.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This certainly does resemble her Grace's writing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You think it does resemble it, do you? You think that there is a +certain faint and distant similarity?" The Duke asked these questions +quietly--too quietly. Then, all at once, he thundered--which Mr. +Knowles was quite prepared for--"Why, you idiot, don't you know it is +her writing?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Knowles gave way another point. He was, constitutionally, too much +of a diplomatist to concede more than a point at a time.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So far as appearances go, I am bound to admit that I think it +possible that it is her Grace's writing."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the Duke let fly at him--at this perfectly innocent man. But, of +course, Mr. Knowles was long since inured.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps you would like me to send for an expert in writing? Or +perhaps you would prefer that I should send for half-a-dozen? And by +the time that they had sent in their reports, and you had reported on +their reports, and they had reported on your report of their reports, +and some one or other of you had made up his mind, the Duchess would +be dead. Yes, sir, and you'd have murdered her!"</p> + +<p class="normal">His Grace hurled this frightful accusation at Mr. Knowles, as if Mr. +Knowles had been a criminal standing in the dock.</p> + +<p class="normal">While the Duke had been collecting and discharging his nice +derangement of epithets his fingers had been examining the interior of +the envelope which had held the letter which purported to be written +by his wife. When his fingers reappeared he was holding something +between his first finger and his thumb. He glanced at this himself. +Then he held it out towards Mr. Knowles.</p> + +<p class="normal">Again his voice was trembling.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If this letter is not from the Duchess, how came that to be in the +envelope?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Knowles endeavoured to see what the Duke was holding. It was so +minute an object that it was a little difficult to make out exactly +what it was, and the Duke appeared to be unwilling to let it go.</p> + +<p class="normal">So his Grace explained:</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is the half of a sixpence which I gave to the Duchess when I +asked her to be my wife. You see it is pierced. I pierced that hole in +it myself. As the Duchess says in this letter, and as I have reason to +know, she has worn this broken sixpence from that hour to this. If +this letter is not hers, how came this token in the envelope? How came +any one to know, even, that she carried it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Knowles was silent. He still yielded to his constitutional +disrelish to commit himself. At last he asked:</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is it that your Grace proposes to do?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke spoke with a bitterness which almost suggested a personal +animosity towards the inoffensive Mr. Knowles.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I propose, with your permission, to release the Duchess from the +custody of my estimable correspondent. I propose--always with your +permission--to comply with his modest request, and to take him his +five hundred pounds in gold." He paused, then continued in a tone +which, coming from him, meant volumes: "Afterwards, I propose to cry +quits with the concoctor of this pretty little hoax, even if it costs +me every penny I possess. He shall pay more for that five hundred +pounds than he supposes."</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + + +<h4>SOUGHT.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The Duke of Datchet, coming out of the bank, lingered for a moment on +the steps. In one hand he carried a canvas bag, which seemed well +weighted. On his countenance there was an expression which to a casual +observer might have suggested that his Grace was not completely at his +ease. That casual observer happened to come strolling by. It took the +form of Ivor Dacre.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre looked the Duke of Datchet up and down in that languid way +he has. He perceived the canvas bag. Then he remarked, possibly +intending to be facetious:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Been robbing the bank? Shall I call a cart?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Nobody minds what Ivor Dacre says. Besides, he is the Duke's own +cousin. Perhaps a little removed; still, there it is. So the Duke +smiled a sickly smile, as if Mr. Dacre's delicate wit had given him a +passing touch of indigestion.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre noticed that the Duke looked sallow, so he gave his pretty +sense of humour another airing:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Kitchen boiler burst? When I saw the Duchess just now I wondered if +it had."</p> + +<p class="normal">His Grace distinctly started. He almost dropped the canvas bag.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You saw the Duchess just now, Ivor! When?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke was evidently moved. Mr. Dacre was stirred to languid +curiosity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I can't say I clocked it. Perhaps half an hour ago; perhaps a little +more."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Half an hour ago! Are you sure? Where did you see her?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre wondered. The Duchess of Datchet could scarcely have been +eloping in broad daylight. Moreover, she had not yet been married a +year. Every one knew that she and the Duke were still as fond of each +other as if they were not man and wife. So, although the Duke, for +some cause or other, was evidently in an odd state of agitation, Mr. +Dacre saw no reason why he should not make a clean breast of all he +knew.</p> + +<p class="normal">"She was going like blazes in a hansom cab."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In a hansom cab? Where?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Down Waterloo Place."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Was she alone?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre reflected. He glanced at the Duke out of the corners of his +eyes. His languid utterance became a positive drawl:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I rather fancy she wasn't."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who was with her?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear fellow, if you were to offer me the bank I couldn't tell +you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Was it a man?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre's drawl became still more pronounced:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I rather fancy that it was."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre expected something. The Duke was so excited. But he by no +means expected what actually came:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ivor, she's been kidnapped!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre did what he had never been known to do before within the +memory of man--he dropped his eye-glass.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Datchet!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"She has! Some scoundrel has decoyed her away, and trapped her. He's +already sent me a lock of her hair, and he tells me that if I don't +let him have five hundred pounds in gold by half-past five he'll let +me have her little finger."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre did not know what to make of his Grace at all. He was a +sober man--it <i>couldn't</i> be that! Mr. Dacre felt really concerned.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'll call a cab, old man, and you'd better let me see you home."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre half raised his stick to hail a passing hansom. The Duke +caught him by the arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You ass! What do you mean? I am telling you the simple truth. My +wife's been kidnapped."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre's countenance was a thing to be seen--and remembered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh! I hadn't heard that there was much of that sort of thing +about just now. They talk of poodles being kidnapped, but as for +duchesses---- You'd really better let me call that cab."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ivor, do you want me to kick you? Don't you see that to me it's a +question of life and death? I've been in there to get the money." His +Grace motioned towards the bank. "I'm going to take it to the +scoundrel who has my darling at his mercy. Let me but have her hand in +mine again, and he shall continue to pay for every sovereign with +tears of blood until he dies."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look here, Datchet, I don't know if you're having a joke with me, or +if you're not well----"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke stepped impatiently into the roadway.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ivor, you're a fool! Can't you tell jest from earnest, health from +disease? I'm off! Are you coming with me? It would be as well that I +should have a witness."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where are you off to?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"To the other end of the Arcade."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who is the gentleman you expect to have the pleasure of meeting +there?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"How should I know?" The Duke took a letter from his pocket--it was +the letter which had just arrived. "The fellow is to wear a white +top-hat, and a gardenia in his button hole."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is it you have there?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's the letter which brought the news--look for yourself and see; +but, for God's sake make haste!" His Grace glanced at his watch. "It's +already twenty after five."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And do you mean to say that on the strength of a letter such as this +you are going to hand over five hundred pounds to----"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke cut Mr. Dacre short:</p> + +<p class="normal">"What are five hundred pounds to me? Besides, you don't know all. +There is another letter. And I have heard from Mabel. But I will tell +you all about it later. If you are coming, come!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Folding up the letter, Mr. Dacre returned it to the Duke.</p> + +<p class="normal">"As you say, what are five hundred pounds to you? It's as well they +are not as much to you as they are to me, or I'm afraid----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hang it, Ivor, do prose afterwards!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke hurried across the road. Mr. Dacre hastened after him. As +they entered the Arcade they passed a constable. Mr. Dacre touched his +companion's arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't you think we'd better ask our friend in blue to walk behind us? +His neighbourhood might be handy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nonsense!" The Duke stopped short. "Ivor, this is my affair, not +yours. If you are not content to play the part of silent witness, be +so good as to leave me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Datchet, I'm entirely at your service. I can be every whit as +insane as you, I do assure you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Side by side they moved rapidly down the Burlington Arcade. The Duke +was obviously in a state of the extremest nervous tension. Mr. Dacre +was equally obviously in a state of the most supreme enjoyment. People +stared as they rushed past. The Duke saw nothing. Mr. Dacre saw +everything, and smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">When they reached the Piccadilly end of the Arcade the Duke pulled up. +He looked about him. Mr. Dacre also looked about him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I see nothing of your white-hatted and gardenia-button-holed friend," +said Ivor.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke referred to his watch:</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's not yet half-past five. I'm up to time."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre held his stick in front of him and leaned on it. He indulged +himself with a beatific smile:</p> + +<p class="normal">"It strikes me, my dear Datchet, that you've been the victim of one of +the finest things in hoaxes----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I hope I haven't kept you waiting."</p> + +<p class="normal">The voice which interrupted Mr. Dacre came from the rear. While they +were looking in front of them some one approached from behind, +apparently coming out of the shop which was at their backs.</p> + +<p class="normal">The speaker looked a gentleman. He sounded like one, too. Costume, +appearance, manner were beyond reproach--even beyond the criticism of +two such keen critics as were these. The glorious attire of a London +dandy was surmounted with a beautiful white top-hat. In his +button-hole was a magnificent gardenia.</p> + +<p class="normal">In age the stranger was scarcely more than a boy, and a sunny-faced, +handsome boy at that. His cheeks were hairless, his eyes were blue. +His smile was not only innocent, it was bland. Never was there a more +conspicuous illustration of that repose which stamps the caste of Vere +de Vere.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke looked at him, and glowered. Mr. Dacre looked at him, and +smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who are you?" asked the Duke.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah--that is the question!" The newcomer's refined and musical voice +breathed the very soul of affability. "I am an individual who is so +unfortunate as to be in want of five hundred pounds."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you the scoundrel who sent me that infamous letter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">That charming stranger never turned a hair!</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am the scoundrel mentioned in that infamous letter who wants to +accost you at the Piccadilly end of the Burlington Arcade before +half-past five--as witness my white hat and my gardenia."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where's my wife?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The stranger gently swung his stick in front of him with his two +hands. He regarded the Duke as a merry-hearted son might regard his +father. The thing was beautiful!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Her Grace will be home almost as soon as you are--when you have given +me the money which I perceive you have all ready for me in that +scarcely elegant-looking canvas bag." He shrugged his shoulders quite +gracefully. "Unfortunately, in these matters one has no choice--one is +forced to ask for gold."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And suppose, instead of giving you what is in this canvas bag, I take +you by the throat and choke the life right out of you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Or suppose," amended Mr. Dacre, "that you do better, and commend this +gentleman to the tender mercies of the first policeman we encounter."</p> + +<p class="normal">The stranger turned to Mr. Dacre. He condescended to become conscious +of his presence.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is this gentleman your Grace's friend? Ah--Mr. Dacre, I perceive! I +have the honour of knowing Mr. Dacre, although, possibly, I am unknown +to him."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You were--until this moment."</p> + +<p class="normal">With an airy little laugh the stranger returned to the Duke. He +brushed an invisible speck of dust off the sleeve of his coat.</p> + +<p class="normal">"As has been intimated in that infamous letter, his Grace is at +perfect liberty to give me into custody--why not? Only"--he said it +with his boyish smile--"if a particular communication is not received +from me in certain quarters within a certain time, the Duchess of +Datchet's beautiful white arm will be hacked off at the shoulder."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You hound!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke would have taken the stranger by the throat, and have done +his best to choke the life right out of him then and there, if Mr. +Dacre had not intervened.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Steady, old man!" Mr. Dacre turned to the stranger: "You appear to be +a pretty sort of a scoundrel."</p> + +<p class="normal">The stranger gave his shoulders that almost imperceptible shrug:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, my dear Dacre, I am in want of money! I believe that you +sometimes are in want of money, too."</p> + +<p class="normal">Everybody knows that nobody knows where Ivor Dacre gets his money +from, so the illusion must have tickled him immensely.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You're a cool hand," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Some men are born that way."</p> + +<p class="normal">"So I should imagine. Men like you must be born, not made."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Precisely--as you say!" The stranger turned, with his graceful smile, +to the Duke: "But are we not wasting precious time? I can assure your +Grace that, in this particular matter, moments are of value."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre interposed before the Duke could answer:</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you take my strongly urged advice, Datchet, you will summon this +constable who is now coming down the Arcade, and hand over this +gentleman to his keeping. I do not think that you need fear that the +Duchess will lose her arm, or even her little finger. Scoundrels of +this one's kidney are most amenable to reason when they have handcuffs +on their wrists."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke plainly hesitated. He would--and he would not. The stranger, +as he eyed him, seemed much amused.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Duke, by all means act on Mr. Dacre's valuable suggestion. As +I said before, why not? It would at least be interesting to see if the +Duchess does or does not lose her arm--almost as interesting to you as +to Mr. Dacre. Those blackmailing, kidnapping scoundrels do use such +empty menaces. Besides, you would have the pleasure of seeing me +locked up. My imprisonment for life would recompense you even for the +loss of her Grace's arm. And five hundred pounds is such a sum to have +to pay--merely for a wife! Why not, therefore, act on Mr. Dacre's +suggestion? Here comes the constable." The constable referred to was +advancing towards them--he was not a dozen yards away. "Let me beckon +to him--I will with pleasure." He took out his watch--a gold +chronograph repeater. "There are scarcely ten minutes left during +which it will be possible for me to send the communication which I +spoke of, so that it may arrive in time. As it will then be too late, +and the instruments are already prepared for the little operation +which her Grace is eagerly anticipating, it would, perhaps, be as +well, after all, that you should give me into charge. You would have +saved your five hundred pounds, and you would, at any rate, have +something in exchange for her Grace's mutilated limb. Ah, here is the +constable! Officer!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The stranger spoke with such a pleasant little air of easy geniality +that it was impossible to tell if he were in jest or earnest. This +fact impressed the Duke much more than if he had gone in for a liberal +indulgence of the--under the circumstances--orthodox melodramatic +scowling. And, indeed, in the face of his own common sense, it +impressed Mr. Ivor Dacre too.</p> + +<p class="normal">This well-bred, well-groomed youth was just the being to realise--<i>aux +bouts des ongles</i>--a modern type of the devil, the type which depicts +him as a perfect gentleman, who keeps smiling all the time.</p> + +<p class="normal">The constable whom this audacious rogue had signalled approached the +little group. He addressed the stranger:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you want me, sir?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, I do not want you. I think it is the Duke of Datchet."</p> + +<p class="normal">The constable, who knew the Duke very well by sight, saluted him as he +turned to receive instructions.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke looked white, even savage. There was not a pleasant look in +his eyes and about his lips. He appeared to be endeavouring to put a +great restraint upon himself. There was a momentary silence. Mr. Dacre +made a movement as if to interpose. The Duke caught him by the arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">He spoke: "No, constable, I do not want you. This person is mistaken."</p> + +<p class="normal">The constable looked as if he could not quite make out how such a +mistake could have arisen, hesitated, then, with another salute, he +moved away.</p> + +<p class="normal">The stranger was still holding his watch in his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Only eight minutes," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke seemed to experience some difficulty in giving utterance to +what he had to say.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If I give you this five hundred pounds, you--you----"</p> + +<p class="normal">As the Duke paused, as if at a loss for language which was strong +enough to convey his meaning, the stranger laughed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let us take the adjectives for granted. Besides, it is only boys +who call each other names--men do things. If you give me the five +hundred sovereigns, which you have in that bag, at once--in five +minutes it will be too late--I will promise--I will not swear; if you +do not credit my simple promise, you will not believe my solemn +affirmation--I will promise that, possibly within an hour, certainly +within an hour and a half, the Duchess of Datchet shall return to you +absolutely uninjured--except, of course, as you are already aware, +with regard to a few of the hairs of her head. I will promise this on +the understanding that you do not yourself attempt to see where I go, +and that you will allow no one else to do so." This with a glance at +Ivor Dacre. "I shall know at once if I am followed. If you entertain +any such intentions, you had better, on all accounts, remain in +possession of your five hundred pounds."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke eyed him very grimly:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I entertain no such intentions--until the Duchess returns."</p> + +<p class="normal">Again the stranger indulged in that musical little laugh of his:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah, until the Duchess returns! Of course, then the bargain's at an +end. When you are once more in the enjoyment of her Grace's society, +you will be at liberty to set all the dogs in Europe at my heels. I +assure you I fully expect that you will do so--why not?" The Duke +raised the canvas bag. "My dear Duke, ten thousand thanks! You shall +see her Grace at Datchet House, 'pon my honour. Probably within the +hour."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well," commented Ivor Dacre, when the stranger had vanished, with the +bag, into Piccadilly, and as the Duke and himself moved towards +Burlington Gardens, "if a gentleman is to be robbed, it is as well +that he should have another gentleman to rob him."</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h4>AND FOUND.</h4> +<br> +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre eyed his companion covertly as they progressed. His Grace of +Datchet appeared to have some fresh cause for uneasiness. All at once +he gave it utterance, in a tone of voice which was extremely sombre:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ivor, do you think that scoundrel will dare to play me false?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I think," murmured Mr. Dacre, "that he has dared to play you pretty +false already."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't mean that. But I mean how am I to know, now that he has his +money, that he will still not keep Mabel in his clutches?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There came an echo from Mr. Dacre:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Just so--how are you to know?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I believe that something of this sort has been done in the United +States."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I thought that there they were content to kidnap them after they were +dead. I was not aware that they had, as yet, got quite so far as the +living."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I believe that I have heard of something just like this."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Possibly; they are giants over there."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And in that case the scoundrels, when their demands were met, refused +to keep to the letter of their bargain, and asked for more."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke stood still. He clenched his fists, and swore:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ivor, if that ---- villain doesn't keep his word, and Mabel isn't +home within the hour, by ---- I shall go mad!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Datchet"--Mr. Dacre loved strong language as little as he +loved a scene--"let us trust to time and, a little, to your +white-hatted and gardenia-button-holed friend's word of honour. You +should have thought of possible eventualities before you showed your +confidence--really. Suppose, instead of going mad, we first of all go +home?"</p> + +<p class="normal">A hansom stood waiting for a fare at the end of the Arcade. Mr. Dacre +had handed the Duke into it before his Grace had quite realised that +the vehicle was there.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tell the fellow to drive faster." That was what the Duke said when +the cab had started.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Datchet, the man's already driving his geegee off its legs. +If a bobby catches sight of him he'll take his number."</p> + +<p class="normal">A moment later, a murmur from the Duke:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know if you're aware that the Prince is coming to dinner?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am perfectly aware of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You take it uncommonly coolly. How easy it is to bear our brother's +burdens! Ivor, if Mabel doesn't turn up I shall feel like murder."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I sympathise with you, Datchet, with all my heart, though, I may +observe, parenthetically, that I very far from realise the situation +even yet. Take my advice. If the Duchess does not show quite so soon +as we both of us desire, don't make a scene; just let me see what I +can do."</p> + +<p class="normal">Judging from the expression of his countenance, the Duke was conscious +of no overwhelming desire to witness an exhibition of Mr. Dacre's +prowess.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the cab reached Datchet House his Grace dashed up the steps three +at a time. The door flew open.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Has the Duchess returned?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward!"</p> + +<p class="normal">A voice floated downwards from above. Some one came running down the +stairs. It was her Grace of Datchet.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mabel!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She actually rushed into the Duke's extended arms. And he kissed her, +and she kissed him--before the servants.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So you're not quite dead?" she cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am almost," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">She drew herself a little away from him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward, were you seriously hurt?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you suppose that I could have been otherwise than seriously hurt?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My darling! Was it a Pickford's van?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke stared:</p> + +<p class="normal">"A Pickford's van? I don't understand. But come in here. Come along, +Ivor. Mabel, you don't see Ivor."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How do you do, Mr. Dacre?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the trio withdrew into a little ante-room; it was really time. +Even then the pair conducted themselves as if Mr. Dacre had been +nothing and no one. The Duke took the lady's two hands in his. He eyed +her fondly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So you are uninjured, with the exception of that lock of hair. Where +did the villain take it from?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady looked a little puzzled:</p> + +<p class="normal">"What lock of hair?"</p> + +<p class="normal">From an envelope which he took from his pocket the Duke produced a +shining tress. It was the lock of hair which had arrived in the first +communication. "I will have it framed."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You will have what framed?" The Duchess glanced at what the Duke was +so tenderly caressing, almost, as it seemed, a little dubiously, +"Whatever is it you have there?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is the lock of hair which that scoundrel sent me." Something in +the lady's face caused him to ask a question: "Didn't he tell you he +had sent it me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Did the brute tell you that he meant to cut off your little finger?"</p> + +<p class="normal">A very curious look came into the lady's face. She glanced at the Duke +as if she, all at once, were half afraid of him. She cast at Mr. Dacre +what really seemed to be a look of enquiry. Her voice was tremulously +anxious:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward, did--did the accident affect you mentally?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"How could it not have affected me mentally? Do you think that my +mental organization is of steel?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"But you look so well?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of course I look well, now that I have you back again. Tell me, +darling, did that hound actually threaten you with cutting off your +arm? If he did, I shall feel half inclined to kill him yet."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duchess seemed positively to shrink from her better-half's near +neighbourhood:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward, was it a Pickford's van?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke seemed puzzled. Well he might be:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Was what a Pickford's van?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady turned to Mr. Dacre. In her voice there was a ring of +anguish:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Dacre, tell me, was it a Pickford's van?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Ivor could only imitate his relative's repetition of her inquiry:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't quite catch you--was what a Pickford's van?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duchess clasped her hands in front of her: "What is it you are +keeping from me? What is it you are trying to hide? I implore you to +tell me the worst, whatever it may be! Do not keep me any longer in +suspense; you do not know what I already have endured. Mr. Dacre, is +my husband mad?"</p> + +<p class="normal">One need scarcely observe that the lady's amazing appeal to Mr. Dacre +as to her husband's sanity was received with something like surprise. +As the Duke continued to stare at her, a dreadful fear began to loom +upon his brain:</p> + +<p class="normal">"My darling, your brain is unhinged!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He advanced to take her two hands again in his; but, to his +unmistakable distress, she shrank away from him:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward--don't touch me. How is it that I missed you? Why did you +not wait until I came?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wait until you came?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke's bewilderment increased.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Surely, if your injuries turned out, after all, to be slight, that +was all the more reason why you should have waited, after sending for +me like that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I sent for you--I?" The Duke's tone was grave. "My darling, perhaps +you had better come upstairs."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not until we have had an explanation. You must have known that I +should come. Why did you not wait for me after you had sent me that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duchess held out something to the Duke. He took it. It was a +card--his own visiting-card. Something was written on the back of it. +He read aloud what was written:</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Mabel, come to me at once with bearer. They tell me that they cannot +take me home.' It looks like my own writing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Looks like it! It is your writing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It looks like it--and written with a shaky pen."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear child, one's hand would shake at such a moment as that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mabel, where did you get this?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was brought to me in Cane and Wilson's."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who brought it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who brought it? Why, the man you sent."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The man I sent?" A light burst upon the Duke's brain. He fell back a +pace. "It's the decoy!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Her Grace echoed the words:</p> + +<p class="normal">"The decoy?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The scoundrel! To set a trap with such a bait! My poor, innocent +darling, did you think it came from me? Tell me, Mabel, where did he +cut off your hair?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cut off my hair?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Her Grace put her hand up to her head as if to make sure that her hair +was there.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where did he take you to?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He took me to Draper's Buildings."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Draper's Buildings?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have never been in the City before, but he told me it was Draper's +Buildings. Isn't that near the Stock Exchange?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Near the Stock Exchange?"</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed rather a curious place to which to take a kidnapped victim. +The man's audacity!</p> + +<p class="normal">"He told me that you were coming out of the Stock Exchange when a van +knocked you over. He said that he thought it was a Pickford's van--was +it a Pickford's van?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, it was not a Pickford's van. Mabel, were you in Draper's +Buildings when you wrote that letter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wrote what letter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you forgotten it already? I do not believe that there is a word +in it which will not be branded on my brain until I die."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Surely you cannot have written me such a letter as that, and then +have forgotten it already?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He handed her the letter which had arrived in the second +communication. She glanced at it, askance. Then she took it with a +little gasp.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward, if you don't mind, I think I'll take a chair." She took a +chair. "Whatever--whatever's this?" As she read the letter the varying +expressions which passed across her face were, in themselves, a study +in psychology. "Is it possible that you can imagine that, under any +conceivable circumstances, I could have written such a letter as +this?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mabel!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She rose to her feet, with emphasis:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward, don't say that you thought this came from me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not come from you?" He remembered Knowles's diplomatic reception of +the epistle on its first appearance. "I suppose that you will say next +that this is not a lock of your hair?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear child, what bee have you got in your bonnet? This a lock of +my hair! Why, it's not in the least like my hair!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Which was certainly inaccurate. As far as color was concerned it was +an almost perfect match. The Duke turned to Mr. Dacre.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ivor, I've had to go through a good deal this afternoon. If I have to +go through much more, something will crack!" He touched his forehead. +"I think it's my turn to take a chair." He also took a chair. Not the +one which the Duchess had vacated, but one which faced it. He +stretched out his legs in front of him; he thrust his hands into his +trousers-pockets; he said, in a tone which was not only gloomy but +absolutely gruesome:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Might I ask, Mabel, if you have been kidnapped?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Kidnapped?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The word I used was 'kidnapped.' But I will spell it if you like. Or +I will get a dictionary, that you may see its meaning."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duchess looked as if she was beginning to be not quite sure if she +was awake or sleeping. She turned to Ivor:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Dacre, has the accident affected Hereward's brain?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke took the words out of his cousin's mouth:</p> + +<p class="normal">"On that point, my dear, let me ease your mind. I don't know if you +are under the impression that I should be the same shape after a +Pickford's van had run over me as I was before; but, in any case, I +have not been run over by a Pickford's van. So far as I am concerned +there has been no accident. Dismiss that delusion from your mind."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You appear surprised. One might even think that you were sorry. But +may I now ask what you did when you arrived at Draper's Buildings?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Did! I looked for you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Indeed! And when you had looked in vain, what was the next item in +your programme?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady shrank still further from him:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward, have you been having a jest at my expense? Can you have +been so cruel?" Tears stood in her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rising, the Duke laid his hand upon her arm:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mabel, tell me--what did you do when you had looked for me in vain?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I looked for you upstairs and downstairs, and everywhere. It was +quite a large place, it took me ever such a time. I thought that I +should go distracted. Nobody seemed to know anything about you, or +even that there had been an accident at all--it was all offices. I +couldn't make it out in the least, and the people didn't seem to be +able to make me out either. So when I couldn't find you anywhere I +came straight home again."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke was silent for a moment. Then, with funereal gravity, he +turned to Mr. Dacre. He put to him this question:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ivor, what are you laughing at?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Dacre drew his hand across his mouth with rather a suspicious +gesture:</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear fellow, only a smile!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duchess looked from one to the other:</p> + +<p class="normal">"What have you two been doing? What is the joke?"</p> + +<p class="normal">With an air of preternatural solemnity the Duke took two letters from +the breast-pocket of his coat.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mabel, you have already seen your letter. You have already seen the +lock of your hair. Just look at this--and that."</p> + +<p class="normal">He gave her the two very singular communications which had arrived in +such a mysterious manner, and so quickly one after the other. She read +them with wide-open eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward! Wherever did these come from?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke was standing with his legs apart, and his hands in his +trousers-pockets. "I would give--I would give another five hundred +pounds to know. Shall I tell you, madam, what I have been doing? I +have been presenting five hundred golden sovereigns to a perfect +stranger, with a top-hat, and a gardenia in his button-hole."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Whatever for?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you have perused those documents which you have in your hand, you +will have some faint idea. Ivor, when its your funeral <i>I'll</i> smile. +Mabel, Duchess of Dachet, it is beginning to dawn upon the vacuum +which represents my brain that I've been the victim of one of the +prettiest things in practical jokes that ever yet was planned. When +that fellow brought you that card at Cane and Wilson's--which, I need +scarcely tell you, never came from me--some one walked out of the +front entrance who was so exactly like you that both Barnes and Moysey +took her for you. Moysey showed her into the carriage, and Barnes +drove her home. But when the carriage reached home it was empty. Your +double had got out upon the road."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duchess uttered a sound which was half a gasp, half sigh:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Barnes and Moysey, with beautiful and childlike innocence, when they +found that they had brought the thing home empty, came straightway and +told me that you had jumped out of the brougham while it had been +driving full pelt through the streets. While I was digesting that +piece of information there came the first epistle, with the lock of +your hair. Before I had time to digest that there came the second +epistle, with yours inside, and, as a guarantee of the authenticity of +your appeal, the same envelope held this."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duke handed the Duchess the half of the broken sixpence. She +stared at it with the most unequivocal astonishment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, it looks just like my sixpence." She put her hand to her breast, +feeling something that was there. "But it isn't! What wickedness!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is wickedness, isn't it? Anyhow, that seemed good enough for me; +so I posted off the five hundred pounds to save your arm--not to dwell +upon your little finger."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It seems incredible!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Its sounds incredible; but unfathomable is the folly of man, +especially of a man who loves his wife." The Duke crossed to Mr. +Dacre. "I don't want, Ivor, to suggest anything in the way of bribery +and corruption, but if you could keep this matter to yourself, and not +mention it to your friends, our white-hatted and gardenia-button-holed +acquaintance is welcome to his five hundred pounds, and----Mabel, what +on earth are you laughing at?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Duchess appeared, all at once, to be seized with inextinguishable +laughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hereward," she cried, "just think how that man must be laughing at +you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">And the Duke of Datchet thought of it.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_strange" href="#div1Ref_strange">THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN<br> +CANTERSTONE JAIL.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4>MR. MANKELL DECLARES HIS INTENTION OF<br> +ACTING ON MAGISTERIAL ADVICE.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Oliver Mankell was sentenced to three months' hard labour. The +charge was that he had obtained money by means of false pretences. +Not large sums, but shillings, half-crowns, and so on. He had given +out that he was a wizard, and that he was able and willing--for a +consideration--to predict the events of the future--tell fortunes, in +fact. The case created a large amount of local interest, for some +curious stories were told about the man in the town. Mankell was +a tall, slight, wiry-looking fellow in the prime of life, with +coal-black hair and olive complexion--apparently of Romany extraction. +His bearing was self-possessed, courteous even, yet with something in +his air which might have led one to suppose that he saw--what others +did not--the humour of the thing. At one point his grave, almost +saturnine visage distinctly relaxed into a smile. It was when Colonel +Gregory, the chairman of the day, was passing sentence. After +committing him for three months' hard labour, the Colonel added--</p> + +<p class="normal">"During your sojourn within the walls of a prison you will have an +opportunity of retrieving your reputation. You say you are a magician. +During your stay in jail I would strongly advise you to prove it. You +lay claim to magic powers. Exercise them. I need scarcely point out to +you how excellent a chance you will have of creating a sensation."</p> + +<p class="normal">The people laughed. When the great Panjandrum is even dimly suspected +of an intention to be funny, the people always do. But on this +occasion even the prisoner smiled--rather an exceptional thing, for as +a rule it is the prisoner who sees the joke the least of all.</p> + +<p class="normal">Later in the day the prisoner was conveyed to the county jail. This +necessitated a journey by rail, with a change upon the way. At the +station where they changed there was a delay of twenty minutes. This +the prisoner and the constable in charge of him improved by adjourning +to a public house hard by. Here they had a glass--indeed they had +two--and when they reached Canterstone, the town on whose outskirts +stood the jail, they had one--or perhaps it was two--more. It must +have been two, for when they reached the jail, instead of the +constable conveying the prisoner, it was the prisoner who conveyed the +constable--upon his shoulder. The warder who answered the knock seemed +surprised at what he saw.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you want?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Three months' hard labour."</p> + +<p class="normal">The warder stared. The shades of night had fallen, and the lamp above +the prison-door did not seem to cast sufficient light upon the subject +to satisfy the janitor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come inside," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mankell entered, the constable upon his shoulder. Having entered, he +carefully placed the constable in a sitting posture on the stones, +with his back against the wall. The policeman's helmet had tipped over +his eyes--he scarcely presented an imposing picture of the majesty and +might of the law. The warder shook him by the shoulder. "Here, +come--wake up. You're a pretty sort," he said. The constable's reply, +although slightly inarticulate, was yet sufficiently distinct.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not another drop!" he murmured.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, I shouldn't think so," said the warder. "You've had a pailful, it +seems to me, already."</p> + +<p class="normal">The man seemed a little puzzled. He turned and looked at Mankell.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you want here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Three months' hard labour."</p> + +<p class="normal">The man looked down and saw that the new-comer had gyves upon his +wrists. He went to a door at one side, and summoned another warder. +The two returned together. This second official took in the situation +at a glance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you come from----?" naming the town from which they in fact had +come. Mankell inclined his head. This second official turned his +attention to the prostrate constable. "Look in his pockets."</p> + +<p class="normal">The janitor acted on the suggestion. The order for committal was +produced.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you Oliver Mankell?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Again Mankell inclined his head. With the order in his hand, the +official marched him through the side-door by which he had himself +appeared. Soon Oliver Mankell was the inmate of a cell. He spent that +night in the reception-cells at the gate. In the morning he had a +bath, was inducted into prison clothing, and examined by the doctor. +He was then taken up to the main building of the prison, and +introduced to the governor. The governor was a quiet, gentlemanly man, +with a straggling black beard and spectacles--the official to the tips +of his fingers. As Mankell happened to be the only fresh arrival, the +governor favoured him with a little speech.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You've placed yourself in an uncomfortable position, Mankell. I hope +you'll obey the rules while you're here."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I intend to act upon the advice tendered me by the magistrate who +passed sentence."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor looked up. Not only was the voice a musical voice, but +the words were not the sort of words generally chosen by the average +prisoner.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What advice was that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He said that I claimed to be a magician. He strongly advised me to +prove it during my stay in jail. I intend to act upon the advice he +tendered."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor looked Mankell steadily in the face. The speaker's +bearing conveyed no suggestion of insolent intention. The governor +looked down again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I advise you to be careful what you do. You may make your position +more uncomfortable than it is already. Take the man away."</p> + +<p class="normal">They took the man away. They introduced him to the wheel. On the +treadmill he passed the remainder of the morning. At noon morning +tasks were over, and the prisoners were marched into their day-cells +to enjoy the meal which, in prison parlance, was called dinner. In +accordance with the ordinary routine, the chaplain made his appearance +in the round-house to interview those prisoners who had just come in, +and those whose sentences would be completed on the morrow. When +Mankell had been asked at the gate what his religion was, he had made +no answer; so the warder, quite used to ignorance on the part of new +arrivals as to all religions, had entered him as a member of the +Church of England. As a member of the Church of England he was taken +out to interview the chaplain.</p> + +<p class="normal">The chaplain was a little fussy gentleman, considerably past middle +age. Long experience of prisons and prisoners had bred in him a +perhaps unconscious habit of regarding criminals as naughty +boys--urchins who required a judicious combination of cakes and +castigation.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, my lad, I'm sorry to see a man of your appearance here." This +was a remark the chaplain made to a good many of his new friends. It +was intended to give them the impression that at least the chaplain +perceived that they were something out of the ordinary run. Then he +dropped his voice to a judicious whisper. "What's it for?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"For telling the truth."</p> + +<p class="normal">This reply seemed a little to surprise the chaplain. He settled his +spectacles upon his nose.</p> + +<p class="normal">"For telling the truth!" An idea seemed all at once to strike the +chaplain. "Do you mean that you pleaded guilty?" The man was silent. +The chaplain referred to a paper he held in his hand. "Eh, I see that +here it is written 'false pretences.' Was it a stumer?"</p> + +<p class="normal">We have seen it mentioned somewhere that "stumer" is slang for a +worthless cheque. It was a way with the chaplain to let his charges +see that he was at least acquainted with their phraseology. But on +this occasion there was no response. The officer in charge of Mankell, +who possibly wanted his dinner, put in his oar.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Telling fortunes, sir."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Telling fortunes! Oh! Dear me! How sad! You see what telling fortunes +brings you to? There will be no difficulty in telling your fortune if +you don't take care. I will see you to-morrow morning after chapel."</p> + +<p class="normal">The chaplain turned away. But his prediction proved to be as false as +Mankell's were stated to have been. He did not see him the next +morning after chapel, and that for the sufficient reason that on the +following morning there was no chapel. And the reasons why there was +no chapel were very curious indeed--unprecedented, in fact.</p> + +<p class="normal">Canterstone Jail was an old-fashioned prison. In it each prisoner had +two cells, one for the day and one for the night. The day-cells were +on the ground-floor, those for the night were overhead. At six a.m. a +bell was rung, and the warders unlocked the night-cells for the +occupants to go down to those beneath. That was the rule. That +particular morning was an exception to the rule. The bell was rung as +usual, and the warders started to unlock, but there the adherence to +custom ceased, for the doors of the cells refused to be unlocked.</p> + +<p class="normal">The night-cells were hermetically sealed by oaken doors of massive +thickness, bolted and barred in accordance with the former idea that +the security of prisoners should depend rather upon bolts and bars +than upon the vigilance of the officers in charge. Each door was let +into a twenty-four inch brick-wall, and secured by two ponderous bolts +and an enormous lock of the most complicated workmanship. These locks +were kept constantly oiled. When the gigantic key was inserted, it +turned as easily as the key of a watch--that was the rule. When, +therefore, on inserting his key into the lock of the first cell, +Warder Slater found that it wouldn't turn at all, he was rather taken +aback. "Who's been having a game with this lock?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Warder Puffin, who was stationed at the head of the stairs to see that +the prisoners passed down in order, at the proper distance from each +other, replied to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Anything the matter with the lock? Try the next."</p> + +<p class="normal">Warder Slater did try the next, but he found that as refractory as the +first had been.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps you've got the wrong key?" suggested Warder Puffin.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Got the wrong key!" cried Warder Slater. "Do you think I don't know +my own keys when I see them?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The oddest part of it was that all the locks were the same. Not only +in Ward A, but in Wards B, C, D, E, and F--in all the wards, in fact. +When this became known, a certain sensation was created, and that on +both sides of the unlocked doors. The prisoners were soon conscious +that their guardians were unable to release them, and they made a +noise. Nothing is so precious to the average prisoner as a grievance; +here was a grievance with a vengeance.</p> + +<p class="normal">The chief warder was a man named Murray. He was short and stout, with +a red face, and short, stubbly white hair--his very appearance +suggested apoplexy. That suggestion was emphasised when he lost his +temper--capable officer though he was, that was more than once in a +while. He was in the wheel-shed, awaiting the arrival of the prisoners +preparatory to being told off to their various tasks, when, instead of +the prisoners, Warder Slater appeared. If Murray was stout, Slater was +stouter. He was about five feet eight, and weighed at least 250 +pounds. He was wont to amaze those who saw him for the first time--and +wondered--by assuring them that he had a brother who was still +stouter--compared to whom he was a skeleton, in fact. But he was stout +enough. He and the chief warder made a striking pair.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's something the matter with the locks of the night-cells, sir. +We can't undo the doors."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Can't undo the doors!" Mr. Murray turned the colour of a boiled +beetroot. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's very queer, sir, but all over the place it's the same. We can't +get none of the doors unlocked."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Murray started off at a good round pace, Slater following hard at +his heels. The chief warder tried his hand himself. He tried every +lock in the prison; not one of them vouchsafed to budge. Not one, that +is, with a single exception. The exception was in Ward B, No. 27. Mr. +Murray had tried all the other doors in the ward, beginning with +No. 1--tried them all in vain. But when he came to No. 27, the lock +turned with the customary ease, and the door was open. Within it was +Oliver Mankell, standing decorously at attention, waiting to be let +out. Mr. Murray stared at him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hum! there's nothing the matter with this lock, at any rate. You'd +better go down."</p> + +<p class="normal">Oliver Mankell went downstairs--he was the only man in Canterstone +jail who did.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, this is a pretty go!" exclaimed Mr. Murray, when he had +completed his round. Two or three other warders had accompanied him. +He turned on these. "Someone will smart for this--you see if they +don't. Keep those men still."</p> + +<p class="normal">The din was deafening. The prisoners, secure of a grievance, were +practising step-dances in their heavy shoes on the stone floors: they +made the narrow vaulted corridors ring.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Silence those men!" shouted Mr. Jarvis, the second warder, who was +tall and thin as the chief was short and stout. He might as well have +shouted to the wind. Those in the cells just close at hand observed +the better part of valour, but those a little distance off paid not +the slightest heed. If they were locked in, the officers were locked +out.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I must go and see the governor." Mr. Murray pursed up his lips. "Keep +those men still, or I'll know the reason why."</p> + +<p class="normal">He strode off, leaving his subordinates to obey his orders--if they +could, or if they couldn't.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Paley's house was in the centre of the jail. Paley, by the way, +was the governor's name. The governor, when Mr. Murray arrived, was +still in bed. He came down to the chief warder in rather primitive +disarray.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Anything the matter, Murray?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, sir; there's something very much the matter, indeed."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"We can't get any of the doors of the night-cells open."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You can't get--what?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"There seems to be something the matter with the locks."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The locks? All of them? Absurd!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, there they are, and there's the men inside of them, and we +can't get 'em out--at least I've tried my hand, and I know I can't."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'll come with you at once, and see what you mean."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Paley was as good as his word. He started off just as he was. As +they were going, the chief warder made another remark.</p> + +<p class="normal">"By the way, there is one cell we managed to get open--I opened it +myself."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I thought you said there was none?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's that one--it's that man Mankell."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mankell? Who is he?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He came in yesterday. It's that magician."</p> + +<p class="normal">When they reached the cells, it was easy to perceive that something +was wrong. The warders hung about in twos and threes; the noise was +deafening; the prisoners were keeping holiday.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Get me the keys and let me see what I can do. It is impossible that +all the locks can have been tampered with."</p> + +<p class="normal">They presented Mr. Paley with the keys. In his turn he tried every +lock in the jail This was not a work of a minute or two. The prison +contained some three hundred night-cells. To visit them all +necessitated not only a good deal of running up and down stairs, but a +good deal of actual walking; for they were not only in different +floors and in different blocks, but the prison itself was divided into +two entirely separate divisions--north and south--and to pass from one +division to the other entailed a walk of at least a hundred yards. By +the time he had completed the round of the locks, Mr. Paley had had +about enough of it. It was not surprising that he felt a little +bewildered--not one of the locks had shown any more readiness to yield +to him than to the others.</p> + +<p class="normal">In passing from one ward to the other, he had passed the row of +day-cells in which was situated B 27. Here they found Oliver Mankell +sitting in silent state awaiting the call to work. The governor pulled +up at the sight of him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, Mankell, so there was nothing the matter with the lock of your +door?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mankell simply inclined his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose you know nothing about the locks of the other doors?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Again the inclination of the head. The man seemed to be habitually +chary of speech.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's the matter with you? Are you dumb? Can't you speak when you're +spoken to?"</p> + +<p class="normal">This time Mankell extended the palms of his hands with a gesture which +might mean anything or nothing. The governor passed on. The round +finished, he held a consultation with the chief warder.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you any suspicions?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's queer." Mr. Murray stroked his bristly chin.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's very queer that that man Mankell's should be the only cell in +the prison left untampered with."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Very queer, indeed."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What are we to do? We can't leave the men locked up all day. It's +breakfast-time already. I suppose the cooks haven't gone down to the +cookhouse?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"They're locked up with the rest. Barnes has been up to know what he's +to do."</p> + +<p class="normal">Barnes was the prison cook. The cooks referred to were six +good-behaviour men who were told off to assist him in his duties.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If the food were cooked, I don't see how we should give it to the +men."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's the question." Mr. Murray pondered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We might pass it through the gas-holes."</p> + +<p class="normal">"We should have to break the glass to do it. You wouldn't find it +easy. It's plate-glass, an inch in thickness, and built into the solid +wall."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a pause for consideration.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, this is a pretty start. I've never come across anything like it +in all my days before."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Paley passed his hand through his hair. He had never come across +anything like it either.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shall have to telegraph to the commissioners. I can't do anything +without their sanction."</p> + +<p class="normal">The following telegram was sent:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cannot get prisoners out of night-cells. Something the matter with +locks. Cannot give them any food. The matter is very urgent. What +shall I do?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The following answer was received:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Inspector coming down."</p> + +<p class="normal">The inspector came down--Major William Hardinge. A tall, portly +gentleman, with a very decided manner. When he saw the governor he +came to the point at once.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's all this stuff?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"We can't get the prisoners out of the night-cells."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's something the matter with the locks."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you given them any food?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"We have not been able to."</p> + +<p class="normal">"When were they locked up?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yesterday evening at six o'clock."</p> + +<p class="normal">"This is a very extraordinary state of things."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is, or I shouldn't have asked for instructions."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's now three o'clock in the afternoon. They've been without food +for twenty-one hours. You've no right to keep them without food all +that time."</p> + +<p class="normal">"We are helpless. The construction of the night-cells does not permit +of our introducing food into the interior when the doors are closed."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have they been quiet?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"They've been as quiet as under the circumstance was to be expected."</p> + +<p class="normal">As they were crossing towards the north division the governor spoke +again:</p> + +<p class="normal">"We've been able to get one man out."</p> + +<p class="normal">"One!--out of the lot! How did you get him?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oddly enough, the lock of his cell was the only one in the prison +which had not been tampered with."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hum! I should like to see that man."</p> + +<p class="normal">"His name's Mankell. He only came in yesterday. He's been pretending +to magic powers--telling fortunes, and that kind of thing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Only came in yesterday? He's begun early. Perhaps we shall have to +tell him what his fortune's likely to be."</p> + +<p class="normal">When they reached the wards the keys were handed to the inspector, who +in his turn tried his hand. A couple of locksmiths had been fetched up +from the town. When the Major had tried two or three of the locks it +was enough for him. He turned to the makers of locks.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's the matter with these locks?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, that's exactly what we can't make out. The keys go in all +right, but they won't turn. Seems as though somebody had been having a +lark with them."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Can't you pick them?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"They're not easy locks to pick, but we'll have a try!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have a try!"</p> + +<p class="normal">They had a try, but they tried in vain. As it happened, the cell on +which they commenced operations was occupied by a gentleman who had +had a considerable experience in picking locks--experience which had +ended in placing him on the other side that door. He derided the +locksmiths through the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, you are a couple of keen ones! What, can't pick the lock! Why, +there ain't a lock in England I couldn't pick with a bent 'airpin. I +only wish you was this side, starving like I am, and I was where you +are, it wouldn't be a lock that would keep me from giving you food."</p> + +<p class="normal">This was not the sort of language Major Hardinge was accustomed to +hear from the average prisoner, but the Major probably felt that on +this occasion the candid proficient in the art of picking locks had a +certain excuse. He addressed the baffled workmen.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you can't pick the lock, what can you do? The question is, what is +the shortest way of getting inside that cell?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Get a watch-saw," cried the gentleman on the other side the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And when you've got your watch-saw?" inquired the Major.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Saw the whole lock right clean away. Lor' bless me! I only wish I was +where you are, I'd show you a thing or two. It's as easy as winking. +Here's all us chaps a-starving, all for want of a little hexperience!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"A saw'll be no good," declared one of the locksmiths. "Neither a +watch-saw nor any other kind of saw. How are you going to saw through +those iron stanchions? You'll have to burst the door in, that's what +it'll have to be."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You won't find it an easy thing to do." This was from the governor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why don't you take and blow the whole place up?" shouted a gentleman, +also on the other side of the door, two or three cells off.</p> + +<p class="normal">Long before this all the occupants of the corridor had been lending a +very attentive ear to what was going on. The suggestion was received +with roars of laughter. The Major, however, preferred to act upon the +workmen's advice. A sledge hammer was sent for.</p> + +<p class="normal">While they were awaiting its arrival something rather curious +happened--curious, that is, viewed in the light of what had gone +before. Warder Slater formed one of the party. More for the sake of +something to do than anything else, he put his key into the lock of +the cell which was just in front of him. Giving it a gentle twist, to +his amazement it turned with the greatest ease, and the door was open.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Here's a go!" he exclaimed. "Blest if this door ain't come open."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a yell of jubilation all along the corridor. The prisoners +seemed to be amused. The official party kept silence. Possibly their +feelings were too deep for words.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Since we've got this one open," said Warder Slater, "suppose we try +another?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He tried another, the next; the same result followed--the door was +opened with the greatest of ease.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's the meaning of this?" spluttered the Major. "Who's been +playing this tomfoolery? I don't believe there's anything the matter +with a lock in the place."</p> + +<p class="normal">There did not seem to be, just then. For when the officers tried again +they found no difficulty in unlocking the doors, and setting the +prisoners free.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER II..</h3> + + +<h4>THE CHAPLAIN AS AN AUTHORITY ON<br> +WITCHCRAFT.</h4> +<br> +<p class="normal">Major Hardinge remained in the jail that night. He stayed in the +governor's house as Mr. Paley's guest. He expressed himself very +strongly about the events of the day.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'll see the thing through if it takes me a week. The whole affair is +incredible to me. It strikes me, Paley, that they've been making a +fool of you."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor combed his hair with his fingers. His official manner had +temporarily gone. He seemed depressed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I assure you the doors were locked."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of course the doors were locked, and they used the wrong keys to open +them! It was a got-up thing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not by the officers."</p> + +<p class="normal">"By whom then? I don't see how the prisoners could have lent a hand."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I know the officers, and I will answer for them, every man. As for +the wrong keys being used, I know the keys as well as any one. I tried +them, and not a lock would yield to me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But they did yield. What explanation have you to give of that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I wish I could explain." And again the governor combed his hair.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'll have an explanation to-morrow!--you see if I don't!" But the +Major never did.</p> + +<p class="normal">On the morrow, punctually at 6 a.m., an imposing procession started to +unlock. There were the inspector, governor, chief warder, second +warder, and the warder who carried the keys.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't think we shall have much difficulty in getting the men out of +their cells this time," remarked the Major. They did not. "Good--good +God!" he spluttered, when they reached the corridor; "what--what on +earth's the meaning of this?" He had predicted rightly. They would +have no difficulty in getting the men out of their cells: they were +out already--men, and bedding, and planks, and all. There was a man +fast asleep in bed in front of each cell-door.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I thought I had given instructions that a special watch was to be +kept all night," the Major roared.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So there has been," answered the chief warder, whose head and face +and neck were purple. "Warder Slater here has only just gone off duty. +Now then, Slater, what's the meaning of this?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know," protested Slater, whose mountain of flesh seemed +quivering like jelly. "It's not a minute ago since I went to get my +keys, and they was all inside their cells when I went down."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who let them out, then?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major glared at him, incredulity in every line of his countenance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know. I'll swear it wasn't me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose they let themselves out, then. You men!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Although this short dialogue had been conducted by no means +<i>sotto-voce</i>, the noise did not seem to have had the slightest effect +in rousing the prisoners out of slumber. Even when the Major called to +them they gave no sign.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You men!" he shouted again; "it's no good shamming Abraham with me!" +He stooped to shake the man who was lying on the plank at his feet. +"Good--good God! The--the--man's not dead?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dead!" cried the governor, kneeling by the Major's side upon the +stones.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sleeper was very still. He was a man of some forty years of age, +with nut-brown tangled hair and beard. If not a short-sentence man he +was still in the early stages of his term--for he lay on the bare +boards of the plank with the rug, blanket, and sheet wrapped closely +round him, so that they might take, as far as possible, the place of +the coir mattress, which was not there. The bed was not a bed of +comfort, yet his sleep was sound--strangely sound. If he breathed at +all, it was so lightly as to be inaudible. On his face was that dazed, +strained expression which we sometimes see on the faces of those who, +without a moment's warning, have been suddenly visited by death.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't think he's dead," the governor said. "He seems to be in some +sort of trance. What's the man's name?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Itchcock. He's one of the 'oppickers. He's got a month."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was Warder Slater who gave the information. The governor took the +man by the shoulder, and tried to rouse him out of sleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hitchcock! Hitchcock! Come, wake up, my man! It's all right; he's +coming to--he's waking up."</p> + +<p class="normal">He did wake up, and that so suddenly as to take the party by surprise. +He sprang upright on the plank, nothing on but an attenuated prison +shirt, and glared at the officials with looks of unmistakable +surprise.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Holloa! What's up! What's the meaning of this?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Major Hardinge replied, suspicion peeping from his eyes:</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is what we want to know, and what we intend to know--what does +it mean? Why aren't you in your cell?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The man seemed for the first time to perceive where he was.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Strike me lucky, if I ain't outside! Somebody must have took me out +when I was asleep." Then, realising in whose presence he was--"I beg +your pardon, sir, but someone's took me out."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The one who took you out took all the others too."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major gave a side glance at Warder Slater. That intelligent +officer seemed to be suffering agonies. The prisoner glanced along the +corridor. "If all the blessed lot of 'em ain't out too!"</p> + +<p class="normal">They were not only all out, but they were all in the same curiously +trance-like sleep. Each man had to be separately roused, and each woke +with the same startling, sudden bound. No one seemed more surprised to +find themselves where they were than the men themselves. And this was +not the case in one ward only but in all the wards in the prison. No +wonder the officials felt bewildered by the time they had gone the +round.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's one thing certain," remarked Warder Slater to Warder Puffin, +wiping the perspiration from his--Warder Slater's--brow, "if I let +them out in one ward, I couldn't 'ardly let them out in all. Not to +mention that I don't see how a man of my build's going to carry +eight-and-forty men, bed, bedding, and all, out bodily, and that +without disturbing one of them from sleep."</p> + +<p class="normal">As the official party was returning through B ward, inspecting the +men, who were standing at attention in their day-cells, the officer in +charge advanced to the governor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"One man missing, sir! No. 27, sir! Mankell, sir!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The chief warder started. If possible, he turned a shade more purple +even than before.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fetch me the key of the night-cells," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was brought. They went upstairs--the Major, the governor, the chief +and second warders. Sure enough they found the missing man, standing +at attention in his night-cell, waiting to be let out--the only man in +the prison whom they had found in his place. The chief warder unlocked +him. In silence they followed him as he went downstairs.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the Major and Mr. Paley found themselves alone, both of them +seemed a little bewildered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, Major, what do you think of it now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's a got-up thing! I'll stake my life, it's a got-up thing!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you mean--a got-up thing?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Some of the officers know more about it than they have chosen to +say--that man Slater, for instance. But I'll have the thing sifted to +the bottom before I go. I never heard of anything more audacious in +the whole of my career."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor smiled, but he made no comment on the Major's +observation. It was arranged that an inquiry should be held after +chapel. During chapel a fresh subject was added to the list of those +which already called for prompt inquiry.</p> + +<p class="normal">Probably there is no more delicate and difficult position than that of +a prison chaplain. If any man doubt this, let him step into a prison +chaplain's shoes and see. He must have two faces, and each face must +look in an exactly opposite way. The one towards authority--he is an +official, an upholder of the law; the other towards the defiers of +authority--he is the criminal's best friend. It requires the wisest of +men to do his duty, so as to please both sides; and he must please +both sides--or fail. As has already been hinted, Mr. Hewett, the +Chaplain of Canterstone Jail, was not the wisest of men. He was in the +uncomfortable--but not uncommon--position of being disliked by both +the rival houses. He meant well, but he was not an apt interpreter of +his own meaning. He blundered, sometimes on the prisoners' toes, and +sometimes on the toes of the officials. Before the service began, the +governor thought of giving him a hint, not--in the course of it--to +touch on the events of the last two days. But previous hints of the +same kind had not by any means been well received, and he refrained. +Exactly what he feared would happen, happened. Both the inspector and +the governor were present at the service. Possibly the chaplain +supposed this to be an excellent opportunity of showing the sort of +man he was--one full of zeal. At any rate, before the service was +over, before pronouncing the benediction, he came down to the +altar-rail, in the way they knew so well. The governor, outwardly +unruffled, inwardly groaned.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have something to say to you."</p> + +<p class="normal">When he said this, those who knew him knew exactly what was coming; or +they thought they did, for, for once in a way, they were grievously +wrong. When the chaplain had got so far he paused. It was his habit to +indulge in these eloquent pauses, but it was not his habit to behave +as he immediately did. While they were waiting for him to go on, +almost forecasting the words he would use, a spasm seemed to go all +over him, and he clutched the rail and spoke. And what he said was +this--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bust the screws and blast 'em!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The words were shouted rather than spoken. In the very act of +utterance he clung on to the rail as though he needed its support to +enable him to stand. The chapel was intensely still. The men stared at +him as though unable to believe their eyes and ears. The chaplain was +noted for his little eccentricities, but it was the first time they +had taken such a shape as this.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's not what I meant to say." The words came out with a gasp. Mr. +Hewett put his hand up to his brow. "That's not what I meant to say."</p> + +<p class="normal">He gave a frightened glance around. Suddenly his gaze became fixed, +and he looked intently at some object right in front of him. His eyes +assumed a dull and fish-like stare. He hung on to the rail, his +surpliced figure trembling as with palsy. Words fell from his lips +with feverish volubility.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's the good of a screw, I'd like to know? Did you ever know one +what was worth his salt? I never did. Look at that beast, Slater, +great fat brute, what'd get a man three days' bread-and-water +as soon as look at him. A little bread and water'd do him +good. Look at old Murray--call a man like that chief warder. +I wonder what a chief fat-head's like? As for the governor--as for +the governor--as--for--the--governor----"</p> + +<p class="normal">The chapel was in confusion. The officers rose in their seats. Mr. +Paley stood up in his pew, looking whiter than he was wont to do. It +seemed as though the chaplain was struggling with an unseen +antagonist. He writhed and twisted, contending, as it were, with +something--or some one--which appeared to be in front of him. His +sentence remained unfinished. All at once he collapsed, and, sinking +into a heap, lay upon the steps of the altar--still.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Take the men out," said the governor's quiet voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">The men were taken out. The schoolmaster was already at the chaplain's +side. With him were two or three of the prisoners who sang in the +choir. The governor and the inspector came and looked down at the +senseless man.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Seems to be in a sort of fit," the schoolmaster said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let some one go and see if the doctor has arrived. Ask him to come up +here at once." With that the governor left the chapel, the inspector +going with him. "It's no good our staying. He'll be all right. I--I +don't feel quite well."</p> + +<p class="normal">Major Hardinge looked at him shrewdly out of the corner of his eyes. +"Does he drink?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not that I am aware of. I have never heard of it before. I should say +certainly not."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is he mad?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No-o--he has his peculiarities--but he certainly is not mad."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is he subject to fits?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have not known of his having one before."</p> + +<p class="normal">When they reached the office the Major began to pace about.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That chaplain of yours must be stark mad."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If so, it is a very sudden attack."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Did you hear what he said?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Very well indeed."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never heard such a thing in my life! Is he in the habit of using such +language?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hardly. Perhaps we had better leave it till we hear what the doctor +says. Possibly there is some simple explanation. I am afraid the +chaplain is unwell."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If he isn't unwell, I don't know what he is. Upon my word, Paley, I +can't congratulate you upon the figure Canterstone Jail has cut during +the last few days. I don't know what sort of report I shall have to +make."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor winced. When, a few minutes afterwards, the doctor +entered, he began upon the subject at once.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How is the chaplain, doctor?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Livermore gave a curious glance about him. Then he shook hands +with the inspector. Then he sat down. Taking off his hat, he wiped his +brow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well? Anything wrong?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The chaplain says he is bewitched."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor looked at the inspector, and the inspector looked at him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bewitched?" said Mr. Paley.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I told you the man was mad," the inspector muttered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hush!" the doctor whispered. "Here he comes."</p> + +<p class="normal">Even as he spoke the chaplain entered, leaning on the chief warder's +arm. He advanced to the table at which the governor sat, looking Mr. +Paley steadily in the face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Paley, I have to report to you that I have been bewitched."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Hewett." He could not resist a smile. +"Though I am afraid I do not understand exactly what you mean."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is no laughing matter." The chaplain's tone was cool and +collected--more impressive than it was used to be. "The man whose name +I believe is Oliver Mankell has bewitched me. He was the second man in +the third row on my right-hand side in chapel. I could make out that +his number was B 27. He cast on me a spell."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was silence. Even the inspector felt that it was a delicate +matter to accuse the chaplain outright of lunacy. An interruption came +from an unexpected quarter--from the chief warder.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's my belief that man Mankell's been up to his games about those +cells."</p> + +<p class="normal">The interruption was the more remarkable, because there was generally +war--not always passive--between the chief warder and the chaplain. +Every one looked at Mr. Murray.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is this I hear about the cells?" asked Dr. Livermore.</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor answered:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yesterday the men were all locked in their night-cells. This morning +they were all locked out--that is, we found them all seemingly fast +asleep, each man in front of his cell-door."</p> + +<p class="normal">"They were all locked in except one man, and that man was Mankell--and +he was the only man who was not locked out." Thus the chief warder.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And do you suggest," said the doctor, "that he had a finger in the +pie?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's my belief he did it all. Directly I set eyes upon the man I knew +there was something about him I couldn't quite make out. He did it +all! Have you heard, sir, how he came to the gate?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Murray was, in general, a reticent man. It was not his way to +express decided opinions in the presence of authorities, or indeed of +any one else. Mr. Paley, who knew his man, eyed him with curiosity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What was there odd about that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, instead of the constable bringing him, it was him who brought +the constable. When they opened the gate there was him with the +policeman over his shoulder."</p> + +<p class="normal">In spite of Mr. Murray's evident earnestness, there were some of his +hearers who were unable to repress a smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you mean that the constable was drunk?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's the queer part of it. It was John Mitchell. I've known him for +two-and-twenty years. I never knew him have a glass too much before. I +saw him soon afterwards--he was all right then. He said he had only +had three half-pints. He was quite himself till he got near the gate, +when all of a sudden he went queer all over."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Possibly the ale was drugged," suggested the doctor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know nothing about that, but I do know that the same hand +that played that trick was the same hand that played the tricks with +the cells."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Consider a moment what you are saying, Murray. How are three hundred +locks to be tampered with in the middle of the night by a man who is +himself a prisoner? One moment--But even that is nothing compared to +the feat of carrying three hundred men fast asleep in bed--bed and +all--through three hundred closed doors, under the very noses of the +officers on guard--think of doing all that singlehanded!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was witchcraft."</p> + +<p class="normal">When the chief warder said this, Major Hardinge exploded.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Witchcraft! The idea of the chief warder of an English prison talking +about witchcraft at this time of day! It's quite time you were +superannuated, sir."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The man, Mankell, certainly bewitched me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bewitched you!" As the Major faced the chaplain he seemed to find it +difficult to restrain his feelings. "May I ask what sort of idea you +mean to convey by saying he bewitched you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will explain so far as I am able." The chaplain paused to collect +his thoughts. All eyes were fixed upon him. "I intended to say +something to the men touching the events of yesterday and this +morning. As I came down to the altar-rail I was conscious of a curious +sensation--as though I was being fascinated by a terrible gaze which +was burning into my brain. I managed to pronounce the first few words. +Involuntarily looking round, I met the eyes of the man Mankell. The +instant I did so I was conscious that something had passed from him to +me, something that made my tongue utter the words you heard. +Struggling with all my might, I momentarily regained the exercise of +my own will. It was only for a moment, for in an instant he had +mastered me again. Although I continued to struggle, my tongue uttered +the words he bade it utter, until I suppose my efforts to repel his +dominion brought on a kind of fit. That he laid on me a spell I am +assured."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a pause when the chaplain ceased. That he had made what he +supposed to be a plain and simple statement of facts was evident. But +then the facts were remarkable ones. It was the doctor who broke the +silence.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Suppose we have the man in here, so that we can put him through his +facings?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor stroked his beard</p> + +<p class="normal">"What are you going to say to him? You can hardly charge him with +witchcraft. He is here because he has been pretending to magic +powers."</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor started.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No! Is that so? Then I fancy we have the case in a nutshell. The man +is what old-fashioned people used to call a mesmerist--hypnotism they +call it nowadays, and all sorts of things."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But mesmerism won't explain the cells!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm not so sure of that--at any rate, it would explain the policeman +who was suddenly taken queer. Let's have the man in here."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The whole thing is balderdash," said the Major with solemnity. "I am +surprised, as a man of sane and healthy mind, to hear such stuff +talked in an English prison of to-day."</p> + +<p class="normal">"At least there will be no harm in our interviewing Mr. Mankell. +Murray, see that they send him here." The chief warder departed to do +the governor's bidding. Mr. Paley turned to the chaplain. "According +to you, Mr. Hewett, we are subjecting ourselves to some personal risk +by bringing him here. Is that so?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You may smile, Mr. Paley, but you may find it no laughing matter +after all. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt +of in man's philosophy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You don't mean to say," burst out the Major, "that you, a man of +education, a clergyman, chaplain of an English prison, believe in +witchcraft?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is not a question of belief--it is a question of fact. That the +man cast on me a spell, I am well assured. Take care that he does not +do the same to you."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor smiled. The doctor laughed. The enormity of the +suggestion kept the Major tongue-tied till Mankell appeared.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h4>THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF THE PRISON<br> +OFFICIALS.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Although Mankell was ushered in by the chief warder, he was in actual +charge of Warder Slater. The apartment into which he was shown was not +that in which prisoners ordinarily interviewed the governor. There a +cord, stretched from wall to wall, divided the room nearly in half. On +one side stood the prisoner, with the officer in charge of him; on the +other sat the governor. Here there was no cord. The room--which was a +small one--contained a single table. At one end sat Mr. Paley, on his +right sat Major Hardinge, the chaplain stood at his left, and just +behind the Major sat Dr. Livermore. Mankell was told to stand at +the end which faced the governor. A momentary pause followed his +entrance--all four pairs of eyes were examining his countenance. He +for his part bore himself quite easily, his eyes being fixed upon the +governor, and about the corners of his lips hovered what was certainly +more than the suspicion of a smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have sent for you," Mr. Paley began, "because I wish to ask you a +question. You understand that I make no charge against you, but--do +you know who has been tampering with the locks of the cells?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The smile was unmistakable now. It lighted up his saturnine visage, +suggesting that here was a man who had an eye--possibly almost too +keen an eye--for the ridiculous. But he gave no answer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you hear my question, Mankell? Do you know who has been tampering +with the locks of the cells?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mankell extended his hands with a little graceful gesture which +smacked of more southern climes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How shall I tell you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tell the truth, sir, and don't treat us to any of your high +faluting."</p> + +<p class="normal">This remark came from the Major--not in too amiable a tone of voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But in this land it would seem that truth is a thing that wise men +shun. It is for telling the truth that I am here."</p> + +<p class="normal">"We don't want any of your insolence, my man! Answer the governor's +question if you don't want to be severely punished. Do you know who +has been playing hanky-panky with the cells?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Spirits of the air."</p> + +<p class="normal">As he said this Mankell inclined his head and looked at the Major with +laughter in his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Spirits of the air! What the devil do you mean by spirits of the +air?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah! what do I mean? To tell <i>you</i> that," laying a stress upon the +pronoun, "would take a year."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The fellow's an insolent scoundrel," spluttered the Major.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, Mankell, that won't do," struck in Mr. Paley. "Do I understand +you to say that you do know something about the matter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Know!" The man drew himself up, laying the index finger of his right +hand upon the table with a curiously impressive air. "What is there +that I do not know?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I see. You still pretend, then, to the possession of magic powers?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pretend!" Mankell laughed. He stretched out his hands in front of him +with what seemed to be his favourite gesture, and laughed--in the face +of the authorities.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Suppose you give us an example of your powers?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The suggestion came from the doctor. The Major exploded.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't talk stuff and nonsense! Give the man three days' bread and +water. That is what he wants."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You do not believe in magic, then?" Mankell turned to the Major with +his laughing eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's it matter to you what I believe? You may take my word for it +that I don't believe in impudent mountebanks like you."</p> + +<p class="normal">The only reply Mankell gave was to raise his hand--if that might be +called a reply--in the way we sometimes do when we call for silence, +and there was silence in the room. All eyes were fixed upon the +prisoner. He looked each in turn steadily in the face. Then, still +serenely smiling, he gently murmured, "If you please."</p> + +<p class="normal">There still was silence, but only for a moment. It was broken +by Warder Slater. That usually decorous officer tilted his cap +to the back of his head, and thrust his hands into his breeches +pockets--hardly the regulation attitude in the presence of superiors.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I should blooming well like to know what this means! 'Ere have I been +in this 'ere jail eleven years, and I've never been accused before of +letting men out of their night-cells, let alone their beds and +bedding, and I don't like it, so I tell you straight."</p> + +<p class="normal">The chief warder turned with automatic suddenness towards the +unexpectedly and unusually plain-spoken officer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Slater, you're a fool!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm not the only one in the place! There's more fools here besides +me, and some of them bigger ones as well!"</p> + +<p class="normal">While these compliments were being exchanged, the higher officials sat +mutely looking on. When the chief warder seemed at a loss for an +answer, the chaplain volunteered a remark. He addressed himself to +Warder Slater.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's my opinion that the governor's a bigger fool than you are, and +that the inspector's a still bigger fool than he is."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And it's my belief, Mr. Hewett," observed the doctor, "that you're +the biggest fool of all."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It would serve him right," remarked the governor, quietly, "if +somebody were to knock him down."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Knock him down! I should think it would--and kick him too!"</p> + +<p class="normal">As he said this the Major glared at the chaplain with threatening +eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was silence again, broken by Warder Slater taking off his cap +and then his tunic, which he folded up carefully and placed upon the +floor, and turning his shirt-sleeves up above his elbows, revealing as +he did so a pair of really gigantic arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If any man says I let them men out of the cells, I'm ready to fight +that man, either for a gallon of beer or nothing. I don't care if it's +the inspector, or who it is."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suspect," declared the chaplain, "that the inspector's too great a +coward to take you on, but if he does I'm willing to back Slater for +half-a-crown. I am even prepared to second him."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putting his hands under his coat-tails, the chaplain looked up at the +ceiling with a resolute air.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you do fight Slater, Hardinge, I should certainly commence by +giving the chaplain a punch in the eye."</p> + +<p class="normal">So saying, the governor leaned back in his chair, and began drumming +on the table with the tips of his fingers. The doctor rose from his +seat. He gave the inspector a hearty slap on the back.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Give him beans!" he cried. "You ought to be able to knock an over-fed +animal like Slater into the middle of next week before he's counted +five."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've no quarrel with Slater," the inspector growled, "and I've no +intention of fighting him; but as the chaplain seems to be so anxious +for a row, I'll fight him with the greatest pleasure."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If there's goin' to be any fighting," interposed the chief warder, +"don't you think I'd better get a couple of sponges and a pail of +water?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know about the sponges," said the governor; "I don't fancy +you will find any just at hand. But you might get a pail of water, I +think."</p> + +<p class="normal">The chief warder left the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm not a fighting man," the chaplain announced; "and in any case, I +should decline to soil my hands by touching such an ill-mannered +ruffian as Major Hardinge."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I say," exclaimed the doctor, "Hardinge, you're not going to stand +that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major sprang from his seat, tore off his coat, and flung it on to +the ground with considerably less care than Warder Slater had done. He +strode up to the chaplain.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Beg my pardon, or take a licking!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major clenched his fists. He assumed an attitude which, if not +exactly reminiscent of the pets of the fancy, was at least intended to +be pugilistic. The chaplain did not flinch.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You dare to lay a finger on me, you bullying blackguard."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major did dare. He struck out, if not with considerable science, +at any rate with considerable execution. The chaplain went down like a +log. At that moment the chief warder entered the room. He had a pail +of water in his hand. For some reason, which was not altogether plain, +he threw its contents upon the chaplain as he lay upon the floor.</p> + +<p class="normal">While these--considering the persons engaged--somewhat irregular +proceedings had been taking place, Mankell remained motionless, his +hand upraised--still with that smile upon his face. Now he lowered his +hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thank you very much," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was silence again--a tolerably prolonged silence. While it +lasted, a change seemed to be passing over the chief actors in the +scene. They seemed to be awaking, with more or less rapidity, to the +fact that a certain incongruity characterised their actions and their +language. There stood Warder Slater, apparently surprised and +overwhelmed at the discovery that his hat and coat were off, and his +shirtsleeves tucked up above his elbows. The chief warder, with the +empty pail in his hand, presented a really ludicrous picture of +amazement. He seemed quite unable to realise the fact that he had +thrown the contents over the chaplain. The inspector's surprise +appeared to be no less on finding that, in his pugilistic ardour, he +had torn off his coat and knocked the chaplain down. The doctor, +supporting him in the rear, seemed to be taken a little aback. The +governor, smoothing his hair with his hand, seemed to be in a hopeless +mist. It was the chaplain, who rose from the floor with his +handkerchief to his nose, who brought it home to them that the scene +which had just transpired had not been the grotesque imaginings of +some waking dream.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I call you to witness that Major Hardinge has struck me to the +ground, and the chief warder has thrown on me a pail of water. What +conduct may be expected from ignorant criminals when such is the +behaviour of those who are in charge of them, must be left for others +to judge."</p> + +<p class="normal">They looked at one another. Their feelings were momentarily too deep +for words.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I think," suggested the governor, with quavering intonation, "I +think--that this man--had better--be taken away."</p> + +<p class="normal">Warder Slater picked up his hat and coat, and left the room, Mankell +walking quietly beside him. Mr. Murray followed after, seeming +particularly anxious to conceal the presence of the pail. Mr. Hewett, +still stanching the blood which flowed from his nose, fixed his eyes +on the inspector.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Major Hardinge, if, twenty-four hours after this, you are still an +Inspector of Prisons, all England shall ring with your shame. Behind +bureaucracy--above it--is the English press." The chaplain moved +towards the door. On the threshold he paused. "As for the chief +warder, I shall commence by indicting him for assault." He took +another step, and paused again. "Nor shall I forget that the governor +aided and abetted the inspector, and that the doctor egged him on."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the chaplain disappeared. His disappearance was followed by what +might be described as an abject silence. The governor eyed his +colleagues furtively. At last he stammered out a question.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, Major, what do you think of this?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major sank into a chair, expressing his thoughts by a gasp. Mr. +Paley turned his attention to the doctor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you say, doctor?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I say?--I say nothing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose," murmured the Major, in what seemed to be the ghost of his +natural voice, "that I did knock him down?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor seemed to have something to say on that point, at any rate.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Knock him down!--I should think you did! Like a log of wood!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major glanced at the governor. Mr. Paley shook his head. The Major +groaned. The governor began to be a little agitated.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Something must be done. It is out of the question that such a scandal +should be allowed to go out into the world. I do not hesitate to say +that if the chaplain sends in to the commissioners the report which he +threatens to send, the situation will be to the last degree unpleasant +for all of us."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The point is," observed the doctor--"are we, collectively and +individually, subject to periodical attacks of temporary insanity?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Speaking for myself, I should say certainly not."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Livermore turned on the governor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then perhaps you will suggest a hypothesis which will reasonably +account for what has just occurred." The governor was silent. "Unless +you are prepared to seek for a cause in the regions of phenomena."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Supposing," murmured the Major, "there is such a thing as witchcraft +after all?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"We should have the Psychical Research Society down on us, if we had +nobody else, if we appended our names to a confession of faith." The +doctor thrust his thumbs into his waistcoat arm-holes. "And I should +lose every patient I have."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a tapping at the door. In response to the governor's +invitation, the chief warder entered. In general there was in Mr. +Murray's bearing a not distant suggestion of an inflated bantam-cock +or pouter-pigeon. It was curious to observe how anything in the shape +of inflation was absent now. He touched his hat to the governor--his +honest, rubicund, somewhat pugnacious face, eloquent of the weight +that was on his mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Excuse me, sir. I said he was a witch."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your saying that he was a witch--or wizard," remarked the governor, +dryly, "will not, I fear, be sufficient excuse, in the eyes of the +commissioners, for your throwing a pail of water over the chaplain."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But a man's not answerable for what he does when he's bewitched," +persisted the chief warder, with characteristic sturdiness.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is exactly that reflection which has constrained me to return."</p> + +<p class="normal">They looked up. There was the chaplain standing in the doorway--still +with his handkerchief to his nose.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Murray, you threw a pail of water over me. If you assert that you +did it under the influence of witchcraft, I, who have myself been +under a spell, am willing to excuse you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Hewett, sir, you yourself know I was bewitched."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do; as I believe it of myself. Murray, give me your hand." The +chaplain and the chief warder solemnly shook hands. "There is an end +of the matter as it concerns us two. Major Hardinge, do I understand +you to assert that you too were under the influence of witchcraft?"</p> + +<p class="normal">This was rather a delicate inquiry to address to the Major. Apparently +the Major seemed to find it so.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know about witchcraft," he growled; "but I am prepared to +take my oath in any court in England that I had no more intention of +striking you than I had of striking the moon."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is sufficient, Major Hardinge. I forgive you from my heart. +Perhaps you too will take my hand."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major took it--rather awkwardly--much more awkwardly than the +chief warder had done. When the chaplain relinquished it, he turned +aside, and picking up his coat, began to put it on--scarcely with that +air of dignity which is proper to a prison inspector.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I presume," continued Mr. Hewett, "that we all allow that what has +occurred has been owing to the malign influence of the man Oliver +Mankell?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was silence. Apparently they did not all allow it even yet: it +<i>was</i> a pill to swallow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hypnotism," muttered the doctor, half aside.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hypnotism! I believe that the word simply expresses some sort of +mesmeric power--hardly a sufficient explanation in the present case."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I would suggest, Major Hardinge," interposed the governor, "all +theorising aside, that the man be transferred to another prison at the +earliest possible moment."</p> + +<p class="normal">"He shall be transferred to-morrow," affirmed the Major. "If there is +anything in Mr. Hewett's suggestion, the fellow shall have a chance to +prove it--in some other jail. Oh, good Lord! Don't! He's killing me! +Help--p!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hardinge!" exclaimed the doctor; "what's the matter now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There seemed to be something the matter. The Major had been delivering +himself in his most pompously official manner. Suddenly he put his +hands to the pit of his stomach, and began to cry out as if in an +ecstacy of pain, his official manner altogether gone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He'll murder me! I know he will!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Murder you? Who?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mankell."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oddly enough, I too was conscious of a very curious sensation."</p> + +<p class="normal">As he said this, the governor wiped the cold dew of perspiration from +his brow. He seemed unnaturally white. As he adjusted his spectacles, +there was an odd, tremulous appearance about his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was because you spoke of transferring him to some other jail." The +chaplain's tone was solemn. "He dislikes the idea of being trifled +with."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major resented the suggestion.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Trifled with? He seems uncommonly fond of trifling with other people. +Confound the man! Oh--h!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major sprang from the floor with an exclamation which amounted to +a positive yell. They looked each other in the face. Each man seemed a +little paler than his wont.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Something must be done," the governor gasped.</p> + +<p class="normal">The chaplain made a proposition.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I propose that we summon him into our presence, and inquire of him +what he wishes us to do."</p> + +<p class="normal">The proposition was not received with acclamation. They probably felt +that a certain amount of complication might be expected to ensue if +such inquiries began to be addressed to prisoners.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I think I'll go my rounds," observed the doctor. "This matter +scarcely concerns me. I wish you gentlemen well out of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">He reached out his hand to take his hat, which he had placed upon a +chair. As he did so, the hat disappeared, and a small brown terrier +dog appeared in its place. The dog barked viciously at the +outstretched hand. The doctor started back just in time to escape its +teeth. The dog disappeared--there was the hat again. The appearance +was but momentary, but it was none the less suggestive on that +account. The doctor seemed particularly affected.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We must have all been drinking, if we are taking to seeing things," +he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I think," suggested the chaplain, almost in a whisper, "that we had +better inquire what it is he wishes us to do." There was silence. +"We--we have all clear consciences. There--there is no reason why we +should be afraid."</p> + +<p class="normal">"We're--we're not afraid," gasped the governor. "I--I don't think you +are entitled to infer such a thing."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major stammeringly supported him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of--of course we--we're not afraid. The--the idea is preposterously +absurd."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Still," said the doctor, "a man doesn't care to have hanky-panky +tricks played with his top hat."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a pause--of considerable duration. It was again broken by +the chaplain.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't you think, Mr. Paley, that we had better send for this man?" +Apparently Mr. Paley did.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Murray," he said, "go and see that he is sent here."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Murray went, not too willingly--still he went.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h4>THE CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER WHICH THE OFFICIALS<br> +OF CANTERSTONE JAIL PRESENTED MR. MANKELL<br> +WITH A TESTIMONIAL.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Oliver Mankell was again in the charge of Warder Slater. Warder Slater +looked very queer indeed--he actually seemed to have lost in bulk. The +same phenomenon was observable in the chief warder, who followed close +upon the prisoner's heels. Mankell seemed, as ever, completely at his +ease. There was again a suspicion of a smile in his eyes and about the +corners of his lips. His bearing was in striking contrast to that of +the officials. His self-possession in the presence of their evident +uneasiness gave him the appearance, in a sense, of being a giant among +pigmies; yet the Major, at least, was in every way a bigger man than +he was. There was silence as he entered, a continuation of that +silence which had prevailed until he came. The governor fumbled with a +paper-knife which was in front of him. The inspector, leaning forward +in his chair, seemed engrossed by his boots. The doctor kept glancing, +perhaps unconsciously, at his hat. The chaplain, though conspicuously +uneasy, seemed to have his wits about him most. It was he who, +temporarily usurping the governor's functions, addressed the prisoner.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your name is Oliver Mankell?" The prisoner merely smiled. "You are +sentenced to three months' hard labour?" The prisoner smiled again. +"For--for pretending to tell fortunes?" The smile became more +pronounced. The chaplain cleared his throat. "Oliver Mankell, I am a +clergyman. I know that there are such things as good and evil. I know +that, for causes which are hidden from me, the Almighty may permit +evil to take visible shape and walk abroad upon the earth; but I also +know that, though evil may destroy my body, it cannot destroy my +soul."</p> + +<p class="normal">The chaplain pulled up. His words and manner, though evidently +sincere, were not particularly impressive. While they evidently had +the effect of increasing his colleagues' uneasiness, they only had the +effect of enlarging the prisoner's smile. When he was about to +continue, the governor interposed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I think, Mr. Hewett, if you will permit me. Mankell, I am not a +clergyman." The prisoner's smile almost degenerated into a grin. "I +have sent for you, for the second time this morning, to ask you +frankly if you have any reason to complain of your treatment here?" +The prisoner stretched out his hands with his familiar gesture. "Have +you any complaint to make? Is there anything, within the range of the +prison rules, you would wish me to do for you?" Again the hands went +out. "Then tell me, quite candidly, what is the cause of your +behaviour?"</p> + +<p class="normal">When the governor ceased, the prisoner seemed to be considering what +answer he should make. Then, inclining his head with that almost +saturnine grace, if one may coin a phrase, which seemed to accompany +every movement he made:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sir, what have I done?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Eh--eh--we--we won't dwell upon that. The question is, What did you +do it for?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is perhaps within your recollection, sir, that I have my +reputation to redeem, my character to reinstate."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your character? What do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"In the first interview with which you favoured me, I ventured to +observe that it would be my endeavour, during my sojourn within these +walls, to act upon the advice the magistrate tendered me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What"--the governor rather faltered--"what advice was that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He said I claimed to be a magician. He advised me, for my character's +sake, to prove it during my sojourn here."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I see. And--and you're trying to prove it--for your character's +sake?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"For my character's sake! I am but beginning, you perceive."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, you're but beginning! You call this but beginning, do you? May I +ask if you have any intention of going on?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, sir, I have still nearly the whole three months in front of me! +Until my term expires I shall go on, with gathering strength, unto the +end."</p> + +<p class="normal">As he said this Mankell drew himself up in such a way that it almost +seemed as though some inches were added to his stature.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You will, will you? Well, you seem to be a pleasant kind of man!" The +criticism seemed to have been extracted from the governor almost +against his will. He looked round upon his colleagues with what could +only be described as a ghastly grin. "Have you any objection, Mankell, +to being transferred to another prison?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sir!" the prisoner's voice rang out, and his hearers +started--perceptibly. Perhaps that was because their nerves were +already so disorganised. "It is here I was sent, it is here I must +remain--until the end."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am bound to tell you, Mankell, judging from the experiences of the +last two days, if this sort of thing is to continue--with gathering +strength!--the end will not be long."</p> + +<p class="normal">The prisoner seemed lost in reflection. The officials seemed lost in +reflection too; but their reflections were probably of a different +kind.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There is one suggestion I might offer."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let's have it by all means. We have reached a point at which we shall +be glad to receive any suggestion--from you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You might give me a testimonial."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Give you what?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You might give me a testimonial."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor looked at the prisoner, then at his friends.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A testimonial! Might we indeed! What sort of testimonial do you +allude to?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You might testify that I had regained my reputation, redeemed my +character--that I had proved to your entire satisfaction that I was +the magician I claimed to be."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor leaned back in his seat.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your suggestion has at least the force of novelty. I should like to +search the registers of remarkable cases, to know if such an +application has ever been made to the governor of an English jail +before. What do you say, Hardinge?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major shuffled in his chair.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I think I must return to town."</p> + +<p class="normal">The prisoner smiled. The Major winced.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That--that fellow's pinned me to my chair," he gasped. He appeared to +be making futile efforts to rise from his seat.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You cannot return to town. Dismiss the idea from your mind."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major only groaned. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his +brow. The governor looked up from the paper-knife with which he was +again trifling.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Am I to understand that the testimonial is to take the shape of a +voluntary offering?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, sir! Of what value is a testimonial which is not voluntary?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Quite so. How do you suggest it should be worded?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"May I ask you for paper, pens, and ink?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The prisoner bent over the table and wrote on the paper which was +handed him. What he had written he passed to the governor. Mr. Paley +found inscribed, in a beautifully fair round hand, as clear as +copperplate, the following "testimonial":--</p> + +<p class="normal">"The undersigned persons present their compliments to Colonel Gregory. +Oliver Mankell, sentenced by Colonel Gregory to three months' hard +labour, has been in Canterstone Jail two days. That short space of +time has, however, convinced them that Colonel Gregory acted wrongly +in distrusting his magic powers, and so casting a stain upon his +character. This is to testify that he has proved, to the entire +satisfaction of the undersigned inspector of prisons and officials of +Canterstone Jail, that he is a magician of quite the highest class."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The signatures of all those present should be placed at the bottom," +observed the prisoner, as the governor was reading the "testimonial."</p> + +<p class="normal">Apparently at a loss for words with which to comment upon the paper he +had read, the governor handed it to the inspector. The Major shrank +from taking it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I'd rather not," he mumbled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I think you had better read it," said the governor. Thus urged, the +Major did read it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good Lord!" he gasped, and passed it to the doctor.</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor silently, having read it, passed it to the chaplain.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will read it aloud," said Mr. Hewett. He did so--for the benefit, +probably, of Slater and Mr. Murray.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Supposing we were to sign that document, what would you propose to do +with it?" inquired the governor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I should convey it to Colonel Gregory."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Indeed! In that case he would have as high an opinion of our +characters as of yours. And yourself--what sort of action might we +expect from you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I should go."</p> + +<p class="normal">The governor's jaw dropped.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Go? Oh, would you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My character regained, for what have I to stop?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Exactly. What have you? There's that point of view, no doubt. Well, +Mankell, we will think the matter over."</p> + +<p class="normal">The prisoner dropped his hands to his sides, looking the governor +steadily in the face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sir, I conceive that answer to convey a negative. The proposition +thus refused will not be made again. It only remains for me to +continue earnestly my endeavours to retrieve my character--until the +three months are at an end."</p> + +<p class="normal">The chaplain was holding the testimonial loosely between his finger +and thumb. Stretching out his arm, Mankell pointed at it with his +hand. It was immediately in flames. The chaplain releasing it, it was +consumed to ashes before it reached the floor. Returning to face the +governor gain, the prisoner laid his right hand, palm downwards, on +the table: "Spirits of the air, in whose presence I now stand, I ask +you if I am not justified in whatever I may do?"</p> + +<p class="normal">His voice was very musical. His upturned eyes seemed to pierce through +the ceiling to what there was beyond. The room grew darker. There was +a rumbling in the air. The ground began to shake. The chaplain, who +was caressing the hand which had been scorched by the flames, burst +out with what was for him a passionate appeal:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Mankell, you are over hasty. I was about to explain that I should +esteem it quite an honour to sign your testimonial."</p> + +<p class="normal">"So should I--upon my soul, I should!" declared the Major.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's nothing I wouldn't do to oblige you, Mr. Mankell," stammered +the chief warder.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Same 'ere!" cried Warder Slater.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You really are too rapid in arriving at conclusions, Mr. Mankell," +remarked the governor. "I do beg you will not suppose there was any +negative intention."</p> + +<p class="normal">The darkness, the rumbling, and the shaking ceased as suddenly as they +began. The prisoner smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps I was too hasty," he confessed. "It is an error which can +easily be rectified."</p> + +<p class="normal">He raised his hand. A piece of paper fluttered from the ceiling. It +fell upon the table. It was the testimonial.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your signature, Major Hardinge, should head the list."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I--I'd rather somebody else signed first."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That would never do: it is for you to lead the van. You are free to +leave your seat."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major left his seat, apparently not rejoicing in his freedom. He +wrote "William Hardinge" in great sprawling characters.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Add 'Inspector of Prisons.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major added "Inspector of Prisons," with a very rueful +countenance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Paley, it is your turn."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Paley took his turn, with a really tolerable imitation of being +both ready and willing. Acting on the hint which had been given the +Major, he added "Governor" of his own accord.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, doctor, it is you."</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor thrust his hands into his trousers' pockets. "I'll sign, if +you'll tell me how it is done."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tell you how it is done? How what is done?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"How you do that hanky-panky, of course."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hanky-panky!" The prisoner drew himself straight up. "Is it possible +that you suspect me of hanky-panky? Yes, sir, I will show you how it's +done. If you wish it, you shall be torn asunder where you stand."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thank you,--you needn't trouble. I'll sign."</p> + +<p class="normal">He signed. The chaplain shook his head and sighed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I always placed a literal interpretation on the twenty-eighth chapter +of the first book of Samuel. It is singular how my faith is +justified!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The chief warder placed his spectacles upon his nose, where they +seemed uneasy, and made quite a business of signing. And such was +Warder Slater's agitation, that he could scarcely sign at all. But at +last the "testimonial" was complete. The prisoner smiled as he +carefully folded it in two.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will convey it to Colonel Gregory," he said. "It is a gratification +to me to have been able to retrieve my character in so short a space +of time."</p> + +<p class="normal">They watched him--a little spellbound, perhaps; and as they watched +him, even before their eyes--behold, he was gone!</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_twins" href="#div1Ref_twins">TWINS!</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4>THE FIRST LADY.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Mrs. And Miss Danvers."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Herbert Buxton, standing at the office window of the hotel, +glancing at the visitors' book on the desk at his right, saw the names +among the latest arrivals. They caught his eye. "Pontresina" was +stated to be the place from which they had lately come.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is <i>the</i> Danvers, for a fiver--Cecil's Danvers."</p> + +<p class="normal">Strolling from the office window, he took a letter--a frayed +letter--from his pocket-book. It was post-marked "Pontresina." The +signature was "Cecil Buxton"--it was from his brother.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear Hubert," it ran, "you really must get something to do! Your +request for what you call an advance is absurd. So far from advancing +you anything I shall have to cut short the allowance I have been +making you. I have met here a Mrs. and Miss Danvers. I have asked Miss +Danvers to do me the honour to marry me. She has consented. When that +event comes to pass--which will be very shortly--your allowance will +recede to a vanishing point. That you will get something to do is, +therefore, the advice of your affectionate brother, Cecil Buxton."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It would be an odd coincidence," reflected Hubert, "if that Miss +Danvers is this Miss Danvers."</p> + +<p class="normal">An idea occurred to his fertile--too fertile--brain. As the first +glimmerings of the idea burst on him, Hubert smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">In giving birth to Cecil and Hubert Buxton, Nature had been indulging +in one of her freaks. They were twins--born within a few seconds of +each other. Cecil came first. Hubert came, with all possible +expedition, immediately after. Babies are proverbially alike. These +babies were so much alike that, when they were undressed, no one ever +pretended to be able to tell one from the other. The resemblance +outlived babyhood. As the years went on, Cecil was always being taken +for Hubert, Hubert for Cecil. The unfortunate part of the business was +that the resemblance was merely superficial. Inside, they were +altogether different. Cecil was solid and steady, while Hubert--well, +at that particular moment he was quartered at that fashionable +Bournemouth hotel, without money in his pocket with which to pay his +hotel bill, and with nobody within reach from whom he could borrow a +five-pound note.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If," he told himself, "<i>this</i> Danvers is that Danvers, I might make +something out of that fatal likeness after all."</p> + +<p class="normal">It would not be, by any means, the first time he had made something +out of the "fatal likeness," but on that, in this place, we need not +dwell. He strolled along the corridor, the open letter in his hand, +biting his nails and thinking over things as he went. As he approached +the glass door which led into the grounds, it opened to admit a lady. +At sight of him she stopped.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert looked at her. She was a magnificent woman, planned altogether +on a magnificent scale, with a profusion of red-gold hair, and a pair +of the biggest and brightest eyes Hubert, with all his wide +experience, ever remembered to have seen.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It <i>is</i> the Danvers!" he inwardly decided. "What a 'oner'!"</p> + +<p class="normal">But he was equal to the occasion. He generally was--more than equal. +He held out his hand to her with a little sudden burst.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You!" he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady, however, did not immediately respond to his advances. On the +contrary, she put her hands behind her back.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This is an unexpected pleasure. I didn't expect to see you here. I +thought you were in Paris."</p> + +<p class="normal">As a matter of fact according to the most recent advices, Cecil was in +Paris. But, of course, Hubert had nothing to do with that.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I only arrived last night. You--you don't seem glad to see me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is rather I who should ask the question. Are you glad to see me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a dryness in her tone which grated on Hubert's ears.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This is a case in which diplomacy is required. I wonder what there's +been between them." Aloud he remarked, "Can you not forget and +forgive?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil, do you mean it?" She glanced behind her as if in sudden +agitation. "I cannot stop now. Meet me in the garden after dinner."</p> + +<p class="normal">She was gone before he even had a ghost of a chance of feeling his +way.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h4>THE SECOND LADY.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil! Where are you? Here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert, who had been leaning against the wall, came out into the +moonlight. The lady stood on the top of the steps. The moon shone full +upon her. It lit up the glory of her red-gold hair. She was clad in +full evening dress. Her little opera cloak, which had slipped off her +shoulders, revealed, rather than concealed, her magnificent +proportions. Hubert, eying her critically from below, told himself +that she was certainly a "oner!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am afraid I am late. I hope you haven't been waiting long."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nothing to speak of. Just time enough to enjoy a cigar--and to dream +of you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil! For shame! Is it damp? I have only my thin shoes on."</p> + +<p class="normal">She held one out in evidence. Hubert liked the look of it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is as dry as tinder; just the night for lovers."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I really think it is." She came down the steps. "How glorious!" +Laying her hand upon his arm, she looked into his eyes with her big +ones. "As you say, it is just the night for lovers."</p> + +<p class="normal">They began to stroll. She spoke--</p> + +<p class="normal">"It seems strange, after all that has passed between us, that you and +I should be walking here together."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It does seem strange." It certainly did.</p> + +<p class="normal">"After all the hard things you have thought and said of me." There was +a pause. She looked down, speaking softly. "Call me by my pet name."</p> + +<p class="normal">He slightly started. But he was not the sort of man to remain long at +a loss. As he turned to her and answered, in his voice there was a +ring of passionate intensity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tell me by what name to call you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Call me Angel."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Angel! My angel of love! My angel of all good things!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Their lips met in a kiss. As they did so, he told himself that if she +was Cecil's idea of an angel, she wasn't his. But she was certainly a +"oner." He wondered if she had been christened "Angel" Danvers. What a +weapon with which to chastise a wife!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil, let us understand each other. You are not trifling with me +again?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Need you ask?" This time he was fairly startled. "I am afraid that +after all which has passed between us, I need----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You do mean to make me your wife?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Make you my wife? Good heavens! What do you suppose I mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then you do not believe I cheated?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cheated!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then you do not believe that man? You don't believe the lies they +said of me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never for one single instant."</p> + +<p class="normal">His outspoken denial seemed to take her aback.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then, if you didn't believe it, why--but never mind! Cecil, it would +be useless to pretend to you that I have been the best of women, but I +swear that I will be a good wife to you until I die."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My own," he murmured. To himself he said, "There seems to have been a +good deal more romance about this little affair of Cecil's than I +supposed."</p> + +<p class="normal">Her manner changed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let us talk of something else! Let us talk of you. Tell me of +yourself, my love!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well," said Hubert, the ever-ready, "for the moment I am in rather an +awkward predicament."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The fact is"--he looked her straight in the face, and never turned a +hair--"my remittances seem to have all gone wrong. I am landed here +with empty pockets."</p> + +<p class="normal">She laughed. "Let me be your banker, will you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"With pleasure."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm quite rich, for me. I've got a heap of money in my purse, if I +can only find it." She found it, after long seeking. "How much would +you like--twenty pounds?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thank you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Should I make it thirty?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you could make it thirty."</p> + +<p class="normal">Some bank-notes changed hands. He thrust them into his +waistcoat-pocket, telling himself that that was something on account +at any rate.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, your remittances must make haste and come. Thirty pounds is +nothing to you; it is a deal to me. Now <i>I</i> am destitute."</p> + +<p class="normal">She held out her purse for him to see. It still contained a couple of +bank-notes and some gold.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose you couldn't manage to spare the rest?" he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You greedy thing! I can scarcely believe you are the Cecil Buxton I +used to know--he would never have condescended to borrow thirty pounds +from me. Do you know, it isn't only that you are nicer, but, somehow, +even your manner and your voice seem different."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you think so?" They were standing under the shadow of a tree. He +leaned back against the tree. "By the way, I have been remiss. I ought +to have inquired after your mother."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My mother?" She started.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I see your names are bracketed in the visitors' book together."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Our names bracketed in the visitors book together! You are dreaming!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I saw them there--Mrs. and Miss Danvers."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mrs. and Miss Danvers! Cecil! what do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">It was his turn to stare. Her manner had all at once become quite +singular.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do <i>you</i> mean? Isn't your mother with you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil, are you making fun of me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert felt that, in some way, he was putting his foot in it--though +he did not quite see how.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nothing is further from my thoughts than to make fun of you. But when +I saw Mrs. Danvers' name in the visitors' book----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Whose name?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"When I saw Mrs. and Miss Danvers there as large as life----"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady moved a step away from him. All at once she became, as it +were, a different woman entirely.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I see that you are the same man after all. The same Mr. Cecil Buxton. +The same cold, calculating, sneering cynic. Only you happen to have +broken out in another place. I presume you have been having a little +amusement at my expense on a novel plan of your own. But this time, my +friend, you have gone too far. You have asked me, in so many words, to +be your wife--I dare you to deny it! You have borrowed money--I dare +you to deny that too! I am not so unprotected as you may possibly +imagine. I took the precaution to wire this morning for a friend. You +will marry me, or we shall see!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady swept him a splendid curtsey, and--walked off. He was so +taken aback by the sudden change in her deportment that he made not +the slightest attempt to arrest her progress. He stared after her, in +the moonlight, open-eyed and open-mouthed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well----! I've done something, though I don't know what. And I've +done it somehow, though I don't know how. Cecil ought to be grateful +to me for ridding him of her. They'd never have been happy together, +I'll stake my life on it. Hallo! Who's this? More adventures!"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a rustling behind him. He turned. Someone came out of the +shadow of the tree. It was a young girl. She was clad in a plain black +silk dinner dress. A shawl was thrown over her shoulders. He could see +that she had brown hair and pleasant features. She addressed to him a +question which surprised him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who is that woman?" she asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">She pointed after the rapidly retreating "Angel" with a gesture which +was almost tragic. He raised his hat.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I beg your pardon? I don't think I have the pleasure----"</p> + +<p class="normal">She paid no attention to his words.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who is that woman?" she repeated.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Which woman?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That woman?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Really I--I think there's some mistake----"</p> + +<p class="normal">To his amazement she burst into a passion of tears. "Cecil, don't +speak to me like that--don't! don't! don't!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert stared. The young lady dropped her hands from before her face. +She looked at him with streaming eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who is that woman? Tell me! I've been longing for your coming, +thinking of all that I should say to you, wishing that the minutes +were but seconds--and you've been here all the time! You must have +come hours before you told me that your train was due. What is the +meaning of it all?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is precisely what I should like to know."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I came out here that I might be alone before our meeting. I heard the +sound of voices, and I thought that one of them was yours--I could not +believe it. I listened. I heard you talking to that woman. I saw her +kiss you. Oh, Cecil! Cecil! my heart is broken!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She tottered forward, all but falling into Hubert's arms. He tried to +soothe her. <i>Sotto voce</i> he told himself that Cecil had more romance +in his nature than he had given him credit for. His complications in +the feminine line appeared to be worthy of the farces at the Palais +Royal. In the midst of her emotion, the young lady in his arms +continued to address him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why--did you--tell me--you were coming--by one train--when--all the +time--you must have meant--to come by another. I--have your letter +here----"</p> + +<p class="normal">From the bosom of her dress she drew an envelope. Hubert made a dash +at it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My letter? Permit me for an instant!"</p> + +<p class="normal">With scant ceremony he took it from her hand. He glanced at the +address--recognising Cecil's well-known writing.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Miss--Miss Danvers! Are you--are <i>you</i>--Miss Danvers?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The girl shrank from him. Her tears were dried. Her face grew white. +"Cecil!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Forgive me if my question seems a curious one, but--<i>are</i> you Miss +Danvers?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The girl shrank away still more. Her face grew whiter. She spoke so +faintly her words were scarcely audible.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil! Give me back my letter, if you please!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He handed her back her envelope. "Miss Danvers, I entreat you----"</p> + +<p class="normal">But the look of scorn which was on her face brought even Hubert to a +standstill. As he hesitated, she "fixed him with her eyes." He had +seldom felt so uncomfortable as he did just then. He seemed to feel +himself growing smaller simply because of the scorn which was in her +glance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good evening, <i>Mister</i> Buxton."</p> + +<p class="normal">She slightly inclined her head--and was gone. Hubert stared after her +dumfounded. When he did recover the faculty of speech he hardly knew +what use to make of it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well--I've done it! If <i>she's</i> Miss Danvers--<i>who</i> is 'Angel?' Cecil +will thank me for the treat which I'm preparing for him. I knew this +fatal likeness would dog me to the grave. Why was I born a twin?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He strolled slowly toward the building. As he entered the hall a lady +was coming along the corridor. At sight of him she quickened her pace. +She advanced to him with outstretched hands. She was a lady of perhaps +forty years of age.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil!" she cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Hubert was not to be caught with salt. He had had enough, for the +present, of Cecil and--of Cecil's feminine friends. Ignoring her +outstretched hands, he slightly raised his hat.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pardon me, you have the advantage of me, Madame."</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady seemed bewildered. She stared at him as if she could not +believe her eyes and ears. The door through which Hubert had just +entered from the grounds was re-opened at his back. A figure glided +past him. It was the young girl from whom he had just parted--in not +too cordial a manner. She went straight to the lady, slipping her arm +through hers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mamma, Mr. Buxton has declined to acknowledge my acquaintance as he +declined to acknowledge yours. I think I can give you a sufficient +reason for his doing so, if you will come with me, dear mother."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hetty!" murmured the elder woman, still plainly at a loss.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come!" said the girl. They went, leaving Hubert to stare.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well--I've gone one better! That's Mrs. Danvers, I presume. So I've +contrived to insult the mother and the daughter too. Cecil will shower +blessings on my head. Who <i>can</i> that Angel be?"</p> + +<p class="normal">As he was about to follow the ladies along the corridor, someone +touched him on the arm. Turning, he saw that a stranger in a black +frock coat stood at his side.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What were you saying to those ladies?" this person asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What the deuce is that to do with you? And who the devil are you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It has this to do with me, that I am the manager of this hotel, and +that it is sufficiently obvious that your presence is objectionable to +those ladies. Moreover, under existing circumstances, it is +objectionable to me. It is a rule of this hotel that accounts are paid +weekly. You have been here more than three weeks, and your first +week's bill is yet unpaid. You have made sundry promises, but you have +not kept them. I don't wish to have any unpleasantness with you, sir, +but I regret that I am unable to accommodate you with a bed, in this +hotel, to-night."</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert felt a trifle wild. He was capable of that feeling now and +then. As they were advancing in one direction, two gentlemen, a tall +and a short one, were advancing towards them in the other. They were +coming to close quarters. Hubert was conscious that the manager's +outspoken observations could not be altogether inaudible to the +approaching strangers. So he rode as high a horse as he conveniently +could.</p> + +<p class="normal">"As for your bill, I will see it hanged first. As for your insolence, +I will report it to your employers. As for myself, I shall only be too +glad to go at once."</p> + +<p class="normal">One of the approaching strangers--the tall one--suddenly standing +still, placed himself in front of Hubert in such a way as to bar his +progress. With the finger tips of his right hand he tapped him lightly +on the chest.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not just at once, dear Buxton, not just at once. Not before you have +said a few words to me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And to me," said the short man, who stood beside his taller +companion. Hubert looked from one to the other.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And pray who may you be?" he inquired.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You do not know me?" asked the big stranger.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nor me?" echoed the little one.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But it does not matter. Perhaps you have a bad memory, my dear +Buxton."</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man's manner was affable. He turned to the manager. "You must +excuse us for one moment, we have just a word to say to our friend +Buxton. Here is our little private sitting-room most convenient--just +a word."</p> + +<p class="normal">Before Hubert had altogether realised the situation, the big man had +thrust his arm through his, and drawn him into a sitting-room which +opened off the corridor from the left. When they were in, the big man +locked the door--he not only locked the door, but in an ostentatious +manner he pocketed the key.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h4>THE UNFORTUNATE RESULT OF BEING A TWIN.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"So, Mr. Buxton, you don't know me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nor me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The larger stranger stood against the door. The lesser one, who +appeared to be acting as echo, leaned against a table. He began, with +a slightly overacted air of carelessness, to roll a cigarette. There +was something about this little man which Hubert did not like at all. +He was a short, wiry individual, with long, straight black hair, +hollow, sallow, shaven cheeks, high projecting cheek-bones, and a pair +of small black eyes, which he had a trick of screwing up until only +the pupils could be seen. His personal attractions were not enhanced +by a huge mole which occupied a conspicuous place in the middle of his +left cheek. But if he liked the appearance of the small man little, it +was not because he liked the appearance of the tall man more. This was +a great hulking fellow, with sandy whiskers and moustache, and a +manner which, in spite of its greasy insinuation, Hubert felt was +distinctly threatening.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it really possible, Mr. Buxton, that I have had the misfortune to +escape your memory?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"And me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert glanced from one to the other. That the little man was a +foreigner, probably an Italian, he made up his mind at once. As to the +nationality of the big man he was not so sure. He had had dealings +with some strange people in his time, both at home and abroad. But he +could not recollect encountering either of these gentlemen before.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do not remember having ever seen either of you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, you do not remember?" The big man came a step nearer. "You do not +remember that pleasant evening in that little room at Nice?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You do not remember slapping my face?" quickly exclaimed the little +man, suddenly slapping his own right cheek with startling vigour.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You do not remember accusing me of cheating you at cards?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You do not remember placing an insult on me! on me! on me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once, abandoning the process of manufacturing his cigarette, +the little man came and placed himself in even uncomfortable proximity +to Hubert's person. "My friend, my cheek is burning to this very +hour."</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert did not like the look of things at all. He was <i>sure</i> he had +never seen these men before.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I understand the position exactly. You are doing what people +constantly are doing--you are mistaking me for my brother."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mistaking you for your brother? I am mistaking you for your brother?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"And me!" cried the little man, again saluting his own cheek smartly. +"You liar!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man's manner was insulting. Hubert felt he must resent it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How dare you----"</p> + +<p class="normal">But the sentiment died down into his boots as the big man came at him +with a sudden ferocity which seemed to cause the beating of his heart +to cease.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How dare I! You dare to speak a word to me. Liar! I will kill you +where you stand."</p> + +<p class="normal">"As for me," remarked the short man, affably, "I have this, and this." +From one recess in his clothing he took a revolver. From another, a +long, glittering, and business-like, if elegant, knife.</p> + +<p class="normal">"All these years I have not been able to make up my mind if I will +shoot you like a dog, or stick you like a pig--which you are."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Gentlemen," explained Hubert, with surprising mildness, "I assure you +you are under a misapprehension. The likeness between my brother and +myself is so striking that our most intimate friends mistake one for +the other."</p> + +<p class="normal">"For whom, then, did my sister mistake you this morning and to-night?"</p> + +<p class="normal">A light flashed upon Hubert's brain. "You mean Angel?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You call her Angel! He calls her Angel!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I hear," observed the little man.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you will allow me to explain!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man made a gesture of refusal. But the little man caught him +by the arm. "Let the liar speak," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man, acting on his friend's advice, let the--that is, he let +Hubert speak. Availing himself of the courteously offered permission, +Hubert did his best to make things clear.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am not--as I would have told you before if you would have let me--I +am not Cecil, but Hubert Buxton." The big man made another gesture. +Again the little man restrained him. "We are twins. All our lives it +has been difficult to tell one from the other. Of recent years, I +understand, the resemblance between us has grown even greater. But the +likeness is only skin deep. Cecil is the elder by, I believe, about +thirty seconds. He is a rich man, and I am a poor man--bitterly poor."</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man spoke. "And you dare to tell me that you have been making +love to my sister under a false name? Very good, I have killed a man +for less. But I will not kill you--not yet----Is your handwriting as +much like your brother's as you are?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My fist is like Cecil's."</p> + +<p class="normal">"So! Sit down." Hubert sat down. "Take that pen." He took the pen. He +dipped it in the ink. "Write, 'I promise to marry----'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's the good of my promising to marry anyone? Don't I tell you +that I'm without a sou with which to bless myself?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Write, my friend, what I dictate. 'I promise to marry----'" Hubert +wrote it--"'Marian Philipson Peters----'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"And who the----something is Marian Philipson Peters?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Marian Philipson Peters--Mrs. Philipson Peters, is my sister."</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed to be a tolerably prosaic paraphrase of "Angel." Hubert, if +the expression of his features could be trusted, appeared to think so.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And what possible advantage does your sister propose to derive from +my promising, either in black and white or in any other way, to marry +her? Does the lady propose to pay my debts, or to provide me with an +income?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Attend to me, my friend--write what I dictate." The big man laid his +hand on Hubert's shoulder with an amount of pressure which might mean +much--or more! Hubert looked up. The pressure increased. "Write it."</p> + +<p class="normal">The little man was standing on the other side of the unwilling scribe. +He had his revolver in one hand, his knife in the other. "Write it!" +he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">Up went Hubert's shoulders--he wrote it. The big man continued his +dictation.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Within three months after date.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"What on earth----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Write--'Within three months after date.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I'll write anything. I'll promise to marry her within three +minutes--to oblige you."</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man examined what Hubert had written.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Very like!--very like indeed. So like Cecil Buxton's handwriting that +I plainly perceive, my friend, that you are the prince of all the +liars. Now sign it." He arrested Hubert's hand. "Sign it--'Cecil +Buxton.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert glanced up. He dropped his pen. "Now I see!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pick up that pen."</p> + +<p class="normal">"With pleasure." He picked it up.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sign it--'Cecil Buxton."'</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man spoke in a tone of voice which could not, truthfully, be +described as friendly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"In other words--commit forgery."</p> + +<p class="normal">The tall man turned to the short one.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Eugene, who is to use your revolver? Is it you or I? I swear to you +that if this scoundrel, this contemptible villain, does not make all +the reparation to my sister that is in his miserable power, I will +blow his brains out as he is sitting here."</p> + +<p class="normal">The short man smiled--not pleasantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Leave to me, my friend, that sacred duty--the sacred duty of being +executioner. I have long had a little grudge of my own against Mr. +Cecil Buxton. I have one of those little insults to wipe out which can +only be wiped out by--blood. I have not doubted all the time that this +is Mr. Cecil Buxton. I doubt it still less now that I have seen him +write."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I swear to you----"</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man cut Hubert uncivilly short. He repeated his command. "Sign +it--'Cecil Buxton.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert looked from one face to the other. He was conscious--painfully +conscious!--that his was not a pleasant situation. He saw murder on +the short man's face. He did not like the look of his revolver. He +held it far too carelessly. That he was the sort of man who would +entertain no kind of conscientious scruple against shooting him, to +use his own words, like a dog, he felt quite certain.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let me say one word?" he pleaded.</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man refused him even that grace. "Not one!"</p> + +<p class="normal">While Hubert hesitated, the pen between his fingers, there came a +rapping at the door.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h4>THE ARRIVAL OF THE OTHER TWIN.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The cause of that rapping at the door was this.</p> + +<p class="normal">Cecil Buxton arrived by the train by which he had informed Miss +Danvers, by letter, that he would arrive. Hastily seeing his luggage +on to a cab, he drove off to the hotel. In the hall he encountered a +porter.</p> + +<p class="normal">The porter greeted him in rather a singular manner, scarcely as hotel +porters are wont to greet arriving guests.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What! Back again!" Cecil stared, as, under the circumstances, any man +would stare. "This won't do, you know. I know all about it--you've +been chucked. My orders is, not let you into the place again."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My good man," said Cecil, fully believing that what he said was true, +"you're drunk."</p> + +<p class="normal">Just then a lady came down the staircase. He recognised her--recognised +her well. He rushed towards her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hetty!" he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady gave a start, but not the sort of start he had reason, and +good reason, to expect. She turned, she looked at him--with scornful +eyes. She drew back, seeming to remove her very gown from any risk of +personal contact.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I half expected to see you at the station. Hetty, what--what's the +matter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady said nothing, but she looked at him--and she walked away, her +head held very high in the air.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now you've got to come out of this!" The porter who had followed him +across the hall laid his hand upon his shoulder. Cecil swung round. +And he not only swung round, but he swung the porter off, and that +with a degree of vigour which possibly took that official by surprise.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Remove your hand!" he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a moment's pause, and during that moment's pause another +lady came down the stairs. The bewildered Cecil rushed to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mrs. Danvers, has everybody gone mad? What is the matter with Hetty?" +There was no mistake about it this time. The lady was so desirous that +none of her garments should come into contact with Cecil that, the +better to draw them away from him, she clutched her skirts with both +her hands. <i>She</i> spoke--</p> + +<p class="normal">"How dare you, sir, address yourself to me?" She turned to the porter +with an air of command. "Desire this person to stand out of my way."</p> + +<p class="normal">And she swept off, Cecil staring at her like a man in a dream.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, sir?" Cecil turned. A decently-attired, and even gentlemanly, +individual was standing at his side. "Have you returned to pay your +bill?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Cecil looked him up and down. In his appearance he noted no signs of +insanity, nor of intoxication either.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you the manager of this establishment?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You know very well that I am. Pray don't let's have any nonsense."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Allow me to give you my card." Cecil handed him his "pasteboard." "I +left Paris last night. I have been travelling all day. I arrived five +minutes ago in your hotel. What is the meaning of the treatment which +has been accorded me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The manager regarded him with a smile which scarcely came within the +definition of a "courteous smile."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are certainly a character."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Explain yourself."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Surely not much explanation is required. It is only a few minutes ago +since I informed you that your presence in this establishment could no +longer be permitted, and now you favour me with this amazing story."</p> + +<p class="normal">Cecil started forward. A new light came into his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Has anyone been staying here resembling me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"So much resembling you that we shall be obliged if you will pay his +bill, which lies, unpaid, on the cashier's desk."</p> + +<p class="normal">Cecil gave an exclamation--not of pleasure.</p> + +<p class="normal">"By Jove! It's Hubert! I see it all! He has been up to some of his +infernal tricks with Hetty and her mother! If he has!" He turned upon +the manager, "Where is he?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The manager hesitated.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where is who? <i>You</i> are standing here. When I last saw you, you were +entering a private sitting-room with two gentlemen who happened to +have a particular desire for your society."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where is this sitting-room?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will show you if you really don't know." The manager led the +way--still smiling. Cecil went after him. As they moved along a +corridor, into which the manager turned, they came upon a lady who was +standing outside one of the sitting-rooms, and who, not to put too +fine a point on it, seemed listening at the door. Her back was turned +towards them as they advanced. It was only when they were quite close +to her that she seemed to become conscious of their approach. When she +arrived at such a state of consciousness she sprang up--she had been +stooping a good deal forward before--and sprang round. She was in +evening dress. A fine, tall, generously proportioned woman, with big +bright eyes, and red-gold hair, she was Hubert's "oner"--"Angel." As +her glance fell upon Cecil she gave a start--a most melodramatic +start--so melodramatic a start that she bumped herself, quite +unintentionally, but with considerable force, against the wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Cecil, on his part, appeared to recognise the lady.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You!" he said--without any appearance of undue deference in his +manner.</p> + +<p class="normal">His arrival on the scene seemed to have thrown the lady into a state +of really curious agitation. She stood with her back against the wall, +staring at him as if he were a ghost. She positively trembled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How--how did you get out?" she asked--speaking in a sort of gasp.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I was never in." Cecil turned to the manager. "It's a little +complicated, but I think that I begin to understand the situation." He +turned to the lady. He pointed to the sitting-room, outside which she +was standing. "Who is in there?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Angel did not answer. Leaning forward, she rapped with her knuckles +against the panel of the door.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<h4>THE TWINS CONFRONT EACH OTHER.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">When there came that rapping at the door, Hubert started back.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who's that?" he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man still retained his grasp on Hubert's shoulder. He +tightened it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never mind who it is. Sign that paper."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a voice without. "Open the door!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert slipped from the man's grasp. He sprang to his feet. He threw +the pen from him on to the floor. "It's Cecil!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The two men looked at him. He looked at them. Again there was the +voice without. "Open the door!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's Cecil! It's my brother! Now you will see if I lied."</p> + +<p class="normal">In Hubert's manner there was positively something approaching an air +of triumph. The associates exchanged glances. The big man addressed +himself again to Hubert.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look here, my friend, you will sign that paper."</p> + +<p class="normal">He moved a step forward. Hubert grasped the back of a chair.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You touch me! By George! I'll smash you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The big man hesitated. Hubert seemed to have gained a sudden access of +energy. He continued to address his companions in a strain which was +distinctly not pacific. "You couple of cowardly curs! You get me into +a room, you lock the door, you come at me, the pair of you, with a +revolver and a knife, when you know that I haven't got so much as a +toothpick in my pocket! Why, you miserable brutes, I'll smash you +both!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert brandished the chair about his head. The big man still +hesitated. The shorter gentleman addressed this inquiry to his friend, +"Shall I shoot him? Shall I put six shots into his carcass--shall I?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert did not wait to hear the other's answer. He turned to the door. +"Cecil! Cecil! break down the door. The brutes will murder me! Break +down the door!"</p> + +<p class="normal">These words, uttered with the full force of Hubert's lungs, seemed to +create, as was not unnatural, some sensation without. Several voices +were heard speaking together. There was a loud knocking at the door. +Someone said, evidently not Cecil, "Open the door immediately! I am +the manager of the hotel! Open at once!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The associates looked at each other. The clamour without seemed to +mean business. Hubert had slipped from their control. If they were not +careful their friendly little interview might be disagreeably +interrupted. The shorter man shrugged his shoulders right up to his +ears.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is the use? You had better open the door. What is the use of +playing a losing game too far?" Then, to Hubert, "With you, my friend, +I will settle some other time."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And I," chimed in the big man, playing the part of echo for once.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't care that," Hubert snapped his fingers in the air, "for +either, or both of you, you curs!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The comrades still hesitated--they probably resented the alteration in +the young gentleman's demeanour. But the clamour at the door +continued. The big man, doubtless perceiving that the position was +becoming desperate, took the key out of his pocket. He unlocked the +door. As he did so, his companion's weapons disappeared into the +hidden recess of his apparel. The moment the door was opened Hubert +advanced.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil! so it is you. Now, gentlemen, you will be able to see if I +lied. These gentlemen, Cecil, are friends of yours, not of mine. <i>I</i> +have never seen them before to-night. You appear to have offended +them. They have been endeavouring to visit your offence on me. I +cannot congratulate you on your acquaintance. That little scoundrel +there, who appears to be an Italian bravo, has a knife in one pocket, +and a revolver in the other. He would have murdered me if you had +delayed your appearance on the scene."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bah!" Again the little man's shoulders went up to his ears. "It was +but a little game."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And was this a little game?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert snatched up the paper, the unsigned promise of marriage, from +the table on which it was lying; he held it out in front of him. The +big man, in his turn, snatched it from his grasp. He tore it into +minute shreds. While Hubert still was staring, a lady advanced. It was +Angel.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So, all the time you were amusing yourself at my expense. You are a +charming person. Where are my thirty pounds?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert was not at all embarrassed. He twirled his moustache.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil, this lady appears to be a friend of yours. Where are her +thirty pounds?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Cecil stepped up to him. "What confounded tricks have you been up to?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hubert's air of injured innocence was, in its way, superb.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cecil, this is too much; too much! In mistake for you I have been +insulted, all but murdered, and all"--he turned to the assembled +company--"and all, upon my word of honour, because I was so +unfortunate as to have been born a twin."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_vision" href="#div1Ref_vision">A VISION OF THE NIGHT.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4>ASLEEP.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Charlie, do you believe in dreams?"</p> + +<p class="normal">It was in the great hall of the Pouhon spring at Spa. The band was +playing. The motley crowd which gathers in the season at Spa to drink, +or not to drink, the waters, were talking, smoking, drinking coffee, +something stronger, looking at the papers, or listening to the music. +Among the crowd were Gerald Lovell and his friend Charles Warren. At +the particular moment in which Mr. Lovell put his question, Mr. Warren +was puffing rings of cigarette smoke into the air.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ask me," he said, with distinct irreverence, "another."</p> + +<p class="normal">"A queer thing happened to me last night."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you have any malicious intention of inflicting on me a dream, +young man, there'll be a row. I have an aunt who dreams. She's a +dreaming sort. She's always dreaming. And she tells her dreams--such +dreams! Ye Goths! At the mere mention of the word 'dreams' the +nightmare figure of my aunt rises to my mind's eye. So beware."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But I'm not sure that this was a dream. Anyhow, just listen."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If I must!" said Mr. Warren. And he sighed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I dreamt that a woman kissed me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"If I could only dream such a thing. Some men have all the luck."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The queer thing was, that it was so real. I dreamt that a woman came +into my room. She came to my bedside. She stood looking down upon me +as I slept. Suddenly she stooped and kissed me. That same instant I +awoke. I felt her kiss still tingling on my lips. I could have sworn +that someone had just kissed me. I sat up in bed and called out to +know if anyone was there. I got up and lit the gas and searched the +room. There was nothing and no one."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was a dream!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"If it was, it was the most vivid dream I remember to have heard of; +certainly the most vivid dream I ever dreamt. I saw the woman so +distinctly, and her face, as she stooped over me, with laughter in her +eyes. To begin with, it was the most beautiful face I ever saw, and +hers were the most beautiful eyes. The whole thing had impressed me so +intensely that I took my sketch-book and made a drawing of her then +and there. I have my sketch-book in my pocket--here is the drawing."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell handed his open sketch-book to his friend. It was open at a +page on which was a drawing of a woman's face. When Mr. Warren's eyes +fell on this drawing, he sat up in his chair with a show of sudden +interest.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Gerald! I say! You'll excuse my saying so, but I didn't think you +were capable of anything so good as this. Do you know that this is the +best drawing of yours I have ever seen, young man?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I believe it is."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It looks to me--I don't want to flatter you; goodness knows you've +conceit enough already!--but it looks to me as though it were a +genuine bit of inspiration."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Joking apart, it seems to me almost as if it were an inspiration."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I wish an inspiration of the same kind would come to me. I'd be +considerably grateful--even for a nightmare. Do you know what I should +do with this? I should use it for a picture."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I thought of doing something of the kind myself."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Just a study of a woman's face. And you might call it--the title +would be apposite--'A Vision of the Night!'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"A good idea. I will."</p> + +<p class="normal">And Mr. Lovell did. When he returned to his Chelsea studio, he chose +a moderate-sized canvas, and he began to paint on it a woman's +face--just a woman's face, and nothing more. She was looking a little +downwards, as a woman might look who was about to stoop to kiss +someone lying asleep in bed--say a sleeping child--and she glanced +from the canvas with laughing eyes. Mr. Warren came in to look at it +several times while it was progressing. When it was finished, he +regarded it for some moments in silent contemplation.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I call that," he declared, sententiously, with what he supposed, +perhaps erroneously, to be a Yankee twang, "a gen-u-ine work of art. I +do. <i>The</i> thing. Young man, if you forward that, with your +compliments, or without 'em, to the President, Fellows, and Associates +of the Royal Academy, I'll bet you five to one it's hung!"</p> + +<p class="normal">His prediction was verified--it was hung. It was the first of Mr. +Lovell's pictures which ever had been hung--which made the fact none +the less gratifying to Mr. Lovell. It was hung very well, too, +considering. And it attracted quite a considerable amount of attention +in its way. It was <i>sold</i> on the opening day. That fact was not +displeasing to Mr. Lovell.</p> + +<p class="normal">One morning, about the middle of June, a card was brought in to Mr. +Lovell, while he was working in his studio. On it was inscribed a +name--Vicomte d'Humières. The card was immediately followed by its +owner, a tall, slightly built gentleman; unmistakably a foreigner. He +saluted Mr. Lovell with a bow which was undoubtedly Parisian.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Gerald Lovell?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The accent was French, but, for a Frenchman, the English was fair.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am Gerald Lovell."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah! That is good! You are a gentleman, Mr. Lovell, whom I +particularly wish to see." The stranger had been carrying his stick in +one hand and his hat in the other. These he now deposited upon one +chair; himself he placed upon a second--uninvited. He crossed his +legs. He folded his black gloved hands in front of him. "I believe, +Mr. Lovell, that we are not strangers--you and I."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell glanced at the card which he still was holding.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are the Vicomte d'Humières?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am afraid--it is unpardonable remissness on my part; but I am +afraid that, if I have ever had the pleasure of meeting you before, it +is a pleasure which has escaped my memory."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is not that we have ever met before--no, it is not that. It is my +name to which you are not a stranger."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell glanced again at the card. "Your name? I am afraid, +Vicomte, that I do not remember having ever heard your name before."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah! Is that so?" The stranger regarded his polished boots. He spoke +as if he were addressing himself to them. "Is it possible that she can +have given another name? No, it is not possible. She is capable of +many things. I do not believe she is capable of that." He looked up +again at Mr. Lovell. "My business with you, Mr. Lovell, is of rather a +peculiar kind. You will think, perhaps, that mine is rather a singular +errand. I have come to ask you to acquaint me with the residence of my +wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">"With the--did you say, with the--residence of your wife?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is what I said. I have come to ask you to acquaint me with the +residence of my wife." The artist stared.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But, so far as I am aware, I do not know your wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is absurd. I do not say, Mr. Lovell, that you are conscious of +the absurdity. But still--it is absurd--<i>I</i> was not aware that you +were acquainted with my wife until I learned the fact, this morning, +at your Academy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"At our Academy?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Precisely. Upon the walls of your Academy of Painting, Mr. Lovell."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell began to wonder if his visitor was not an amiable French +lunatic.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that not rather a singular place in which to learn such a fact?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is a singular place. It is a very singular place, indeed. But that +has nothing to do with the matter. It is as I say. You have a picture, +Mr. Lovell, at the Academy?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is a portrait."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pardon me, it is not a portrait."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pardon me, Mr. Lovell, in my turn; it is a portrait. As a portrait, +it is a perfect portrait. It is a portrait of my wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of your wife! You are dreaming!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You flatter me, Mr. Lovell. Is it that you suppose I am an imbecile? +Are not the features of a wife familiar to a husband? Very good. I am +the husband of my wife. Your picture, Mr. Lovell, is a portrait of my +wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I cannot but think you have mistaken some other picture for mine. +Mine is a simple study of a woman's face. It is called 'A Vision of +the Night.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Precisely. And 'A Vision of the Night'--is my wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is impossible!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do I understand you to say, Mr. Lovell, of a thing which I say is +so--that it is impossible?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte rose. His voice had a very significant intonation. Mr. +Lovell resented it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do not know, Vicomte, that I am <i>called</i> upon to explain to you. +But, in face of your remarkable statement, I will <i>volunteer</i> an +explanation. I saw the face, which I have painted, in a dream."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Indeed; is that so? What sort of dream was it in which you saw my +wife's face, Mr. Lovell?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The young man flushed. The stranger's tone was distinctly offensive.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was in a dream which I dreamt last August, at Spa."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah! This is curious. At what hotel were you stopping last August at +Spa?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"At the Hôtel de Flandre--though I don't know why you ask."</p> + +<p class="normal">"So! We approach a point at last. Last August, my wife and I, we were +at Spa. We stayed, my wife and I, at the Hôtel de Flandre. It was at +the Hôtel de Flandre my wife left me. I have never seen her since. +Perhaps, Mr. Gerald Lovell, you will be so good as to inform me what +sort of dream it was in which you saw my wife's face, at the Hôtel de +Flandre, last August, at Spa?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell hesitated. He perceived that caution was advisable. He felt +that if he entered into minute particulars of his dream, there might +be a misunderstanding with the Vicomte. So he temporized--or he +endeavoured to.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have already told you that I saw the face in my picture in a dream. +It is the simple fact--that I have no other explanation to offer."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that so?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is so."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Very good, so far, Mr. Gerald Lovell. I thought it possible that you +might have some explanation of this kind to offer. I was at the +Academy with a friend. When I perceived my wife's portrait on the +walls, and that it was painted by a Mr. Gerald Lovell, I said to my +friend: 'I will go to this Mr. Lovell, and I will ask him, among other +things, who authorized him to exhibit my wife's portrait in the +absence of her husband, in a place of public resort, as if it were an +advertisement.' My friend proposed to accompany me. But I said: 'No. I +will go, first of all, alone. I will see what sort of explanation Mr. +Gerald Lovell has to offer. If it is not a satisfactory explanation, +then we will go together, you and I.' I go to seek my friend, Mr. +Lovell. He is not very far away. Shortly we will return. Then I will +request, of your courtesy, an explanation of that very curious dream +in which you saw my wife's face at the Hôtel de Flandre. Mr. Lovell, I +wish you, until then, good day."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte withdrew, with the same extremely courteous salutation +with which he had entered. The artist, left alone, looked at his +visitor's card, which he still retained in his hand, with a very +puzzled expression of countenance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If the Vicomte d'Humières returns, it strikes me there'll be a little +interesting conversation."</p> + +<p class="normal">He laid down the card. He resumed the work which had been interrupted. +But the work hung fire. A painter paints, not only with his hand, but +with his brain. Mr. Lovell's brain was, just then, preoccupied.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was a dream. And yet, as I told Warren at the time, it certainly +was the most vivid dream I ever dreamt." Deserting his canvas he began +to move about the room. "Supposing it wasn't a dream, and the woman +was a creature of flesh and blood! Then she must have come into my +room, and kissed me while I slept. I'll swear that someone kissed me. +By Jove! the Vicomte won't like to be told a tale like that! As he +says, a man ought to know his own wife's face when he sees it, even in +a portrait. And if the picture is a portrait of his wife, then it was +his wife who came into my room--and kissed me. But whatever made her +do a thing like that? There's no knowing what things some women will +do. I rather fancy that I ought to have made a few inquiries before I +took it for granted that it was nothing but a dream. They would have +been able to tell me at the hotel if the original of my dream had been +staying there. As it is, unless I mind my P's and Q's, I rather fancy +there'll be a row."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pardon!--may I enter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell was standing with his back to the door. The inquiry, +therefore, was addressed to him from behind. The voice in which it was +uttered was feminine, and the accent foreign. The artist turned--and +stared. For there, peeping through the partly open door, was the woman +of his dream! There could not be the slightest doubt about it. +Although the head was covered with the latest thing in Parisian hats, +there was no mistaking, when one once had seen it--as <i>he</i> had seen +it--that lovely face, those laughing eyes. He stared--and gaped. The +lady seemed to take his silence to imply consent. She advanced into +the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are Mr. Gerald Lovell?"</p> + +<p class="normal">As she came into the room, he perceived that she was not only most +divinely fair, but most divinely tall. Her figure, clad in the most +recent coquetries of Paris, was the most exquisite thing in figures he +had lately seen. So completely had she taken his faculties of +astonishment by storm, that he could only stammer a response.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are the painter of my portrait?" For the life of him, he knew not +what to say. "But, if you are Mr. Gerald Lovell, it is certain that +you are. Besides, I see it in your face. There is genius in your eyes. +Mr. Lovell, how am I to thank you for the honour you have done me?" +Moving to him, she held out to him her hand. He gave her his. She +retained it--or, rather, part of it--in her small palm. "If I am ever +destined to attain to immortality, it is to your brush it will be +owing. Monsieur, permit me to salute the master!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Before he had an inkling of her intention, she raised his hand and +touched it with her lips. He withdrew it quickly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Madame!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She exhibited no signs of discomposure.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I was at your Academy, with a friend--not half an hour ago. I +beheld miles of mediocrity. Suddenly I saw--my face! my own face! +glancing at me from the walls! <i>Ah, quel plaisir!</i> But my face--how +many times more lovely! How many times more beautiful! My +face--depicted by the hand of a great artist! by the brush of a poet, +and a genius!--Monsieur, you have placed on me ten thousand +obligations."</p> + +<p class="normal">She gave him the most sweeping curtsey with which he ever had been +favoured--and in her eyes was laughter all the time. He was recovering +his presence of mind. He felt that it was time to put a stop to the +lady's flow of flowery language. He was about to do so--when a +question she put to him again sent half his senses flying.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There is one thing which I wished to ask you, Monsieur. When and +where did I sit to you for my portrait? I do not remember to have had +the pleasure and the honour of meeting you before." The lady's +laughing eyes were fixed intently on his face. "And yet, as I +look at you, a sort of shadowy recollection comes to me of a +previous encounter; it is very strange! Monsieur, where was it we +encountered--you and I?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Madame!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Seeing how evidently he was at a loss for words, she put out her hand +to him as if to give him courage.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do not be afraid. Tell me--where was it that you saw me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I saw you in a dream."</p> + +<p class="normal">"A dream? Monsieur! To hear you speak--it is like a poem. Monsieur, +where did you dream this dream in which you dreamt of me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was last year, at Spa."</p> + +<p class="normal">"At Spa--that horrible place?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I did not find it a horrible place."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No? Was it that dream which you dreamt of me which robbed it of its +horror?" He did not speak. He allowed her to infer a compliment, but +he did not proffer one. "But Monsieur, I was only at Spa one afternoon +and a single night."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was that night I dreamed of you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You dreamed? How? Tell me about this dream."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I dreamed that you came into my room while I was asleep in bed, and +kissed me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She continued to look at him intently a moment longer, as if she did +not realize the full meaning of his words. Then--let us do her +justice!--the blood rushed to her face, her cheeks flamed fiery red. +With her hands she veiled her eyes. She gave a little cry.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Ah, mon Dieu!</i> It was you--I remember. <i>Quelle horreur!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was silence. Before she removed her hands from her eyes she +turned away. She stood with her back towards him, trifling with a +brush which he had placed upon the table. She spoke scarcely above a +whisper.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur, I thought you were asleep."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I was asleep. I saw you in a dream."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then did--did I wake you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You must have done. I woke--you must forgive my saying so--with a +kiss tingling on my lips." The lady put her hands up to her eyes +again. "The dream had been so vivid I could not understand it. I got +up to see if anyone was in the room."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you had caught me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"There was no one. But so acutely had your face impressed itself on my +imagination that I took my sketch-book, and made a drawing of it then +and there. In the morning I showed this drawing to a friend. He +advised me to use it for a picture I did. That picture is 'A Vision of +the Night'!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is the most extraordinary thing, Monsieur; you will suppose I am a +very peculiar person. It is but a lame explanation I have to offer. Of +that I am but too conscious. But such as it is, I entreat that you +will suffer me to give it you. Monsieur, I am married"--Mr. Lovell +bowed. He did not mention that he was aware of that already--"to the +most capricious husband in the world--to a husband whom I love, but +whom I cannot respect." Mr. Lovell thought that that was good--from +her. "He is a man who is extremely <i>difficile</i>, Monsieur. I do not +think you have a word which expresses what I would say in English. He +is extremely jealous; he is enraged that his wife should use the eyes +which are in her head! The very day on which we arrived at Spa we had +a dreadful quarrel. I will not speak of the treatment to which I was +subjected; it is enough to say that he locked the door so that I +should not leave the room--he wished to make of me a prisoner. +Monsieur, directly he was gone, I perceived that there were two doors +to the room--the one which he had locked, and another, which I tried I +found that it was open. Monsieur, when a prisoner desires to escape, +he escapes by any road which offers. I was a prisoner; I desired to +escape; I made use of the only road which I could find. I entered the +door; I found myself in a room in which there was--how shall I say +it?--in which there was a man asleep. Monsieur, it was you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">It must be owned that at this point the lady certainly did look down.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I was, that night, in a wicked mood. I glanced at you; I perceived +that you were but a boy"--Mr. Lovell flushed: he did not consider +himself a boy--"but a handsome boy." She peeped at him with malicious +laughter in her eyes. "I regarded myself as your mother, or your +sister, or your guardian angel. Monsieur will perceive how much I am +the elder." Again, a glance of laughing malice from those bewitching +eyes. "I am afraid it is too true that I approached the sleeping +lips." There was silence. Then, so softly that her listener was only +able to catch the words: "I pray that Monsieur will forgive me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"There is nothing for which Madame needs forgiveness."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur but says so to give me pleasure. But one thing Monsieur must +permit me to observe: If every woman were to be rewarded, as I have +been, for what I did, half the women in France would commit--a similar +little indiscretion." Mr. Lovell was silent; he did not know exactly +what to say. "Monsieur will permit me to regard him, from this day +forward, as my friend? Mr. Gerald Lovell, permit me to introduce to +you--the Vicomtesse d'Humières!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady favoured him with another sweeping curtsey.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have already the pleasure of being acquainted with Madame's name."</p> + +<p class="normal">"From whom did you learn it? From the people at the hotel?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I but learned it a few minutes before Madame herself came here."</p> + +<p class="normal">"So! From whom?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I learnt it from the Vicomte d'Humières."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The Vicomte d'Humières! My husband! Are you acquainted with him, +then?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I can scarcely claim to be acquainted with the Vicomte. It seems, +Madame, that this has been a morning of coincidences. It would appear +that just before Madame perceived my little picture at the Academy, +the Vicomte d'Humières perceived it too."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Truly! But how magnificent!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady clasped her hands in a little ecstacy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The Vicomte d'Humières did not seem to consider it magnificent. He +took a distinctly contrary view."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But that is certain!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He requested me to furnish him with your address. When I informed him +that I was not acquainted with Madame, he desired to know who had +authorized me to send your portrait to a public exhibition. I observed +that I was not aware that it was the portrait of Madame, since the +face in the picture was but the study of a face which I had seen in a +dream."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In a dream! You did not tell him--the little history?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I entered into no particulars."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I entreat you, Monsieur, not to tell him the little history. There +will be a scandal; he is so quick to misconceive."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will endeavour to observe Madame's wishes."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is like a little romance, is it not, Monsieur? Perhaps I should +explain myself a little further. <i>That</i> night"--she emphasized the +<i>that</i>--"I left my husband. In effect, he had become unbearable. I +have seen and heard nothing of him since. But I am beginning to become +conscious of a desire to meet with him again. I know not why! I +suppose, when one loves one's husband truly, one wishes to meet +him--once a year. I do not wish our reconciliation to be inaugurated +by a quarrel--no, I entreat you, Monsieur, not recount to him that +little history."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I should inform Madame that I expect the Vicomte d'Humières to +return."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Return? Where? Here? When?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Very shortly--with a friend. In fact, unless I am mistaken, he comes +already."</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady listened.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is Philippe's voice! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> He must not find me here."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But, Madame----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah, the screen! It is like a farce at the Palais Royal--is it not a +fact? I will be your model, Monsieur, behind the screen!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Madame!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Before he could interpose to prevent her, the lady vanished behind the +screen. The door of the studio opened, and the Vicomte d'Humières +entered, accompanied by his friend.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h4>AND AWAKE.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte's friend was a gentleman of a figure which is not uncommon +in France, even to-day. His attitude suggested a ramrod, he breathed +powder and shot; and he bristled--what shall we say?--with bayonets. +The last person in the world with whom a modern Briton should have a +serious difference of opinion. The ideas of that sort of person upon +matters which involve a difference of opinion are in such contrast to +ours. The Vicomte performed the ceremony of introduction.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Gerald Lovell, permit me to introduce to your courteous +consideration my friend, M. Victor Berigny!"</p> + +<p class="normal">M. Berigny bowed, ceremoniously. Mr. Lovell only nodded--his thoughts +were behind the screen. The Vicomte turned to his friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Victor, I have explained to you that I have already had the pleasure +of an interview with Mr. Gerald Lovell." M. Berigny bowed. "I have +also explained to you that I have desired him to inform me by whose +authority he exhibits a portrait of my wife in a public exhibition. To +that he has replied that his picture, 'A Vision of the Night,' is not +a portrait of my wife. I request you, Victor, to state, in Mr. Gerald +Lovell's presence, whether that picture, in your opinion, is or is not +a portrait of my wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Certainly, it is a portrait."</p> + +<p class="normal">M. Berigny's accent was more marked than the Vicomte's, but still he +did speak English.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I thank you, Victor. It remains for me to once more request, in your +presence, Mr. Gerald Lovell to explain how it was that he happened to +dream of the face of my wife last August, in the Hôtel de Flandre, at +Spa. Mr. Gerald Lovell, I have the honour to await your explanation."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte, his arms crossed upon his chest, his left foot a little +protruding, his head thrown back, awaited the explanation.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell's thoughts ran screenwards.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What the deuce shall I do if he discovers her behind the screen?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur, I am waiting."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If he does discover her--there'll be a row."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I still am waiting, Mr. Gerald Lovell."</p> + +<p class="normal">With each repetition of the statement the Vicomte's tone became more +acidulated. The artist arrived at a sudden resolution.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then I am afraid, Vicomte, that you will have to wait."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte looked at the artist with an evident inclination to add a +cubit to his own stature.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it possible that I understand your meaning, Mr. Gerald Lovell?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My language is sufficiently simple."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In France, Mr. Gerald Lovell, an artist is supposed to be a +gentleman."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And so in England, Vicomte. And therefore, when an artist is +interrupted at his work by another gentleman, he feels himself at +liberty to beg that other gentleman--to excuse him."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell waved his hand, affably, in the direction of the door. The +Vicomte's countenance assumed a peculiar pallor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are a curious person, Mr. Gerald Lovell."</p> + +<p class="normal">His friend interposed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Philippe, you had better leave the matter to me."</p> + +<p class="normal">M. Berigny approached the painter--with a ramrod down his back.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have the honour, Monsieur, to request from you the name of a +friend."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of a friend? What for?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah, Monsieur--to arrange the preliminaries!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"What preliminaries?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it that Monsieur amuses himself?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it possible that you suppose that I am going to fight a duel?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur intends, then, to offer an explanation to my friend?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"M. Berigny, I do not wish to say to you anything uncourteous, or +anything unworthy an English gentleman; but I do beg you to believe +that, because you choose to be an idiot, and your friend chooses to be +an idiot, it does not follow that I choose to be an idiot, too."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"One other observation. I have not seen much of you, M. Beringy, but +that little has not disposed me to see more. May I therefore ask +you--to leave my studio?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Or--must I turn you out?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Turn me out!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte had been listening to this little dialogue. He now turned +towards his friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah, my friend, it is as he says! He will turn you out, neck and crop, +as the English say. He will throw you down the stairs, he will heave +half a brick at your head, to help you on your way. Then, when you +require satisfaction, he will refer you to a magistrate. You will +summon him--it will be in the papers--he will be fined half-a-crown! +That is how they manage these affairs in England. It is true!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"But--among gentlemen!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Ah, mon ami, voila!</i> In England, nowadays, there are no gentlemen!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell moved a step towards M. Berigny.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have asked you, as a gentleman, to leave my studio."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur, you are a coward!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The painter's eyes gleamed. But he kept his temper pretty well, +considering.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You appear to have been taught singularly ill manners in your native +country, sir. I will endeavour to teach you better manners here. Are +you going? Or must I eject you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Polison!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">That was M. Berigny's answer. There was just a momentary hesitation. +Then, grasping M. Berigny firmly by the shoulders, Mr. Lovell began to +move him, more rapidly than gently, in the direction of the door. The +Vicomte came forward, with the evident intention of interposing. There +would probably have been a slightly undignified scramble had not a +diversion been created by the opening of the door, and the entrance of +Mr. Warren. That gentleman glanced from one person to another.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I beg your pardon," he observed. "I hope I don't intrude!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell laughed, a little forcedly. His complexion was distinctly +ruddy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not at all! I wish you had come in sooner. The most ridiculous thing +has happened."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Indeed! I have an eye for the ridiculous."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You know that picture of mine, 'A Vision of the Night'?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've heard of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"This gentleman says that it's a portrait of his wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell pointed to the Vicomte d'Humières.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No? Then, in that case, this gentleman's wife came into your bedroom +in the middle of the night, and--kissed you, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Warren spoke in the innocence of his heart, but, at that moment, +Mr. Lovell could have struck his boyhood's friend. There was a +listener behind the screen. The young gentleman's cheeks grew crimson, +as the lady's had done a few minutes before. He was conscious, too, +that the Vicomte's unfriendly eyes were fixed upon his face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So! That is it! You--you----" The Vicomte moved a step forward, then +checked himself. "Tell me, where is my wife at this instant?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell could have told him, but he refrained.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I decline to give you any information of any kind whatever."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You decline?" The Vicomte raised his hand. He would have struck the +artist. Mr. Warren interposed to avert the blow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He declines for the very simple reason that he has never seen your +wife; isn't that so, Gerald?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell hesitated. He scarcely saw his way to a denial while the +lady was behind the screen.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You see! He does not even dare to lie!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't talk nonsense, sir! Gerald, why don't you tell the man that you +have never seen the woman in your life?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I repeat that I decline to give this person any information of any +kind whatever."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You decline?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte uttered the words in a kind of strangled screech. His +patience was exhausted. He seemed to think that he was being subjected +to treatment which was more than flesh and blood could bear. He rushed +at Mr. Lovell. Mr. Lovell, probably forgetting himself on the impulse +of the moment--or he would have been more careful--swung the Vicomte +round against the screen. It tottered, reeled, and, raising a cloud of +dust, it fell with a bang to the floor!</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a leaf out of Sheridan.</p> + +<p class="normal">For an instant the several members of that little party did not +distinctly realize what it was that had happened. Then they saw. There +was a pause--a curious pause. Their attitudes betrayed a charming +diversity of emotions. The Vicomte, his coat a little disarranged, +owing to the somewhat rough handling which he had just received, stood +and glared. M. Berigny, more ramroddy than ever, stared. Mr. Warren +gasped. Mr. Lovell's quickened breathing, crimsoned cheeks, and +flashing eyes seemed to suggest that his breast was a tumult of +conflicting feelings. The lady, whose presence had been so +unexpectedly revealed, stood behind the fallen screen, with the most +charming air of innocence in the world, and she smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was she who broke the silence. She held out her hand to the +Vicomte.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Bon jour</i>, Philippe!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah-h-h!" The Vicomte drew himself away with a sort of shuddering +exclamation. "Antoinette! It is you! It cannot be!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Philippe--why not?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why not?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why not? She asks why not!" The Vicomte held out his hands, as though +he appealed to the eternal verities. "<i>Traîtresse!</i> Once more is woman +false and man betrayed!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte's gesture was worthy of the tragic stage--in France. The +lady still held out her hand, and still she smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Philippe--try comedy!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Comedy? Ah, yes, I will try comedy--the comedy of r-r-revenge!" The +Vicomte distinctly rolled his r's. He turned to Mr. Lovell. "I will +kill you, even though for killing you, by the law of England, I am +hanged. Victor, where is my hat?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte put this question to his friend with a peculiar coldness. +M. Berigny shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How should I know? It is not a question of a hat."</p> + +<p class="normal">"As you say, it is not a question of a hat. It is a question"--the +Vicomte moved towards Mr. Lovell--"of that!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He raised his hand with the intention of striking the artist on the +cheek. Mr. Lovell never flinched; but the lady, rushing forward, +caught her husband by the wrist. She looked at him, still with +laughter in her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Try not to be insane."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte glared at her with a glare which, at least, was +characteristic.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why do I not kill her--why?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady only smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"They say that a woman is devoid of humour. How is it then sometimes +with a man? You, Philippe, are always thinking of the Porte St. +Martin--I, of the Bouffes Parisiens."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte turned to his friend.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Victor, why do I not kill this woman?"</p> + +<p class="normal">M. Berigny only shrugged his shoulders. Possibly because he was not +ready with a more adequate reply. The lady turned to the artist.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur, I offer you ten thousand apologies, which my husband will +one day offer you himself, as becomes a gentleman of France."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte repeated his inquiry:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Victor, why do I not kill this woman?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Only a shrug in reply. The lady went on:</p> + +<p class="normal">"You have immortalized my poor face, Monsieur; my husband insults you +in return."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte folded his arms across his chest.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is certain, Victor, that she still lives!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"One night, Monsieur, my husband locked me in my room. He designed to +make of me a prisoner. Why? Ah, do not ask me why? When he had left +me, I escaped, not by the door which he had locked, but by a door he +had not noticed. This door led into an apartment in which there was a +stranger sleeping. I was but an instant in that apartment--but the +instant in which it was necessary to pass through. The sleeper never +spoke to me; he never saw me with his waking eyes. But, even in his +sleep, my poor, frightened face so flashed upon his brain that, even +in his waking hours, it haunted him so that he made of it a picture--a +picture of that Vision of the Night!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte approached closer to his friend. He addressed him in a +sort of confidential, but still distinctly audible, aside:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Victor, is it possible that this is true?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I beg, my friend, that of me you will ask nothing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur, this morning I was at your Academy. I saw my own +countenance looking at me from the walls. For the first time I learned +that my poor, frightened woman's face had appeared to a sleeping +stranger in a Vision of the Night. Oh, Monsieur, Monsieur!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady covered her face with her hands. It would, perhaps, be rash +to say that she cried; but, at least, she seemed to cry, and if it was +only seeming, she did it very well.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Victor," again inquired the Vicomte of his friend, "is it possible +that this is true?"</p> + +<p class="normal">M. Berigny wagged his finger in the Vicomte's face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"D'Humières, it now becomes a question of hats." The Vicomte laid his +hand on his companion's arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"One instant, Victor--still one instant more."</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady, uncovering her eyes--which actually were sparkling with +tears--continued to address the artist.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur, I will not speak to you of my love for my husband--my +Philippe! I will not speak to you of how we have been parted for a +year--a whole, long year--<i>mon Dieu</i>, Monsieur, <i>mon Dieu!</i> I will not +speak to you of how, every instant of that long, long year I have +thought of him, of how I have yearned for him, of how I have longed +for one touch of his hand, one word from his lips, one glance from his +eyes. No, Monsieur, I will not speak to you of all these things. And +for this reason: That, with me all things are finished. I go, never to +return again. My face--you have made immortal; the rest of me--will +perish. For the woman whose heart is broken there remains but one +place--the grave. It is to that place I go!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady had become as tragic as her husband--even more so, in +her way. She moved across the room with the air of a tragedy +queen--Parisian. The Vicomte was visibly affected. He fastened a +convulsive clutch upon M. Berigny's arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Victor, tell me, what shall I do? Advise me, oh, my friend! This is a +critical moment in my life! It is impossible that I should let her go. +Antoinette!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte advanced, just in time, between the lady and the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Monsieur, I entreat of you this last boon, to let me go. You have +insulted me in the presence of a stranger; for me, therefore, nothing +else remains. You have inquired if you should kill me. No, Philippe, +you need not kill me; it is myself I will kill!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Antoinette!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am no longer Antoinette; I am the woman whose happiness you have +destroyed. It is only when I am dead that you will learn what is +written on my heart for you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Antoinette," the strong man's voice faltered, "Antoinette, am I +never, then, to be forgiven?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a momentary pause. Then the lady held out both her hands. +"Philippe!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My heart! my soul! thou treasure of my life! thou star of my +existence! Is it possible that a cloud should have interposed itself +between thy path and mine?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He took her in his arms. He pressed her to his breast. M. Berigny +turned away. From his attitude it almost seemed as if the soldier--the +man of ramrods and of bayonets!--wiped away a tear.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Philippe! Take care, or you will derange my hat!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Antoinette! My beautiful, my own!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Philippe, do you not think you should apologize--take care, my +friend, or you certainly will derange my hat!--to the stranger who has +made immortal the face of the woman who loved you better than her +life--my friend, take care!--who has made her appear on canvas so much +more beautiful than she is in life?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, Antoinette, that I will not have. It is impossible. Beauty such +as yours in not to be rendered by a painter's brush!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"If that be so, all the more reason why we should be grateful to Mr. +Lovell for endeavouring the impossible."</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady peeped at Mr. Lovell with the quaintest malice in her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Certainly, Antoinette, there is something in what you say. And, after +all, it is a charming painting. I said, Victor, when I saw it, there +can be no doubt, as a painting, it is charming--did I not say so?" M. +Berigny inclined his head. With his handkerchief the Vicomte smoothed +his moustache. He advanced towards Mr. Lovell: "Monsieur, a +Frenchman--a true Frenchman--seldom errs. On those rare occasions on +which he errs he is always willing, under proper conditions, to +confess his error. Monsieur, I perceive that I have done you an +injustice. For the injustice which I have done you--I desire to +apologize."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Lovell smiled. He held out his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear fellow! There's nothing for which you need apologize."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte grasped the artist's hand in both of his.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear friend!" he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Philippe," whispered the lady into her husband's ear, "do you not +think that you would like Mr. Lovell and his friend to favour us with +their company at luncheon?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Vicomte seemed to think he would. They lunched together--all the +five! Why not?</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_way" href="#div1Ref_way">THE WAY OF A MAID WITH A +MAN.</a></h2> + +<h3>(Miss Whitby writes to her Mother.)</h3> +<br> + +<p class="continue"><span class="sc">My Dearest Mamma</span>,--You will be surprised, and I hope you will be +pleased to hear that I am engaged to be married! You are not to +smile--it would be cruel--this, really, is serious. Charlie is all +that a husband should be--you are not to laugh at that--you know +exactly what I mean. I am nearly twenty, and, this time, I feel that +my happiness really is at stake. I may not be able to keep my looks +for long--some girls lose them when they are quite young--and +something seems to tell me that I ought to begin to look life +seriously in the face, and become responsible. I almost wish that I +had taken to district visiting, like Emma Mortimer--it might have +balanced me. Poor Emma! what a pity she is so plain.</p> + +<p class="normal">Will you mind hinting to Tom Wilson that I think he might be happy +with Nora Cathcart? It is true that I made him promise that he would +never speak to her again, but all that is over. I hope you will not +think me fickle, dear mamma. I enclose the ring Tom gave me. Will you +please give it to him? And point out to him that I am now persuaded +that boy and girl attachments never come to anything serious.</p> + +<p class="normal">By the way, do not forget to tell them to send two pairs of evening +shoes. Those which I have are quite worn out. Let both pairs be +perfectly plain bronze. Charlie thinks that they make my feet look +almost ethereal. Is he not absurd? But I hope that you will not think +so, when you come to know him, for he loves your child. You might +also ask them to send me a dozen pairs of stockings--nice ones. All +mine seem to be in holes. You know I like them as long as you can get +them.</p> + +<p class="normal">I have been here nearly a month, and I have been almost engaged to +three different men. How time does seem to fly! Lily says I am a +heartless little flirt. I think that perhaps I was, until he came. He +has been here just a week, and I seem to have known him years.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lily seems to be under the impression that I was engaged to Captain +Pentland. She is wrong. Captain Pentland has some very noble +qualities. He is destined to make some true woman profoundly happy. Of +that I have no doubt whatever. But I am not that woman. No, dear +mamma, I feel that now. Besides, he wears an eyeglass. As you are +aware, I have always had an insuperable objection to an eyeglass. It +seems to savour of affectation. And affectation I cannot stand. And +then he lisps. As I told you, when I wrote you last, when I sprained +my ankle on Highdown Hill, he carried me in his arms for over a mile. +Of course, I was grateful. And, between you and me, dear mamma, he +held me so very closely to him, that, afterwards I felt as if I ought +to marry him. I have explained everything to Charlie. He quite agrees +with me that it is absurd for Captain Pentland to think himself +ill-used.</p> + +<p class="normal">While I think of it, when you are in town will you tell them to send +me a box of assorted chocolates? You know the kind I like. There is +nothing of that sort to be had here, and I do so long for some.</p> + +<p class="normal">Charlie is Lily's cousin. Do you think that cousins ought to kiss each +other? I wish I could get the opinion of someone on whose judgment I +could implicitly rely. At any rate, even supposing that they ought I +am quite sure that there should be limits. Before long I am afraid +that I shall have to give Charlie a hint that I do not think, under +the circumstances, that he ought to kiss Lily quite as much as he does +me. She may be his cousin, but she is young, and she is pretty. And +cousins are not sisters. It is nonsense for people to pretend they +are.</p> + +<p class="normal">The odd part of it is that if Charlie had not been so fond of kissing +Lily I might not be going to marry him now. I knew that he was coming. +And I was sitting alone in the drawing-room, in a half-light, with my +back to the door, when suddenly someone, putting his arm round my +waist, lifting me off my feet, twisted me right round, and began +kissing me on my eyes and lips and everywhere.</p> + +<p class="normal">I thought it was Captain Pentland. Though I was astonished at such +behaviour even from him--because it was only that morning we +quarrelled. You may judge of my astonishment when I was again able to +look out of my own eyes, to find myself being held, as if I were a +baby, or a doll, in the arms of a perfect giant of a man, whom I had +never seen before. You may imagine how shocked I felt, because, as you +know well, my views on such subjects--which I owe to your dear +teaching--are, if anything, too severe. I will do him the justice to +admit that he seemed to be almost as much shocked as I was.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I beg your pardon," he said, "ten thousand times. I thought that you +were Lily."</p> + +<p class="normal">He put me down very much as you handle your Chelsea cups, mamma--softly +and delicately, as if he had been afraid of chipping pieces off me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose you're Charlie?"</p> + +<p class="normal">I spoke more lightly and more cheerfully than I felt. He seemed so +ashamed of himself, and so confused, that I pitied him. You know, dear +mamma, that when people know, and feel, that they have done wrong, I +always pity them. I cannot help it. It is my nature. All flesh is +weak. I myself am prone to err. When Lily did appear, we were talking +quite as if we knew each other. And that is how it began. It is odd +how these sort of things sometimes do begin. As you are aware, I speak +as one who has had experience. I shall always believe that it was only +the breaking of a shoelace which first brought Norman Eliot and me +together.</p> + +<p class="normal">But those chapters in my life are closed. In the days which are past I +may have seemed to hesitate, to occasionally have changed my mind. But +now my life is linked to Charlie's by bonds which never shall be +broken. I feel as if I were already married. The gravity of existence +is commencing to weigh upon my mind. A woman when she is nearly twenty +is no longer young.</p> + +<p class="normal">While I remember it, when you send the chocolates don't send any +walnuts. I am sick of them. Variously flavoured creams are what I +really like. And let two pairs of the stockings be light blue, with +bronze stripes high up the leg.</p> + +<p class="normal">I cannot truly say that Lily is behaving to me quite nicely in my +relations with Charlie. I do not wish to wrong her, even in my +thoughts--she is the very dearest friend I have!--but, sometimes, I +cannot help thinking that she had an eye on Charlie for herself. +Because when the other morning I was telling her how strongly I +disapproved of cousins marrying, if she had not been Lily--whose +single-hearted affection I have every faith in--I should have said +that she was positively rude. Charlie only proposed to me last night, +yet, although she must have seen what was coming, in the afternoon she +was actually talking to me of Norman Eliot--as if I had been to blame! +Mr. Eliot and I never really were engaged--some people jump to +conclusions without proper justification. And am I compelled to answer +a person's letters if, for reasons of my own--quite private reasons--I +do not choose to?</p> + +<p class="normal">She came to my bedroom last night, just as I was going to bed. I told +her what Charlie had said, and what I had said. Of course I expected +her to congratulate me--as, in circumstances such as mine, a girl's +best friend ought to do. She heard me to an end, and she looked at me, +and said:</p> + +<p class="normal">"So you've done it again."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know about again, dear Lily," I replied. "But it would seem +as if I had done it at last. I am feeling so happy that it almost +makes me afraid."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Some girls would feel afraid if they had reason to be conscious of +the fact that they had engaged themselves to marry three men at once."</p> + +<p class="normal">I could not help but notice that a jarring something was in her tone. +But I paid no heed to it.</p> + +<p class="normal">My thoughts were elsewhere.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How wrong it is," I murmured, "for people to scoff at love. They +cannot know what love is--as I do."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps not. I should think that what you don't know about love, May, +isn't worth knowing." I sighed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I fancy, Lily dear, that I have heard stories about you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I daresay; but I never snapped up your favourite cousin from under +your nose. Possibly you will not mind telling me if you do mean to +marry one of them, and, if so, which."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lily! How can you ask me such a question? Have I not just been +telling you that there is only one man in the world for me, henceforth +and for ever, and that his name is Charlie?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Exactly. Only last week you told me precisely the same story, and his +name was Jim, while about a fortnight ago, it was Norman."</p> + +<p class="normal">My dearest mamma, you see I am making a clean breast of everything to +you. I own, quite candidly, that since I have been here I have not +behaved precisely as I might have done, and, indeed, ought to have +done. I do not know how it is, I meant to be good; I am sure that +nothing could have been better than my resolutions. I had no idea that +they could have been so easily broken. It only shows, after all, how +fragile we are. I felt that, strange and sad though it seems, Lily was +not wholly unjust. I got up from my chair, and I knelt at her feet, +and I pillowed my head in her lap and I cried:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, Lily, I've been so wicked! You can't think how sorry I am, now +that it's too late. I wish you'd help me, and tell me what I ought to +do."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm a bit of a dab at a cry myself," she said. "So, if you take my +advice, to begin with, you'll literally dry up."</p> + +<p class="normal">Was it not unkind? And was it not vulgar? But I sometimes think that +Lily's heart is like the nether millstone--so hard, you know. She went +on:</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you do mean business with Charlie, and you do want my advice, +you'll just tell him everything you have been doing, and leave the +solution of the situation to him."</p> + +<p class="normal">I made up my mind there and then that that was exactly what +I would do. I resolved that I would have no secrets from my +husband--particularly as he would be sure to be told them by +unfriendly lips if he did not learn them from mine. Besides, in such +matters, a man is so much more generous, and so much more sympathetic +than a woman--especially the man. Nor does he value you any the less +because he finds that someone else happens to value you a little too.</p> + +<p class="normal">So, directly Lily had gone I let my hair down, and I put on my light +blue dressing-jacket and a touch of powder, and I waited. Presently I +heard steps coming along the passage. I opened the door. Sure enough +it was Charlie, just going to bed. At sight of me he started. I was +conscious that I was, perhaps, acting with some imprudence. But I +could not help it. My entire happiness was at stake. You know, dear +mamma, that I do look nice in that pretty dressing-jacket, with my +hair, not at all untidy, but simply let down. You yourself have told +me that, in every sense of the word, I look so young. He held out his +hands to me--under a misapprehension. I shrank back.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Mason," I began very softly, with, in my voice, a sort of sob, "I +could not rest until I had told you all that has passed between us +to-night must be considered as unsaid."</p> + +<p class="normal">He started as if I had struck him. I could see that his face went +white.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Miss Whitby! May! What do you mean?" He seemed to gasp for breath. +"After all, it is only natural that you should not love a great +hulking idiot such as I am."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are mistaken. You are not a great hulking idiot. And I do love +you. I shall never love anyone but you. It is you who will not love me +when you have heard all I have to say."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What nonsense are you talking?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Again he held out his arms to me. And again I shrank away.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is not nonsense. I wish it were. So far is it from being nonsense +that I felt that I could not be at peace until my conscience was +unburdened." I paused. I felt the crucial moment was arriving. My +voice sank lower. "Someone else was staying here before you came."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, I know; Lily told me--a man named Pentland."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, Lily told you so much, did she? Did Lily also tell you that the +man named Pentland had bad taste enough to fancy that he had fallen in +love with me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bad taste, you call it. I know nothing about the man, but there, +evidently, can be no sort of doubt about his perfect taste."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But, Charlie--I mean, Mr. Mason."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You don't--you mean Charlie."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dear mamma, once more I sighed. I perceived that it would have to be. +Some men are so dictatorial.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The worst of it is that he worried and worried me so--I was staying +in the same house, and couldn't get away from him, you see--that he +made me almost think I cared for him. But now you have come, and made +me see what a mistake it was."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My little love."</p> + +<p class="normal">For the third time he held out his arms to me. And, this time, he took +me in them. I could not find it in my heart to resist him any longer; +it might be the last time he would ever hold me there. I continued my +remarks with my head not very far away from his waistcoat. He smoothed +my hair, very softly, with his great right hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Unfortunately, I am not at all sure that Captain Pentland does not +think that, in a sort of way, I am engaged to him. Oh, Charlie, +whatever shall I do?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tell him the truth. Say that you're sorry for him, poor chap, but +even the best regulated girls will make mistakes. I'm the mistake +you've made."</p> + +<p class="normal">I was silent. Then I whispered:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Will you forgive me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It strikes me that it is I who ought to ask you to forgive me--for +not having been the first to come upon the scene."</p> + +<p class="normal">This was throwing a new light upon the subject. It had not occurred to +me to look at it from that point of view before. But I had not come to +the end of my confessions. Dear mamma, how careful we women ought +to be! It is these crises in our lives which make us feel what +short-sighted mortals we actually are.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Before Captain Pentland came"--I was pulling at one of the buttons on +his waistcoat as I spoke, and I realised what a big heart Charlie's +must be, if it was at all in proportion to his chest--"another friend +of Lily's was stopping in the house."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ye-es."</p> + +<p class="normal">I could not help but be conscious of a certain hesitation in his +pronunciation of the word.</p> + +<p class="normal">"His name was Eliot."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There had been a moment's silence before he spoke. And, when he had +spoken, there ensued a portentous pause. I hid my face still more from +his examining gaze. My voice seemed almost to die away.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He, also, professed to bestow on me the gift of his affection."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The devil he did!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes, mamma, that was precisely what he said. It made me shiver. But he +was sorry as soon as the words had passed his lips.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Forgive me! I didn't mean it! After all, it is only to be expected +that every man who sees you will fall in love with you at sight."</p> + +<p class="normal">I wondered if he would talk to me like that in years to come. Do +husbands of ten years' standing say such things unto their wives? Oh, +how ashamed of myself I felt as I thought of what I still had to +admit! Dear mamma, I will try hard never again to do what my +conscience tells me is not right. If only we would always listen to +the still small voice which seeks to guide us!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Charlie, you have no notion how foolish I have been! Until you came I +had no proper conception of the actualities of existence. Mr. Eliot +caused me to confuse the issues just as Captain Pentland did."</p> + +<p class="normal">He held me out a little way in front of him, trying to look into my +face. I was careful not to let him see too much of it. I hung down my +head with what, I do hope, mamma, was proper penitence.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let me know, clearly, where we are, little girl. Am I to understand +you to say that both these men asked you to marry them?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am afraid, Charlie, that you are to understand something of the +kind."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And that you gave both of them encouragement?"</p> + +<p class="normal">I looked up at him--such a look, mamma! My eyes were swimming in +tears. I knew he would not tell me to "dry up." My heart seemed to be +rising to my lips.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not real encouragement. I never gave anyone real encouragement, +Charlie, till I knew you. Even in your case I fear I ought to have +been more reticent. But you cannot have the least idea of what a wide +world of love you seem to have opened out to me. Won't you forgive me +for encouraging you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dear mamma, he collapsed. Of what took place during the moments which +immediately followed. I can give you no definite description. I know I +began to think that the end of the world had come. When he had quite +finished, he said:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look here, young lady, what is past is past. We will make no further +allusions to what took place before the war. But, in the future, +perhaps you will kindly manage not, as you put it, to confuse the +issues, but will continue to confine yourself to encouraging me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Was it not noble of him? And so sweet! I am persuaded that his +character is one of singular beauty.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dear mamma, the passages which ensued were too sacred even for your +dear eyes. When he left me I felt certain it was to dream of him. I +know that, all night long, I dreamt of him. And, on my knees, beside +my bed, I registered a vow that, in the time to come, I will be as +good as I possibly can.</p> + +<p class="normal">Do not forget the shoes, and the stockings, and the chocolates! And do +give Tom his ring! I am registering this letter, so you are sure to +get it safe.</p> + +<p class="normal">I will bring, or send, Charlie to you, on approval, whenever you +please.</p> + +<p class="normal">I am, my dearest mamma,</p> + +<p class="normal">Your ever loving daughter,</p> + +<p class="normal"><p class="right"><span class="sc">May</span>.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_aunt" href="#div1Ref_aunt">AUNT JANE'S JALAP.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4>BEFORE TAKING.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"There's a fortune in it!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"For the bottlemakers."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If for them, then what for us? We shan't want more bottles than we +can sell. Besides, we can make our own bottles if it comes to that. +Cost of bottle, contents, cork, label, and all, one penny. Selling +price, eightpence. Sale, at a moderate estimate, one million bottles a +year. How does that figure for a profit?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It figures nicely. But give me facts. How long do you suppose it will +take us to reach that sale?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No time. The name will sell it! 'Aunt Jane's Jalap!' There isn't an +old woman in England who, seeing those words staring her in the face, +won't press a longing hand to her inside."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Outside, I presume, you mean. But no matter."</p> + +<p class="normal">Hughes placed the bottle on the table. He looked at it with loving +eyes. Then he shook his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's only one thing we want."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Customers?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Testimonials! There's something in it. I know there is."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not much, perhaps, but still something."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That bottle, sir, contains a remedy for all known diseases, and all +unknown ones, for all that I can tell. In fact, I have a suspicion +that it is to the unknown diseases that it will come as the greatest +blessing. Patent medicines generally do. Those mysterious maladies +which, up to the advent of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' have baffled all the +resources of medical science. Give me a day or two and I will prove +it. I will bring you testimonials which will make your hair stand up +on end, and--" He paused, looking me fixedly in the face--"all +genuine."</p> + +<p class="normal">That evening I had a small dinner-party. It was rather an occasion. +The suggestion, I am bound to admit, had come from Margaret.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear George, it's the easiest thing in the world, and you could do +it nicely! Why don't you ask us to dinner? Aunt and I, and old Pybus +to round it off." Square it off, I suspect she meant, because, of +course, that would make four with me. But I didn't correct her. "And +then you and I could look over the house together--after dinner."</p> + +<p class="normal">So I asked them. And they came. Old Pybus said he would be delighted. +I don't care for Pybus myself, but Mrs. Chalmers does, and this was an +occasion on which her taste had to be consulted rather than mine. And +during dinner I began on "Aunt Jane's Jalap."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, it's all settled with Hughes."</p> + +<p class="normal">I addressed myself to Margaret.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What about?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Chalmers put down her spoon. This was while the soup was on.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Aunt Jane's Jalap!' Whatever's that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The new patent medicine--the coming boom. You must know that my +friend Francis Hughes has a wonderful old nurse, and this wonderful +old nurse has the most wonderful medicine, which she used to +administer to all her charges. Hughes has obtained the receipt from +her."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How much did he give her for it? Half-a-crown?"</p> + +<p class="normal">I crushed Pybus.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is a private matter, but <i>rather</i> more than half-a-crown."</p> + +<p class="normal">As a plain statement of fact he hadn't given her anything as yet. But, +of course, we should both of us see that she made a good thing of it +when the sale got up.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I need scarcely observe what fortunes have been made in patent +medicines."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And lost in them, my boy."</p> + +<p class="normal">This was just like Pybus--but I let it pass.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Millions, literally millions, have been made, and, I may safely say, +that none of them can compare with 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you tried the stuff upon yourself?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, Pybus, I have not. I am ready at any time to try it upon you. +Well, Hughes has supplied the medicine, and I am going to supply part +of the capital."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What part?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is another private matter, Pybus. Sufficient, I trust, to bring +the matter before the public eye."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't you think the name is rather a funny one?--'Aunt Jane's +Jalap!'"</p> + +<p class="normal">This was hard, coming from Margaret.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Margaret, the name is half the battle. Hughes thinks it's a +splendid one."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But don't you think it makes one think of indigestion?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's exactly what it's meant to do."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Before, or afterwards?"</p> + +<p class="normal">This, of course, was Pybus.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let those laugh who win. Wait till you see the name blazoned on every +dead wall. Then you'll welcome 'Aunt Jane's Jalap' as a friend."</p> + +<p class="normal">That dinner, I confess, was a little patent mediciney. More than once +I rather wished that I had kept the subject out of it. Pybus told some +pleasant and characteristic anecdotes about injurious effects of +patent medicines. How he had known whole families killed by taking +them. How more than half the infant mortality of Great Britain was +owing to their unrestricted sale. How the habit of taking patent +medicines was worse than the habit of dram drinking, and the why, and +the wherefore, and so on. I could not, at my own table, take the man +by the scruff of the neck and drop him from the first floor window. +But I know that Margaret didn't like it--and I didn't either. Mrs. +Chalmers seemed undecided. She herself swears by some noxious +compound, which is absurdly named "Daddy's Delight," and which I know, +by the mere smell of it, is nothing else but poison.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you any of the stuff in the house?" she asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have a bottle of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' which is not stuff, my dear +Mrs. Chalmers, but a most invaluable medicine. Hughes brought it this +afternoon as a sample."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Trot it out," said Pybus.</p> + +<p class="normal">Pybus is fifty-five, if he is a day, but he uses the slang of a +schoolboy. I was not going to act on such a hint as that, but when +Mrs. Chalmers expressed a wish to look at it I fetched the bottle. It +was a small black bottle, such as is used for "samples" of wines, +about quarter-bottle size. I held it in my hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This, ladies and gentlemen, is 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' It is a name +which I trust will soon be familiar in your mouths as household words. +This, however, is its first appearance on the scene, and I propose, to +mark the importance of the occasion, that we drink to its success. I +propose, ladies and gentlemen, that we drink to 'Aunt Jane's Jalap' +<i>in</i> 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' Brooks, bring four claret glasses."</p> + +<p class="normal">I drew the cork.</p> + +<p class="normal">"George, you don't mean that we're to drink the stuff?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do, my dear Margaret, why not? The dose is a wine-glassful, to be +taken immediately after meals. Mrs. Chalmers, allow me to offer you a +glass of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">She sniffed at it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It has a very disagreeable smell."</p> + +<p class="normal">That was good. I protest that I have smelt "Daddy's Delight" when I +was passing the house, and took it--till I knew better--for drains.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret, a glass of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"But, George, I assure you that I never do take medicine."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Some people's wine is no better than medicine. We drink that, and +pretend we like it. Why not jalap?"</p> + +<p class="normal">This was Pybus! As he had just before been making insinuations about +my wine, the allusion was pointed. But the man's proverbial.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No heeltraps--'Aunt Jane's Jalap'--with the honours!"</p> + +<p class="normal">We all stood up. I drained my glass. I immediately wished I hadn't. +The others drained their glasses. I saw they wished they hadn't too. I +do not think I ever tasted anything quite so nasty. I wished I had +sampled it before. As it was, it took me by surprise, so much by +surprise that my first impulse was to fly for shelter. It was +like--well, the taste was really so exceedingly disagreeable that +comparison fails me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is a case of kill or cure," observed Pybus, with the most +extraordinary expression of countenance I ever saw. "The man who takes +much of that stuff will be killed if he isn't cured. Death for me, +rather than 'Aunt Jane's Jalap'--if it <i>is</i> jalap."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is rather pungent," I owned.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know about pungent," continued Pybus, who certainly seemed to +be suffering; "but with ice pudding it's a failure."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never," declared Mrs. Chalmers, who was leaning back in her chair, +and had her handkerchief in her hand, "never did I taste anything like +it! Never! and after dinner, too!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Margaret's feelings seemed for the moment to be too strong for speech. +I perceived the thing had been a failure. Still, I endeavoured to pass +it off, which was difficult, for I myself felt really ill.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah! it is to the after effects we must look forward."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is the after effects I'm thinking of," said Pybus.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was almost more than I could bear; it was the after effects I was +thinking of as well.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, let's adjourn and have a little music."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have we finished the bottle of jalap?" inquired Pybus.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I really must apologise; I confess I had no idea what a peculiar +taste it had; it certainly is peculiar." Mrs. Chalmers put her +handkerchief up to her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And after dinner, too!"</p> + +<p class="normal">We accompanied the ladies to the drawing-room, as well as we could. +Pybus went with Mrs. Chalmers, I took Margaret. As we went I whispered +in her ear:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, you and I can look over the house together."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am afraid, George, you must excuse me. I--I couldn't walk about +just yet. Do take me to a chair!"</p> + +<p class="normal">We had planned that we would examine the house together from attic to +basement; indeed, the whole affair had been got up for that express +purpose. Everything was in apple-pie order and ready for inspection. +The servants were on the tiptoe of expectation. As we went, Margaret +was to make suggestions for alterations which would fit the house for +its mistress. And opportunities might arise for a little confidential +intercourse. But, of course, I could not drag the girl about the place +against her will. Love works wonders. But there <i>are</i> circumstances +which prove too strong.</p> + +<p class="normal">The atmosphere of the drawing-room was depressing. It was no use my +talking to Margaret, because she wouldn't talk to me. And general +conversation seemed out of the question. So I tried another line.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pybus, give us a song." (Pybus thinks he can sing. He may have been +able to--once.) "Here's 'Drink to me only.' That's a favourite of +yours." (You should hear him sing it.) "Margaret will play the +accompaniment."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lucas," he said, "Do you think, by any chance, that dose of jalap was +too strong? I ask the question because I remember, when I was a boy, +hearing of a family being poisoned by an overdose of jalap. In their +case they took it by mistake. Though, judging from the taste of your +jalap, I can't see how that could be. Still, if there is likely to be +any danger it is as well that we should be prepared for it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret," murmured Mrs. Chalmers, "let's go home."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, aunt? It will pass off in time."</p> + +<p class="normal">In time! At that moment I heartily wished that Hughes had been at +Jericho before he induced me to dabble in his patent medicines. I +always did hate them, even as a child.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is quite impossible," continued Pybus, "that the sensations which +I am now experiencing are the ordinary and natural outcome of a dose +of jalap."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret," groaned Mrs. Chalmers, "I insist upon your coming home."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Aunt, what is the use of going home?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You haven't got a book in the house, Lucas, treating of poisons?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I wish you wouldn't talk like that, Pybus. It really is unfair. I +quite perceive that I made a mistake in administering the dose after +dinner; in fact, I am myself inclined to believe that I misunderstood +Hughes, and that the dose ought to be administered before a meal."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good God!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pybus!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I can't help it. I really cannot help it, sir. The idea of a +reasonable person voluntarily swallowing such a concoction as that +before his dinner is enough to make any man profane!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't think, Mr. Lucas," murmured Mrs. Chalmers, "that you have the +least idea how ill I feel."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Mrs. Chalmers, if--if there is anything I can do for you." +"Yes," said Pybus, "another bottle."</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>AFTER TAKING.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Just then Brooks came in.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Hughes, sir, wishes to speak to you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Excuse me one moment--I'll be back directly."</p> + +<p class="normal">I found Hughes waiting for me in my snuggery.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sorry to interrupt you, old man, but I just called in to prevent +accidents."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You know that bottle I brought you this afternoon. I thought it was +'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' but it isn't. I found it out directly I got home. +You see, I keep all sorts of bottles in my cupboard--regular chemist's +shop!--and I caught hold of the wrong one by mistake."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not 'Aunt Jane's Jalap!'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, it's laudanum."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Laudanum? Hughes!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The fact is--Lucas!--What's the matter?--You don't mean to say you +have been drinking some?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is--is it poison?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Poison!--Why, it's pure laudanum!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Would--would a wineglassful do any harm?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"A wineglassful! Lucas, old man, don't say you've drank a +wineglassful!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"We all have."</p> + +<p class="normal">"All have!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret, and Mrs. Chalmers, and Pybus.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Great powers!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"We--we thought it was 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' and we drank to its +success."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are they dead?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dead! Hughes!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"How long ago is it since they took it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not long. After dinner."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But--a wineglassful! Are they conscious?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"They were when I just now left them. But they weren't feeling well. +I--I'm not either. We couldn't understand it. This--this explains it. +Hughes, you--you've murdered us!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never mind, old man. Keep your head; I'll pull you through. Trust all +to me. The great thing in a case like this is to keep your head. Don't +sit down; keep yourself in constant circulation! Just one second! +Brooks! Brooks! Run, Brooks, to the nearest doctor, and then to +half-a-dozen others, and tell them there's a case of laudanum +poisoning, and they're to come at once."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Laudanum poisoning, sir! What, in the house?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, in the house. Don't stand there like a pig in a fit. It's a +question of life or death!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"One moment, sir, while I get my hat."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Go without your hat. Here; take mine. Now, run for your life. +Remember, if anything happens through you, you will be held +responsible in the eyes of the law. Come along, Lucas, let's go in to +them. Keep yourself awake, old man; jump about. Don't say a word to +them about what has happened. Don't let them even suspect from your +manner that anything is wrong. The great thing is to keep them in +entire ignorance. And keep cool--keep cool."</p> + +<p class="normal">He gave a jerk at my arm which almost pulled me forward on my face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I say, Hughes, don't!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"But I must, old man, I must. I must keep you alive, at any cost. Oh, +Lucas, old man, if anything should happen---- But I won't talk like +that, or I shall make a fool of myself. Come along, old man, and mind +what I say. Keep cool."</p> + +<p class="normal">We went along--that is to say, he took me by the arm and dragged me +towards the drawing-room. My emotions I am unable to describe. I +always think that when a man is able to describe his emotions he +hasn't had any worth describing. But through it all I had a dim +perception that, in spite of his repeated adjurations, Hughes himself +kept anything but cool. Outside the drawing-room door I brought the +procession to a standstill. I gripped his arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hughes, do you think that she will die?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nonsense! Don't I tell you no one's going to die? For goodness' sake +don't talk like that. Don't I keep telling you to keep cool?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He did. But it was scarcely with an air of coolness that he threw the +door wide open, and with so much force that it seemed as if he were +trying to wrench it from its hinges. I fancy our entry made a slight +sensation. It was strange if it didn't. They were certainly not +unconscious--yet! Even amidst my own agitation it was with quite a +sensation of relief that I perceived so much. Mrs. Chalmers was +reclining on the couch, with her head thrown back, and a look about +her which I did not like. Margaret was on a settee, seeming as though +the proceedings had lost all interest for her. Pybus sat in an arm +chair, his hands crossed upon his stomach.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good evening," said Hughes. I could see he did not like the look of +things. "I--I've just dropped in."</p> + +<p class="normal">Pybus rose.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm just dropping out. Good evening, Lucas. I have to thank you for a +very pleasant evening. I'll send you the doctor's bill when I get it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Hughes looked at me, then at Pybus.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You're not going, Mr. Pybus?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you wish me to be ill here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"But I was looking forward to a song, or a dance, or something."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dance! I feel like dancing; and singing, too. I've been the victim of +an outrage, Mr. Hughes. I've been introduced to 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've heard of it. Lucas ought not to have given it you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And after dinner!"</p> + +<p class="normal">This was a murmur from the couch.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That was wrong--quite wrong. The dose should have been administered +before the meal."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In that case," I observed, a little nettled, "we should all of us +been dead by now."</p> + +<p class="normal">Pybus glanced at me sharply.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dead! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hughes turned on me in a rage.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">I felt I had made a mistake.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I mean nothing. Only--only I think Hughes was as much to blame as +I was."</p> + +<p class="normal">Hughes took Pybus away. They went to Mrs. Chalmers. So far as I could +judge, the lady was rapidly sinking into a lethargic condition. I +remained standing where I was. I began gradually to realise my +situation--the approaching tragedy in which, by fate or circumstance, +I was cast as an actor. A strange leaden feeling seemed to be stealing +over me, but, in spite of it, I began to understand that at any moment +the drawing-room, this drawing-room, my drawing-room, might be strewed +with corpses. I knew nothing of the effects of laudanum poisoning, but +Hughes seemed to be surprised that we were not all of us dead already. +Here was Margaret, the woman I loved best in all the world, upon my +right. There was her aunt, for whom, I own, my love was less, upon the +couch. There was old Pybus. That old man's blood was also on my hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">What would they call me? A suicide? The irony! In the full flush of +health and strength, with fortune, all the world before me, and a +wife. A wife whom I loved with a great fulness of love which was quite +old-fashioned. I had wrought this hecatomb. I felt impelled to scream +aloud. To warn my victims of the frightful fate which was stealing +fast upon them, and of which they were still unconscious.</p> + +<p class="normal">Someone touched me on the arm. I turned. It was Margaret!</p> + +<p class="normal">"George, what is the matter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret!"</p> + +<p class="normal">My voice trembled. There was a choking in my throat. I wished to take +her in my arms before them all. It might be a last embrace.</p> + +<p class="normal">"George, tell me, what is wrong?"</p> + +<p class="normal">I made an effort to pull myself together.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh! there's nothing wrong. I--I'm only a bit upset."</p> + +<p class="normal">She put her arm through mine. She led me across the room. I required +leading. She drew me into an alcove, which was formed by a window bay.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, George, tell me what is wrong. I know there is something wrong. +Tell me what it is."</p> + +<p class="normal">I was at a loss for words. I trifled with her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"George, was"--her voice sank to a whisper--"was there anything wrong +about that stuff you gave us?"</p> + +<p class="normal">What could I say to her?</p> + +<p class="normal">"It--it was a mistake drinking it after dinner."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that all? Was it the right stuff, George?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It--it was the stuff Hughes gave me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are trifling with me? I know that there is something wrong. I can +see it in your manner and in Mr. Hughes's. See how strangely Mr. +Hughes is behaving now."</p> + +<p class="normal">I peeped round the corner. Hughes was behaving strangely. He was +frantically urging Mrs. Chalmers to stand up and dance, though anyone +looking less like dancing than she did I never saw. He was evidently +forgetting his own axiom--keep cool. A curious qualm came over me. +Almost without knowing it I leaned for support against the wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">"George! What is the matter? You are ill."</p> + +<p class="normal">Margaret's eager face looked into mine.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It will be all right in a minute."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It won't! I know it won't! Tell me what it is. There was something +the matter with that stuff you gave us. I knew it directly I had +swallowed it. Do you think I am a coward? Do you think I am afraid? +But it is only fair that you should tell me. If you won't tell me, +George, I will go to Mr. Hughes and insist upon his telling me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't, Margaret. The doctor will be here directly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The doctor?" She drew herself straight up. A strange look came into +her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">She spoke almost in a whisper. "What is the doctor coming for?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hughes thought that he had better come."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it so bad as that? George, what was that stuff you gave us?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have not said that it was anything. The--the dose was too strong."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Was it poison?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret!"</p> + +<p class="normal">I took her two hands in mine. She came into my arms. I held her to my +breast.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Was it poison? If you love me half as much as I love you you will +tell me, George."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"What poison was it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Laudanum!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She drew herself away from me. She looked at me with her great wide +open eyes. Then her eyes were closed. Before I had the least suspicion +of what was going to happen she had fallen to the ground. I knelt +beside her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret!" I cried. I cried to her in vain. I was seized with a great +horror. "She is dead!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hughes came running forward. I almost sprang at him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You have killed her!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't be an idiot, Lucas! She <i>can't</i> be dead!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"She is dead. And it is your work. For the matter of that, all our +blood is upon your head. But we shall not die alone. You shall come, +too, my friend."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you don't take your hands away, Lucas, I shall have to do you a +mischief."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Lucas! Mr. Hughes! Have you both of you gone mad? Are you aware +that there are ladies present?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The interference came from Pybus. He dragged us asunder. He showed +more presence of mind, and more coolness, too, than I had credited him +with. He was a great deal calmer than either Lucas or I.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is the meaning of this extraordinary behaviour? And what is the +matter with Miss Hammond?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He has killed her."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who has killed her?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That scamp; with his infernal negligence."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't in the least understand you. And I think that instead of +wrangling here your attentions were better bestowed upon Miss +Hammond."</p> + +<p class="normal">I threw myself at her side. I was like a man distraught in the +whirlwind of conflicting emotions which came sweeping over me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My darling! Oh, my darling! I shall soon be with you. Already the +poison is stealing through my veins. May my end be as rapid as was +yours. Why doesn't the doctor come? I don't believe that you have sent +for him. Go and fetch him."</p> + +<p class="normal">Again I sprang at Hughes. And again Pybus interposed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Lucas, may I ask for an explanation of your singular conduct? Has +Miss Hammond fainted?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fainted! He has poisoned her!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Poisoned her!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, and you and me and all of us! We all, like her, are doomed to +die."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Lucas!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lucas, you're--you're mad, you know."</p> + +<p class="normal">This was Hughes. But a piercing scream came from the couch.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I knew that I was poisoned!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Chalmers might know that she was poisoned, but that was no reason +why, on the strength of her knowledge, she should develope violent +hysterics, which she immediately did. I had never seen so much of the +man in Pybus as he showed just then. He gave one look at Mrs. +Chalmers, and then he turned to Hughes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Hughes, will you be so good as to tell me if there is any meaning +in Mr. Lucas's words?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hughes was ghastly white.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The great point is to bring Miss Hammond back to life again. While we +are talking here she may be dying at our feet. I appeal to your +manhood, Mr. Pybus, to help me bring her back to consciousness."</p> + +<p class="normal">Hughes knelt down by Margaret. Pybus turned to me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What does he mean?" he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">I did not answer. I knelt down by Hughes. He had my darling's hand in +his. I saw that he was putting great restraint upon himself. Beads of +perspiration were on his brow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"She is not dead," he stammered. "She is in a faint or something. At +any cost we must bring her back to consciousness. Be a man, Lucas, and +help me. Her life should be even more precious to you than to me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't talk like that, Hughes. Don't you see that I am nearly mad +already? What can I do?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Help me to raise her."</p> + +<p class="normal">Between us we raised her to a perpendicular position.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Pybus, can I trouble you to order some brandy? Stay, she is +coming back to life again!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She was. She sighed. She opened her eyes, as if she were waking out of +sleep. She turned to me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"George!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My darling!"</p> + +<p class="normal">I caught her in my arms. I held her to my breast. What mattered it if +there were others there? We were standing by an open grave!</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do so love you, George!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She was dreaming. She thought we were alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Margaret!"</p> + +<p class="normal">I kissed her. Something caused her to look round. There was old Pybus +standing at her side. She drew herself away from me. She blushed a +rosy red; then her glance travelled round the room. She pressed her +hands against her bosom. A startled look came into her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then--it wasn't all a dream."</p> + +<p class="normal">Hughes slipped his arm through hers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Miss Hammond, I must insist upon your taking exercise. Take a sharp +turn or two round the room with me. Lucas, I wish you'd sit down and +play us a dance. Or, better still, let me sit down and play, and you +and Miss Hammond take a few turns together. Mr. Pybus, you must dance +with Mrs. Chalmers. A flyaway gallop, or a rattling polka. They're +better than valses."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a remarkable expression upon old Pybus's enamelled +countenance. So far as that goes, I expect there was on mine--but, as +to that, no matter.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Might I ask, once more, for an explanation of these very singular +proceedings?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I warn you, Mr. Pybus, that if you do not dance with Mrs. Chalmers, +you must be responsible for the consequences, both as they regard +yourself and the lady."</p> + +<p class="normal">Pybus's eyes wandered from Hughes to Mrs. Chalmers. The lady was +making noise enough for ten. She did not strike the imagination as +being a promising partner for a dance. So Pybus seemed to think. +Hughes struck up, "You should see me dance the polka," playing it at +the rate of about sixty miles an hour. Margaret looked at me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you and I to dance? Why dance?"</p> + +<p class="normal">I shook my head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hughes," I said, "I can't."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You must, man, you must! Are you mad?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I can't."</p> + +<p class="normal">I couldn't. A numbness seemed to be settling on my brain. My legs +refused to support me. I sank into a chair. Margaret hesitated for +just one second. I could see her trembling. Then she sat on the ground +close to my feet. She leaned her arm upon my knee. Her face was turned +towards mine.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nor can I. If we must die, George, let us die together; but not +dancing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What on earth," inquired Pybus, "is all this talk of dying, Mr. +Hughes? I insist upon an answer, sir."</p> + +<p class="normal">In a sort of fury Hughes leaped from the music-stool.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And I insist, Mr. Pybus, upon your dancing with Mrs. Chalmers. I warn +you that if you don't you will be morally guilty, not only of murder, +but of suicide." He turned to me. "As for you--are you a man? Do you +think that it is your life only which is hanging in the balance? I +tell you that the only hope for Miss Hammond is to keep her +circulating. Do that, and I will answer for it with my own life, that +all will yet be well."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, while I can, let me keep you circulating, Maggie!"</p> + +<p class="normal">It was not often that I called my "rare, pale Margaret" Maggie. But, +at that master moment of our lives, I felt that the endearing name was +best. She rose, my darling. I put my arm about her waist.</p> + +<p class="normal">"George, whatever you think it best."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's better," said Hughes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now let me see you go it. Give her fits, my boy."</p> + +<p class="normal">Again he dashed into Mr. Grossmith's popular air. I never heard it +played at such a rate before. Possibly with a view of raising our +spirits, he shouted out the chorus in a tone of voice which must have +been audible quite two streets away. It was deafening!</p> +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t0">You should see me dance the polka,<br> +You should see me cover the ground;<br> +You should see my coat-tails flying--</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">My coat-tails were anything but flying. We made no attempt at keeping +time with Hughes. Under the most favourable circumstances the thing +would have been impossible. We moved, Margaret and I, as if we were +treading a funeral measure. My legs were going at the knees. I felt +her frail frame quivering in my arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, then, Pybus," shouted Hughes, "off you go with Mrs. Chalmers. +Don't ask her; make her. Pull her off the couch and jump her about!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Pybus appeared to be endeavouring to persuade Mrs. Chalmers to join +him in the mazy dance. The lady had suddenly become still, which, for +some reasons, the chief one being the noise which Hughes was making, +was perhaps as well.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How can I pull her off the couch," answered Pybus, "when she's in a +fit, or dead, or something?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Up jumped Hughes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Keep going, you two! Don't stop for a single instant. Lucas, +everything depends upon your keeping Miss Hammond circulating."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I can't," I said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nor can I," said Margaret.</p> + +<p class="normal">The utterances were almost simultaneous. Simultaneously we sank into +an ottoman.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mrs. Chalmers! Mrs. Chalmers!" shouted Hughes, "Pybus, help me to +lift her off the couch. Now, then, you two, what have you stopped +for?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He turned to Margaret and me. Something in our faces or in our +attitudes appeared to frighten him. He ran to the door yelling in a +manner which absolutely frightened me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Brooks! Brooks! Oh, my God, why doesn't the doctor come?"</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h4>DOCTORS TO THE RESCUE!</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Just as he reached the door it was opened. A very tall, and very +stout, old gentleman entered. He had a black bag in his hand. But he +did not seem to be the least in a hurry.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good evening. I trust there is nothing serious the matter."</p> + +<p class="normal">I suppose that in the agitated state of his nervous system, the +stranger's sudden appearance took Hughes by surprise. He stared at him +as though he were a ghost.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are--are you the doctor?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am the doctor--Dr. Goldsmith."</p> + +<p class="normal">I had already recognised him as the doctor who lived at the corner of +the square. Although I had not the pleasure of his personal +acquaintance, I had more than once wondered why he did not try +Banting. Leaving off sugar, and butter, and milk, and trying a piece +of lemon in your tea, is an excellent method of reducing the flesh. He +looked round the room, and bowed--a little vaguely. Then he said, +addressing Hughes, whom he apparently took to be the master of the +house, "Where is the patient?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"They're--they're all patients."</p> + +<p class="normal">This answer seemed to cause the doctor to experience a slight sense of +mystification. He placed a pair of gold glasses upon the bridge of his +nose. He cast another glance around the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">"All patients?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Pybus came forward. Pybus knows everyone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How are you, Dr. Goldsmith?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"How are you, Mr. Pybus? Charmed to see you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Whether I am charmed to see you remains to be seen. May I ask--and +don't think it's an impertinent question--what you have come for?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come for? I----" The doctor threw a glance of interrogation towards +Hughes. "I--someone came to my house and said that I was wanted for a +case of----"</p> + +<p class="normal">Old Pybus laid his hand upon the doctor's arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Case of what?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"A case of laudanum poisoning."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Laudanum poisoning!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I understood that it was a----" The doctor ceased. Pybus's face had +assumed a very singular hue. "I--I hope that I have said nothing----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, you have said nothing. Laudanum poisoning?" He turned to Hughes. +"So that is it." And then to me. "So that was 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' +It's--it's rather hard--that a man of my years--should--die +of--jalap."</p> + +<p class="normal">Pybus took a seat. The doctor stared at him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Pybus, I hope that nothing is the matter."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nothing, only--I'm the man--that's poisoned."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Me, Sam Pybus. I've been dining with a man, who asked me to meet--his +girl--and smooth the tabby--and he gives me--jalap, which is another +name for laudanum."</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor seemed bewildered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am afraid I don't understand."</p> + +<p class="normal">Hughes endeavoured to explain. He was suffering as much as either of +us. The words fell from his stammering lips.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What Mr. Pybus says is correct. There's been a mistake."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes," said Pybus, "there's been a mistake."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My friend, Lucas, thought he was giving his guests 'Aunt Jane's +Jalap,' and instead of that he was giving them--I am afraid, through +my carelessness--pure laudanum."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, it was through your carelessness, was it?" Pybus assumed towards +Hughes a little air of ferocity. But it soon disappeared. "But what +does it matter if I must die?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pure laudanum!" said the doctor. "Of what strength?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The highest possible."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In what quantity?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Enough to kill a dozen men. A bottleful."</p> + +<p class="normal">"A bottleful of laudanum!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The words were uttered by a newcomer--a little man who came running in +as if he ran a race. It was Dunn, another doctor, who had recently +started practice round the corner. In appearance he was a complete +contrast to Goldsmith. He was a little, wiry, hungry-looking man, who +seemed as though he never could keep still. He hurried past Pybus, +patting him on the shoulder as he went. Had Pybus been more himself he +would have resented the insult to the death.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, my dear sir, keep yourself alive. That's the great secret; let +us keep our spirits up!" he paused in front of Margaret. "Now, my dear +young lady, don't we feel quite well? Just a little out of sorts. +Come, wake up!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He actually caught Margaret by the shoulder and shook her. I don't +know what Margaret's feelings were, but if I myself had not been quite +so prostrate, I fancy that I should have let him know that he +presumed. Then he turned and shook me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, my dear sir, wake up, wake up, wake up! We must keep ourselves +awake." He wheeled round; he marched to the couch. When he saw Mrs. +Chalmers lying on it, still in a dead faint--so far as I know no one +had moved a finger to bring her round--he shook his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Serious; I am afraid it's very, very serious. But we will do our +best; always do our best. Let all the servants in the house be +summoned, and let assistance be given to carry the poor dear sufferers +up to their beds."</p> + +<p class="normal">The little man took command of everything. The servants were summoned +and they came trooping in. Several other doctors came in also. There +is no necessity to specify their number. Brooks liberally carried out +the instructions Hughes had given him. He fetched as many as he could. +There were not one or two, but several. I have their bills.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h4>THE MISTAKE EXPLAINED.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">I will not dwell upon the dreadful details of that night. There are +scenes, not necessarily pathetic scenes, on which a curtain should be +drawn. Through it all I never once lost consciousness. I wish I had. +One need but allude to the stomach pump to draw up visions from the +vasty deep. Over such agonies let a veil be drawn. This is not an +episode of vivisection. And, afterwards, when--when a too eager +medical man, thinking the process had not gone far enough--he meant +well; it was his zeal; may he be forgiven--tried emetics, mustard and +water, and other preparations from the medical pharmacop[oe]ia--do not +let us touch upon these subjects. Never, when the sea was at its +wildest, among passengers entirely unused to the mysteries of +navigation, was ever seen the like. I still live, and I was through it +all. It is wonderful what a vigorous constitution will endure.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Chalmers was put into my bedroom. There was nothing particular of +mine lying about, but I would rather they had put her somewhere else. +Margaret had the best guest-room, Pybus the second best, and I was put +into an apartment which had not been occupied for years. It was done +in the confusion, I suppose. Looking back, I am surprised they did not +overlook me altogether. I wish they had. And all through the night the +issue was hanging in the balance. Hamlet's question was waiting for an +answer. "To be, or not to be?" What their sufferings were--Margaret's, +her aunt's, and Pybus's--I can imagine when I let memory hark back to +my own. But none of them succumbed. And in the morning I, for one, was +able to leave my room; in fact, I insisted on doing so. Had I remained +any longer in that dreadful chamber I should certainly have died. Pale +and ghastly, with my dressing-gown wrapped round my trembling limbs, I +descended to my snuggery. I felt that I was but the wreck of what once +I was. Hughes was there--the sight of me seemed to give him pain--well +it might!--and Dr. Dunn, and Dr. Goldsmith, and a Dr. Casey. He was a +tall, thin man, with a serious manner. I always think of Dr. Casey +when I think of Mr. Stiggins. Dunn seemed in quite a cheerful frame of +mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, that's over. With a little care, Mr. Lucas, you'll forget all +about it in a week."</p> + +<p class="normal">Never! But I did not tell him so. And he went on:</p> + +<p class="normal">"And this all comes of what I venture to call a trifling indiscretion. +You think it's jalap, and it's laudanum."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Laudanum is not a thing to trifle with," said Dr. Casey.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It certainly isn't a thing to drink in pailfuls."</p> + +<p class="normal">As he said this, Dr. Goldsmith rattled his keys and coppers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nor is it to be recommended as a liqueur with dessert--eh, Mr. +Lucas?" Dunn rubbed his hands, and grinned at me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The poor lady," said Dr. Casey, "whom I treated found it a very +serious matter."</p> + +<p class="normal">This was Mrs. Chalmers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The sweet young thing," said Goldsmith, "for whom I did my best, did +not seem to think that the occasion was altogether a festive one," and +this was how he spoke of her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I dare say, Mr. Lucas," sniggered Dunn, "that you have spent far more +agreeable nights."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dunn was the fiend who had pushed his zeal too far. And now he laughed +at me!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dr. Lambert," observed Dr. Casey, "who treated the other gentleman, +assured me that his patient asked him to put him out of his misery +rather than push his treatment further."</p> + +<p class="normal">That was Pybus. I could easily believe it. Death was preferable to +Dunn's emetics.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, where is the bottle which contained the cause of all the +mischief?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The fatal bottle had been brought into my snuggery for safety. It was +handed to Dunn. He sniffed at it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hum!" He sniffed again. "Hum!" He seemed surprised. "Rather--rather +an odd smell for laudanum. Smell that!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He handed it to Goldsmith.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Very"--sniff!--"odd"--sniff!--"indeed"--sniff. "You are sure it is +the bottle?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was not the slightest doubt about its being the bottle. It was +passed to Casey. He had a smell.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This isn't laudanum," he declared.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Not</i> laudanum!" Back it went to Dunn.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It doesn't smell like laudanum."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It isn't laudanum," said Goldsmith.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not a trace of it," said Casey.</p> + +<p class="normal">NOT laudanum! I looked at Hughes. He looked at me. Then he staggered +towards that fatal bottle.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let me--let me smell it."</p> + +<p class="normal">They let him. An extraordinary change came over his countenance as he +applied it to his nose. He staggered against the wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good--good heavens!"</p> + +<p class="normal">What was it? Had he mistaken the poison? Was it strychnine, arsenic, +prussic acid? Would the treatment have to be gone through all over +again? For me, death rather than that.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I see it all," cried Hughes, "I see the mistake I made. After all, it +was not the bottle I supposed. I remember now that I placed that upon +the shelf above."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is it?" I screamed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's--it's what I thought it was."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What you thought it was?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Aunt Jane's Jalap!'"</p> + +<p class="normal">The words came from the three medical gentlemen in a sort of chorus. +As for me, in spite of my piteous condition, I felt inclined to tear +my hair--and Hughes's!</p> + +<p class="normal">"I see, quite clearly, how the mistake arose. It was in this way. +There were two sample bottles of the mixture, only in one of them the +quantities were wrong. I placed it where I generally keep my +laudanum--so that I shouldn't mistake it. And when I found it missing, +of course I thought it was the laudanum which had gone."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Was it--was it poison?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not a bit of it, dear boy! The finest medicine in the world! Only in +that particular bottle there was a little too much jalap, and, taking +it on the top of such a dinner as you'd been eating, it a little upset +you--that was all."</p> + +<p class="normal">That was all?</p> + +<p class="normal">I thought of how those doctors had spent the night in practising on us +their dreadful arts, of their bills, and----that was all.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_willyum" href="#div1Ref_willyum">WILLYUM.</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">I had been seated in the next chair to hers for at least two minutes. +I felt that it was time to introduce myself.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's a fine evening."</p> + +<p class="normal">She turned, she looked me up and down, then she looked straight in +front of her again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know you."</p> + +<p class="normal">But I was not to be crushed; there was something about the shape of +her that which suggested sociability.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is my misfortune, rather than my fault."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know nothing at all about that. I do not speak to strangers +as a rule. Sometimes there's never no knowing who they are."</p> + +<p class="normal">I felt that I was getting on--so I went on.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you think of the band?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's not loud enough for me. I like a band as I can hear."</p> + +<p class="normal">One suspected there might be occasions on which one could almost like +a band which one could not hear, but I did not say so. That broke the +ice, and the conversation drifting on to personal topics she explained +to me that she had a young man, who, so to speak, was "resting," owing +to what she called a "difference" which she had had with him. It +struck me that the tale, as she told it, contained elements of +tragedy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bakers," she observed, "is what I like. I have a sister who likes +butchers. To me there's always the smell of the meat about a butcher. +But it's as you're made. The worst of bakers is, they're such a +thirsty lot."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Possibly," I suggested, "that is in a measure owing to the nature of +their occupation."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That may be, but still there is a limit, and when a man is always +drinking, I think it's time for him to stop."</p> + +<p class="normal">I thought so too, but she went on:</p> + +<p class="normal">"My young man, his name is Willyum Evans, is a baker, and him and me +have been walking out together four years come next month. So I said +to him, 'Willyum, it's my day out, Tuesday. I shall expect you to take +me somewhere.' So he said, 'I will.' So I said, 'Hyde Park Corner, +half-past ten.' I was there as the clock was striking, and a fine +scuffle I had to get there too; and, if you'll believe me, he kept me +waiting two hours and three-quarters by the clock what's over the +gatekeeper's lodge--which is longer than any gentleman ought to keep a +lady waiting, I don't care who he is. So when he did come, I was a bit +huffy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So I said, 'Well, Willyum, I hope I've put you to no hurry, and it's +a pity you should have troubled yourself to come at this time of day, +seeing as how I'm just off home.' So he said, and he wiped his lips, +and I could see he had had a moistener, if not more, 'It's like +this--I accidentally had an appointment, which was of the nature of +business, and which I couldn't help; and that's how it is I'm a little +behind!' 'I see,' I said, 'and it had something to do with pint pots, +I have no doubt.' So he sat down on a seat, which was wet, owing to +there being a drizzle on, and as it seemed silly for me to stand +whilst he was sitting, I sat down likewise.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So there we sat, neither of us saying nothing, till I began to feel a +little damp, because I had my thin things on, and it was beginning to +come down heavy. So I said, 'Well, Willyum, have you forgotten it's my +day out? I thought you was going to take me somewhere.' He said, 'So I +am.' So I said, 'Where are you going to take me to? It's getting on, +and I'm likewise getting wet'--which I was. So he said, 'What do you +say to Battersea Park?' So I said, 'I say nothing. And the idea, +Willyum, of your talking about taking me to Battersea Park, when, as +you very well know, it is raining cats and dogs, is not what I +expected'-because, as he could very well see, I only had a parasol, +which was red, and the rain was coming through, and the colour coming +out. But he didn't care for the rain no more than nothing; because, as +I tell you, he being a baker, to him it was a kind of a change.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You must know that Willyum is that near about money that I never saw +nothing like him; not that it's a bad thing in a man, though it may be +carried too far and I must say I do think Willyum do carry it too far. +He has never given me nothing which he didn't want me to pay for, not +even half a pint of beer. So I was not surprised when he said, 'The +fact is Matilda'--which is me--'I haven't got no money.' 'Well,' I +said, 'that's a nice thing, to promise to take me out, and then to +have no money.' So he said, 'If you was to pay the expenses for both +the two of us, it might make things more pleasant.' So I said, 'No, I +thank you,' because I had been had that way before, and more than +once. So I got up, and I said, 'Well, Willyum, I will now wish you a +good day; because I have been here since half-past ten, and it +is now past two, and my clothes is sticking to me, and I don't +care to stop no longer.' So he said, 'Now, Matilda, don't you get +disagreeable'--which I was beginning to feel it, and so I own. 'We +are both of us having a day out,' he said, 'and don't let no bad +tempers spoil our pleasure. I may have some money somewhere, +unbeknown to myself, so I will look and see; though I must say I do +think it hard that all the expenses should be borne by me!'</p> + +<p class="normal">"So he begins feeling in his pockets, and, presently, he gives a kind +of a start, and he brings out half-a-crown. 'There,' he said, 'is +half-a-crown; and if you put five shillings to it, it will make it +seven and six!' 'No!' I said, 'I shall put no five shillings of mine +to no half-crown of yours, and so the least said the soonest mended. +And, if you don't mind, I will go and get myself something to eat, +being hungry, and having, I am thankful to say, money of my own with +which to pay for it.' Then he gives another kind of start, and he +says, 'There! If I didn't make a pasty for you, last night, with my +own hands, and I've been sitting on it all the time,' which he had, +and anything like the mess he'd made of it you never saw. He held it +out to me. 'No,' I said. 'I thank you. I am particular about my +vittles, and I never eat no scraps, and, still less, things what have +been sat down upon.' 'Well,' he said, 'it's a pity it should be +wasted, I'll eat it myself.' Which he did, and me standing in the rain +there looking on. That did put my back up. 'Mr. Evans,' I said, short +and sharp, 'I wish you a good day. I am going.' So I goes. And he +comes running after me, picking at the bits of pasty what was stuck to +the paper; I must say this for Willyum, that it takes a deal to get +his temper up. So I pulls up. 'Now, let us understand each other. +Willyum, if you please, are you going to pay for something for me to +eat, or are you not?' He gives himself a kind of a shake, so as to get +his courage up, and he says, 'You shall have anything you like to eat, +at my expense, Matilda, so long as the cost does not exceed'--then he +hesitated--'ninepence.' Then he gave himself another kind of shake, +which I took as a sign that his courage was running down, 'for both +the two of us.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"That made me fairly wild it really did. To think that he had promised +to take me somewhere, and that I had been more than three hours there +in the rain, and got wet through, and my things all spoiled--which it +was a new dress I had on, what I had got special for the occasion, and +it had only come home from the dressmaker's the day before--and the +colour was coming out of my parasol--which was likewise new--and my +hair all coming out of curl, and me feeling as limp as a rag, +and starving hungry, and that he should want to put me off with +fourpence-halfpenny worth of food, drawn from him as if it were his +eye-tooth--it did make me feel really wild.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I never said a word to him, but I walks right out of the park. He +comes running after me, and he catches hold of my arm and he says, +'Now, Matilda, what did I say just now about letting no bad tempers +spoil our pleasure?' I said, 'I don't know what your idea of pleasure +is, but it isn't mine, and as I don't want to have no more to do with +you, Mr. Evans, perhaps you will be so kind as to let me go.' But he +holds on to me all the tighter, and he says, 'I tell you what, +Matilda, a idea has just come into my head 'My brother, as you have +heard me talk about, lives close by here, we will go and dine with +him. He being a married man, and with a comfortable home, he will be +glad to see us.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, I didn't know what to do, not liking to have no quarrel with +him in the street, so off we starts for his brother's. He took me to a +mews what led out of Park Lane, and, as we was turning the corner, he +said, 'There's only this one thing about my brother, him and me has +had a little difference of opinion, and he is not of a forgiving +disposition.' So I said, 'Now, Willyum, what do you mean by that?' So +he said, 'No. 32, on the other side, is where he lives, and if you was +to go on and knock at the door, and ask for Mrs. Henry Evans, what is +my brother's wife, so to speak, it might smooth the way.' So I said, +'I do not understand you. Just now you was saying as how your brother +would be glad to see us. Are you now insinuating otherwise?' He +catches a glimpse of my eye, and he sees the kind of mood I was in, +and he plucks up, and he walks on, and he says, 'We will hope for the +best. Do not let us spoil our day's pleasure by no disagreeable +observations. There is never no knowing what might happen.' All of a +sudden he cries out, 'There is my brother! Now, Matilda, don't you let +him start hitting me.' And he jumps behind me, so as to get into the +shadow, as it were. So I says, 'Willyum, whatever is the matter now? +Your conduct do seem to me to be of the most extraordinary character.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"And there was a great big giant of a man on the other side of the +road, washing a carriage, with a bucket of water and I don't know +what, and as I moves on one side he catches sight of Willyum, and +anything like the way in which he started swearing you never heard. +'Hollo' he says, 'there's that putty-faced brother of mine. I've been +looking for you for some time. Here's something for you, Willyum.' And +before I had no idea of what he was going to do, he catches up the +bucket of water and he throws it over Willyum, and some of it went +over me. Oh, dear me, you never saw nothing like the mess that I was +in! And he grabs hold of Willyum by the collar, and he says, 'Hang me +if I don't wipe down the street with you!' And he shouts out, +''Enrietta, here's Brother Willyum. Haven't you got anything for him? +You bet your life he's come for something.' And a window opens over +the way, and a woman puts her head out, and she empties something out +of a pail over Willyum, and again some of it went over me. Oh dear! oh +dear! And that giant of a man he set about Willyum something cruel; +and all the mews was in a uproar, and I hurried away as hard as ever I +could, I was that frightened, and I got into a cab, just as I was--and +you should have seen how the cabman stared, and drove right away to a +sister of mine what lives at Camberwell, and I nearly cried my eyes +out, and I've never spoken to Willyum nor set eyes on him since then, +which it's a fortnight the day after to-morrow, and if you had been in +my place, and had been treated as I was, would you have let things go +on as usual, just as if there hadn't been no difference?"</p> + +<p class="normal">No, I said, I should not. I should have insisted on their going on in +quite a different kind of way.</p> + +<p class="normal">And so I told her.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_first" href="#div1Ref_first">HIS FIRST EXPERIMENT.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4>THE LADY.</h4> +<br> +<p class="normal">Last winter George Pownceby spent some weeks at the Empire Hotel. One +morning he was coming along the corridor leading from the smoking-room +when he met Mrs. Pratt. The lady stopped.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is that you have in your hand?" she asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby had in his hand a slim pamphlet, in a green paper cover. +He held it up.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've got it!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I say!"</p> + +<p class="normal">These remarks are not given here as examples of English conversation, +but with a view of presenting the reader with an accurate report of +what was spoken. There was a pause. Then the lady said, with great +solemnity:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"You don't mean to say that it has actually come?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do!" Mr. Pownceby held out the slim pamphlet at arm's length in +front of him. He pointed at it with the index-finger of his other +hand: "'How to Hypnotise. A Practical Treatise. Hints to Amateurs. +With full instructions for marvellous experiments. Price 7d. post +free, eight stamps.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, Mr. Pownceby, I am so sorry."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sorry, Mrs. Pratt! Why, it was, at your instigation I plunged to the +extent of those eight stamps."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But you don't understand; my husband's coming; I have to meet him at +the station at 12.32." Mr. Pownceby stroked his moustache; there was +not much, but he was fond of stroking what there was of it. Mrs. +Pratt's husband had been rather a joke. People who winter in hotels +are, as a rule, quite prepared to be epigrammatic at the expense of a +pretty married woman whose husband is not in evidence. And Mrs. +Pratt's husband had not been in evidence--as yet.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't quite follow you." Mr. Pownceby spoke with a little malice. +"Whence your sorrow? Because your husband is coming by the 12.32?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't you see, I want to be the first to be experimented on. I've +been waiting for that book two days, and now it just comes when I +can't stay. Don't' you think there's time? Come into my sitting-room."</p> + +<p class="normal">They went into her sitting-room. When they were there, the lady again +assailed the gentleman with the inquiry:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't you think there's time?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It depends. I think you're going too fast. To commence with, I've +been looking through the thing in the smoking-room, and I believe it's +a swindle."</p> + +<p class="normal">"A swindle! Oh, don't say that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's nothing but a hash of old mesmeric tricks I've seen performed at +country fairs."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But doesn't it tell you how to do them?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It pretends to. It gives some ridiculous directions--but I don't +believe they can be done that way."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Try!--do!--on me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby laughed. Mrs. Pratt amused him; and not for the first +time either.</p> + +<p class="normal">"To begin with, we have to sit face to face and stare at each other +for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come along! Let's begin."</p> + +<p class="normal">The lady brought forward a couple of chairs and they sat down on them, +face to face; and very close together. Opening the pamphlet, Mr. +Pownceby searched for further instructions.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You're not staring at me," remarked the lady.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Half a minute; I'm looking for what comes next."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What does it say? Read it aloud."</p> + +<p class="normal">"After I've stared at you long enough----It doesn't sound civil, does +it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never mind the civility; go on!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"'After I've stared at you long enough, you begin to feel queer. +Then'"--Mr. Pownceby read from the pamphlet, "'Place the thumb of your +left hand on the subject's forehead'--you're the subject--'just above +the nose, and level with the eyebrows.'" Mrs. Pratt placed her pretty +little hand above her pretty little nose to point out the exact spot +denoted. Mr. Pownceby read on. "'This is the locality of the +Phrenological Organ of Individuality.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it?" said Mrs. Pratt in an awe-struck whisper. The reader +continued:</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Rest the ends of your fingers on the top of the subject's head. At +the same time take hold of the left hand with your right hand, applying +the inside part of your thumb to the middle of the palm of the hand.' +I'm punctuating this," interpolated Mr. Pownceby, "as I go on. The man +who printed it seems to have had a fount of type containing no other +stops but commas. 'The object of this is for the operator to get in +contact with two very important nerves that pass in the palm of the +hand which are called Ulnar and Median nerves'--I don't know if that's +true, or what it means, but it says so here--'with your left hand, +still keeping the thumb on the forehead between the eyes, and the +fingers resting on the subject's head, which must be inclined slightly +back. Say, "Look into my eyes." After gazing in his eyes intently for +a few seconds, say in a loud, clear, firm tone of voice, "Close your +eyes quite tight." Let him remain a few seconds like this,'--and the +trick is done. There's a lot more nonsense to follow, but when +you've remained for a few seconds like that you're supposed to be +mesmerised, or hypnotised, or whatever they call the thing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Really! It sounds quite simple."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It does--simple folly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hush! You shouldn't speak like that. Perhaps, if you don't believe, +you mayn't succeed."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It says something to that effect in these precious pages."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then try to believe. Let us begin."</p> + +<p class="normal">They began. The lady was preternaturally solemn, but the gentleman was +tortured by a desire to smile. He felt that the lady might resent his +laughter. Under these circumstances the ten minutes' stare was trying. +Mrs. Pratt had sweet blue eyes, which were large and round--the sort +of eyes which the average man would not object to stare at for ten +minutes or even longer. As the appointed space of time drew to a +conclusion even Mr. Pownceby became reconciled to his lot. He placed +his left thumb on the lady's forehead above her nose.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that level with my eyebrows?" she inquired. He reproved her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't think you ought to speak. You destroy the connection."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Pratt was dumb. Mr. Pownceby proceeded in accordance with the +directions contained in the pamphlet. He rested the tips of his +fingers on the top of the lady's head. He took hold of her left hand +with his right. He applied the "inside part" of his thumb to the +centre of her palm. He said to her:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look into my eyes."</p> + +<p class="normal">She looked into his eyes, her head inclined a little backwards. This +part of the proceedings was, so far as the gentleman was concerned, on +the whole agreeable. He gazed fixedly into her pretty eyes. Then he +added, in a "loud, clear, firm tone of voice":</p> + +<p class="normal">"Close your eyes quite tight."</p> + +<p class="normal">She closed her eyes. There was a pause for a few seconds. Remembering +the instructions contained in the pamphlet, he proceeded another step:</p> + +<p class="normal">"You cannot open your eyes," he said. "Your eyes are fast, quite +fast."</p> + +<p class="normal">The pamphlet had it, "Should the subject be very sensitive he will be +unable to open them." Apparently the subject, though in this case +feminine, was very sensitive. At least Mrs. Pratt kept her eyes shut +fast. Mr. Pownceby was a little startled. He removed his touch from +her brow and released her hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mrs. Pratt, are you hypnotised already?" Mrs. Pratt was silent. "Mrs. +Pratt, you don't mean you're really hypnotised?" Still silence. He +leant forward and stared at the lady, not in the same way he had done +before, but quite as fixedly. "By Jove! I believe she is!" He got up +from the chair. He glanced at the pamphlet. He wanted to know how to +reverse the process--how to bring the lady to again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This is a pretty state of things! The thing is not such a swindle as +I thought it was. But it's all nonsense. She can't be magnetised, or +mesmerised, or hypnotised, or whatever it is. If she is, the thing's +as easy as winking. If I'd only known it I'd have been mesmerising +people since the days of childhood. Mrs. Pratt!"</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mrs. Pratt was silent. If she was not "hypnotised," then she was +in some condition which was equally curious. She sat back in her +chair, with her face turned up to the ceiling, in a state of the most +complete quiescence. Something in her appearance struck Mr. Pownceby +as even unpleasantly odd. He recommenced searching down the page of +the green covered pamphlet for the reversal process. It was +beautifully simple.</p> + +<p class="normal">"In order to release him," the pamphlet said--throughout the writer +had taken it for granted that the "subject" would be masculine--"blow +a sharp, cold wind from your mouth on his eyes, and say with +authority, 'Now you can open them.' Repeat if necessary. It is +important to recollect that a cold wind blown from the operator +destroys the effect and demagnetises."</p> + +<p class="normal">One could not but suspect that some subjects might not like this. But +its simplicity was charming. If that was all that was necessary, then, +so far as Mr. Pownceby was concerned, the whole science of hypnotism +was already mastered.</p> + +<p class="normal">He approached Mrs. Pratt. He bent over her, devoutly hoping that no +one might enter the room as he was engaged in doing so. Quite a shock +went through him as he advanced his face towards hers, the expression +of her countenance was so very much like death. He blew a "cold wind" +on her eyes--those pretty blue eyes, whose cerulean hue he had veiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now you can open them."</p> + +<p class="normal">The words were spoken with as much "authority" as he could muster in +the then agitated state of his mind; but Mrs. Pratt did not open them. +The pamphlet said, "Repeat if necessary." Mr. Pownceby repeated. He +blew, and he blew. He blew the "cold wind" all out of him, so that the +beads of perspiration stood upon his brow, but still the "subject" +gave no signs.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mrs. Pratt! Mrs. Pratt! I say, Mrs. Pratt, for heaven's sake do look +at me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">All signs of "authority" had gone from him now. But wind and voice +alike were ineffectual. Apparently it was easier to hypnotise than to +do the other thing. In his trouble Mr. Pownceby told himself that the +writer of that pamphlet was--well, untrustworthy. Or else something +had gone wrong in the working. But what could it be? He looked at his +watch.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Half-past twelve! I shall have her husband here directly. I imagine +that he will make some observations if he finds his wife like this."</p> + +<p class="normal">Such a contingency was only to be expected. When a man, after long +absence from his wife, returns to find a stranger experimenting on +her, and she in a "hypnotic" condition, from which the stranger cannot +release her, his first feelings towards that stranger are not, in +civilised countries, invariably friendly. Mr. Pownceby, when he had +blown the "cold wind" all out of him, arrived at a resolution.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will tell Doris. I must get her to help me. It is quite certain +that, whatever happens, I mustn't let that man come and find me alone +with his wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was only the dread of such a catastrophe that brought him to the +"sticking-point" of his resolution. Miss Haseltine--christened +Doris--was Mr. Pownceby's betrothed. She also was wintering in the +hotel with her mamma. Mr. Pownceby was aware, even painfully aware, +that the young lady's feelings towards Mrs. Pratt were not of the +warmest possible kind. He was equally conscious that her impression +was that his feelings were, if anything, <i>too</i> warm. He would rather +anything had happened, almost, than that he should have been reduced +to the necessity of acquainting Miss Haseltine with the situation he +was in. But it was certainly impossible for him to allow the returning +husband to come in and find him there, alone with his wife, and she +apparently in a chronic hypnotic condition.</p> + +<p class="normal">So he went in search of the young lady. Of course he found her where +he would have least wished to find her--in the drawing-room with the +ladies. He had to call her out, and at first she wouldn't come.</p> + +<p class="normal">But as it would have been impossible for him to tell his tale in the +presence of a dozen sharp-eared and sharp-tongued women, he protested +that there was something of the utmost importance which he must say to +her alone. "Well, what is it?" she asked, directly he had got her +outside the door. He perceived that she was not in one of her +sentimental moods. Perhaps something in his manner had roused her +suspicions.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mrs. Pratt has fainted."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Indeed? What has that to do with me? Let her faint. She looks to me +as though she were the sort of person who could faint at pleasure."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Doris, for goodness' sake hear me out; I want your help. It's through +me she's fainted."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pray what do you mean?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's--it's this confounded thing." Mr. Pownceby held out the slim, +green-covered pamphlet. "You know I told you I'd written for that +pamphlet, 'How to Hypnotise.' Well, the thing came this morning; here +it is! I've been experimenting on her, and I've not only hypnotised +her, but, by George, I can't get her round again."</p> + +<p class="normal">"A pretty state of things, upon my word."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't pitch into me now, Doris, don't. There she is in her +sitting-room in a fit or something; I don't know what's the matter +with her; and her husband's coming this morning."</p> + +<p class="normal">"He is coming at last, is he?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I expect him every moment; he's due at 12.32."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She seems to have told you all about it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She told me so much, at any rate. I know I've been an ass, I can see +that now, but lend me a hand first, and let me have it afterwards. I +was obliged to come to you. I couldn't let him find me alone with her +in such a state as that. Come and see what you can do for her, there's +a darling, do! After all, it's for me, you know, not her."</p> + +<p class="normal">Miss Haseltine yielded so far as to advance with him along the +corridor. There was a fresh arrival when they reached the hall--a +gentleman. He was speaking to the young lady, who acted as +book-keeper, through the office window.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My name is Pratt--Gilead J. Pratt. I believe my wife is staying +here."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby clutched Miss Haseltine's arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's he!" he whispered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There is a Mrs. Pratt staying here," replied the book-keeper. "Her +sitting-room is No. 13."</p> + +<p class="normal">The new arrival was about to be ushered into No. 13, when Mr. Pownceby +interposed. He hurried across the hall and touched him on the +shoulder. "Excuse me, may I speak to you? My name is Pownceby."</p> + +<p class="normal">The new arrival turned and faced him. As he did so Mr. Pownceby +perceived, a little dimly perhaps, what sort of a man he was. He was +of medium height, slightly built, about forty years of age, very dark, +with a clean-shaven face and a pair of keen black eyes, which looked +at Mr. Pownceby as though they meant to pierce him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Delighted to hear you speak, or any man, even if his name's not +Pownceby."</p> + +<p class="normal">Directly the words were spoken Mr. Pownceby became conscious that the +new arrival was an American.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I believe you are Mr. Pratt--Mrs. Pratt's husband."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am--worse luck."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Eh--she intended to meet you at 12.32."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She did, did she? That's her all through. As she used to be. She +never did get farther than intentions. It is about two years since I +saw her, and I don't see her now. Have you a message to deliver? Does +she desire that I should go away for another two years? If so, I'm +willing."</p> + +<p class="normal">As this was said out loud, without the slightest attempt at +concealment, so that every word was audible, not only to Mr. Pownceby, +to whom the remarks were addressed, but also to Miss Haseltine, and +the book-keeper, and the porter, and the boots, and the waiter, and +the chambermaid, and any other straggler who might happen to be within +fifty yards or so, it would seem that in her husband Mrs. Pratt +possessed a man of character. But Mr. Pownceby was not fond of such +publicity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Can I say a word to you alone?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, sir, you cannot. If you have a message from my wife, say it. If +not, lead on to No. 13."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The fact is, Mr. Pratt, eh--Mrs. Pratt is not--eh--quite well."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that so? I'm glad to hear it. It's a comfort to know that only +sickness would keep her from her husband; though it wouldn't need much +of that to keep her from a chance of seeing me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The fact is, I wish, Mr. Pratt, you would let me speak to you alone."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, sir, I will not. If she's dead, don't spare my feelings. If she +has left me for a better man, don't spare my feelings either."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The fact is, she's in a hypnotic state."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In a what state?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"A hypnotic state."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What state's that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Hypnotic' 's a new word--it's been brought in lately--it means +'mesmeric.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pratt paused before replying. He looked Mr. Pownceby up and down.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look here, Mr. ---- I think you mentioned Pownceby; I don't know who +you are, but you seem a friendly kind of man. Take my advice and get +something off your chest. I see you've got it on."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby smiled, rather faintly. He did not lack presence of mind, +as a rule, though just then the situation was as much as he could +manage. He made a dash at it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I wish you would give me half a minute alone; but, since you will +not, I must try to tell my story where we are. You see this book?" Mr. +Pownceby held up the fatal treatise. "It contains instructions for the +performance of mesmeric experiments. Mrs. Pratt insisted on my +performing one of them on her. I succeeded in producing the mesmeric +state, but I--I couldn't get her out of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a curious twinkle in Mr. Pratt's eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't catch on," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I say that I hypnotised her--that is, produced the mesmeric state, +but that I--I couldn't get her out of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"She's in it now."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In what?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The mesmeric state."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Does she seem to like it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is more than I can say. I had just induced Miss Haseltine to +come to my assistance when we were so fortunate as to encounter you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then I am to understand that when she ought to have been at the depôt +looking out for me, she was engaged in looking out for the mesmeric +state along with you; is that so?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm afraid it is."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where is she?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"In her sitting-room, No. 13."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lead on to No. 13."</p> + +<p class="normal">The procession started. The waiter went first, Mr. Pratt next, and +after him Miss Haseltine and Mr. Pownceby. Miss Haseltine's demeanour +was severe. Either her severity or something else seemed to weigh upon +her lover, who did not appear to be altogether at his ease. They +reached No. 13. The waiter knocked. There was no reply. He knocked +again; still no reply. Mr. Pratt turned towards Mr. Pownceby.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I guess she's still in that state of yours. I think we'll all go in." +He turned the handle of the door and entered. "I guess she's quitted."</p> + +<p class="normal">The room was empty.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h4>AND THE GENTLEMAN.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">It was undoubtedly the case, unless they were to suppose that she had +hidden under the sofa, or behind the curtains. Mr. Pownceby looked +about him, conscious of a slight feeling of bewilderment. There were +the two chairs, exactly as he left them, but the one which Mrs. Pratt +had occupied was vacant.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's very odd," he murmured.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"She was certainly unconscious when I left her."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps the knowledge that she was failing in her duty as a wife came +to her in that mesmeric state; came to her so strongly that she +started off to the depôt, just then and there, to look for me. If +she's at the depôt now, in the state you say she was, I guess she'll +soon be popular."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't you think I'd better go and look for her?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do not. If she's gone, she's gone, and if she comes back again she +comes, but I'm not the man to put my friends out for a trifle. My +friend, if you will allow me to call you so, give me your hand." +Before Mr. Pownceby was quite aware of it, Mr. Pratt had possession of +his hand. "I thank you. You have placed me under an obligation to you +this day. But it may be that I shall cry you evens yet. Let's liquor. +Perhaps the young lady will pool in?" Miss Haseltine, however, making +some inaudible remark having reference to her mamma, vanished out of +sight. Mr. Pratt was not at all abashed. He addressed the waiters. +"Champagne--a large bottle--and a bucket of ice."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby protested.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are very kind, but I don't drink at this hour of the day, and +only so----"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pratt cut him short.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fetch the drink." The waiter fled. "If, after performing those +pleasing experiments on the wife, you refuse to drink with the +husband, I shall take it quite unkindly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But don't you think some inquiries ought to be made for Mrs. Pratt?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do not. What I do think is that I ought to cultivate your +friendship now that I have the chance. A man who knows the wife so +well should know something of the husband too."</p> + +<p class="normal">The drink came. Mr. Pratt saw two bumpers filled. Mr. Pownceby, who +was an abstemious man, had a difficulty in escaping being compelled to +drain his draught.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bring another bottle when I ring," said Mr. Pratt as the waiter left +the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">The two gentlemen were left alone. Mr. Pownceby still did not feel +quite easy in his mind. Champagne generally disagreed with him at any +time, always in the morning. He had some glimmerings of an idea that, +if he refused to drink, Mr. Pratt would seek in his refusal an +occasion to quarrel. He had heard and read of some curious customs in +the States; how, for instance, to refuse, under certain circumstances, +to drink with a citizen of the Great Republic was to place on him an +insult which could only be wiped out by blood--blood in which +six-shooters played a part. He half suspected that Mr. Pratt was a +citizen like that. Certainly he was unlike any American he had seen. +His indifference to his wife's fate was almost brutal. Mr. Pownceby +felt this, but he also felt that it was impossible for him to insist +on making inquiries if the husband declined to sanction them. Nor was +his uneasiness lessened by Mr. Pratt's appearance of entire ease. That +gentleman leaned back in his chair--the one his wife had occupied--his +summer coat unbuttoned, his hat tilted on to the back of his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So you hypnotised my wife?" Mr. Pownceby smiled faintly; the subject +was beginning to be unpleasant. "Hypnotise me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby started.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose you're joking?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why? My wife had an inquiring mind, why shouldn't I have too? Perhaps +you prefer trying those sort of experiments on wives rather than on +their husbands."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby was not quite sure if this remark was intended +disagreeably. It made him wince.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps you think I have been trying these experiments all my life. +Until this pamphlet was brought by this morning's post I knew no more +about hypnotism than you do. My first experiment was tried, at her own +urgent request, upon your wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I take after her; I'm fond of experiments too. That book must be a +treasure. Oblige me with a glance at it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby handed it to him. Mr. Pratt began reading at the end.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's a nice little bit as a finish." Mr. Pratt read it aloud: "'In +conclusion, I would earnestly ask all my readers to remember that this +valuable science should not be abused, especially in the case of +females, and that, in all cases when making experiments, they should +have friends or other persons present.' That's sound advice. Did you +notice it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I think it caught my eye!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby seemed a little fidgety. Mr. Pratt turned to the +beginning.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I see it mentions that the subject is to stare at the operator, and +the operator is to stare at the subject, for about ten minutes or a +quarter of an hour. Did you work the thing like that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I followed, to the best of my ability, the instructions contained in +the pamphlet."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Did you stare at my wife?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It sounds uncivil, but I'm afraid I did."</p> + +<p class="normal">"For ten minutes or a quarter of an hour?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"About that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And did my wife stare at you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby laughed. He was conscious that Mr. Pratt's line of +examination was tending to place him in a false position.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I perceive you've marked this work with your pencil where it says, +'Place the thumb of your left hand on the subject's forehead, just +above the nose, and level with the eyebrows.' Did you place the thumb +of your left hand on my wife's forehead just above the nose, level +with the eyebrows?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Really, Mr. Pratt, I can only say that, with the view of making a +little experiment, I followed, to the best of my ability, the +instructions generally."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You seem to have seen the thing well through. It says that you've +next to rest the ends of your fingers on the top of the subject's +head. Did you rest the ends of your fingers on the top of my wife's +head?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You may take it for granted that I did whatever the book directs."</p> + +<p class="normal">"May I? That's kind. You increase my sense of obligation. Then you're +to say to the subject, 'Look into my eyes.' Did you ask my wife to +look into your eyes?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I did--certainly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Certainly. Of course. You're thorough--like the book. The man who put +this book together had seen it done before. Then you're to say, 'Close +your eyes quite tight.' Did you tell my wife to close her eyes quite +tight?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I did. It was at that point that she went off into the hypnotic +state."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Was it now? This is really interesting. And what did you do next?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I tried to bring her to."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, hark at that! And after all the trouble you had taken to send +her off. And did she come?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am sorry to say, as I have already explained to you, that my +efforts were not attended with success."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That was mean of her--real mean. And I suppose that, when you were +performing these little experiments of yours upon my wife, this room +was filled with a large assemblage?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"We were alone together. I wish, now, it had been otherwise."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"After the questions you have already put to me, that needs no +answer."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Think not? Well, let me fill up your glass for you, Mr. Pownceby."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am obliged to you, but must beg you to excuse me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that so? You don't show yourself so friendly towards me as towards +my wife. Perhaps, Mr. Pownceby, you're not aware that for the last two +years I've been trotting round the world picking up the pieces to +throw into her lap. She's English, and I'm American. She's not at all +times fond of me, and we sometimes differ; but I love her, in my way. +So you may think that when the first thing I hear, when I come to +catch a sight of her after a two years' parting, is this little tale +of yours, I find it a pleasing tale entirely. I find it that, I do +assure you. Now, the only thing I should like you to do would be to +play those little tricks on me which you played upon my wife. I should +like to be hypnotised, uncommonly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If I were to attempt to do so I don't think that I should succeed. +But, in any case, after my experience of this morning, it will be a +long time before I make any more experiments on any one."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that so? Think it over, Mr. Pownceby, while I lock this door and +slip the key into my pocket."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pratt locked the door and "slipped," as he called it, the key into +his pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Pratt, I insist upon your unlocking that door."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Pownceby, I was raised out West, and I was raised fighting, and I +learnt to smell a fight when it was coming, and there's as big a fight +now coming as ever I yet smelt."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why do you use this language, sir, to me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's my ignorance, may be. But in those parts where I was raised, +when one man played upon another man's wife the tricks you've played +on mine, it generally ended up in fighting. You bet it's going to end +in fighting now." Mr. Pownceby made a movement towards the bell. Mr. +Pratt sprang in front of him. "You can ring the bell, sir, afterwards; +but first you'll listen to me. They'll have to break the door down to +get into this room, and that'll be a scandal; and while they're +breaking it down I'll be whipping you. You'd better, take it fighting. +I've got a shooter." Putting his hand to his pistol-pocket, Mr. Pratt +flashed the barrel of a revolver in Mr. Pownceby's face. "But I know +your English notions, and I don't want to use it in a little affair +like this. Let's strip to the waist, and clear the furniture out of +the middle of the room, and have a little prize-fight all to +ourselves."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you take me for a madman, Mr. Pratt? If you don't immediately +unlock the door I shall summon assistance, and if you use any violence +towards me, I shall give you into the charge of the police."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that your line? That's mine!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dropping the hand which held the revolver, Mr. Pratt delivered with +his left. Delivered so neatly, in the centre of Mr. Pownceby's +forehead, that that gentleman was hurled backwards on to the floor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you like you can take it lying down, and you can summon assistance +while you are taking it; but you'll take it somehow--that you bet."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby, lying on the floor, looked up at Mr. Pratt standing over +him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let me get up." He got up. The blow had cut the skin, and the blood +was trickling through. With his handkerchief he staunched the flow. +"In America, Mr. Pratt, they may think the sort of thing that you +propose heroic. In England they consider a row of any sort +ridiculous."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Consider! It isn't what they consider I'm thinking of, it's how +you're going to take it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby fixed his glance on Mr. Pratt's keen black eyes. He +smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Take it? I'll take it fighting, like the converter of Colonel Quagg!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I thought you would. I smelt it coming on."</p> + +<p class="normal">As he spoke Mr. Pratt placed his revolver on the mantelshelf. Mr. +Pownceby was still smiling.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you propose to settle it now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do. I propose to settle it before you leave this room."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In that case don't you think we'd better pull the blind down, or +people walking on the terrace will be able to see the fun? If we are +going to make asses of ourselves, we may as well do it, as far as +possible, in private."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pratt pulled the blind down. The sun was shining outside. The room +was still quite light.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I guess," said Mr. Pratt, "we had better clear the furniture out of +the middle of the room."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby assisted him in doing so, what little there was to clear. +The bottle of champagne and the two glasses they placed with the +revolver on the mantelshelf. They then proceeded to strip. As they +were doing so Mr. Pownceby asked a question.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How shall we manage about time?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"We will call time when we feel we want it. You understand, this is +not only a fight; it's a whipping. I'm whipping you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby smiled as he answered: "I understand exactly."</p> + +<p class="normal">When they were in position there was not much, so far as appearance +went, for a lover of the "fancy" to choose between the two. Now that +they were peeled, both seemed thoroughly fit--as fit almost as though +they had been trained. Mr. Pownceby was fair, Mr. Pratt was dark; that +was about the only difference. Both would have turned the scale at +something near eleven stone, and both measured something under five +foot eight. Nor did it take long to show that both could use their +hands. There was none of that waiting for each other which so often +tries the patience of the spectators round a ring. Mr. Pratt came at +once to business; with, perhaps, rather too much self-confidence. He +was apparently under the impression that it was going to be a case of +whipping his opponent from the first; which was the reason, doubtless, +that Mr. Pownceby succeeded in returning the compliment which had been +paid himself, and landing Mr. Pratt upon his back. That gentleman +seemed surprised.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I say," he asked, lying where he had fallen, "what's this?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby replied politely: "I hope I haven't hurt you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You haven't hurt me--much. You've surprised me--more. I reckon we'll +continue."</p> + +<p class="normal">The proceedings recommenced. But this time Mr. Pratt had changed his +tactics. Instead of coming up with the apparent intention of wiping +his opponent off the face of the earth with a single blow, he played +his game more cautiously. He fenced; but, becoming tired of this, and +feeling possibly that the whipping was not proceeding fast enough, he +led off with his right, and followed on with his left, and Mr. +Pownceby countered and returned--returned with such effect that for +half a minute Mr. Pratt was dancing about while Mr. Pownceby was +performing on him much in the fashion which the regimental drummer +beats to quarters on his drum.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Time!" he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">The round was over. A pause ensued, during which his feelings were +plainly too deep for words.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you ever had a whipping before?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby smiled; it was evident that his smile was a smile of +enjoyment at last.</p> + +<p class="normal">"One or two," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Like this?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not exactly. In England we don't, as a rule, indulge in this form of +amusement in the private sitting-room of an hotel."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't you? Well, it's as well. I smelt that a big fight was coming, +and it's come. I'm going to enjoy myself entirely. You've closed up +one of my eyes, I should say, from the feel of it, for ever. You've +broken the bridge of my nose; what there'll be to pay for the blood +upon the carpet--there's a quart gone from me already--is more than I +quite care to think. Before I've finished whipping you I reckon I'll +be slain."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, Mr. Pratt, don't you think this foolish business had better +cease? If you require an apology I am willing to tender one in any +form you like. What passed between your wife and myself was simply in +the nature of a little scientific experiment."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It'll be in the nature of a little scientific experiment what's going +to pass between us too. I'm fond of experiments as well as you. Time!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pratt fell into position. He struck at Mr. Pownceby. Mr. Pownceby +laughed as he warded off the blow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, Mr. Pratt, why will you persist in this absurdity?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm going to whip you, sir."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In that case you really must excuse me for putting on the steam. If a +waiter or someone were to come and find me engaged like this, I should +never hear the last of it as long as I lived. Here goes!"</p> + +<p class="normal">It went. He had been warding off Mr. Pratt's blows while he was +speaking. When he ceased the battle really joined. Mr. Pratt's guards +were nowhere. In spite of all that he could do to save himself, his +antagonist proceeded to administer severe punishment in thoroughly +workmanlike style. The blows rang out upon his head and body. Mr. +Pownceby wound up with one under the chin which lifted him off his +feet and laid him on his back. He lay where he fell. The blow had +knocked him senseless. Mr. Pownceby proceeded to revive him with the +remains of the champagne.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This," he murmured, opening his eyes and looking up, "is nice."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby propped him up upon a chair.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You compelled me to rush the thing; but I hope I haven't hurt you +much."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well," said Mr. Pratt, "you haven't killed me--quite. I never enjoyed +whipping a man so much before. Say, stranger, is this the first little +fight you've had?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've sparred for the amateur championship, and won it twice. I'm +going in for it again next week."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You might have mentioned that before the game began."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If the inherent absurdity of your proposal could not deter you, I +doubt if any information I might have imparted would have been of much +avail."</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's something in that. Time!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pratt rose from his chair. He stood on his feet--rather +doubtfully.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Pownceby.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm going on whipping you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look here, Mr. Pratt, each time you stand up I shall simply knock you +down again. Of course you can go on with that sort of thing as long as +you like."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is so; I can. And that's a sort of thing of which one doesn't +care to get more than enough."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pratt rested his hand on the back of a chair. It seemed as though, +without some support of that kind, he could not stand. Mr. Pownceby +advanced to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Pratt, give me your hand."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pratt gave it to him, it would seem, mechanically. The two men +stood looking at each other in silence--the one almost without a +scratch, the other a battered ruin. While they were so engaged the +latch of the French window was opened from without, the blind was +thrust aside, and a lady entered. It was Mrs. Pratt. When she saw what +met her eyes she stared, which, as a breach of good manners, was, +under the circumstances, excusable.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Pownceby! Gilead! What have you been doing?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've been whipping him," said Mr. Pratt. "I must be off my ordinary, +for I never whipped a man that way before."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Pownceby slipped on his jacket. He helped Mr. Pratt to put on his.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's my fault, Mrs. Pratt. When I told your husband of our little +experiment and that I found myself unable to release you from the +hypnotic state which I had induced he thought I must have done you a +serious injury, and that he naturally resented."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Pratt looked at Mr. Pownceby. There was a twinkle of intelligence +in her sweet blue eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I see. Miss Haseltine is looking for you. You'll find her in the +drawing-room."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thank you," said Mr. Pownceby. "I--I'll go and look for her."</p> + +<p class="normal">As he sneaked out of the room, with his shirt and waistcoat under his +arm, devoutly hoping that no one might encounter him on his journey to +his own apartment, he heard Mrs. Pratt make this remark to her +husband--the first after two years absence:</p> + +<p class="normal">"So, Gilead, you've been at it again."</p> + +<p class="normal">He heard Mr. Pratt reply:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have. I was raised fighting, and I reckon that fighting I shall +die. If I have to whip that Pownceby again it is a certainty I shall."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_old" href="#div1Ref_old">AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS.</a></h2> +<br> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4>THE PROMISE.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"An old-fashioned Christmas.--A lively family will accept a gentleman +as paying guest to join them in spending an old-fashioned Christmas in +the heart of the country."</p> + +<p class="normal">That was the advertisement. It had its points. I was not sure what, in +this case, an old-fashioned Christmas might happen to mean. I imagine +there were several kinds of "old-fashioned" Christmases; but it could +hardly be worse than a chop in my chambers, or--horror of horrors!--at +the club; or my cousin Lucy's notion of what she calls the "festive +season." Festive? Yes! She and her husband, who suffers from +melancholia, and all the other complaints which flesh is heir to, and +I, dragging through what I call a patent-medicine dinner, and talking +of everybody who is dead and gone, or else going, and of nothing else.</p> + +<p class="normal">So I wrote to the advertiser. The reply was written in a sprawling +feminine hand. It was a little vague. It appeared that the terms would +be five guineas; but there was no mention of the length of time which +that fee would cover. I might arrive, it seemed, on Christmas Eve, but +there was no hint as to when I was to go, if ever. The whole thing was +a trifle odd. There was nothing said about the sort of accommodation +which would be provided, nothing about the kind of establishment which +was maintained, or the table which was kept. No references were +offered or asked for. It was merely stated that "we're a very lively +family, and that if you're lively yourself you'll get on uncommonly +well." The letter was signed "Madge Wilson."</p> + +<p class="normal">Now it is a remarkable thing that I have always had an extraordinary +predilection for the name Madge. I do not know why. I have never known +a Madge. And yet, from my boyhood upward, I have desired to meet one. +Here was an opportunity offered. She was apparently the careworn +mother of a "lively family." Under such circumstances she was hardly +likely to be "lively" herself, but her name was Madge, and it was the +accident of her Christian name which decided me to go.</p> + +<p class="normal">I had no illusions. No doubt the five guineas were badly wanted; even +a "lively family" would be hardly likely to advertise for a perfect +stranger to spend Christmas with them if they were not. I did not +expect a princely entertainment. Still I felt that it could hardly be +worse than a chop or cousin Lucy; the subjects of her conversation I +never cared about when they were alive, and I certainly do not want to +talk about them now they are dead. As for the "pills" and "drops" with +which her husband doses himself between the courses, it makes me ill +even to think of them.</p> + +<p class="normal">On Christmas Eve the weather was abominable. All night it had been +blowing and raining. In the morning it began to freeze. By the time +the streets were like so many skating rinks it commenced to snow. And +it kept on snowing; that turned out to be quite a record in the way of +snow-storms. Hardly the sort of weather to start for an unknown +destination "in the heart of the country." But, at the last moment, I +did not like to back out. I said I would go, and I meant to go.</p> + +<p class="normal">I had been idiot enough to load myself with a lot of Christmas +presents, without the faintest notion why. I had not given a Christmas +present for years--there had been no one to give them to. Lucy cannot +bear such trifling, and her husband's only notion of a present at any +time was a gallon jar of somebody's Stomach Stirrer. I am no dealer in +poisons.</p> + +<p class="normal">I knew nothing of the people I was going to. The youngest member of +the family might be twenty, or the oldest ten. No doubt the things I +had bought would be laughed at, probably I should never venture to +offer them. Still, if you have not tried your hand at that kind of +thing for ever so long, the mere act of purchasing is a pleasure. That +is a fact.</p> + +<p class="normal">I had never enjoyed "shopping" so much since I was a boy. I felt quite +lively myself as I mingled with the Christmas crowd, looking for +things which might not turn out to be absolutely preposterous. I even +bought something for Madge--I mean Mrs. Wilson. Of course, I knew that +I had no right to do anything of the kind, and was aware that the +chances were a hundred to one against my ever presuming to hint at its +existence. I was actually ass enough to buy something for her +husband--two things, indeed; alternatives, as it were--a box of +cigars, if he turned out to be a smoker, and a case of whiskey if he +didn't. I hoped to goodness that he would not prove to be a +hypochondriac, like Lucy's husband. I would not give him pills. What +the "lively family" would think of a perfect stranger arriving +burdened with rubbish, as if he had known them all their lives, I did +not dare to think. No doubt they would set him down as a lunatic right +away.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a horrible journey. The trains were late, and, of course, +overcrowded; there was enough luggage in our compartment to have +filled it, and still there was one more passenger than there ought to +have been; an ill-conditioned old fellow who wanted my hat-box put +into the van because it happened to tumble off the rack on to his +head. I pointed out to him that the rack was specially constructed for +light luggage, that a hat-box was light luggage, and that if the train +jolted, he ought to blame the company, not me. He was impervious to +reason. His wrangling and jangling so upset me, that I went past +the station at which I ought to have changed. Then I had to wait +three-quarters of an hour for a train to take me back again, only to +find that I had missed the one I intended to catch. So I had to cool +my heels for two hours and a half in a wretched cowshed amidst a +bitter, whirling snowstorm. It is some satisfaction for me to be able +to reflect that I made it warm for the officials, however cold I might +have been myself.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the train did start, some forty minutes after scheduled time, it +jolted along in a laborious fashion at the rate of about six miles an +hour, stopping at every roadside hovel. I counted seven in a distance, +I am convinced, of less than twenty miles. When at last I reached +Crofton, my journey's end, it turned out that the station staff +consisted of a half-witted individual, who was stationmaster, porter, +and clerk combined, and a hulking lad who did whatever else there was +to do. No one had come to meet me, the village was "about half a +mile," and Hangar Dene, the house for which my steps were bent, "about +four miles by the road"--how far it was across ploughed fields my +informant did not mention.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a trap at the "Boy and Blunderbuss," but that required +fetching. Finally the hulking lad was dispatched. It took him some +time, considering the distance was only "about half a mile." When the +trap did appear it looked to me uncommonly like an open spring cart. +In it I was deposited, with my luggage. The snow was still descending +in whirling clouds. Never shall I forget the drive, in that miserable +cart, through the storm and those pitch black country lanes. We had +been jogging along some time before the driver opened his mouth.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Be you going to stop with they Wilsons?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah!"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was something in the tone of his "Ah!" which whetted my +curiosity, near the end of my tether though I was.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It be about time as someone were to stay with them as were a bit +capable like."</p> + +<p class="normal">I did not know what he meant. I did not ask. I was beyond it. I was +chilled to the bone, wet, tired, hungry. I had long been wishing that +an old-fashioned Christmas had been completely extinct before I had +thought of adventuring in quest of one. Better cousin Lucy's notion of +the "festive season."</p> + +<p class="normal">We passed through a gate, which I had to get down to open, along some +sort of avenue. Suddenly the cart pulled up.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Here we be."</p> + +<p class="normal">That might be so. It was a pity he did not add where "here" was. There +was a great shadow, which possibly did duty for a house, but, if so, +there was not a light in any of the windows, and there was nothing +visible in the shape of a door. The whereabouts of this, however, the +driver presently made clear.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There be the door in front of you; you go up three steps, if you can +find 'em. There's a knocker, if none of 'em haven't twisted it off. If +they have, there's a bell on your right, if it isn't broken."</p> + +<p class="normal">There appeared to be no knocker, though whether it had been "twisted" +off was more than I could say. But there was a bell, which creaked +with rust, though it was not broken. I heard it tinkle in the +distance. No answer; though I allowed a more than decent interval.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Better ring again," suggested the driver. "Hard. Maybe they're up to +some of their games, and wants rousing."</p> + +<p class="normal">Was there a chuckle in the fellow's voice? I rang again, and again +with all the force I could. The bell reverberated through what seemed +like an empty house.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is there no one in the place?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"They're there right enough. Where's another thing. Maybe on the roof; +or in the cellar. If they know you're coming perhaps they hear and +don't choose to answer. Better ring again."</p> + +<p class="normal">I sounded another peal. Presently feet were heard advancing along the +passage--several pairs it seemed--and a light gleamed through the +window over the door. A voice inquired: "Who's there?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Christopher, from London."</p> + +<p class="normal">The information was greeted with what sounded uncommonly like a chorus +of laughter. There was a rush of retreating feet, an expostulating +voice, then darkness again, and silence.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who lives here? Are the people mad?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well--thereabouts."</p> + +<p class="normal">Once more I suspected the driver of a chuckle. My temper was rising. I +had not come all that way, and subjected myself to so much discomfort, +to be played tricks with. I tolled the bell again. After a few +seconds' interval the pit-pat of what was obviously one pair of feet +came towards the door. Again a light gleamed through the pane. A key +was turned, a chain unfastened, bolts withdrawn; it seemed as if some +one had to drag a chair forward before one of these latter could be +reached. After a vast amount of unfastening, the door was opened, and +on the threshold there stood a girl, with a lighted candle in her +hand. The storm rushed in; she put up her hand to shield the light +from danger.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Can I see Mrs. Wilson? I'm expected. I'm Mr. Christopher, from +London."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh!"</p> + +<p class="normal">That was all she said. I looked at her; she at me. The driver's voice +came from the background.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I drove him over from the station, Miss. There be a lot of luggage. +He do say he's come to stay with you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that you, Tidy? I'm afraid I can offer you nothing to drink. We've +lost the key of the cellar, and there's nothing out, except water, and +I don't think you'd care for that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I can't say rightly as how I should, Miss. Next time will do. Be it +all right?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The girl continued to regard me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps you had better come inside."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I think I had."</p> + +<p class="normal">I went inside; it was time.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you any luggage?" I admitted that I had. "Perhaps it had better +be brought in."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps it had."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you think that you could manage, Tidy?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The mare, she'll stand still enough. I should think I could, miss."</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h4>AND THE PERFORMANCE.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">By degrees my belongings were borne into the hall, hidden under an +envelope of snow. The girl seemed surprised at their number. The +driver was paid, the cart disappeared, the door was shut; the girl and +I were alone together.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We didn't expect that you would come."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not expect me? But it was all arranged; I wrote to say that I would +come. Did you not receive my letter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"We thought that you were joking."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Joking! Why should you imagine that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"We were joking."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You were? Then I am to gather that I have been made the subject of a +practical joke, and that I am an intruder here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, it's quite true that we did not think you were in earnest. You +see, it's this way, we're alone."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Alone? Who are 'we'?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, it will take a good while to explain, and you look tired and +cold."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am both."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps you're hungry?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know what you can have to eat, unless it's to-morrow's +dinner."</p> + +<p class="normal">"To-morrow's dinner!" I stared. "Can I see Mrs. Wilson?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mrs. Wilson? That's mamma. She's dead."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I beg your pardon. Can I see your father?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, father's been dead for years."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then to whom have I the pleasure of speaking?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm Madge. I'm mother now."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are--mother now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The trouble will be about where you are to sleep--unless it's with +the boys. The rooms are all anyhow, and I'm sure I don't know where +the beds are."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose there are servants in the house?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She shook her head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No. The boys thought that they were nuisances so we got rid of them. +The last went yesterday. She wouldn't do any work, so we thought she'd +better go."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Under those circumstances I think it probable that you were right. +Then am I to understand that there are children?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Rather!"</p> + +<p class="normal">As she spoke there came a burst of laughter from the other end of the +passage. I spun round. No one was in sight. She explained.</p> + +<p class="normal">"They're waiting round the corner. Perhaps we'd better have them here. +You people, you'd better come and let me introduce you to Mr. +Christopher."</p> + +<p class="normal">A procession began to appear from round the corner of boys and girls. +In front was a girl of about sixteen. She advanced with outstretched +hand and an air of self-possession which took me at a disadvantage.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm Bessie. I'm sorry we kept you waiting at the door, but the fact +is that we thought it was Eliza's brother who had come to insult us +again."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pray, don't mention it. I am glad that it was not Eliza's brother."</p> + +<p class="normal">"So am I. He is a dreadful man."</p> + +<p class="normal">I shook hands with the rest of them. There were six more, four boys +and two girls. They formed a considerable congregation as they stood +eyeing me with inquiring glances. Madge was the first to speak.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I wondered all along if he would take it as a joke or not, and you +see he hasn't. I thought all the time that it was a risky thing to +do."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I like that! You keep your thoughts to yourself then. It was you +proposed it. You said you'd been reading about something of the kind +in a story, and you voted for our advertising ourselves for a lark."</p> + +<p class="normal">The speaker was the biggest boy, a good-looking youngster, with sallow +cheeks and shrewd black eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But, Rupert, I never meant it to go so far as this."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How far did you mean it to go then? It was your idea all through. You +sent in the advertisement, you wrote the letters, and now he's here. +If you didn't mean it, why didn't you stop his coming?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Rupert!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The girls cheeks were crimson. Bessie interposed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The thing is that as he is here it's no good worrying about whose +fault it is. We shall simply have to make the best of it." Then, to +me, "I suppose you really have come to stay?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I confess that I had some notion of the kind--to spend an +old-fashioned Christmas."</p> + +<p class="normal">At this there was laughter, chiefly from the boys. Rupert exclaimed:</p> + +<p class="normal">"A nice sort of old-fashioned Christmas you'll find it will be. You'll +be sorry you came before it's through."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am not so sure of that."</p> + +<p class="normal">There appeared to be something in my tone which caused a touch of +silence to descend upon the group. They regarded each other +doubtfully, as if in my words a reproof was implied. Bessie was again +the spokeswoman.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of course, now that you have come, we mean to be nice to you, that is +as nice as we can. Because the thing is that we are not in a condition +to receive visitors. Do we look as if we were?"</p> + +<p class="normal">To be frank, they did not. Even Madge was a little unkempt, while the +boys were in what I believe is the average state of the average boy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And," murmured Madge, "where is Mr. Christopher to sleep?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is he to eat?" inquired Bessie. She glanced at my packages. "I +suppose you have brought nothing with you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm afraid I haven't. I had hoped to have found something ready for +me on my arrival."</p> + +<p class="normal">Again they peeped at each other, as if ashamed. Madge repeated her +former suggestion.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's to-morrow's dinner."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, hang it!" exclaimed Rupert. "It's not so bad as that. There's a +ham."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Uncooked."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You can cut a steak off, or whatever you call it, and have it +broiled."</p> + +<p class="normal">A meal was got ready, in the preparation of which every member of the +family took a hand. And a room was found for me, in which was a +blazing fire and traces of recent feminine occupation. I suspected +that Madge had yielded her own apartment as a shelter for the +stranger. By the time I had washed and changed my clothes, the +impromptu dinner, or supper, or whatever it was, was ready.</p> + +<p class="normal">A curious repast it proved to be; composed of oddly contrasted dishes, +cooked--and sometimes uncooked--in original fashion. But hunger, that +piquant sauce, gave it a relish of its own. At first no one seemed +disposed to join me. By degrees, however, one after another found a +knife and fork, until all the eight were seated with me round the +board, eating, some of them, as if for dear life.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The fact is," explained Rupert, "we're a rum lot. We hardly ever sit +down together. We don't have regular meals, but whenever anyone feels +peckish, he goes and gets what there is, and cooks it and eats it on +his own."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's not quite so bad as that," protested Madge, "though it's pretty +bad."</p> + +<p class="normal">It did seem pretty bad, from the conventional point of view. From +their conversation, which was candour itself, I gleaned details which +threw light upon the peculiar position of affairs. It seemed that +their father had been dead some seven years. Their mother, who had +been always delicate, had allowed them to run nearly wild. Since she +died, some ten months back, they appeared to have run quite wild. The +house, with some six hundred acres of land, was theirs, and an income, +as to whose exact amount no one seemed quite clear.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's about eight hundred a year," said Rupert.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't think it's quite so much," doubted Madge.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm sure it's more," declared Bessie. "I believe we're being robbed."</p> + +<p class="normal">I thought it extremely probable. They must have had peculiar parents. +Their father had left everything absolutely to their mother, and the +mother, in her turn, everything in trust to Madge, to be shared +equally among them all. Madge was an odd trustee. In her hands the +household had become a republic, in which every one did exactly as he +or she pleased. The result was chaos. No one wanted to go to school, +so no one went. The servants, finding themselves provided with eight +masters and mistresses, followed their example, and did as they liked. +Consequently, after sundry battles royal--lively episodes some of them +had evidently been--one after the other had been got rid of, until, +now, not one remained. Plainly the house must be going to rack and +ruin.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But have you no relations?" I inquired.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rupert answered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We've got some cousins, or uncles, or something of the kind in +Australia, where, so far as I'm concerned, I hope they'll stop."</p> + +<p class="normal">When I was in my room, which I feared was Madge's, I told myself that +it was a queer establishment on which I had lighted. Yet I could not +honestly affirm that I was sorry I had come. I had lived such an +uneventful and such a solitary life, and had so often longed for +someone in whom to take an interest--who would not talk medicine +chest!--that to be plunged, all at once, into the centre of this troop +of boys and girls was an accident which, if only because of its +novelty, I found amusing. And then it was so odd that I should have +come across a Madge at last!</p> + +<p class="normal">In the morning I was roused by noises, the cause of which, at first, I +could not understand. By degrees the explanation dawned on me; the +family was putting the house to rights. A somewhat noisy process it +seemed. Someone was singing, someone else was shouting, and two or +three others were engaged in a heated argument. In such loud tones was +it conducted that the gist of the matter travelled up to me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How do you think I'm going to get this fire to burn if you beastly +kids keep messing it about? It's no good banging at it with the poker +till it's alight."</p> + +<p class="normal">The voice was unmistakably Rupert's. There was the sound of a scuffle, +cries of indignation, then a girlish voice pouring oil upon the +troubled waters. Presently there was a rattle and clatter, as if +someone had fallen from the top of the house to the bottom. I rushed +to my bedroom door.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What on earth has happened?"</p> + +<p class="normal">A small boy was outside--Peter. He explained,</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, it's only the broom and dustpan gone tobogganing down the stairs. +It's Bessie's fault; she shouldn't leave them on the landing."</p> + +<p class="normal">Bessie, appearing from a room opposite, disclaimed responsibility.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I told you to look out where you were going, but you never do. I'd +only put them down for a second, while I went in to empty a jug of +water on to Jack, who won't get out of bed, and there are all the +boots for him to clean."</p> + +<p class="normal">Injured tones came through the open portal.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You wait, that's all! I'll soak your bed tonight--I'll drown it. I +don't want to clean your dirty boots, I'm not a shoe-black."</p> + +<p class="normal">The breakfast was a failure. To begin with, it was inordinately late. +It seemed that a bath was not obtainable. I had been promised some hot +water, but as I waited and waited and none arrived, I proceeded to +break the ice in my jug--it was a bitterly cold morning, nice +"old-fashioned" weather--and to wash in the half-frozen contents. As I +am not accustomed to perform my ablutions in partially dissolved ice, +I fear that the process did not improve my temper.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was past eleven when I got down, feeling not exactly in a +"Christmassy" frame of mind. Everything, and everyone, seemed at sixes +and sevens. It was after noon when breakfast appeared. The principal +dish consisted of eggs and bacon; but as the bacon was fried to +cinders, and the eggs all broken, it was not so popular as it might +have been, Madge was moved to melancholy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Something will have to be done! We can't go on like this! We must +have someone in to help us!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Bessie was sarcastic.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You might give Eliza another trial. She told you, if you didn't like +the way she burned the bacon, to burn it yourself, and as you've +followed her advice, she might be able to give you other useful hints +on similar lines."</p> + +<p class="normal">Rupert indulged himself in the same vein.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then there's Eliza's brother. He threatened to knock your blooming +head off for saying Eliza was dishonest, just because she collared +everything she laid her hands on; he might turn out a useful sort of +creature to have about the place."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's all very well for you to laugh, but it's beyond a jest. I don't +know how we're going to cook the dinner."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Can I be of any assistance?" I inquired. "First of all, what is there +to cook?"</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed that there were a good many things to cook. A turkey, a +goose, beef, plum pudding, mince pies, custard, sardines--it seemed +that Molly, the third girl, as she phrased it, could "live on +sardines," and esteemed no dinner a decent dinner at which they did +not appear--together with a list of etceteras half as long as my arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"One thing is clear; you can't cook all those things to-day."</p> + +<p class="normal">"We can't cook anything."</p> + +<p class="normal">This was Rupert. He was tilting his chair back, and had his face +turned towards the ceiling.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why not?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Because there's no coal."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No coal?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's about half a scuttle full of dust. If you can make it burn +you'll be clever."</p> + +<p class="normal">What Rupert said was correct. Madge confessed, with crimson cheeks, +that she had meant, over and over again, to order some coal, but had +continually forgotten it, until finally Christmas Day had found them +with an empty cellar. There was plenty of wood, but it was not so dry +as it might have been, and anyhow, the grate was not constructed to +burn wood.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You might try smoked beef," suggested Rupert. "When that wood goes at +all it smokes like one o'clock. If you hung the beef up over it, it +would be smoked enough for anyone by the time that it was done."</p> + +<p class="normal">I began to rub my chin. Considering the breakfast we had had, from my +point of view the situation commenced, for the first time, to look +really grave, I wondered if it would not be possible to take the whole +eight somewhere where something really eatable could be got. But, when +I broached the subject, I learned that the thing could not be done. +The nearest hostelry was the "Boy and Blunderbuss," and it was certain +that nothing eatable could be had there, even if accommodation could +be found for us at all. Nothing in the shape of a possible house of +public entertainment was to be found closer than the market town, +eight miles off; it was unlikely that even there a Christmas dinner +for nine could be provided at a moment's notice. Evidently the only +thing to do was to make the best of things.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the meeting broke up Madge came and said a few words to me alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I really think you had better not stay."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Does that mean that you had rather I went?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No; not exactly that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then nearly that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No; not a bit that. Only you must see for yourself how awfully +uncomfortable you'll be here, and what a horrid house this is."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Madge"--everybody called her Madge, so I did--"even if I +wanted to go, which I don't--and I would remind you that you +contracted to give me an old-fashioned Christmas--I don't see where +there is that I could go."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of course, there's that. I don't see, either. So I suppose you'll +have to stay. But I hope you won't think that I meant you to come to a +place like this--really, you know."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm sorry; I had hoped you had."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's not what I mean. I mean that if I had thought that you were +coming, I would have seen that things were different."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How different? I assure you that things as they are have a charm of +their own."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's what you say. You don't suppose that I'm so silly as not to +know you're laughing at me? But as I was the whole cause of your +coming, I hope you won't hate the others because of me."</p> + +<p class="normal">She marched off, brushing back, with an impatient gesture, some +rebellious locks which had strayed upon her forehead.</p> + +<p class="normal">That Christmas dinner was a success--positively. Of a kind--let that +be clearly understood. I am not inferring that it was a success from +the point of view of a "chef de cuisine." Not at all; how could it be? +Quite the other way. By dint of ransacking all the rooms, and emptying +all the scuttles, we collected a certain amount of coal, with which, +after adding a fair proportion of wood, we managed. Not brilliantly, +but after a fashion. I can only say, personally, I had not enjoyed +myself so much for years. I really felt as if I were young again; I am +not sure that I am not younger than I thought I was. I must look the +matter up. And, after all, even if one be, say forty, one need not be +absolutely an ancient. Madge herself said that I had been like a right +hand to her; she did not know what she would have done without me.</p> + +<p class="normal">Looking back, I cannot but think that if we had attempted to prepare +fewer dishes, something might have been properly cooked. It was a +mistake to stuff the turkey with sage and onions; but as Bessie did +not discover that she had been manipulating the wrong bird until the +process of stuffing had been completed, it was felt that it might be +just as well to let it rest. Unfortunately, it turned out that some +thyme, parsley, mint, and other things had got mixed with the sage, +which gave the creature quite a peculiar flavour; but as it came to +table nearly raw, and as tough as hickory, it really did not matter.</p> + +<p class="normal">My experience of that day teaches me that it is not easy to roast a +large goose on a small oil stove. The dropping fat caused the flame to +give out a strong smelling and most unpleasant smoke. Rupert, who had +charge of the operation, affirmed that it would be all right in the +end. But, by the time the thing was served, it was as black as my hat. +Rupert said that it was merely brown; but the brown was of a sooty +hue, and it reeked of paraffin. We had to have it deposited in the +ashbin. I daresay that the beef would not have been bad if someone had +occasionally turned it, and if the fire would have burned clear. As it +was, it was charred on one side and raw on the other, and smoked all +over. The way in which the odour and taste of smoke permeated +everything was amazing. The plum-pudding, came to the table in the +form of soup, and the mince pies were nauseous. Something had got into +the crust, or mincemeat, or something, which there, at any rate, was +out of place.</p> + +<p class="normal">Luckily we came upon a tin of corned beef in a cupboard, and with the +aid of some bread and cheese, and other odds and ends, we made a sort +of picnic. Incredible though it may seem, I enjoyed it. If there was +anywhere a merrier party than we were, I should like to know where it +was to be found. It must have been a merry one. When I produced the +presents, in which a happy inspiration had urged me to invest, "the +enthusiasm reached a climax"--I believe that is the proper form of +words which I ought to use. As I watched the pleasure of those +youngsters, I felt as if I were myself a boy again.</p> + +<p class="normal">* * * * *</p> + +<p class="normal">That was my first introduction to "a lively family." They came up to +the description they had given of themselves. I speak from knowledge, +for they have been my acquaintances now some time. More than +acquaintances, friends; the dearest friends I have. At their request, +I took their affairs in hand, Madge informally passing her trusteeship +on to me. Things are very different with them now. The house is spick +and span. There is an excellent staff of servants. Hangar Dene is as +comfortable a home as there is in England. I have spent many a happy +Christmas under its hospitable roof since then.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boys are out in the world, after passing with honour through +school and college. The girls are going out into the world also. +Bessie is actually married. Madge is married too. She is Mrs. +Christopher. That is the part of it all which I find is hardest to +understand--to have told myself my whole life long that the name of my +ideal woman would be Madge, and to have won that woman for my own at +last! That is greater fortune than falls to the lot of most men. I +thought that I was beyond that kind of thing; that I was too old. But +Madge seemed to think that I was young enough. And she thinks so +still.</p> + +<p class="normal">And now there is a little Madge, who is big enough to play havoc with +the sheets of paper on which I have been scribbling, to whom, one day, +this tale will have to be told.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_deputy" href="#div1Ref_deputy">BY DEPUTY.</a></h2> + +<h3>A REMINISCENCE OF TRAVEL.</h3> +<br> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4>DESPOILED.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"It would seem, Greenall, as if you couldn't even shoot."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It would seem like it, wouldn't it."</p> + +<p class="normal">As I sauntered back to the hotel I was conscious of a slight feeling +of exacerbation. As if I had been "got at," "had." No man likes +to feel that he is a laughing-stock. I felt that I had been made a +laughing-stock just then; that, indeed, the process of manufacture had +been going on ever since I showed my face in Ahmednugger. The men I +had met were nice enough--in their way. Indeed, they were almost too +nice--also in their way. They appeared to have so little to do, in the +way of actual work, that they had made it the business of their lives +to perfect themselves in what are usually regarded, say, as +accomplishments. I was, and am, a plain civilian. I have worked for, +and earned, my little pile, such as it is, and until I set out upon +that pleasure tour in the East, it had never occurred to me that a man +could be regarded as an uneducated idiot if he could not, say, run +into double figures every time he took up his cue at billiards. A +suspicion that a man might be so regarded had been dawning upon me +ever since I arrived in India; but until I came to Ahmednugger I had +never quite realised how shockingly my education had been neglected on +exactly those points on which it ought to have been most carefully +attended to. The men of Ahmednugger were the most sporting individuals +I had ever yet encountered. Possibly I have not moved much among the +congregations of the sporting men, but I certainly have seen something +of men of business. These men of Ahmednugger were not only the keenest +sportsmen I had encountered, they were the keenest men of business, +too. And talk of the rigour of a competitive examination! They formed +themselves into an examining board, which very soon took the +"stiffening" out of me. They insisted on putting me through my paces +before I had been a week in the place. They examined me in every game +of cards which has been invented--and found me wanting in them all. +They examined me as a rider, as a driver, as a shootist, as a cueist, +in fact, in a range of subjects which I will not even venture to +enumerate. They refused me one solitary "pass." They "plucked" me in +them all. It did not add to my sense of satisfaction, that I found my +ignorance expensive.</p> + +<p class="normal">The joke of the thing was, that before I came to India I had rather +fancied myself as an amateur sportsman. I flattered myself that I had +a decent seat in a saddle, whether across country or on the flat. I +thought that I made a tolerable fourth at whist; that I had some +notion, at any rate, of English billiards, and of a hazard off the +red. I certainly was under the impression that I could see with +tolerable accuracy along the barrel of a gun. But these vain delusions +were scattered, at once and for ever, by the men of Ahmednugger. My +all-round, purblind, insensate ignorance had been so convincingly +displayed, that, as I have said, I was the laughing-stock of all the +place.</p> + +<p class="normal">My latest performance in the exhibition line had been in a match with +young Tebb, the youngest and the latest joined of the subalterns. +Young Tebb had lured me on to skittles. Mr. Tebb--who would have been +more correctly designated as "Master" Tebb--was an awkward +hobbledehoy, who, at any other place than Ahmednugger, I should have +looked down upon with the most supreme contempt. When he challenged me +to see who could smash most glass balls with a rifle bullet, he or I, +I rashly took his challenge up. I flattered myself that, at last, I +had a "soft thing" on. I had, myself, been found a "soft thing" so +many times, that I looked forward to a little change. I had no notion +(it was rather late at night when the challenge was thrown down, and +taken up) how difficult it really was to hit a glass ball with a rifle +bullet. I had never fired at a glass ball, nor had I ever seen anyone +else do so. But I conceived, that at any rate, young Tebb would find +at least as much difficulty in the thing as I should.</p> + +<p class="normal">We were each to fire at fifty glass balls, which were to be sent up +into the air out of a trap. We were, of course, to fire at them while +they were in the air. Out of my fifty I smashed one. Out of his fifty +young Tebb smashed forty-nine. It was the most mirth-provoking +exhibition that was ever seen. Of course, the young scoundrel had been +doing nothing else but fire at glass balls his whole life long. It was +when I handed over the two hundred rupees which I had staked and lost, +that Mr. Tebb made his remark to the effect that "I couldn't even +shoot."</p> + +<p class="normal">When I returned to the hotel, a man was standing in the doorway. He +addressed me as I came up the steps.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It strikes me that you and I might shake hands, sir."</p> + +<p class="normal">I asked him what he meant.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've made myself one kind of ass, and you've made yourself another +kind. We'd be a pair of beauties."</p> + +<p class="normal">I did not like being addressed in this manner, especially by a +stranger, and especially by a stranger like this stranger. He was a +short, undersized man, with a vacuous expression of countenance. His +attire suggested seediness. Perceiving that I did not appreciate his +manner, he explained.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No offence intended, sir. But I just now saw you playing pantaloon to +that youngster's clown, and I thought that he made the end of the +poker rather hot. As for me, I'm an ass all over. My name's Johns. I +came to this place to shear the sheep. There's been some shearing, but +it's the sheep that's done it. They've about sheared me. I happened to +have a trifle of money, so I came to these parts to see if I could do +a bit of bookmaking. I've done a bit. The gentlemen in these parts +have also done a bit. They've got hold of pretty well every blessed +mag I had."</p> + +<p class="normal">I did not encourage Mr. Johns; quite the contrary. I had heard of him +before. The regimental races had recently been held; a bookmaker had +appeared upon the scene--Mr. Johns. Nearly every man in the place had +had bets with him, and to nearly every man in the place he had lost +his money. With a vengeance had the Philistine been spoiled.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h4>THE GAME.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Later in the day on which I had shot off that match with Mr. Tebb I +encountered Mr. Johns again. I was in the billiard-room of what was +called "the club." As regards membership, it was very free-and-easy +"club" indeed. A local celebrity was taking the floor. The room was +tolerably full. On one of the side seats was Mr. Johns.</p> + +<p class="normal">The local celebrity was a Mr. Colson. Mr. Colson was stud groom to the +Rajah of Ahmednugger. He was also, and at the same time, one of the +most obnoxious persons I have, in the course of my career, had the +pleasure of meeting. There never was such a loud-voiced braggart. It +set one's nerves on edge to hear him. To listen to him, there was +nothing he could not do. The misfortune was, that some of the things +which he said he could do, he could do, and do well. I had found that +out to my cost, soon after my arrival in Ahmednugger. And, in +consequence, he had sat on me heavily ever since. He was a horrible +man.</p> + +<p class="normal">That evening Mr. Colson was holding forth in his usual style, on the +subject of billiards. I should mention that, at the period of which I +am writing, Mr. John Roberts, the famous player, was on a tour in +India.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I saw John Roberts at Calcutta," observed Mr. Colson, "and he saw me. +He also saw me play. When he saw me play, he said he doubted if he +could give me fifteen in a hundred. I told him that I should like to +see him do it. But he wouldn't take it on."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that so?" asked Mr. Johns.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That is so. I should like to see him give me ten in a hundred, either +John Roberts or any man now living."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I should like to have a game with you, Mr. Colson."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You would?" Mr. Colson looked at Mr. Johns. He looked him up and +down. Mr. Colson was large and florid. Mr. Johns was small and +underfed. Mr. Colson was, at least, expensively attired. About Mr. +John's costume there was certainly no suspicion of expense. "I don't +mind having you a hundred up, my lad. How many shall I give you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am no player, Mr. Colson, but I'd like to play you even, if only +for the sake of saying that I'd had the cheek to do it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You shall have that pleasure. And how much would you like to have +on--if only for the sake of saying that you had the cheek to have it +on?"</p> + +<p class="normal">And Mr. Colson winked at the company in general.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, Mr. Colson, you and the other gentlemen have won all my money; +but, I daresay, I might manage ten rupees."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Put 'em up, my lad. Here's my ten. We'll play for the twenty."</p> + +<p class="normal">They played for the twenty. And, to my satisfaction, and I believe to +the satisfaction of most of the others who were in the room, it was +Mr. Johns who won. I am bound to say that it seemed to me to be rather +a fluky win. Mr. Colson, whose disgust was amusing, had no doubt +whatever about the fluke.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never saw anything like it, never! The balls never broke for me, not +once! As for you; why, you did nothing else but fluke."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you think so? I'll play you again double or quits, and I'll give +ten in the hundred, Mr. Colson."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Colson seemed amazed. In fact, I have no doubt he was amazed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I like your modesty! You'll give me ten! Here's my twenty. I'll take +you on."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Colson took him on. And, by way of fair exchange, Mr. Johns took +him off. That is to say, he took off the stakes and the game. He did +it rather neatly: just running in as Mr. Colson looked like winning. +Mr. Colson was adjectival.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never saw anything like it--never, in all my born days! Never saw +anything like my somethinged, somethinged, somethinged luck! And as +for your fluking--why, it just beats anything."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Think so? I'll play you again, Mr. Colson, and again double or quits; +and this time I'll give you twenty in a hundred."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You'll give me--you'll give me--twenty in a hundred? You will? Come +on! That'll be forty rupees a side--here's mine! Macbee, put me on +twenty, and we'll see what I can do."</p> + +<p class="normal">We did see what he could do. We also saw that Mr. Johns seemed able to +do a little better. Once more he won the game. I am sure that we were +all enjoying ourselves very much--much more than we had had any reason +to anticipate. As for Mr. Colson, he went purple. He showered on Mr. +Johns a volley of that sort of language which I had found pretty +fashionable at Ahmednugger. Mr. Johns listened to him in silence, +while he pocketed the spoils. Then he had his say.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You say I fluke? Why, my dear sir, you've no idea what a fluke is. +You've no idea of any sort about billiards. You can no more play +billiards than you can play the gentleman--you can't! You're the sort +of person whom it is just as well, once in a way, to expose. You're a +humbug, Mr. Colson, you're a humbug. As for John Roberts doubting if +he could give you fifteen in a hundred--why, he could give you +ninety-nine in a hundred, and beat you single-handed. I tell you what +I will do, Mr. Colson. I will play you five hundred up, for five +hundred rupees a side. I will give you four hundred start, and I will +lay two to one against you with any gentleman who cares to back you. +I don't think that's an unfair offer, Mr. Colson."</p> + +<p class="normal">It struck me as, at any rate, a rash offer. Mr. Colson was not such a +tyro as Mr. Johns made out. He had made mincemeat of me--I do know +that. Yet the offer did not seem to be made in any spirit of +braggadocio. I fancy that the quiet, matter-of-fact manner in which it +was made impressed Mr. Colson more than he altogether cared to own. My +impression it that, if he had had his own way, he would have changed +the subject. But the odds offered him were such, and the challenge was +made in such a public manner, that he probably felt that, if he wished +to preserve a rag of reputation, now or never was the time to show the +stuff that he was made of. Anyhow, the offer was accepted, and the +terms of the match were definitely arranged before the parties left +the room.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h4>THE COALITION.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">As I was retiring to rest, some one tapped at my bed-room door. In +response to my invitation to enter, Mr. Johns came in. Without any +preamble, he plunged at once into the purport of his presence in my +chamber at that hour of the night, or, rather, morning.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have come, Mr. Greenall, to ask you to lend me five hundred +rupees."</p> + +<p class="normal">I turned. I looked at him. He met my glance without showing any signs +of discomposure.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You have come to--what?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He repeated his remark--quite as though it were a matter of course.</p> + +<p class="normal">"To ask if you will lend me five hundred rupees."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know if you are in earnest, Mr. Johns. If you are, I would +remark, first, that I am not a money lender; and, second, that you are +a complete stranger to me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I want the money to stake in my match with Mr. Colson."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Indeed. Is that so? Then that is an added reason why I should decline +to lend it to you. In my opinion, Mr. Johns, your chances of success +in that match are, to say the least of it, remote."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look here, Mr. Greenall, I'm the last man in the world to wish to +make myself offensive, but if we can understand each other I think +that you and I might do each other a good turn. I know all about how +you've been treated by the fellows here. I know how they've all been +taking pop shots at you. From what I hear they've made you look like +the biggest all-round muff that ever left his mammy. I daresay it's +cost you something, too."</p> + +<p class="normal">I did not altogether appreciate this gentleman's free-and-easy style +of conversation. But to a certain extent I, so to speak, dissembled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do not know what warrant you have, Mr. Johns, for your remarks; +and, in any case, I fail to see what business it is of yours."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's this way; if you like, you can be even with all the lot of +them--and more than even."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How? By lending you five hundred rupees, and letting you have, as you +put it, a pop-shot at me with the rest of them. Thank you, Mr. Johns. +By the way, I fancy I have heard of some person or persons taking +pop-shots at you. I think I did hear that you came here to make a +fortune. Did you make it, Mr. Johns?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, I didn't--hang 'em! I'm like you, I owe them one. And I mean to +pay them, with compound interest. And, if you like to say the word, +I'll pay them that little lot you owe them too. Look here, Mr. +Greenall, I don't mind owning that a keener lot of gentlemen than the +gentlemen here I don't think I ever had to do with. I won't say they +robbed me, but they certainly cut me up into very nice little pieces, +and they handed me round. I've seldom seen any thing of the kind which +was better done. But never mind--my turn's coming! I'm not fond of +bragging--quite the other way. If it wasn't that I was in a hole, I +wouldn't say a word. But it is the simple truth that, at all the +things at which these fellows think they're dabsters, I'm as far ahead +of them as they're ahead of you,--no offence intended. You can take my +word for it that I know what I'm talking about. It doesn't follow +because, just once in a way, they happened to muck up my book, that +I'm a flat. As for being able to give Colson four hundred out of five +hundred at billiards,--if I choose, and I shall choose, he's simply +bound to lose. I don't mean to say that I'm a John Roberts, because +I'm not. But I do know how to play, and that in a sense which Colson +hasn't even begun to understand. I've heard that Mr. Colson hasn't +behaved over well to you. I thought that you'd like to see him taken +down a peg or two."</p> + +<p class="normal">I should. I should have liked to have seen more than one of them taken +down a peg or two, though I said nothing of that to Mr. Johns.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How came you to match yourself, Mr. Johns, when you were aware that +you were not in possession of the required stakes?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I took it for granted that I should get the stakes from you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Johns was frank, at any rate.</p> + +<p class="normal">"From me? What claim did you suppose yourself to have on me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No claim; but you see, sir, they've had me, and they've had you. +They've had both of us, in fact, pretty smartly. And I thought that +you might like to be even with some of them, by deputy."</p> + +<p class="normal">By deputy. If it was workable, that was not a bad idea. I felt that I +should like to be even with some of them, beginning, say, with Mr. +Colson--how that man had squelched me beneath his elephantine foot! +the brute!--even, as it were, by deputy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What guarantee have I that you will not lose my money, as you already +have lost your own?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"If we get up early, we shall have the billiard room all to ourselves. +If you like, I will give you some idea of what I can do upon a +billiard table."</p> + +<p class="normal">We did get up early. We did have the billiard room all to ourselves. +And Mr. Johns did give me some idea of what he could do upon a +billiard table. For one thing, he got "on the spot," and he stopped +there. He continued to put the red down, without once missing, until +the marker appeared. When the marker did appear, we thought that +perhaps the proceedings had better cease. If I can trust my memory, +before the proceedings ceased, Mr. Johns had put the red down +something like two hundred times in succession. I thought that was +good enough, even for Mr. Colson. I agreed to advance the necessary +number of rupees.</p> + +<p class="normal">The match came off. It was a beautiful match. The room was crowded to +overflowing. Mr. Johns had managed to back himself to a very fair +amount. Even I, in my small way, had managed to back him too. But +there was not so much readiness shown to support the local champion as +I had expected. They were keen, were the men of Ahmednugger. I fancy +that already they had begun to smell a rat. And not only so; they were +always willing to "make a bet." But on that particular occasion they +were almost equally willing to see Mr. Colson come to grief. I think +that, in those parts, Mr. Colson was not so popular as he deserved to +be. I verily believe that there were some who objected to him almost +as much as I did.</p> + +<p class="normal">Poor Mr. Colson! He was painfully nervous. His nervousness prevented +his showing even his usual form. He had made fifteen, when Mr. Johns, +getting on the spot, stayed there. He ran out without once putting +down his cue. Nothing like it had ever been seen before in +Ahmednugger. When the marker notified the fact that Mr. Johns had +completed his fifth hundred, Mr. Colson was, for a moment, speechless. +He seemed unable to realize that the thing was so.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's a--something swindle!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I beg your pardon, Mr. Colson--it's a what?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Colson's tone was loud and threatening. Mr. Johns' tone was quiet, +and almost indifferent. Yet Mr. Colson did not seem to altogether like +it. He began to bluster. "You did not tell me that you were a +professional."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No; I did not tell you that I was a professional."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You didn't play the other night as you have played to-day. It looks +to me uncommonly like a put-up thing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It looks to you like a put-up thing, does it, Mr. Colson. Well, I'll +give you a chance of showing <i>your</i> professional side. I believe you +can drive?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Drive!" Mr. Colson looked at the little man as if he would like to +eat him. "I'm the finest whip in India."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Indeed! Is that so? Well, I'll drive you either four, or eight, in +hand, for a thousand rupees a side, although you are the finest whip +in India."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Colson snapped at his offer, before it was fairly out of his +mouth, and I felt that Mr. Johns was going a little too far. It was +one thing to match him at billiards, another thing to match him at +driving. There Mr. Colson was on his native heath. When I was alone +with Mr. Johns I told him so.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know if you are aware, Mr. Johns, that Mr. Colson really is a +first-rate whip. I am informed that it was his magnificent driving +which first attracted the Rajah's attention."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Johns did not exhibit much appearance of concern.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I guess I'll fix him, anyhow. I haven't driven a stage over some of +the worst country in the western states of America for nothing. I'll +back myself to drive a coach-and-four along a wall just wide enough to +hold the wheels--and I'll take you as a passenger, if you like to +come."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thank you, Mr. Johns, my tastes do not incline that way."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't you worry, Mr. Greenall. I mean to take on the whole lot of 'em, +one after the other, and show 'em a thing or two all round. These +gentlemen here fancy they know a little, but we'll be more than even +with them before we've done."</p> + +<p class="normal">The driving match came off. I do not know how they manage similar +affairs in England. I have sometimes wondered. But I am under the +impression that they are not managed on the lines on which they +managed that driving match in Ahmednugger.</p> + +<p class="normal">The way in which they managed it there was this. Mr. Colson was to +drive upon the Monday, Mr. Johns upon the Wednesday. Each was to drive +the same team--eight-in-hand. The horses, by-the-way, came out of the +Rajah's stables. The course was to be up and down the streets of +Ahmednugger, and then for a certain distance outside the city. The +judges occupied the front of the coach. I had a seat among the +insignificant people at the back. On the whole, I was content to sit +behind. The proceedings, in the streets of Ahmednugger, were +distinctly exciting--almost too exciting, I felt, for me. Those +streets were very narrow, and they were blocked with traffic, be it +understood. Mr. Colson and Mr. Johns, each with his eight horses, and +a coach load of passengers, went down those streets at full speed, as +if they had been fifty yards wide, and as if there had not been a soul +in sight. What damages were done, and what was the list of the killed +and wounded, I have never been informed. I never quite realized what +it meant to belong to a subject race, till then. It appeared to me +that, in the eyes of my companions, a native had, as a matter of +course, no rights at all. We drove over whole streets full of them, in +style. My heart was in my mouth most of the time. We dashed round +impossible corners, shaking native tenements to their foundations. But +we kept ourselves alive somehow. The peaceful pedestrians were slain. +I am no judge of coachmanship--of such coachmanship as that, at any +rate. Those who were judges, without a dissentient voice, awarded the +palm to Mr. Johns and, in consequence it was said, Mr. Colson entered +himself as a candidate for delirium tremens. He was a dreadful man.</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed as if Mr. Johns was prepared to match himself against the +men of Ahmednugger at exactly those things at which each man fancied +he was strongest. That is what he did do. He challenged any one to +meet him at driving, or at billiards. And, when his challenge--for +what seemed to me to be sufficient reasons--met with no response, he +challenged any one to ride him. That challenge was taken up. But he +beat all takers. He had a way with a horse which seemed little else +than magical. A horse would jump six feet for him, when, apparently, +it would not jump six inches for any other man in Ahmednugger. I don't +know how it was, but so it was. I know nothing of Mr. Johns, beyond +what I am writing. I never heard his story, nor how it was that a man +of genius--he was a man of genius--came to find himself a broken-down +small bookmaker in that little town "up country." Perhaps he was +another exemplification of the fact that only mediocrity succeeds.</p> + +<p class="normal">I know that I was more than even with the men of Ahmednugger--by +deputy. The band played to them, as it had played to me. He made them +face the music, and there was not one of them who did not leave his +scalp upon the ground. My belt was adorned with trophies--by deputy. +When Mr. Johns had beaten the men of Ahmednugger--as they had beaten +me--at riding, and at driving, and at billiards, he took them on at +shooting. And, so to speak, he shot their heads off. He showed them +that, in the presence of this man, they were as nothing, and less than +nothing. He even challenged Mr. Tebb to smash glass balls. He fixed +the point from which they were to fire at an abnormal distance, and, +if I remember rightly, he beat Mr. Tebb by about a score. After he had +annihilated that presumptuous young vagabond, Mr. Johns informed me +that shooting at glass balls really was not shooting. I was quite +prepared to admit it. He said that it was only a trick. When you had +once mastered the trick, it was impossible to miss. Perhaps. I have +never fired at glass balls since then, so I have no reason to suppose +that I have mastered the trick. When I do again fire at glass balls I +am inclined to think that I shall not experience the slightest +difficulty in missing every one of them.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h4>EVENS.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">When Mr. Johns had beaten the men of Ahmednugger at almost everything +at which they could be beaten, he began to amuse himself by taking a +hand in various little games at cards. It was remarked that, to say +the least of it, his luck was wonderful. There was scarcely a man in +Ahmednugger who had not been compelled by Mr. Johns to take a lower +seat; to take a lower seat, too, just where he felt that his claim was +strongest to take the highest one. Naturally, here and there, a man +resented it. An even stronger spirit of resentment was evinced when +the men of Ahmednugger found that their money was going in search of +their vanished reputations. There were some disagreeable little +scenes. Then there was a royal row; it was at the club. Mr. Johns had +been carrying everything in front of him. Things were said; then other +things were said Then Mr. Johns laid down his cards; he faced the +company.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Gentlemen, I wish to inform you that you are, individually and +collectively, a set of curs."</p> + +<p class="normal">There were sounds which suggested neither the ways of pleasantness nor +the paths of peace.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Softly. Postpone the fighting for one minute. I would remind you +that, when Mr. Greenall appeared in Ahmednugger, you all, with one +accord, took shots at him. You used him as if he had been a variety of +old Aunt Sally. When I made my appearance, you put your heads +together, and you bested me. You see, we were strangers, and you took +us in. Neither Mr. Greenall nor I quite liked this sort of thing, so +we put our heads together, and, in our turn, we've bested you. We've +used you as old Aunt Sallies. We've made you all sit up. We've made +you all sing small. Even at games of mingled chance and skill, I've +beaten you. Instead of taking your punishment like men, you begin to +whimper. Therefore, gentlemen, I repeat that you are, individually and +collectively, a set of curs."</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Smith interposed so soon as Mr. Johns ceased speaking. I fancy +that the Colonel had only just entered the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Johns, you very much forget yourself."</p> + +<p class="normal">"On the contrary, Colonel, I am remembering myself. It is the +gentlemen you have the honour to command, who forget themselves. +Should there be any one present who resents the words which I have +used, I shall be happy to meet that person, either with the gloves, or +without them, or with any weapon he may choose--for the honour of +Ahmednugger."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was silence--grim silence. Probably there was more than one +there who would have liked to have ground Mr. Johns between the upper +and the nether millstones. But, after all, they were gentlemen--in +their way. Bean stood up, the adjutant of the ----th. He was a big +fellow, head and shoulders taller than the audacious little +challenger. He went round to where Mr. Johns was sitting.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Johns, you will either apologise for the words which you have +just now used, or take a thrashing."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will take a thrashing," said Mr. Johns.</p> + +<p class="normal">He took it. What is more, he took it there and then. The meeting was +immediately adjourned; and in the moonlight, the little argument came +off. The proceedings were a trifle irregular; perhaps over here we +should deem them so. I am not prepared to say that any dignitaries +were actually present. Still there was a goodly gathering. The two men +"peeled." In a very short space of time the little man had knocked the +big man senseless. This is not a fairy tale. It is a simple record of +a sober matter-of-fact. It almost seems as if Mr. Johns was a lineal +descendant of the Admirable Crichton. Looking back, I really fancy +that he must have been.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Mr. Bean's satisfaction had been signified in what, I believe, is +the usual manner, Mr. Johns addressed the lookers-on:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is there any other gentleman present who would like to thrash me--for +the honour of Ahmednugger?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Someone came out of the shadow--someone who, in those parts, was a +very great man indeed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Johns, you will be so good as to leave Ahmednugger within +four-and-twenty-hours."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Johns looked the great man up and down. He seemed to be in no way +awed, even though he stood there in the moonlight without his shirt.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am at a loss, sir, to understand by what authority you address +yourself to me in such a manner. I am in no way answerable for my +movements to you. I have not broken the law. I have not even broken +the peace. As it happens, I do intend to leave Ahmednugger, and in +less than four-and-twenty hours. Not in deference to your orders, but +simply because I have had enough of Ahmednugger, having taught your +compatriots hereabouts what, it strikes me, was a much-needed +lesson--the next time they encounter strangers, except in the +scriptural sense--not to take them in."</p> + +<p class="normal">The next day Mr. Johns did leave Ahmednugger. And I went too. He went +his way, I went mine. I have neither seen nor heard of him since. But, +as I continued on my journeyings, I felt that after all I had been +even, and more than even, with the men of Ahmednugger--by deputy.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_whiting" href="#div1Ref_whiting">MR. WHITING AND MARY ANN.</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">I did not mean to kiss her; it was a pure accident. Her face was close +to mine, or my face was close to hers, and then her lips came into +contact with my lips, or my lips came into contact with her lips--I +don't know which it was--and then at that moment her mother came into +the room, and she said, "Mr. Whiting, may I ask what is the meaning of +this?" I said it meant nothing--nothing! Absolutely nothing! Only I +found it difficult to explain, and when I did explain she would not +understand. Her manner was not at all the sort of thing I care for. +The result is that I am engaged to Mary Ann Snelling without being +conscious of having entertained any intention of the kind.</p> + +<p class="normal">Not that I have a word to say against Mary Ann, except that I never +knew a girl with quite so many relations. To begin with she had six +brothers and five sisters, and she is the eldest of the batch, and +there's not one of the brothers whom I feel drawn to. Her father is a +most remarkable person, to say the least.</p> + +<p class="normal">After they had arranged between them that I was engaged to Mary Ann (I +was really not allowed to have a voice in the matter) her father +remarked, with a pointed air, which I cannot but think, under the +circumstances, was unusual, that he thought it was about time that I +did come to the scratch, and that if I had kept on dilly-dallying much +longer he would have had a word to say to me of a kind. I do not know +what he meant, and would rather not attempt to imagine. But it is +quite plain to me that all the arrangements for my wedding are going +to be made by the Snellings.</p> + +<p class="normal">I do not know when it is going to be, but it will be either next week +or the week after, certainly at the earliest possible moment, and I +shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that all Mary Ann's "things" +had been already bought, and perhaps some of them marked.</p> + +<p class="normal">We are to live in a house which belongs to a cousin of Mr. Snelling; +it is to be furnished by a brother of Mrs. Snelling, the house linen +is to be supplied by the father of the young man to whom Jane Matilda +is engaged, and the ironmongery by the uncle to whom George Frederic +is apprenticed. All, apparently, that is left for me to do, is to pay +for everything. It is most delightful. It might just as well be some +one else's wedding, so unimportant is the part which I am set to play +in it.</p> + +<p class="normal">And it is all the result of an accident. I deny that for the last +six months I have been using Mr. Snelling's home as if it were a +boarding-house. Nothing of the kind. The mere suggestion is absurd. It +is true that I have dropped in to dinner now and then, or to spend the +evening, or for an afternoon call, or for an hour or two in the +morning; but that has been simply and solely because the Snelling +family have evinced so marked a desire for my society. The alteration +which has taken place in their demeanour since my accident with Mary +Ann is, therefore, all the more amazing. For instance, look at their +behaviour in the matter of the ring.</p> + +<p class="normal">The accident in question occurred upon the Sunday evening. I had been +with Mary Ann to church, and had seen her home, and had had a little +supper, and it was after supper that it happened. I did not go and +purchase the engagement ring the first thing on the Monday morning, I +own it. Certainly not. Nor did I take any steps in that direction +during the whole of that week. I was not pressed for time.</p> + +<p class="normal">Besides, I was turning things over in my mind. But that was no reason +why, the Monday week following, four of her brothers should have +called on me on their way to the office, when I was scarcely out of +bed, and actually breakfasting, and assailed me in the way in which +they did.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was William Henry, John Frank, Ferdinand Augustus, and Stephen +Arthur. Each of them twice my size and all of them frightfully +ignorant and wholly regardless of the sensitive little points of those +with whom they came in contact. There is no circumlocution about them. +They go straight at what they want; and were scarcely inside my door +before they blurted out the purport of their coming. It was Frederick +Augustus; if the thing is possible he is, if anything, more direct +even than the rest of his family.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look here, Whiting, how about Mary Ann's ring? The girl is fretting, +but you don't seem to notice it. And as you don't appear to know what +is the proper thing to do in a case of this kind, and don't understand +that the ring ought to be bought straight away, we've bought it for +you."</p> + +<p class="normal">I gasped--positively gasped.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Am I to understand that you've purchased my engagement ring?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's it; on your account. From a cousin of ours who's in that +line."</p> + +<p class="normal">I never saw people like the Snellings for possessing relatives in all +sorts of "lines." No matter what you want, or do not want, and never +will want, they are sure to have some relative who has dealt in it, +his or her whole life long.</p> + +<p class="normal">They produced the ring, and told me what I had to pay for it. A +handsome price it was. I was persuaded that somebody besides that +cousin got a profit out of Mary Ann's engagement ring. But I handed +over the amount. I did not want any unpleasantness; and I am quite +sure there would have been unpleasantness had I demurred.</p> + +<p class="normal">Later in the day I took it with me when I went to call on Mary Ann. +She appeared to be surprised almost into speechlessness when I +presented it to her. Her head dropped on my shoulder, and she kissed +me under the chin, observing, "You dear old Sam." The moments when I +am alone with Mary Ann are alleviations for those more frequent +moments when I am not alone with Mary Ann. Still I noticed that the +ring fitted her perfectly, and I could not but wonder if she had tried +it on before.</p> + +<p class="normal">At the same time I am beginning to be comforted by a suspicion that +Mary Ann is on my side; on my side, that is, as against the rest of +her family. There has been a difference of opinion as to where we are +to spend our honeymoon. It is from her action in that matter that my +suspicion springs.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Snellings have an aunt who lives in an out-of-the-way hole at the +other end of nowhere. The woman's name is Brady. There she owns a +cottage, or it may be a pigstye for all I know. When she heard of my +engagement with Mary Ann, she wrote and suggested that we should spend +our honeymoon in her cottage, or pigstye, and that I should pay her +rent for it. The matter was talked about at dinner. Mary Ann was +silent for some time; then she quietly remarked:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't trouble yourselves to discuss Aunt Brady's proposal. I shall do +nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p class="normal">This observation was followed by perfect silence. The members of the +family looked at one another. But, after a very considerable pause, +her mother said, with quite unusual mildness, "Very well, my dear. +Then, it's settled."</p> + +<p class="normal">After dinner I took advantage of an opportunity which offered to thank +Mary Ann for her action in the matter, because, of course, I had no +wish to spend my honeymoon in a place of which I knew nothing, to +oblige an aunt of whom I knew still less. Mary Ann beamed at me, and +she said, "You dear old man!" Presently she continued:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you know that in marrying me you are doing the best thing for +yourself that you ever did in all your life?"</p> + +<p class="normal">I endeavoured to explain to her that I felt sure of it; but I fear +that my explanation was a little stumbling. But she went on with the +most perfect fluency. There were no signs of faltering about her flow +of language.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You want someone who can look after you; and you could not, by any +chance, have chosen a person who will look after you better than I +shall."</p> + +<p class="normal">Such an assurance was most satisfactory. We had a long confidential +chat on matters of business. I found that as a woman of business she +was beyond all my expectations.</p> + +<p class="normal">I told her exactly what my income was; and the source from which it +came, and all about it. She drew up a plan on which we were to lay it +out. It was an admirable plan. I had never had one, but I saw clearly +that in that way the money would go twice as far.</p> + +<p class="normal">It turned out that she had a little money of her own; about a hundred +and thirty pounds a year. And, of course, I had my expectations, and +she had hers. It was plain that together we should manage most +comfortably. Delightfully, in fact. On the subject of wedding +presents, too, her ideas were the most lucid I ever yet encountered. +It was wonderful to listen to her--really wonderful.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shall make papa give me five hundred pounds, at least. 'A bird in +the hand is worth two in a bush'--and it will be something to have by +us."</p> + +<p class="normal">I quite agreed with her remarks about the bird in the hand; and it +certainly will be something to have by us.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I know what mamma can afford to give, and I will see she gives it. +And I will see that there is no shirking about the boys--or about the +girls either. I will take care that my relations do their duty. I have +drawn up a list of all the people who ought to give us a present, and +I shall tell them what they ought to give--it won't be my fault if I +don't get it. Of course there are some people with whom you can't be +perfectly plain, but I shall be as plain as I can; there's a way and a +manner of doing that kind of thing. I have no intention of being +presented with an endless collection of duplicates, or a lot of +useless rubbish which I don't know what to do with. If you take my +advice you will follow in my footsteps."</p> + +<p class="normal">I endeavoured to. At least I drew up a list of people who ought to +meet the occasion, and I tried in more than one instance to drop a +hint of what, as I felt, they ought to meet it with.</p> + +<p class="normal">But I am bound to admit that so far my success has been as nothing +compared with hers. Hers has been prodigious. It is certain that we +have a large collection of really valuable property about the +house--the wedding presents to Mary Ann. She has a knack of getting +people to do what she wishes and to give her what she wants, which is +a little short of miraculous.</p> + +<p class="normal">A singular feature about the situation is that people are actually +beginning to pity me--to sympathise with me for being about to marry +Mary Ann. I notice that they are generally persons who have already +tendered their offerings. The fact of having given Mary Ann a wedding +present seems to fill them with a feeling of rancorous acidity which, +to me, is inexplicable. My belief is that they have been induced to +spend at least twice as much as they intended, and that they resent +it. Such is the selfishness of human nature. But why, on that account, +they should pity me, I altogether fail to understand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We have all been giving Mary Ann presents, and I suppose you, Mr. +Whiting, have been giving her something too." That was what Mrs. +Macpherson said to me only the other day. I have given Mary Ann two or +three trifles, and I said so. "And what," inquired Mrs. Macpherson, +"has Mary Ann given you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Her love."</p> + +<p class="normal">Someone sniggered. I cannot pretend to explain why, except on the +supposition that romance is dead; at least in that circle of society +in which the Snellings move. But that is not the only society the +world contains.</p> + +<p class="normal">As a matter of fact, Mary Ann has given me a pair of slippers, worked +by her own hands. It is true that they are a trifle large for me, and +that I shall never be able to keep them on my feet except when I am +sitting still. But Mary Ann does not seem to think that that matters, +so why should I? Her youngest sister, Clara Louisa, has quite +gratuitously informed me that she has had them by her for some +considerable time, and that, not to put too fine a point on it, they +were originally designed for another individual altogether--a Mr. +Pilbeam. But even supposing that what Clara Louisa says is true--of +which I have no evidence--I have, surely, cause to congratulate myself +on standing literally in Mr. Pilbeam's shoes, even if they are a +little spacious.</p> + +<p class="normal">On the whole I do not know that I regret that accident I had with Mary +Ann. It is true that there are times when I am a little disposed to +wish that she were not quite so good a manager; now and then every man +likes to call his soul his own. On the other hand, she is well +qualified to protect me from the rest of the family. She will keep +them at bay. Because it is beginning to dawn on me that, singlehanded, +she is more than a match for them all. Which is just as well. If she +had been like me they would have rent us limb from limb. As it is, +unless I am mistaken, some of the rending will be on our side. And +they know it!</p> + +<p class="normal">P.S.--The cards are out for the wedding. It is to take place on +Tuesday fortnight. We are going for our honeymoon to Italy and the +South of France. A second cousin of Mary Ann's is in the Cook's Tours +line. He has given us free passes all the way to the end of our +journey, and all the way back again; and coupons for free board and +lodging at the hotel. It's a wedding present. So that, as Mary Ann +says, our honeymoon need cost us practically nothing. Besides which we +can always sell the coupons and railway passes which we don't use.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nothing could be more delightful.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_sub" href="#div1Ref_sub">A SUBSTITUTE.</a></h2> + +<h3>THE STORY OF MY LAST CRICKET-MATCH.</h3> +<br> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4>I AM APPOINTED CAPTAIN.</h4> +<br> +<p class="normal">I have some idea of cricket--not much, perhaps, but I certainly have +some. I was not in the 'Varsity team, nor near it; but I played in the +Freshman's match, and provided myself with spectacles. I was nearly in +the school team once. That was when I carried my bat for forty-five. I +must own that my performance was a surprise to everyone--and to myself +among the rest. But as I never repeated it--or anything like it--they +left me, very wisely, out of the eleven.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus it will be seen that, from a cricketing point of view, I did not, +even in my best days, come up to first-rate form; and my best days +were, reckoning from last summer, quite fifteen years ago. During +those fifteen years I do not remember once handling a bat, far less +hitting at a cricket-ball with one; and yet, in this state of +unpreparedness, I had the presumption last summer to captain a team, +and to lead them on--well, not to victory but to disgrace. It's a fact. +The match was Storwell <i>v</i>. Latchmere. Storwell was <i>my</i> team; and as +I do not think a more remarkable match was ever known in the whole +annals of cricketing history, I here venture to report it.</p> + +<p class="normal">When they first asked me to play I thought they were mad. +Storwell-on-Sea is a village on the south coast--I beg pardon; I +believe it is called by the inhabitants a town. It is a pretty place, +and not unknown--in the locality. It has a season and all that kind of +thing, and it was during the season I was there. And one day a +deputation of the inhabitants called on me at my lodgings to ask if I +would lead the local cricket club to, say, victory. As I have said, my +first impression was that they were mad; either that, or else that +they were "playing it off" on the unprotected stranger.</p> + +<p class="normal">I hinted so much to the deputation. The deputation smiled. The chief +spokesman was the local barber; his name was Sapsworth. He explained +that Mr. Wingrave had sent them there. Wingrave was the vicar; we were +"up" together, and he must have known quite well whereabouts my +cricketing form came in. I decided to crush the deputation before the +thing went farther.</p> + +<p class="normal">"To show you the sort of man you propose should captain you, I need +only mention that it is more than fifteen years since I had a bat in +my hand."</p> + +<p class="normal">But the admission did not crush them: quite the other way. It opened +the floodgates of their eloquence.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's nothing," Mr. Sapsworth cried. "There's Hedges here; we've had +to put him in; he don't even know the rules of the game, and he's just +turned sixty-one."</p> + +<p class="normal">I glanced at Mr. Hedges, thus frankly referred to. He was a smiling, +red-faced, bald-headed old gentleman, who, if not considerable in +height, was great in girth. He would certainly have turned the scale +at sixteen stone. I felt that, to cricketers who intended to play Mr. +Hedges, any objections which I might urge would appear quite trivial.</p> + +<p class="normal">"When is the match to be?" I asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"To-morrow," was the startling reply.</p> + +<p class="normal">I was speechless. That I, after fifteen years' total abstention, +should be asked to captain a team the members of which were entire +strangers to me, and of whose individual styles of play I had not the +faintest notion, in a match against an unknown foe, at four-and-twenty +hours' notice, was a little hard to credit. It was altogether too +preposterous. I told them so. But they could not be brought to see it.</p> + +<p class="normal">The end of it was that I agreed to play. No man knows to what a depth +of folly he can sink until he tries.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h4>MR. BENYON BOWLS.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The match was to be played on Mr. Stubbs's field. Mr. Stubbs was a +local butcher. Mr. Sapsworth had kindly promised to come and escort me +to the scene of action. He arrived at half-past nine, just as I was +opening my morning's letters. On the way he gave me a chart of the +country. It appeared that in batting we were not strong, in fielding +we were weak, and that our bowling was more than shaky.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But we shall pull through," Mr. Sapsworth added; "especially now," +and he glanced at me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I hope you are under no delusion as to my powers, Mr. Sapsworth. I +never was a first-rate cricketer, and, as I have already told you, it +is more than fifteen years since I handled a bat."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you'll excuse my saying so, sir, I've generally noticed that them +who doesn't say much does a deal."</p> + +<p class="normal">That was one way of looking at it, no doubt; but if I did a deal, I +could only say that it would be a pleasant surprise to me.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And our opponents--what sort of a team are they?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Sapsworth turned up his nose--not metaphorically, but as a matter +of fact.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If we're bad," he said, "they're wuss. There's only one thing I've +ever seen those Latchmere blokes much good at, and that is cheating. +You'll have to keep a sharp eye on them, or they'll have all our chaps +out when they ain't; and they won't go out themselves, not even when +you've bowled their three stumps down all of a row."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Surely," I suggested, "those sort of questions are for the umpires to +decide."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Umpires!" Up went Mr. Sapworth's nose again. "They bring their own +umpire, and he's got his own ideas of umpiring, he has. But we've got +our own umpire as well as them."</p> + +<p class="normal">I said nothing; but Mr. Sapsworth's words conveyed to my mind pleasant +impressions of the strict rigour of the game.</p> + +<p class="normal">When we arrived there was a goodly gathering already assembled in Mr. +Stubbs's field. A tent was erected; in and about it was a nondescript +collection of men and boys; some forty or fifty others, availing +themselves of the opportunity afforded them for a little practice, +were actually disporting themselves on the pitch on which we were +presently to play. I consoled myself with the reflection that the +worse the ground was the more <i>my</i> bowling would tell.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Sapworth introduced me to the crowd <i>en masse</i>. Several persons +touched their caps to me; others nodded their heads; some grinned.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good-morning, gentlemen. We're going to have a fine day for our +match. Our team all here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Sapworth took upon himself to answer; he had been searching about +him with his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"They're here all right. I suppose those Latchmere chaps ain't come +yet?"</p> + +<p class="normal">They had not come, and they did not come for an hour or more. I +employed the interval in becoming acquainted with the individual +members, arranging the order of going in, and their positions in the +field; matters in appearance simple enough, but more difficult in +practice. But at last the preliminaries were settled somehow, and the +Latchmere men appeared upon the ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">Their captain, coming up, was introduced to me. I was informed +afterwards that he was a blacksmith. I thought he was by the way in +which he grasped my hand. His opening speech was a little surprising.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We ain't going to play you if you've got eleven men, you know."</p> + +<p class="normal">I inquired into his meaning.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We've only got ten," he said. "And one of them's Soft Sawney, and +another's Sprouts."</p> + +<p class="normal">I do not know if those were the correct names of the gentlemen +referred to, or only fancy ones by which they were known to their +friends; but he laid his hand on two of his followers and hauled them +to the front. One was a long, weedy youth, who, one saw at a glance, +was more than half an imbecile; and the other was a portly old +gentleman of fifty-five or six, with a corporation like a barrel.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Sapsworth intervened.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's that?" he cried. "We've got Hedges!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He brought Mr. Hedges forward. I could not but feel that, to say the +least of it, Mr. Hedges balanced Mr. Sprouts. If Mr. Hedges could run +more than a dozen yards without pausing to take breath, I was almost +ready to express my willingness to eat my hat.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But we've only got ten men," persisted Mr. Barker. "You'll only have +to have ten. If you think we're going to play against your eleven we +won't play you at all, so that's all about it."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a prospect of unpleasantness even before the match began. It +seemed that one of us would have to retire, in satisfaction of Mr. +Barker's rather unjustifiable demand. I was about to retire +myself--for I instinctively felt that, as a captain, I was no match +for Mr. Barker--when a rather curious incident occurred.</p> + +<p class="normal">On a sudden a newcomer appeared upon the scene. I say on a sudden, for +no one had noticed his approach, and yet, all at once, there he was, +standing between the Latchmere captain and myself. To me at any rate +his presence was so unexpected, and, indeed, so startling, that I +stared. He seemed to have come out of space. He was a big, burly +fellow, with smooth cheeks, round face, bullet-shaped head, and +sleepy-looking black eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let me play for you?" he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">For a moment Mr. Barker stared at the stranger in surprise, in common +with the rest of us. Then he jumped at the offer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let you! rather!" He thrust out his hand and caught the stranger's +palm in his. But no sooner had he got it firmly gripped than he +dropped it with an exclamation: "Why, what's the matter with you? +Ain't you well? Your hand's as cold as a frozen corpse."</p> + +<p class="normal">I went a little aside with Mr. Sapsworth.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who is he?" I asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know, and yet I seem somehow to have seen his face before. +But let them have him. He doesn't look as though he were up to much."</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not. Anyone looking less like a cricketer I have seldom +seen. His costume was ridiculous. He had on a pair of large check +trousers--a check of the kind which the Oxford tailor explained to the +undergraduate was a <i>leetle</i> too large to be seen to advantage on a +single pair of understandings. He had on a huge top hat, of a size and +shape which would have made the fortune of a "lion comique." A red +woollen muffler was wound several times round his neck, and his +capacious person was enveloped in an enormous overcoat, the like of +which I had never seen before. The day promised to remind us of the +torrid zone, yet Mr. Barker had cried out that the stranger's hand +felt cold.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the toss for innings victory fell to us. So we went in. I led the +van. My associate was a youth named Fenning. He was a mere lad, and +looked too much of a lout to be much of a cricketer. Mr. Barker led +the bowling. I soon saw that if he had any strength it was not as a +bowler. If I kept my head, I told myself, and he carried away my +bails, it would be owing to the ground; for a rougher piece of turf, I +suppose, few wickets have been pitched upon. But I was far too nervous +to take liberties even with Mr. Barker. And, indeed, when the first +over was finished, and I found myself still in, I drew a long breath +of self-congratulation.</p> + +<p class="normal">The other bowler was, in his own line, as meritorious a specimen as +his captain. So, on the whole, things were going better than I had +expected. I had scored eleven, six off Mr. Barker, and the rest off +his friend. Even Fenning had hit up two--<i>literally</i> hit up. I was +really beginning to think that I was getting set, which, in my +palmiest days had only happened once--thrice happy day!--when +something took place which showed me, not for the first time, the +advisability of never counting your chickens till the eggs are +hatched.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Barker was just about to commence an over. He actually had the +ball in his hand, when the substitute--the stranger who had +volunteered to fill the place of the eleventh man--came marching right +across the field. Mr. Barker saw him coming, and called out to him to +stay where he was. But, wholly unheeding, the substitute strode on. He +reached Mr. Barker, and, without saying a word, so far as I could +perceive, he coolly held out his hand for the ball. I fully expected +that the Latchmere captain would remonstrate, and not only +remonstrate, but remonstrate strongly; but, to my surprise, he +instantly surrendered the ball, and slunk rather than walked to the +place which the stranger had just quitted. So the substitute was left +to bowl.</p> + +<p class="normal">Without doubt he was an eccentric character. Up to that moment he had +been fielding in his woollen muffler, his overcoat, and, last but not +least, his wonderful top hat. These, however, he now doffed, and laid +in a heap upon the ground. Their disappearance revealed the fact that +he wore a tight-fitting jacket which was the same wonderful pattern in +checks as his trousers. From the look of him, I certainly never +supposed that he could bowl. My surprise was, therefore, all the +greater when I discovered that he could. His action was peculiar. He +went right up to the wicket, and stood quite still, delivering the +ball with a curious flourish of the wrist. Its pace was amazing. It +pitched a good two feet to the off, and broke right in--perhaps aided +by the ground, though he certainly had found a spot. I was so +astounded by the pace--which reminded me of the old stories told of +Lillywhite; you could hear it "humming" in the air--that I never even +moved my bat. It was that which saved me. As it was the bat was all +but driven out of my hand. I told myself that on the arrival of a +second edition I should have to go. Yet I did manage to stop the next +four balls--how, I have not the faintest notion; but the sixth--for it +seemed that, in those parts, they bowled six to the over--took my +middle stump, breaking it clean off at the top.</p> + +<p class="normal">As I entered the tent the scorer cried out--</p> + +<p class="normal">"What name?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tom Benyon," replied the bowler.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Hedges, who was seated at the scorer's side, brought down his fist +upon the trestle-table with a bang.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I knew it was! I knowed him all along!" Mr. Hedges was in a state of +odd excitement. "That chap who bowled you ain't a man, sir--he's a +ghost."</p> + +<p class="normal">"He manages to put a good deal of pace on the ball for a ghost," I +answered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And so he ought to. Did you hear what name he said? He said Tom +Benyon! There wasn't a better cricketer in all these parts than Tom +Benyon used to be. He played up in Lunnon more than once, I know, and +got well paid for playing too. But he always was a queer sort, was +Tom. I knew him well. I saw him buried. And if it is him, and not his +ghost, he ain't grown a day older these twenty years, he ain't."</p> + +<p class="normal">I laughed. I supposed the old gentleman was jesting. But not a bit of +it. When our second man had gone to the wicket Mr. Sapsworth drew me +aside.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't like the look of this," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nor I," I answered, supposing he referred to Mr. Benyon's bowling. +"He'll bring down our stumps like ninepins."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It isn't that. It--it's the man," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you mean the ghost?" I asked jokingly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's easy to laugh. But----" Mr. Sapsworth paused. I could see he was +ashamed of himself, yet had his suspicions none the less. "I thought I +had seen him before, and I had. It <i>is</i> Tom Benyon."</p> + +<p class="normal">"He says he is Tom Benyon, and I suppose he should know best."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes." Mr. Sapsworth fidgeted. "But Tom Benyon's been dead these +twenty years."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dead!" I cried, and laughed. "He showed himself too much alive for +me, at any rate."</p> + +<p class="normal">"When I was a youngster," continued Mr. Sapsworth, "Tom Benyon used to +come into my father's shop to be shaved. He was always on the drink. +One morning I was all alone, minding the shop for father, when he came +in, mad drunk. I never shall forget that morning, never. He made me +sit in the shaving-chair, and set about to shave me. He soaped me all +over--face and hair and all. I was that there frightened I couldn't +make a sound. I never shall forget how I sat and watched him, with the +soap all in my eyes, as he put an edge upon the razor. Then he set +about shaving off my hair. He had got off about half of it, and I was +streaming with blood, when who should come in but my father. If he +hadn't Tom Benyon would have made an end of me."</p> + +<p class="normal">He paused. I perceived that the mere recollection of his little +adventure affected him unpleasantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There was something queer about his death. Some people said it was +drink had done for him, some of 'em said he had done for himself. +Anyhow, the whole country-side was at his funeral. I was there. I +remember it as plainly as though it was yesterday."</p> + +<p class="normal">While I was looking at Mr. Sapsworth, and pondering his words, there +came the sound of laughter from the middle of the ground. It was not a +loud laugh, but it was a distinctly disagreeable one. I looked round. +Mr. Benyon was laughing at Mr. Fenning's discomfiture. He had served +him as he had served me--he had taken his middle stump right out of +the ground. I turned to Mr. Sapsworth.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You follow."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Me!" Mr. Sapsworth turned several shades whiter. "Me!" He looked +about him with a frightened air. "Mr. Trentham, I--I can't," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nonsense, Sapsworth! You don't mean to say that you are going to +allow yourself to be frightened by any nonsense about a ghost, and in +broad daylight too!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The little man did not look by any means reassured by my tone of +derision. He seemed more inclined to take to his heels than to take +his place at the wickets. It is not impossible that he might have done +so had he not been addressed from a different quarter.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bob Sapsworth!" It was Mr. Benyon calling to the little barber right +across the field. "Come and be shaved!"</p> + +<p class="normal">I own that I myself was startled. The words were apposite, to say the +least of it. We had just been speaking of Mr. Sapsworth's experience +of the shaver's art as practised by Mr. Benyon's hands, and here was +Mr. Benyon's namesake inviting him, if not to be cut, at least to come +again. On Mr. Sapsworth the effect of the invitation was surprising. +He had on his pads, his bat was in his hand. Without a word he +shuffled towards the stumps. If ever I saw a man go to the wickets in +a state of "mortal funk," I saw him then.</p> + +<p class="normal">I myself moved towards the scoring-tent. The state of things within it +at once impressed me as peculiar. It had been filled, a little time +ago, with jovial faces. Now, the owners of those faces might have been +attendants at a funeral. And many a man has had a livelier following +to the grave than I saw assembled then.</p> + +<p class="normal">Fenning came shambling into the tent. I spoke to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Benyon's bowling was too much for you, eh, Fenning?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Unless I am mistaken, Mr. Fenning wiped a tear out of his eye. He +certainly put up his hand and rubbed the optic with his knuckles.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I never seed such bowling! 'Tain't fair!" he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is there unfair about it, Fenning?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It comes so sharp. I never seed the ball afore there was my wickets +down."</p> + +<p class="normal">I smiled. Not so the company. They regarded Mr. Fenning's words with +different eyes. Mr. Hedges gave expression to the general opinion.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You ain't never seen such bowling afore, and you won't never see such +bowling again. 'Cause why? 'Cause it's a ghost that's bowling, not a +man!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenning looked about him with open eyes, and with open mouth as +well. "A ghost!" he mumbled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A ghost!" said Mr. Hedges.</p> + +<p class="normal">I expostulated.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, Mr. Hedges, you frighten the lad. I am surprised, too, that a +man of your age and experience and wisdom should talk nonsense about +ghosts."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Hedges looked up at me a little sharply.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If he ain't a ghost, what's become of the things that he's took off?"</p> + +<p class="normal">I asked him what he meant. He pointed across the ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He took off his hat and his coat and his scarf, and he laid 'em on +the grass. He ain't touched 'em, and no one ain't took 'em, yet +they're gone! We saw 'em go. If he ain't a ghost, what's become of the +things that he's took off?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Hedges grew a little excited. I looked in the direction in which +the old gentleman was pointing. The garments he referred to had +apparently vanished, but, of course, their disappearance was +susceptible of a most natural explanation. I should have maintained +this proposition with more confidence had it not been for something +which immediately occurred.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Benyon was preparing to deliver his first ball to Mr. Sapsworth, +and as I eyed him I noted the extremely unworkmanlike attitude in +which Mr. Sapsworth awaited the delivery. Preparatory to delivering +the ball Mr. Benyon divested himself of his remarkable coat, which +matched his trousers, and in so doing disclosed a waistcoat which +matched his coat. Neatly folding up the garment, he laid it beside him +on the ground. No sooner did it touch the ground than it disappeared. +I am unable to say how, but it did, and that before the eyes of all +the lookers-on. This singular behaviour on the part of that curious +garment took me by surprise.</p> + +<p class="normal">After that I was prepared to excuse a certain amount of nervousness on +the part of Mr. Sapsworth. To Mr. Benyon Mr. Sapsworth's nervousness +seemed to afford positive pleasure. He cried, in a tone which was +perhaps <i>meant</i> to be jovial:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, Bob Sapsworth, prepare to be shaved!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The ball went from his hand like lightning. Mr. Sapsworth yelled. Mr. +Benyon sent down his second ball--whack! not against the bat, but, I +should say, as nearly as possible against the same portion of Mr. +Sapsworth's frame which it had struck before. Any cricketer might have +been demoralised after receiving two such blows, but he would at least +have tried to get out of the way of the ball instead of in it. Mr. +Sapsworth placed his person exactly where the ball might be expected +to come, and, for once in a way, expectation was realised--it did +come. The third, fourth, and fifth balls found an exactly similar +billet, and the sixth not only knocked his bat out of his trembling +hands, but all three of his stumps clean out of the ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I said I'd shave you, Bobby!" shouted Mr. Benyon, as the victim went +limping from the place of execution.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Next man in," I said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I ain't going in," courteously rejoined the player whose turn it was +to follow. I was about to ask him why, when I was saved the trouble by +Mr. Benyon.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Jack Hawthorn!" Oddly enough, the man's name was Hawthorn, though how +Mr. Benyon came to know that he was next man in is more than I can +say. Mr. Hawthorn was a huge fellow quite six feet high; but at the +sound of Mr. Benyon's voice he rose, docile as a child. "I'm waiting +for you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Without pads Mr. Hawthorn went striding across the turf, content to +use the bat which Mr. Sapsworth had left lying on the ground. That +hero came limping into the tent.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's a ghost," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">I could not but feel that the fellow was something of a cur. To this +feeling I gave expression.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ghost or no ghost, rather than let him pound me all over the body +with the ball, I would have made one try to hit at it. And you told me +that you were an all-round player."</p> + +<p class="normal">No doubt the man must have been suffering considerable pain, but I was +too much annoyed at his cowardice to feel for him. Besides, the whole +thing was so preposterous.</p> + +<p class="normal">Undoubtedly, as a trundler Mr. Benyon was superb. I have no hesitation +in saying that I do not remember to have seen finer bowling than his +on any ground in England. He combined two things which, so far as I am +aware, are not to be found together in any living player--pace <i>and</i> +break. But it was not his bowling, fine as it was, which promised to +work our ruin, so much as the absurd belief entertained by the members +of the team that he--check trousers and all--was a ghost. An idea came +into my head. I resolved that I would ask him, point-blank, in the +face of all the people, if he was a ghost. If his answers did not +satisfy the doubters nothing would.</p> + +<p class="normal">The opportunity occurred just as he was about to begin his following +over. Moving from the tent, I advanced towards the wickets.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Excuse me, Mr. Benyon, but before you commence to bowl might I speak +to you a word?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He turned and looked at me. As he did so I was conscious that, in the +most emphatic sense of the word, his appearance was peculiar. He +looked as though he were a corpse, and an unhealthy corpse to +boot--the sort of corpse that no man would spend a night with +willingly. And this unpleasant appearance was accentuated by his +ridiculous attire. Fancy a dead man, of a bloated habit of body, +taking his walks abroad in a suit of checks--each check twelve inches +square! I was so uncomfortably conscious that Mr. Benyon did not look +a clubbable kind of man that I faltered in my speech.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You will excuse me, Mr. Benyon, if the question I am about to put to +you appears to you even worse than absurd, but the members of my team +have some ridiculous notion in their heads that you are a certain Tom +Benyon who died twenty years ago, and who now lies buried in the +churchyard. I am sure, therefore, you will forgive my asking, are you +a ghost?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Benyon eyed me, and I eyed him--not willingly, but because, for +some reason or other, I could not help it. At last he answered, +speaking in a sort of shout,</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am."</p> + +<p class="normal">Of course such an answer was absurd--ridiculously absurd. As I sit +here writing no man could be more conscious of its absurdity than I +am. But <i>then</i> it was not <i>that</i> I was so conscious of as of a cold +shiver going all down my back, and of a sort of feeling as though +Providence had sent me out into the world knock-kneed. I struggled +against a strong inclination to sit down upon the turf and stop there. +But being at the same time dimly aware that I was making an unexampled +fool of myself, I made a frantic effort to regain the use of my +tongue.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, you--you are a ghost! I--I thought so. Tha--thanks."</p> + +<p class="normal">How I got back to the tent I have not the faintest notion. But I do +know that after that exhibition of the sort of stuff that I was made +of, disaster followed hard upon disaster.</p> + +<p class="normal">The first wicket--my own--had fallen for thirteen runs. The second, +and the third, had seen the score unaltered. Hawthorn was the fourth +man in. He was so fortunate as to appear upon the scene just as I put +my fatal question--it was to give him a chance I put it. The answer +settled him--that is, if there was anything left to settle. I am not +able to state exactly what became of him, but I have a clear +impression that he was out at the end of the over. Moreover, of this I +am well assured, that nine wickets fell without an addition being made +to the score. I suppose that is, in its way, a record.</p> + +<p class="normal">Whether Mr. Benyon owed the inhabitants of his native place a grudge +the evidence before me does not enable one to decide; but, if he did, +he certainly paid it in full that day. Although he bowled at the +wickets he hit the players first. Nor was this, so far as appearances +went, in any way his fault; they seemed to have a singular knack of +getting just in the way of the ball. The order of the innings was +this: the ball hit each man five times, and the wickets once. At the +end of each of Mr. Benyon's overs a batsman returned to the tent a +sadder and a lamer man.</p> + +<p class="normal">One case in particular was hard. It was the case of Mr. Hedges. He was +the last man in; when his turn came, with the score still at thirteen +runs, he stuck to his seat like glue.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Won't somebody go in for me?" he asked, as he saw his doom +approaching. "I ain't no cricketer," he added, a little later on. "Now +am I?" He asked the question of his friends, but his friends were +still. He addressed himself to Mr. Sapsworth. "Bob Sapsworth, you +asked me to play, now didn't you? You says to me, 'If you play, +William Hedges,' you says, 'I shouldn't be surprised but what the gent +as we're going to ask to captain us stands you a free lunch,' you +says, 'not to speak of drinks,' you says." I pricked up my ears at +this, but held my tongue. "But you says nothing about being bowled at +by a ghost, now did you now; I ask you, Bob Sapsworth, did you now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Sapsworth was silent. The old gentleman went on:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shan't go in," he announced. That was when the ninth batsman had +received Mr. Benyon's first ball--upon his person. "Nothing shan't +make me go in to be bowled at by a ghost." This second announcement +followed the delivery of the second ball upon the batsman's person. "I +ain't no cricketer, and I don't know nothing about the rules of the +game, and I ain't going to stand up to be chucked at by a ghost," and +Mr. Hedges struck his fist upon the board. There came a yell from the +wickets; Mr. Hedges gripped his seat tightly with his hands. "I won't +go in!" he cried. Another ball, another yell. Mr. Hedges repeated his +determination over and over again, as if in its reiteration he sought +for strength to keep it. "I won't! I won't! I won't!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The last ball of the over, and the ninth of our hopes had fallen. A +pause ensued. The batsman came limping towards the tent. Mr. Hedges' +time was come; he clutched at the seat with the frenzy of despair.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bill Hedges!" sang out Mr. Benyon; but Mr. Hedges gave no sign. "Bill +Hedges!" Still no reply. "Bill Hedges, have I got to come and fetch +you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">At that awful threat the old gentleman did rise. His ample form went +waddling across the ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I'm a-coming, Tom. I--I ain't no cricketer, Tom. Do--don't you be +too hard on me. If you must hit me, let it be behind."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where's your bat?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The inquiry came from Mr. Benyon. Mr. Hedges had arrived at the wicket +without that batsman's requisite. He scratched his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My bat? I--I don't want no bat. I--I ain't no cricketer. You can hit +me quite as well without it, Tom."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Go and get your bat!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Hedges went and got it. When he had it it was evident that he had +but rudimentary notions of its uses. He held it gingerly, round side +foremost, as though he were afraid that if he grasped it tightly it +would burn him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bill Hedges, do you remember those drinks you paid for me the +Saturday week before I died?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, Tom; I can't say rightly as how I do."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You did. It was at the 'Crown and Anchor.' I had no money. I said if +you'd stand Sam I'd pay you back again; but I never did. I'll pay you +now."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Benyon paid him, five times over. The old gentleman bore it like a +lamb. Whack--whack--whack--whack--whack! and the fall of his wicket at +the end. As he returned towards the tent he wiped his wrinkled brow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I always said I wasn't no cricketer, and I ain't," he said.</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h4>AND BATS.</h4> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Our innings was over--for thirteen runs. We sat there, moping in a +crowd, I among the rest, when Mr. Benyon, bustling up, reminded me of +my duties as a captain.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now then, turn out. Send your men into the field. We can't stop here +all day. I'm first man in; soon I'll have to go, and I haven't had a +smack at a cricket-ball these twenty years!"</p> + +<p class="normal">We looked at each other. One part of his address gave us a certain +gratification--that part in which he stated that he soon would have to +go. We turned out. I suppose a more unpromising set of fieldsmen never +yet took their places in the field. The Latchmere men went slouching +towards the tent; some of them, I noticed, instead of going in stole +towards the rear. These, I suspect, stole off the ground; I never set +eyes on them again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Trentham, I--I can't bowl," whispered Mr. Sapsworth to me as we +moved across the turf.</p> + +<p class="normal">He and I had agreed that we should start the bowling. I confess that I +felt no more inclined to act up to the letter of our agreement than he +did. But Mr. Benyon intervened.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, Bob Sapsworth, you take the bowling one end, and let your +captain take the other. Captain, you take first over."</p> + +<p class="normal">I obeyed without a murmur. It might have been quite a usual thing to +see in a match a member of one team ordering about the captain of the +other. I do not think that our field was arranged on scientific +principles; I may certainly claim that I had nothing to do with its +arrangement. There is a suspicion floating through my mind that at one +or two points--two, or more--men were placed unusually close together. +For instance, at deep mid-off--very deep mid-off--Mr. Hawthorn and Mr. +Hedges were not only doing their best to trample on each other's toes, +but each was seeking for a place of security behind the other's back.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Barker shared with Mr. Benyon the honour of being first man in. +The Latchmere captain, as a captain, had become quite as much a +figurehead as I had. His bearing was indicative of extreme depression. +I think he had learned that to take, off-hand, the first substitute +who offered, was, now and then, unwise.</p> + +<p class="normal">To enable him to bat with more advantage, Mr. Benyon had removed his +waistcoat, which matched his trousers and his coat. What he had done +with it I cannot say; possibly it had vanished, with his other +garments, into air. Now he had on a bright red flannel shirt--his +tastes in costume seemed a trifle lurid--the sleeves of which were +turned up above the elbows. His pose was almost as peculiar as his +costume. He stood bolt upright, his legs together, his feet drawn heel +to heel; not at all in the fashion of a modern cricketer, who seeks to +guard his wickets with his legs. His bat he held straight down in +front of him, the blade swinging gently in the air.</p> + +<p class="normal">I am afraid I wasted more time in preparing to deliver my first ball +than I need have done; but if Mr. Benyon had not had a smack with a +bat for twenty years it was a good fifteen since I had bowled a ball. +After such a lapse of time one requires to pull oneself together +before exhibiting one's powers to a cricketer of Mr. Benyon's calibre. +He, however, did not seem to recognise the necessity which I myself +felt that I was under.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hurry up, sir! Don't I tell you that soon I'll have to go?"</p> + +<p class="normal">I hurried up. I gave him an overhand full pitch which would have made +a decent catch for point, if point had been close in, which he wasn't. +However, in any case Mr. Benyon would have saved him the trouble. He +hit the ball a crack the like of which I had never seen before. He +drove it over the hedge, and over the trees, and up to the skies, and +out of sight.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't think that's a bad little smack to start with," he observed. +"I like your kind of bowling, mister. I suppose that's a boundary." He +called to the scorer--if there was one, which I doubt--"Put down Tom +Benyon six!" He turned again to me. "It's no good wasting time looking +for that ball. I've another in my pocket you can have."</p> + +<p class="normal">He put his hand into his trousers' pocket. Those remarkable garments +fitted him like eel-skins. I had certainly never supposed that he +could by any possibility have such a thing as a cricket-ball in one of +the pockets. But it appeared that he had. He drew one out and threw it +up to me.</p> + +<p class="normal">My second ball was a colourable imitation of my first, only this time +it was wide to leg. To long-leg Mr. Benyon sent it flying.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Put down Tom Benyon another six!" he cried. "I <i>do</i> like your +bowling, mister. I've got another ball which you can have."</p> + +<p class="normal">He produced a second ball from the same pocket from which the first +had come. I could scarcely believe my eyes. But I was discovering, +with Horatio, that there were more things in heaven and earth than had +been contained in my philosophy. Since Mr. Benyon professed such +affection for the style of bowling which I favoured, I sent him down +another sample. This time it was fairly straight--by which I mean that +it would not have pitched more than a yard from the wickets if Mr. +Benyon had allowed it to pitch, which he didn't. He treated it as he +had done the first--he drove it, with terrific force, right above my +head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never mind about the ball," he said. "I've got another in my pocket."</p> + +<p class="normal">He had--the third. And in the same pocket from which the other two had +come.</p> + +<p class="normal">My fourth ball he treated to a swipe to square-leg. He seemed to have +a partiality for swiping. Quite unnecessarily he allowed that this was +so.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do like a ball which I can get a smack at," he remarked as he +produced a fourth ball from the same pocket of his tightly-fitting +trousers which had contained the other three. "A swipe does warm me +so. Your kind of bowling, mister, 's just the thing."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was kind of him to say so; though, to my thinking, his remark did +not convey a compliment. When he sent my fifth ball out of sight I +wished that his love for swiping had been less, or my bowling of +another kind. The sixth, however, which he also produced from the same +wondrous store contained in his breeches pocket, he contented himself +with what he called "snicking."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's what I call a pretty snick," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">The "snick" in question was a tremendous drive to deep mid-off. It was +stopped, quite involuntarily, by Mr. Hawthorn and Mr. Hedges. So far +as I could see, it stunned the pair of them. Neither of them made the +slightest attempt to return the ball.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Run it out!" cried Mr. Benyon. He and Mr. Barker began to run. They +ran four, and then they ran two more, and still the ball was not +thrown in. Mr. Benyon urged the fielders on. "Hurry up, Bill Hedges!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Hedges did not hurry up; he never could have hurried up, even if +his manner of "fielding" the ball had not wholly deprived him of his +wind. But the ball was at last thrown in--when the pair had run +eleven. Forty-one runs off his first over was a result calculated to +take the conceit out of the average bowler. And Mr. Benyon's last +performance, his "snick," had placed him at the other wicket, prepared +to receive Mr. Sapsworth's bowling--when it came.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, Bob Sapsworth, I'll have a smack at you!" he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had. I felt for Mr. Sapsworth. But since I had suffered it was only +fair that he should suffer too. Crack--smack--whack went the balls out +of sight in all directions. And for each ball that disappeared Mr. +Benyon produced another from his breeches pocket. I felt that these +things must be happening to me in a dream. I was rapidly approaching +the condition in which Alice must have been in Wonderland--prepared +for anything.</p> + +<p class="normal">Time went on. Mr. Sapsworth and I bowled over after over. Mr. Benyon +was making a record in tall scoring. No performance of "W. G.'s" ever +came within many miles of it. And the balls he lost! And the balls +which he produced! And the diabolical ingenuity with which he managed, +at the close of every over, to change his end! If Mr. Barker did no +hitting, he did some running. He never had a chance to make a stroke, +but his partner took care to make him run an incredibly large odd +number as a wind up to every over. Mr. Benyon did not seem to be +distressed by the exertion in the least; Mr. Barker emphatically did.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Benyon had buoyed us up by his statement that he would soon have +to go. His ideas of soon were different from ours. I suppose, at the +outside, our innings had lasted half an hour. How long we bowled to +Mr. Benyon is more than I can say. I know that I bowled until I felt +that I should either have to stop or drop. By degrees one fact began +to be impressed upon me. It was this--that the number of spectators +was growing smaller by degrees and beautifully less. Originally there +had been quite a crowd assembled. In course of time this had dwindled +to half a dozen stragglers. A little later on even these had gone. And +not only spectators but cricketers had disappeared. If my eyes did not +deceive me, there was not a member of the Latchmere team left on the +ground. They had had enough of Mr. Benyon--or his ghost.</p> + +<p class="normal">What was more, some of our own team took courage, and leg-bail. I +caught one of them--the lad Fenning--in the act of scrambling through +the hedge. But I had not the heart to stop him. I only wished that I +had been so fortunate as to have led the van.</p> + +<p class="normal">The thing grew serious. So far as I could see, Mr. Hawthorn, Mr. +Hedges, Mr. Sapsworth, and I were the only members of the Storwell +team left on the ground. And the reflection involuntarily crossed my +mind--what fools we were to stay! The amount of running about we had +to do! And the way in which Mr. Benyon urged us on! The perspiration +was running off from us in streams--I had never had such a "sweater" +before!</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do like your kind of bowling, mister," Mr. Benyon would constantly +remark.</p> + +<p class="normal">If I had had an equal admiration for his kind of batting we should +have been quits, but I had not; at least not then.</p> + +<p class="normal">A little later, looking round the field, I found that Mr. Hawthorn had +disappeared, and that Mr. Hedges, stuck in a hedge, was struggling +gallantly to reach safety on the other side. It was the last ball of +Mr. Sapsworth's over. Mr. Benyon ran thirteen for a hit to leg. He +made Mr. Barker run them too--it was the proverbial last straw. As Mr. +Barker was running the thirteenth run, instead of going to his wicket +he dropped his bat--the bat which he had never had a chance to +utilise--and bolted off the field as though Satan was behind him. Mr. +Benyon called out to him, but Mr. Barker neither stopped nor stayed. +It seemed that the match was going to resolve itself into a game of +single wicket.</p> + +<p class="normal">To make things better, when I came up to bowl I perceived that Mr. +Sapsworth's power of endurance had reached its tether. The position he +had taken up in the field had not much promise of usefulness. He first +stood close up to the hedge, then he stood in the middle of the hedge, +then--I doubt if he <i>stood</i> upon the other side. But at least he had +vanished from my ken. And I was left alone to bowl to Mr. Benyon. That +over!</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do like your kind of bowling, mister," he observed when, as usual, +he sent my first ball out of sight. "Never mind about the ball. I've +got one in my pocket you can have."</p> + +<p class="normal">He had. He produced it--always from the same pocket. It was about the +second thousand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It does warm me so to swipe." This he said when he had sent my second +ball on a journey to find its brother. Then a ball or two later on, "I +call that a tidy smack." The "smack" in question had driven the ball, +for anything I know to the contrary, a distance of some five miles or +so.</p> + +<p class="normal">The next ball I fielded. It was the first piece of fielding I had done +that day, and that was unintentional. It laid me on the ground. It was +some moments before I recovered myself sufficiently to enable me to +look round. When I did so no one was in sight. I was alone in the +field. The opposite wicket was deserted. The bat lay on the ground. +And Mr. Benyon had gone!</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h3>THE END.</h3> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Amusement Only, by Richard Marsh + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMUSEMENT ONLY *** + +***** This file should be named 38188-h.htm or 38188-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/1/8/38188/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + +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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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: Amusement Only + +Author: Richard Marsh + +Release Date: December 2, 2011 [EBook #38188] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMUSEMENT ONLY *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + + + + + + + + + + + 1. Page scan source: + http://books.google.com/books?id=IzYPAAAAQAAJ + + + + + + + NEW NOVELS AT THE LIBRARIES. + + In Single Volume form, each Six Shillings. + + * * * * * + +A SUFFOLK COURTSHIP. By M. Betham-Edwards. Author of "Kitty," "Dr. +Jacob," "Brother Gabriel," "The Lord of the Harvest," &c. + +THE DISHONOUR OF FRANK SCOTT. By M. Hamilton, Author of "A +Self-Denying Ordinance," "McLeod of the Camerons," &c. + +A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. A Romance. By Joanna B. Wood, Author of "The +Untempered Wind," "Judith Moore," &c. + +THE WORLD'S SLOW STAIN. By Harold Vallings, Author of "The +Transgression of Terence Clancy," "A Month of Madness," &c. + +MOTHER-SISTER. By Edwin Puqh, Author of "Tony Drum," "The Man of +Straw," &c. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: HURST & BLACKETT, LIMITED. + + + + + + + AMUSEMENT ONLY + + + + + + + AMUSEMENT ONLY + + + + BY + RICHARD MARSH + + AUTHOR OF + "THE BEETLE," "THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN," + "FRIVOLITIES," "MARVELS AND MYSTERIES," Etc. + + + + _IN ONE VOLUME_ + + + + LONDON + HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED + 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET + 1901 + _All rights reserved_ + + + + + + + PRINTED BY KELLEY'S DIRECTORIES LIMITED + LONDON AND KINGSTON. + + + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + The Lost Duchess. + + The Strange Occurrences in Canterstone Jail. + + Twins! + + A Vision of the Night. + + The Way of a Maid with a Man. + + Aunt Jane's Jalap. + + Willyum. + + His First Experiment. + + An Old-fashioned Christmas. + + By Deputy. + + Mr. Whiting and Mary Ann. + + A Substitute. + + + + + + AMUSEMENT ONLY. + + + + + THE LOST DUCHESS. + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE DUCHESS IS LOST. + +"Has the Duchess returned?" + +Knowles came further into the room. He had a letter on a salver. When +the Duke had taken it, Knowles still lingered. The Duke glanced at +him. + +"Is an answer required?" + +"No, your Grace." Still Knowles lingered. "Something a little singular +has happened. The carriage has returned without the Duchess, and the +men say that they thought her Grace was in it." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I hardly understand myself, your Grace. Perhaps you would like to see +Barnes." + +Barnes was the coachman. + +"Send him up." When Knowles had gone, and he was alone, his Grace +showed signs of being slightly annoyed. He looked at his watch. "I +told her she'd better be in by four. She says that she's not feeling +well, and yet one would think that she was not aware of the fatigue +entailed in having the Prince to dinner, and a mob of people to +follow. I particularly wished her to lie down for a couple of hours." + +Knowles ushered in not only Barnes, the coachman, but Moysey, the +footman, too. Both these persons seemed to be ill at ease. The Duke +glanced at them sharply. In his voice there was a suggestion of +impatience. + +"What is the matter?" + +Barnes explained as best he could. + +"If you please, your Grace, we waited for the Duchess outside Cane and +Wilson's, the drapers. The Duchess came out, got into the carriage, +and Moysey shut the door, and her Grace said, 'Home!' and yet when we +got home she wasn't there." + +"She wasn't where?" + +"Her Grace wasn't in the carriage, your Grace." + +"What on earth do you mean?" + +"Her Grace did get into the carriage; you shut the door, didn't you?" + +Barnes turned to Moysey. Moysey brought his hand up to his brow in a +sort of military salute--he had been a soldier in the regiment in +which, once upon a time, the Duke had been a subaltern: + +"She did. The Duchess came out of the shop. She seemed rather in a +hurry, I thought. She got into the carriage, and she said, 'Home, +Moysey!' I shut the door, and Barnes drove straight home. We never +stopped anywhere, and we never noticed nothing happen on the way; and +yet when we got home the carriage was empty." + +The Duke stared. + +"Do you mean to tell me that the Duchess got out of the carriage while +you were driving full pelt through the streets without saying anything +to you, and without you noticing it?" + +"The carriage was empty when we got home, your Grace." + +"Was either of the doors open?" + +"No, your Grace." + +"You fellows have been up to some infernal mischief. You have made a +mess of it. You never picked up the Duchess, and you're trying to palm +this tale off on to me to save yourselves." + +Barnes was moved to adjuration: + +"I'll take my Bible oath, your Grace, that the Duchess got into the +carriage outside Cane and Wilson's." + +Moysey seconded his colleague: + +"I will swear to that, your Grace. She got into the carriage, and I +shut the door, and she said, 'Home, Moysey!'" + +The Duke looked as if he did not know what to make of the story and +its tellers. + +"What carriage did you have?" + +"Her Grace's brougham, your Grace." + +Knowles interposed: + +"The brougham was ordered because I understood that the Duchess was +not feeling very well, and there's rather a high wind, your Grace." + +The Duke snapped at him: + +"What has that to do with it? Are you suggesting that the Duchess was +more likely to jump out of a brougham while it was dashing through the +streets than out of any other kind of vehicle?" + +The Duke's glance fell on the letter which Knowles had brought him +when he first had entered. He had placed it on his writing-table. Now +he took it up. It was addressed: + + + "To His Grace + + "The Duke of Datchet. + + "Private! + +"Very Pressing!!!" + + +The name was written in a fine, clear, almost feminine hand. The words +in the left-hand corner of the envelope were written in a different +hand. They were large and bold; almost as though they had been painted +with the end of the penholder instead of being written with the pen. +The envelope itself was of an unusual size, and bulged out as though +it contained something else besides a letter. + +The Duke tore the envelope open. As he did so something fell out of it +on to the writing-table. It looked as though it was a lock of a +woman's hair. As he glanced at it the Duke seemed to be a trifle +startled. The Duke read the letter: + +"Your Grace will be so good as to bring five hundred pounds (L500) in +gold to the Piccadilly end of the Burlington Arcade within an hour of +the receipt of this. The Duchess of Datchet has been kidnapped. An +imitation duchess got into the carriage, which was waiting outside +Cane and Wilson's and she alighted on the road. Unless your Grace does +as you are requested the Duchess of Datchet's left-hand little finger +will be at once cut off, and sent home in time to receive the Prince +to dinner. Other portions of her Grace will follow. A lock of her +Grace's hair is enclosed with this as an earnest of our good +intentions. + +"_Before_ 5.30 _p.m_. your Grace is requested to be at the Piccadilly +end of the Burlington Arcade with five hundred pounds (L500) in gold. +You will there be accosted by an individual in a white top-hat, and +with a gardenia in his button-hole. You will be entirely at liberty to +give him into custody, or to have him followed by the police. In which +case the Duchess's left arm, cut off at the shoulder, will be sent +home for dinner--not to mention other extremely possible +contingencies. But you are _advised_ to give the individual in +question the five hundred pounds in gold, because in that case the +Duchess herself will be home in time to receive the Prince to dinner, +and with one of the best stories with which to entertain your +distinguished guests they ever heard. + +"Remember! _not later than_ 5.30, unless you wish to receive her +Grace's little finger." + +The Duke stared at this amazing epistle when he had read it as though +he had found it difficult to believe the evidence of his eyes. He was +not a demonstrative person as a rule, but this little communication +astonished even him. He read it again. Then his hands dropped to his +sides and he swore. + +He took up the lock of hair which had fallen out of the envelope. Was +it possible that it could be his wife's, the Duchess? Was it possible +that a Duchess of Datchet could be kidnapped, in broad daylight, in +the heart of London, and be sent home, as it were, in pieces? Had +sacrilegious hands already been playing pranks with that great lady's +hair? Certainly, _that_ hair was so like _her_ hair that the mere +resemblance made his Grace's blood run cold. He turned on Messrs. +Barnes and Moysey as though he would have liked to rend them: + +"You scoundrels!" + +He moved forward as though the intention had entered his ducal heart +to knock his servants down. But, if that were so, he did not act quite +up to his intention. Instead, he stretched out his arm, pointing at +them as if he were an accusing spirit: + +"Will you swear that it was the Duchess who got into the carriage +outside Cane and Wilson's?" + +Barnes began to stammer: + +"I--I'll swear, your Grace, that I--I thought----" + +The Duke stormed an interruption: + +"I don't ask what you thought. I ask you, will you swear it was?" + +The Duke's anger was more than Barnes could face. He was silent. +Moysey showed a larger courage: + +"Could have sworn that it was at the time, your Grace. But now it +seems to me that it's a rummy go." + +"A rummy go!" The peculiarity of the phrase did not seem to strike the +Duke just then--at least, he echoed it as if it didn't. "You call it a +rummy go! Do you know that I am told in this letter that the woman who +had entered the carriage was not the Duchess? What you were thinking +about, or what case you will be able to make out for yourselves, you +know better than I; but I can tell you this--that in an hour you +will leave my service, and you may esteem yourselves fortunate if, +to-night, you are not both of you sleeping in gaol. Knowles! take +these men to a room, and lock them in it, and set some one to see that +they don't get out of it, and come back at once. You understand, at +once--to me!" + +Knowles did not give Messrs. Barnes and Moysey a chance to offer a +remonstrance, even if they had been disposed to do so. He escorted +them out of the room with a dexterity and a celerity which did him +credit, and in a remarkably short space of time he returned to the +ducal presence. He was the Duke's own servant--his own particular man. +He was a little older than the Duke, and he had been his servant +almost ever since the Duke had been old enough to have a servant of +his very own. Probably James Knowles knew more than any living +creature of the Duke's "secret history"--as they call it in the +_chroniques scandaleuses_--of his little peculiarities, of his strong +points, and his weak ones. And, in the possession of this knowledge, +he had borne himself in a manner which had caused the Duke to come to +look upon him as a man in whom he might have confidence--that +confidence which a penitent has in a confessor--to look upon him as a +trusted and a trustworthy friend. + +When Knowles reappeared the Duke handed him the curious epistle with +which he had been favoured. + +"Read that, and tell me what you think of it." + +Knowles read it. His countenance was even more of a mask than the +Duke's. He evinced no sign of astonishment. + +"I am inclined, your Grace, to think that it's a hoax." + +"A hoax! I don't know what you call a hoax! That is not a hoax!" The +Duke held out the lock of hair which had fallen from the envelope. "I +have compared it with the hair in my locket, and it is the Duchess's +hair." + +"May I look at it?" + +The Duke handed it to Knowles. Knowles examined it closely. + +"It resembles her Grace's hair." + +"Resembles! It is her hair." + +Knowles still continued to reflect. He offered a suggestion. + +"Shall I send for the police?" + +"The police! What's the good of sending for the police? If what that +letter says is true, by the time I have succeeded in making a +thick-skulled constable understand what has happened the Duchess will +be--will be mutilated!" + +The Duke turned away as if the thought were frightful--as, indeed, it +was. + +"Is that all you can suggest?" + +"Unless your Grace proposes taking the five hundred pounds." + +One might almost have suspected that the words were spoken in irony. +But before he could answer another servant entered, who also brought a +letter for the Duke. When his Grace's glance fell on it he uttered an +exclamation. The writing on the envelope was the same writing that had +been on the envelope which had contained the very singular +communication--like it in all respects down to the broomstick-end +thickness of the "Private!" and "Very pressing!!!" in the corner. + +"Who brought this?" stormed the Duke. + +The servant appeared to be a little startled by the violence of his +Grace's manner. + +"A lady--or, at least, your Grace, she seemed to be a lady." + +"Where is she?" + +"She came in a hansom, your Grace. She gave me that letter, and said, +'Give that to the Duke of Datchet at once--without a moment's delay!' +Then she got into the hansom again, and drove away." + +"Why didn't you stop her?" + +"Your Grace!" + +The man seemed surprised, as though the idea of stopping chance +visitors to the ducal mansion _vi et armis_ had not, until that +moment, entered into his philosophy. The Duke continued to regard the +man as if he could say a good deal, if he chose. Then he pointed to +the door. His lips said nothing, but his gesture much. The servant +vanished. + +"Another hoax!" the Duke said, grimly, as he tore the envelope open. + +This time the envelope contained a sheet of paper, and in the sheet of +paper another envelope. The Duke unfolded the sheet of paper. On it +some words were written. These: + +"The Duchess appears so particularly anxious to drop you a line, +that one really hasn't the heart to refuse her. Her Grace's +communication--written amidst blinding tears!--you will find enclosed +with this." + +"Knowles," said the Duke, in a voice which actually trembled, +"Knowles, hoax or no hoax, I will be even with the gentleman who wrote +that." + +Handing the sheet of paper to Mr. Knowles, his Grace turned his +attention to the envelope which had been enclosed. It was a small +square envelope, of the finest quality, and it reeked with perfume. +The Duke's countenance assumed an added frown--he had no fondness for +envelopes which were scented. In the centre of the envelope were the +words "To the Duke of Datchet," written in the big, bold, sprawling +hand which he knew so well. + +"Mabel's writing," he said to himself, as, with shaking fingers, he +tore the envelope open. + +The sheet of paper which he took out was almost as stiff as cardboard. +It, too, emitted what his Grace deemed the nauseous odours of the +perfumer's shop. + +On it was written this letter: + +"My dear Hereward,--For Heaven's sake do what these people require! I +don't know what has happened or where I am, but I am nearly +distracted! They have already cut off some of my hair, and they tell +me that, if you don't let them have five hundred pounds in gold by +half-past five, they will cut off my little finger too. I would sooner +die than lose my little finger--and--I don't know what else besides. + +"By the token which I send you, and which has never, until now, been +off my breast, I conjure you to help me.--MABEL. + +"Hereward--_help me!_" + +When he read that letter the Duke turned white--very white, as white +as the paper on which it was written. He passed the epistle on to +Knowles. + +"I suppose that also is a hoax?" + +He spoke in a tone of voice which was unpleasantly cold--a coldness +which Mr. Knowles was aware, from not inconsiderable experience, +betokened that the Duke was white-hot within. + +Mr. Knowles's demeanour, however, betrayed no sign that he was aware +of anything of the kind, he being conscious that there is a certain +sort of knowledge which is apt, at times, to be dangerous to its +possessor. He read the letter from beginning to end. + +"This certainly does resemble her Grace's writing." + +"You think it does resemble it, do you? You think that there is a +certain faint and distant similarity?" The Duke asked these questions +quietly--too quietly. Then, all at once, he thundered--which Mr. +Knowles was quite prepared for--"Why, you idiot, don't you know it is +her writing?" + +Mr. Knowles gave way another point. He was, constitutionally, too much +of a diplomatist to concede more than a point at a time. + +"So far as appearances go, I am bound to admit that I think it +possible that it is her Grace's writing." + +Then the Duke let fly at him--at this perfectly innocent man. But, of +course, Mr. Knowles was long since inured. + +"Perhaps you would like me to send for an expert in writing? Or +perhaps you would prefer that I should send for half-a-dozen? And by +the time that they had sent in their reports, and you had reported on +their reports, and they had reported on your report of their reports, +and some one or other of you had made up his mind, the Duchess would +be dead. Yes, sir, and you'd have murdered her!" + +His Grace hurled this frightful accusation at Mr. Knowles, as if Mr. +Knowles had been a criminal standing in the dock. + +While the Duke had been collecting and discharging his nice +derangement of epithets his fingers had been examining the interior of +the envelope which had held the letter which purported to be written +by his wife. When his fingers reappeared he was holding something +between his first finger and his thumb. He glanced at this himself. +Then he held it out towards Mr. Knowles. + +Again his voice was trembling. + +"If this letter is not from the Duchess, how came that to be in the +envelope?" + +Mr. Knowles endeavoured to see what the Duke was holding. It was so +minute an object that it was a little difficult to make out exactly +what it was, and the Duke appeared to be unwilling to let it go. + +So his Grace explained: + +"That is the half of a sixpence which I gave to the Duchess when I +asked her to be my wife. You see it is pierced. I pierced that hole in +it myself. As the Duchess says in this letter, and as I have reason to +know, she has worn this broken sixpence from that hour to this. If +this letter is not hers, how came this token in the envelope? How came +any one to know, even, that she carried it?" + +Mr. Knowles was silent. He still yielded to his constitutional +disrelish to commit himself. At last he asked: + +"What is it that your Grace proposes to do?" + +The Duke spoke with a bitterness which almost suggested a personal +animosity towards the inoffensive Mr. Knowles. + +"I propose, with your permission, to release the Duchess from the +custody of my estimable correspondent. I propose--always with your +permission--to comply with his modest request, and to take him his +five hundred pounds in gold." He paused, then continued in a tone +which, coming from him, meant volumes: "Afterwards, I propose to cry +quits with the concoctor of this pretty little hoax, even if it costs +me every penny I possess. He shall pay more for that five hundred +pounds than he supposes." + + + CHAPTER II. + + SOUGHT. + +The Duke of Datchet, coming out of the bank, lingered for a moment on +the steps. In one hand he carried a canvas bag, which seemed well +weighted. On his countenance there was an expression which to a casual +observer might have suggested that his Grace was not completely at his +ease. That casual observer happened to come strolling by. It took the +form of Ivor Dacre. + +Mr. Dacre looked the Duke of Datchet up and down in that languid way +he has. He perceived the canvas bag. Then he remarked, possibly +intending to be facetious: + +"Been robbing the bank? Shall I call a cart?" + +Nobody minds what Ivor Dacre says. Besides, he is the Duke's own +cousin. Perhaps a little removed; still, there it is. So the Duke +smiled a sickly smile, as if Mr. Dacre's delicate wit had given him a +passing touch of indigestion. + +Mr. Dacre noticed that the Duke looked sallow, so he gave his pretty +sense of humour another airing: + +"Kitchen boiler burst? When I saw the Duchess just now I wondered if +it had." + +His Grace distinctly started. He almost dropped the canvas bag. + +"You saw the Duchess just now, Ivor! When?" + +The Duke was evidently moved. Mr. Dacre was stirred to languid +curiosity. + +"I can't say I clocked it. Perhaps half an hour ago; perhaps a little +more." + +"Half an hour ago! Are you sure? Where did you see her?" + +Mr. Dacre wondered. The Duchess of Datchet could scarcely have been +eloping in broad daylight. Moreover, she had not yet been married a +year. Every one knew that she and the Duke were still as fond of each +other as if they were not man and wife. So, although the Duke, for +some cause or other, was evidently in an odd state of agitation, Mr. +Dacre saw no reason why he should not make a clean breast of all he +knew. + +"She was going like blazes in a hansom cab." + +"In a hansom cab? Where?" + +"Down Waterloo Place." + +"Was she alone?" + +Mr. Dacre reflected. He glanced at the Duke out of the corners of his +eyes. His languid utterance became a positive drawl: + +"I rather fancy she wasn't." + +"Who was with her?" + +"My dear fellow, if you were to offer me the bank I couldn't tell +you." + +"Was it a man?" + +Mr. Dacre's drawl became still more pronounced: + +"I rather fancy that it was." + +Mr. Dacre expected something. The Duke was so excited. But he by no +means expected what actually came: + +"Ivor, she's been kidnapped!" + +Mr. Dacre did what he had never been known to do before within the +memory of man--he dropped his eye-glass. + +"Datchet!" + +"She has! Some scoundrel has decoyed her away, and trapped her. He's +already sent me a lock of her hair, and he tells me that if I don't +let him have five hundred pounds in gold by half-past five he'll let +me have her little finger." + +Mr. Dacre did not know what to make of his Grace at all. He was a +sober man--it _couldn't_ be that! Mr. Dacre felt really concerned. + +"I'll call a cab, old man, and you'd better let me see you home." + +Mr. Dacre half raised his stick to hail a passing hansom. The Duke +caught him by the arm. + +"You ass! What do you mean? I am telling you the simple truth. My +wife's been kidnapped." + +Mr. Dacre's countenance was a thing to be seen--and remembered. + +"Oh! I hadn't heard that there was much of that sort of thing +about just now. They talk of poodles being kidnapped, but as for +duchesses---- You'd really better let me call that cab." + +"Ivor, do you want me to kick you? Don't you see that to me it's a +question of life and death? I've been in there to get the money." His +Grace motioned towards the bank. "I'm going to take it to the +scoundrel who has my darling at his mercy. Let me but have her hand in +mine again, and he shall continue to pay for every sovereign with +tears of blood until he dies." + +"Look here, Datchet, I don't know if you're having a joke with me, or +if you're not well----" + +The Duke stepped impatiently into the roadway. + +"Ivor, you're a fool! Can't you tell jest from earnest, health from +disease? I'm off! Are you coming with me? It would be as well that I +should have a witness." + +"Where are you off to?" + +"To the other end of the Arcade." + +"Who is the gentleman you expect to have the pleasure of meeting +there?" + +"How should I know?" The Duke took a letter from his pocket--it was +the letter which had just arrived. "The fellow is to wear a white +top-hat, and a gardenia in his button hole." + +"What is it you have there?" + +"It's the letter which brought the news--look for yourself and see; +but, for God's sake make haste!" His Grace glanced at his watch. "It's +already twenty after five." + +"And do you mean to say that on the strength of a letter such as this +you are going to hand over five hundred pounds to----" + +The Duke cut Mr. Dacre short: + +"What are five hundred pounds to me? Besides, you don't know all. +There is another letter. And I have heard from Mabel. But I will tell +you all about it later. If you are coming, come!" + +Folding up the letter, Mr. Dacre returned it to the Duke. + +"As you say, what are five hundred pounds to you? It's as well they +are not as much to you as they are to me, or I'm afraid----" + +"Hang it, Ivor, do prose afterwards!" + +The Duke hurried across the road. Mr. Dacre hastened after him. As +they entered the Arcade they passed a constable. Mr. Dacre touched his +companion's arm. + +"Don't you think we'd better ask our friend in blue to walk behind us? +His neighbourhood might be handy." + +"Nonsense!" The Duke stopped short. "Ivor, this is my affair, not +yours. If you are not content to play the part of silent witness, be +so good as to leave me." + +"My dear Datchet, I'm entirely at your service. I can be every whit as +insane as you, I do assure you." + +Side by side they moved rapidly down the Burlington Arcade. The Duke +was obviously in a state of the extremest nervous tension. Mr. Dacre +was equally obviously in a state of the most supreme enjoyment. People +stared as they rushed past. The Duke saw nothing. Mr. Dacre saw +everything, and smiled. + +When they reached the Piccadilly end of the Arcade the Duke pulled up. +He looked about him. Mr. Dacre also looked about him. + +"I see nothing of your white-hatted and gardenia-button-holed friend," +said Ivor. + +The Duke referred to his watch: + +"It's not yet half-past five. I'm up to time." + +Mr. Dacre held his stick in front of him and leaned on it. He indulged +himself with a beatific smile: + +"It strikes me, my dear Datchet, that you've been the victim of one of +the finest things in hoaxes----" + +"I hope I haven't kept you waiting." + +The voice which interrupted Mr. Dacre came from the rear. While they +were looking in front of them some one approached from behind, +apparently coming out of the shop which was at their backs. + +The speaker looked a gentleman. He sounded like one, too. Costume, +appearance, manner were beyond reproach--even beyond the criticism of +two such keen critics as were these. The glorious attire of a London +dandy was surmounted with a beautiful white top-hat. In his +button-hole was a magnificent gardenia. + +In age the stranger was scarcely more than a boy, and a sunny-faced, +handsome boy at that. His cheeks were hairless, his eyes were blue. +His smile was not only innocent, it was bland. Never was there a more +conspicuous illustration of that repose which stamps the caste of Vere +de Vere. + +The Duke looked at him, and glowered. Mr. Dacre looked at him, and +smiled. + +"Who are you?" asked the Duke. + +"Ah--that is the question!" The newcomer's refined and musical voice +breathed the very soul of affability. "I am an individual who is so +unfortunate as to be in want of five hundred pounds." + +"Are you the scoundrel who sent me that infamous letter?" + +That charming stranger never turned a hair! + +"I am the scoundrel mentioned in that infamous letter who wants to +accost you at the Piccadilly end of the Burlington Arcade before +half-past five--as witness my white hat and my gardenia." + +"Where's my wife?" + +The stranger gently swung his stick in front of him with his two +hands. He regarded the Duke as a merry-hearted son might regard his +father. The thing was beautiful! + +"Her Grace will be home almost as soon as you are--when you have given +me the money which I perceive you have all ready for me in that +scarcely elegant-looking canvas bag." He shrugged his shoulders quite +gracefully. "Unfortunately, in these matters one has no choice--one is +forced to ask for gold." + +"And suppose, instead of giving you what is in this canvas bag, I take +you by the throat and choke the life right out of you?" + +"Or suppose," amended Mr. Dacre, "that you do better, and commend this +gentleman to the tender mercies of the first policeman we encounter." + +The stranger turned to Mr. Dacre. He condescended to become conscious +of his presence. + +"Is this gentleman your Grace's friend? Ah--Mr. Dacre, I perceive! I +have the honour of knowing Mr. Dacre, although, possibly, I am unknown +to him." + +"You were--until this moment." + +With an airy little laugh the stranger returned to the Duke. He +brushed an invisible speck of dust off the sleeve of his coat. + +"As has been intimated in that infamous letter, his Grace is at +perfect liberty to give me into custody--why not? Only"--he said it +with his boyish smile--"if a particular communication is not received +from me in certain quarters within a certain time, the Duchess of +Datchet's beautiful white arm will be hacked off at the shoulder." + +"You hound!" + +The Duke would have taken the stranger by the throat, and have done +his best to choke the life right out of him then and there, if Mr. +Dacre had not intervened. + +"Steady, old man!" Mr. Dacre turned to the stranger: "You appear to be +a pretty sort of a scoundrel." + +The stranger gave his shoulders that almost imperceptible shrug: + +"Oh, my dear Dacre, I am in want of money! I believe that you +sometimes are in want of money, too." + +Everybody knows that nobody knows where Ivor Dacre gets his money +from, so the illusion must have tickled him immensely. + +"You're a cool hand," he said. + +"Some men are born that way." + +"So I should imagine. Men like you must be born, not made." + +"Precisely--as you say!" The stranger turned, with his graceful smile, +to the Duke: "But are we not wasting precious time? I can assure your +Grace that, in this particular matter, moments are of value." + +Mr. Dacre interposed before the Duke could answer: + +"If you take my strongly urged advice, Datchet, you will summon this +constable who is now coming down the Arcade, and hand over this +gentleman to his keeping. I do not think that you need fear that the +Duchess will lose her arm, or even her little finger. Scoundrels of +this one's kidney are most amenable to reason when they have handcuffs +on their wrists." + +The Duke plainly hesitated. He would--and he would not. The stranger, +as he eyed him, seemed much amused. + +"My dear Duke, by all means act on Mr. Dacre's valuable suggestion. As +I said before, why not? It would at least be interesting to see if the +Duchess does or does not lose her arm--almost as interesting to you as +to Mr. Dacre. Those blackmailing, kidnapping scoundrels do use such +empty menaces. Besides, you would have the pleasure of seeing me +locked up. My imprisonment for life would recompense you even for the +loss of her Grace's arm. And five hundred pounds is such a sum to have +to pay--merely for a wife! Why not, therefore, act on Mr. Dacre's +suggestion? Here comes the constable." The constable referred to was +advancing towards them--he was not a dozen yards away. "Let me beckon +to him--I will with pleasure." He took out his watch--a gold +chronograph repeater. "There are scarcely ten minutes left during +which it will be possible for me to send the communication which I +spoke of, so that it may arrive in time. As it will then be too late, +and the instruments are already prepared for the little operation +which her Grace is eagerly anticipating, it would, perhaps, be as +well, after all, that you should give me into charge. You would have +saved your five hundred pounds, and you would, at any rate, have +something in exchange for her Grace's mutilated limb. Ah, here is the +constable! Officer!" + +The stranger spoke with such a pleasant little air of easy geniality +that it was impossible to tell if he were in jest or earnest. This +fact impressed the Duke much more than if he had gone in for a liberal +indulgence of the--under the circumstances--orthodox melodramatic +scowling. And, indeed, in the face of his own common sense, it +impressed Mr. Ivor Dacre too. + +This well-bred, well-groomed youth was just the being to realise--_aux +bouts des ongles_--a modern type of the devil, the type which depicts +him as a perfect gentleman, who keeps smiling all the time. + +The constable whom this audacious rogue had signalled approached the +little group. He addressed the stranger: + +"Do you want me, sir?" + +"No, I do not want you. I think it is the Duke of Datchet." + +The constable, who knew the Duke very well by sight, saluted him as he +turned to receive instructions. + +The Duke looked white, even savage. There was not a pleasant look in +his eyes and about his lips. He appeared to be endeavouring to put a +great restraint upon himself. There was a momentary silence. Mr. Dacre +made a movement as if to interpose. The Duke caught him by the arm. + +He spoke: "No, constable, I do not want you. This person is mistaken." + +The constable looked as if he could not quite make out how such a +mistake could have arisen, hesitated, then, with another salute, he +moved away. + +The stranger was still holding his watch in his hand. + +"Only eight minutes," he said. + +The Duke seemed to experience some difficulty in giving utterance to +what he had to say. + +"If I give you this five hundred pounds, you--you----" + +As the Duke paused, as if at a loss for language which was strong +enough to convey his meaning, the stranger laughed. + +"Let us take the adjectives for granted. Besides, it is only boys +who call each other names--men do things. If you give me the five +hundred sovereigns, which you have in that bag, at once--in five +minutes it will be too late--I will promise--I will not swear; if you +do not credit my simple promise, you will not believe my solemn +affirmation--I will promise that, possibly within an hour, certainly +within an hour and a half, the Duchess of Datchet shall return to you +absolutely uninjured--except, of course, as you are already aware, +with regard to a few of the hairs of her head. I will promise this on +the understanding that you do not yourself attempt to see where I go, +and that you will allow no one else to do so." This with a glance at +Ivor Dacre. "I shall know at once if I am followed. If you entertain +any such intentions, you had better, on all accounts, remain in +possession of your five hundred pounds." + +The Duke eyed him very grimly: + +"I entertain no such intentions--until the Duchess returns." + +Again the stranger indulged in that musical little laugh of his: + +"Ah, until the Duchess returns! Of course, then the bargain's at an +end. When you are once more in the enjoyment of her Grace's society, +you will be at liberty to set all the dogs in Europe at my heels. I +assure you I fully expect that you will do so--why not?" The Duke +raised the canvas bag. "My dear Duke, ten thousand thanks! You shall +see her Grace at Datchet House, 'pon my honour. Probably within the +hour." + +"Well," commented Ivor Dacre, when the stranger had vanished, with the +bag, into Piccadilly, and as the Duke and himself moved towards +Burlington Gardens, "if a gentleman is to be robbed, it is as well +that he should have another gentleman to rob him." + + + CHAPTER III. + + AND FOUND. + +Mr. Dacre eyed his companion covertly as they progressed. His Grace of +Datchet appeared to have some fresh cause for uneasiness. All at once +he gave it utterance, in a tone of voice which was extremely sombre: + +"Ivor, do you think that scoundrel will dare to play me false?" + +"I think," murmured Mr. Dacre, "that he has dared to play you pretty +false already." + +"I don't mean that. But I mean how am I to know, now that he has his +money, that he will still not keep Mabel in his clutches?" + +There came an echo from Mr. Dacre: + +"Just so--how are you to know?" + +"I believe that something of this sort has been done in the United +States." + +"I thought that there they were content to kidnap them after they were +dead. I was not aware that they had, as yet, got quite so far as the +living." + +"I believe that I have heard of something just like this." + +"Possibly; they are giants over there." + +"And in that case the scoundrels, when their demands were met, refused +to keep to the letter of their bargain, and asked for more." + +The Duke stood still. He clenched his fists, and swore: + +"Ivor, if that ---- villain doesn't keep his word, and Mabel isn't +home within the hour, by ---- I shall go mad!" + +"My dear Datchet"--Mr. Dacre loved strong language as little as he +loved a scene--"let us trust to time and, a little, to your +white-hatted and gardenia-button-holed friend's word of honour. You +should have thought of possible eventualities before you showed your +confidence--really. Suppose, instead of going mad, we first of all go +home?" + +A hansom stood waiting for a fare at the end of the Arcade. Mr. Dacre +had handed the Duke into it before his Grace had quite realised that +the vehicle was there. + +"Tell the fellow to drive faster." That was what the Duke said when +the cab had started. + +"My dear Datchet, the man's already driving his geegee off its legs. +If a bobby catches sight of him he'll take his number." + +A moment later, a murmur from the Duke: + +"I don't know if you're aware that the Prince is coming to dinner?" + +"I am perfectly aware of it." + +"You take it uncommonly coolly. How easy it is to bear our brother's +burdens! Ivor, if Mabel doesn't turn up I shall feel like murder." + +"I sympathise with you, Datchet, with all my heart, though, I may +observe, parenthetically, that I very far from realise the situation +even yet. Take my advice. If the Duchess does not show quite so soon +as we both of us desire, don't make a scene; just let me see what I +can do." + +Judging from the expression of his countenance, the Duke was conscious +of no overwhelming desire to witness an exhibition of Mr. Dacre's +prowess. + +When the cab reached Datchet House his Grace dashed up the steps three +at a time. The door flew open. + +"Has the Duchess returned?" + +"Hereward!" + +A voice floated downwards from above. Some one came running down the +stairs. It was her Grace of Datchet. + +"Mabel!" + +She actually rushed into the Duke's extended arms. And he kissed her, +and she kissed him--before the servants. + +"So you're not quite dead?" she cried. + +"I am almost," he said. + +She drew herself a little away from him. + +"Hereward, were you seriously hurt?" + +"Do you suppose that I could have been otherwise than seriously hurt?" + +"My darling! Was it a Pickford's van?" + +The Duke stared: + +"A Pickford's van? I don't understand. But come in here. Come along, +Ivor. Mabel, you don't see Ivor." + +"How do you do, Mr. Dacre?" + +Then the trio withdrew into a little ante-room; it was really time. +Even then the pair conducted themselves as if Mr. Dacre had been +nothing and no one. The Duke took the lady's two hands in his. He eyed +her fondly. + +"So you are uninjured, with the exception of that lock of hair. Where +did the villain take it from?" + +The lady looked a little puzzled: + +"What lock of hair?" + +From an envelope which he took from his pocket the Duke produced a +shining tress. It was the lock of hair which had arrived in the first +communication. "I will have it framed." + +"You will have what framed?" The Duchess glanced at what the Duke was +so tenderly caressing, almost, as it seemed, a little dubiously, +"Whatever is it you have there?" + +"It is the lock of hair which that scoundrel sent me." Something in +the lady's face caused him to ask a question: "Didn't he tell you he +had sent it me?" + +"Hereward!" + +"Did the brute tell you that he meant to cut off your little finger?" + +A very curious look came into the lady's face. She glanced at the Duke +as if she, all at once, were half afraid of him. She cast at Mr. Dacre +what really seemed to be a look of enquiry. Her voice was tremulously +anxious: + +"Hereward, did--did the accident affect you mentally?" + +"How could it not have affected me mentally? Do you think that my +mental organization is of steel?" + +"But you look so well?" + +"Of course I look well, now that I have you back again. Tell me, +darling, did that hound actually threaten you with cutting off your +arm? If he did, I shall feel half inclined to kill him yet." + +The Duchess seemed positively to shrink from her better-half's near +neighbourhood: + +"Hereward, was it a Pickford's van?" + +The Duke seemed puzzled. Well he might be: + +"Was what a Pickford's van?" + +The lady turned to Mr. Dacre. In her voice there was a ring of +anguish: + +"Mr. Dacre, tell me, was it a Pickford's van?" + +Ivor could only imitate his relative's repetition of her inquiry: + +"I don't quite catch you--was what a Pickford's van?" + +The Duchess clasped her hands in front of her: "What is it you are +keeping from me? What is it you are trying to hide? I implore you to +tell me the worst, whatever it may be! Do not keep me any longer in +suspense; you do not know what I already have endured. Mr. Dacre, is +my husband mad?" + +One need scarcely observe that the lady's amazing appeal to Mr. Dacre +as to her husband's sanity was received with something like surprise. +As the Duke continued to stare at her, a dreadful fear began to loom +upon his brain: + +"My darling, your brain is unhinged!" + +He advanced to take her two hands again in his; but, to his +unmistakable distress, she shrank away from him: + +"Hereward--don't touch me. How is it that I missed you? Why did you +not wait until I came?" + +"Wait until you came?" + +The Duke's bewilderment increased. + +"Surely, if your injuries turned out, after all, to be slight, that +was all the more reason why you should have waited, after sending for +me like that." + +"I sent for you--I?" The Duke's tone was grave. "My darling, perhaps +you had better come upstairs." + +"Not until we have had an explanation. You must have known that I +should come. Why did you not wait for me after you had sent me that?" + +The Duchess held out something to the Duke. He took it. It was a +card--his own visiting-card. Something was written on the back of it. +He read aloud what was written: + +"'Mabel, come to me at once with bearer. They tell me that they cannot +take me home.' It looks like my own writing." + +"Looks like it! It is your writing." + +"It looks like it--and written with a shaky pen." + +"My dear child, one's hand would shake at such a moment as that." + +"Mabel, where did you get this?" + +"It was brought to me in Cane and Wilson's." + +"Who brought it?" + +"Who brought it? Why, the man you sent." + +"The man I sent?" A light burst upon the Duke's brain. He fell back a +pace. "It's the decoy!" + +Her Grace echoed the words: + +"The decoy?" + +"The scoundrel! To set a trap with such a bait! My poor, innocent +darling, did you think it came from me? Tell me, Mabel, where did he +cut off your hair?" + +"Cut off my hair?" + +Her Grace put her hand up to her head as if to make sure that her hair +was there. + +"Where did he take you to?" + +"He took me to Draper's Buildings." + +"Draper's Buildings?" + +"I have never been in the City before, but he told me it was Draper's +Buildings. Isn't that near the Stock Exchange?" + +"Near the Stock Exchange?" + +It seemed rather a curious place to which to take a kidnapped victim. +The man's audacity! + +"He told me that you were coming out of the Stock Exchange when a van +knocked you over. He said that he thought it was a Pickford's van--was +it a Pickford's van?" + +"No, it was not a Pickford's van. Mabel, were you in Draper's +Buildings when you wrote that letter?" + +"Wrote what letter?" + +"Have you forgotten it already? I do not believe that there is a word +in it which will not be branded on my brain until I die." + +"Hereward! What do you mean?" + +"Surely you cannot have written me such a letter as that, and then +have forgotten it already?" + +He handed her the letter which had arrived in the second +communication. She glanced at it, askance. Then she took it with a +little gasp. + +"Hereward, if you don't mind, I think I'll take a chair." She took a +chair. "Whatever--whatever's this?" As she read the letter the varying +expressions which passed across her face were, in themselves, a study +in psychology. "Is it possible that you can imagine that, under any +conceivable circumstances, I could have written such a letter as +this?" + +"Mabel!" + +She rose to her feet, with emphasis: + +"Hereward, don't say that you thought this came from me!" + +"Not come from you?" He remembered Knowles's diplomatic reception of +the epistle on its first appearance. "I suppose that you will say next +that this is not a lock of your hair?" + +"My dear child, what bee have you got in your bonnet? This a lock of +my hair! Why, it's not in the least like my hair!" + +Which was certainly inaccurate. As far as color was concerned it was +an almost perfect match. The Duke turned to Mr. Dacre. + +"Ivor, I've had to go through a good deal this afternoon. If I have to +go through much more, something will crack!" He touched his forehead. +"I think it's my turn to take a chair." He also took a chair. Not the +one which the Duchess had vacated, but one which faced it. He +stretched out his legs in front of him; he thrust his hands into his +trousers-pockets; he said, in a tone which was not only gloomy but +absolutely gruesome: + +"Might I ask, Mabel, if you have been kidnapped?" + +"Kidnapped?" + +"The word I used was 'kidnapped.' But I will spell it if you like. Or +I will get a dictionary, that you may see its meaning." + +The Duchess looked as if she was beginning to be not quite sure if she +was awake or sleeping. She turned to Ivor: + +"Mr. Dacre, has the accident affected Hereward's brain?" + +The Duke took the words out of his cousin's mouth: + +"On that point, my dear, let me ease your mind. I don't know if you +are under the impression that I should be the same shape after a +Pickford's van had run over me as I was before; but, in any case, I +have not been run over by a Pickford's van. So far as I am concerned +there has been no accident. Dismiss that delusion from your mind." + +"Oh!" + +"You appear surprised. One might even think that you were sorry. But +may I now ask what you did when you arrived at Draper's Buildings?" + +"Did! I looked for you!" + +"Indeed! And when you had looked in vain, what was the next item in +your programme?" + +The lady shrank still further from him: + +"Hereward, have you been having a jest at my expense? Can you have +been so cruel?" Tears stood in her eyes. + +Rising, the Duke laid his hand upon her arm: + +"Mabel, tell me--what did you do when you had looked for me in vain?" + +"I looked for you upstairs and downstairs, and everywhere. It was +quite a large place, it took me ever such a time. I thought that I +should go distracted. Nobody seemed to know anything about you, or +even that there had been an accident at all--it was all offices. I +couldn't make it out in the least, and the people didn't seem to be +able to make me out either. So when I couldn't find you anywhere I +came straight home again." + +The Duke was silent for a moment. Then, with funereal gravity, he +turned to Mr. Dacre. He put to him this question: + +"Ivor, what are you laughing at?" + +Mr. Dacre drew his hand across his mouth with rather a suspicious +gesture: + +"My dear fellow, only a smile!" + +The Duchess looked from one to the other: + +"What have you two been doing? What is the joke?" + +With an air of preternatural solemnity the Duke took two letters from +the breast-pocket of his coat. + +"Mabel, you have already seen your letter. You have already seen the +lock of your hair. Just look at this--and that." + +He gave her the two very singular communications which had arrived in +such a mysterious manner, and so quickly one after the other. She read +them with wide-open eyes. + +"Hereward! Wherever did these come from?" + +The Duke was standing with his legs apart, and his hands in his +trousers-pockets. "I would give--I would give another five hundred +pounds to know. Shall I tell you, madam, what I have been doing? I +have been presenting five hundred golden sovereigns to a perfect +stranger, with a top-hat, and a gardenia in his button-hole." + +"Whatever for?" + +"If you have perused those documents which you have in your hand, you +will have some faint idea. Ivor, when its your funeral _I'll_ smile. +Mabel, Duchess of Dachet, it is beginning to dawn upon the vacuum +which represents my brain that I've been the victim of one of the +prettiest things in practical jokes that ever yet was planned. When +that fellow brought you that card at Cane and Wilson's--which, I need +scarcely tell you, never came from me--some one walked out of the +front entrance who was so exactly like you that both Barnes and Moysey +took her for you. Moysey showed her into the carriage, and Barnes +drove her home. But when the carriage reached home it was empty. Your +double had got out upon the road." + +The Duchess uttered a sound which was half a gasp, half sigh: + +"Hereward!" + +"Barnes and Moysey, with beautiful and childlike innocence, when they +found that they had brought the thing home empty, came straightway and +told me that you had jumped out of the brougham while it had been +driving full pelt through the streets. While I was digesting that +piece of information there came the first epistle, with the lock of +your hair. Before I had time to digest that there came the second +epistle, with yours inside, and, as a guarantee of the authenticity of +your appeal, the same envelope held this." + +The Duke handed the Duchess the half of the broken sixpence. She +stared at it with the most unequivocal astonishment. + +"Why, it looks just like my sixpence." She put her hand to her breast, +feeling something that was there. "But it isn't! What wickedness!" + +"It is wickedness, isn't it? Anyhow, that seemed good enough for me; +so I posted off the five hundred pounds to save your arm--not to dwell +upon your little finger." + +"It seems incredible!" + +"Its sounds incredible; but unfathomable is the folly of man, +especially of a man who loves his wife." The Duke crossed to Mr. +Dacre. "I don't want, Ivor, to suggest anything in the way of bribery +and corruption, but if you could keep this matter to yourself, and not +mention it to your friends, our white-hatted and gardenia-button-holed +acquaintance is welcome to his five hundred pounds, and----Mabel, what +on earth are you laughing at?" + +The Duchess appeared, all at once, to be seized with inextinguishable +laughter. + +"Hereward," she cried, "just think how that man must be laughing at +you!" + +And the Duke of Datchet thought of it. + + + + + THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN + CANTERSTONE JAIL. + + + CHAPTER I. + + MR. MANKELL DECLARES HIS INTENTION OF + ACTING ON MAGISTERIAL ADVICE. + +Oliver Mankell was sentenced to three months' hard labour. The +charge was that he had obtained money by means of false pretences. +Not large sums, but shillings, half-crowns, and so on. He had given +out that he was a wizard, and that he was able and willing--for a +consideration--to predict the events of the future--tell fortunes, in +fact. The case created a large amount of local interest, for some +curious stories were told about the man in the town. Mankell was +a tall, slight, wiry-looking fellow in the prime of life, with +coal-black hair and olive complexion--apparently of Romany extraction. +His bearing was self-possessed, courteous even, yet with something in +his air which might have led one to suppose that he saw--what others +did not--the humour of the thing. At one point his grave, almost +saturnine visage distinctly relaxed into a smile. It was when Colonel +Gregory, the chairman of the day, was passing sentence. After +committing him for three months' hard labour, the Colonel added-- + +"During your sojourn within the walls of a prison you will have an +opportunity of retrieving your reputation. You say you are a magician. +During your stay in jail I would strongly advise you to prove it. You +lay claim to magic powers. Exercise them. I need scarcely point out to +you how excellent a chance you will have of creating a sensation." + +The people laughed. When the great Panjandrum is even dimly suspected +of an intention to be funny, the people always do. But on this +occasion even the prisoner smiled--rather an exceptional thing, for as +a rule it is the prisoner who sees the joke the least of all. + +Later in the day the prisoner was conveyed to the county jail. This +necessitated a journey by rail, with a change upon the way. At the +station where they changed there was a delay of twenty minutes. This +the prisoner and the constable in charge of him improved by adjourning +to a public house hard by. Here they had a glass--indeed they had +two--and when they reached Canterstone, the town on whose outskirts +stood the jail, they had one--or perhaps it was two--more. It must +have been two, for when they reached the jail, instead of the +constable conveying the prisoner, it was the prisoner who conveyed the +constable--upon his shoulder. The warder who answered the knock seemed +surprised at what he saw. + +"What do you want?" + +"Three months' hard labour." + +The warder stared. The shades of night had fallen, and the lamp above +the prison-door did not seem to cast sufficient light upon the subject +to satisfy the janitor. + +"Come inside," he said. + +Mankell entered, the constable upon his shoulder. Having entered, he +carefully placed the constable in a sitting posture on the stones, +with his back against the wall. The policeman's helmet had tipped over +his eyes--he scarcely presented an imposing picture of the majesty and +might of the law. The warder shook him by the shoulder. "Here, +come--wake up. You're a pretty sort," he said. The constable's reply, +although slightly inarticulate, was yet sufficiently distinct. + +"Not another drop!" he murmured. + +"No, I shouldn't think so," said the warder. "You've had a pailful, it +seems to me, already." + +The man seemed a little puzzled. He turned and looked at Mankell. + +"What do you want here?" + +"Three months' hard labour." + +The man looked down and saw that the new-comer had gyves upon his +wrists. He went to a door at one side, and summoned another warder. +The two returned together. This second official took in the situation +at a glance. + +"Have you come from----?" naming the town from which they in fact had +come. Mankell inclined his head. This second official turned his +attention to the prostrate constable. "Look in his pockets." + +The janitor acted on the suggestion. The order for committal was +produced. + +"Are you Oliver Mankell?" + +Again Mankell inclined his head. With the order in his hand, the +official marched him through the side-door by which he had himself +appeared. Soon Oliver Mankell was the inmate of a cell. He spent that +night in the reception-cells at the gate. In the morning he had a +bath, was inducted into prison clothing, and examined by the doctor. +He was then taken up to the main building of the prison, and +introduced to the governor. The governor was a quiet, gentlemanly man, +with a straggling black beard and spectacles--the official to the tips +of his fingers. As Mankell happened to be the only fresh arrival, the +governor favoured him with a little speech. + +"You've placed yourself in an uncomfortable position, Mankell. I hope +you'll obey the rules while you're here." + +"I intend to act upon the advice tendered me by the magistrate who +passed sentence." + +The governor looked up. Not only was the voice a musical voice, but +the words were not the sort of words generally chosen by the average +prisoner. + +"What advice was that?" + +"He said that I claimed to be a magician. He strongly advised me to +prove it during my stay in jail. I intend to act upon the advice he +tendered." + +The governor looked Mankell steadily in the face. The speaker's +bearing conveyed no suggestion of insolent intention. The governor +looked down again. + +"I advise you to be careful what you do. You may make your position +more uncomfortable than it is already. Take the man away." + +They took the man away. They introduced him to the wheel. On the +treadmill he passed the remainder of the morning. At noon morning +tasks were over, and the prisoners were marched into their day-cells +to enjoy the meal which, in prison parlance, was called dinner. In +accordance with the ordinary routine, the chaplain made his appearance +in the round-house to interview those prisoners who had just come in, +and those whose sentences would be completed on the morrow. When +Mankell had been asked at the gate what his religion was, he had made +no answer; so the warder, quite used to ignorance on the part of new +arrivals as to all religions, had entered him as a member of the +Church of England. As a member of the Church of England he was taken +out to interview the chaplain. + +The chaplain was a little fussy gentleman, considerably past middle +age. Long experience of prisons and prisoners had bred in him a +perhaps unconscious habit of regarding criminals as naughty +boys--urchins who required a judicious combination of cakes and +castigation. + +"Well, my lad, I'm sorry to see a man of your appearance here." This +was a remark the chaplain made to a good many of his new friends. It +was intended to give them the impression that at least the chaplain +perceived that they were something out of the ordinary run. Then he +dropped his voice to a judicious whisper. "What's it for?" + +"For telling the truth." + +This reply seemed a little to surprise the chaplain. He settled his +spectacles upon his nose. + +"For telling the truth!" An idea seemed all at once to strike the +chaplain. "Do you mean that you pleaded guilty?" The man was silent. +The chaplain referred to a paper he held in his hand. "Eh, I see that +here it is written 'false pretences.' Was it a stumer?" + +We have seen it mentioned somewhere that "stumer" is slang for a +worthless cheque. It was a way with the chaplain to let his charges +see that he was at least acquainted with their phraseology. But on +this occasion there was no response. The officer in charge of Mankell, +who possibly wanted his dinner, put in his oar. + +"Telling fortunes, sir." + +"Telling fortunes! Oh! Dear me! How sad! You see what telling fortunes +brings you to? There will be no difficulty in telling your fortune if +you don't take care. I will see you to-morrow morning after chapel." + +The chaplain turned away. But his prediction proved to be as false as +Mankell's were stated to have been. He did not see him the next +morning after chapel, and that for the sufficient reason that on the +following morning there was no chapel. And the reasons why there was +no chapel were very curious indeed--unprecedented, in fact. + +Canterstone Jail was an old-fashioned prison. In it each prisoner had +two cells, one for the day and one for the night. The day-cells were +on the ground-floor, those for the night were overhead. At six a.m. a +bell was rung, and the warders unlocked the night-cells for the +occupants to go down to those beneath. That was the rule. That +particular morning was an exception to the rule. The bell was rung as +usual, and the warders started to unlock, but there the adherence to +custom ceased, for the doors of the cells refused to be unlocked. + +The night-cells were hermetically sealed by oaken doors of massive +thickness, bolted and barred in accordance with the former idea that +the security of prisoners should depend rather upon bolts and bars +than upon the vigilance of the officers in charge. Each door was let +into a twenty-four inch brick-wall, and secured by two ponderous bolts +and an enormous lock of the most complicated workmanship. These locks +were kept constantly oiled. When the gigantic key was inserted, it +turned as easily as the key of a watch--that was the rule. When, +therefore, on inserting his key into the lock of the first cell, +Warder Slater found that it wouldn't turn at all, he was rather taken +aback. "Who's been having a game with this lock?" he asked. + +Warder Puffin, who was stationed at the head of the stairs to see that +the prisoners passed down in order, at the proper distance from each +other, replied to him. + +"Anything the matter with the lock? Try the next." + +Warder Slater did try the next, but he found that as refractory as the +first had been. + +"Perhaps you've got the wrong key?" suggested Warder Puffin. + +"Got the wrong key!" cried Warder Slater. "Do you think I don't know +my own keys when I see them?" + +The oddest part of it was that all the locks were the same. Not only +in Ward A, but in Wards B, C, D, E, and F--in all the wards, in fact. +When this became known, a certain sensation was created, and that on +both sides of the unlocked doors. The prisoners were soon conscious +that their guardians were unable to release them, and they made a +noise. Nothing is so precious to the average prisoner as a grievance; +here was a grievance with a vengeance. + +The chief warder was a man named Murray. He was short and stout, with +a red face, and short, stubbly white hair--his very appearance +suggested apoplexy. That suggestion was emphasised when he lost his +temper--capable officer though he was, that was more than once in a +while. He was in the wheel-shed, awaiting the arrival of the prisoners +preparatory to being told off to their various tasks, when, instead of +the prisoners, Warder Slater appeared. If Murray was stout, Slater was +stouter. He was about five feet eight, and weighed at least 250 +pounds. He was wont to amaze those who saw him for the first time--and +wondered--by assuring them that he had a brother who was still +stouter--compared to whom he was a skeleton, in fact. But he was stout +enough. He and the chief warder made a striking pair. + +"There's something the matter with the locks of the night-cells, sir. +We can't undo the doors." + +"Can't undo the doors!" Mr. Murray turned the colour of a boiled +beetroot. "What do you mean?" + +"It's very queer, sir, but all over the place it's the same. We can't +get none of the doors unlocked." + +Mr. Murray started off at a good round pace, Slater following hard at +his heels. The chief warder tried his hand himself. He tried every +lock in the prison; not one of them vouchsafed to budge. Not one, that +is, with a single exception. The exception was in Ward B, No. 27. Mr. +Murray had tried all the other doors in the ward, beginning with +No. 1--tried them all in vain. But when he came to No. 27, the lock +turned with the customary ease, and the door was open. Within it was +Oliver Mankell, standing decorously at attention, waiting to be let +out. Mr. Murray stared at him. + +"Hum! there's nothing the matter with this lock, at any rate. You'd +better go down." + +Oliver Mankell went downstairs--he was the only man in Canterstone +jail who did. + +"Well, this is a pretty go!" exclaimed Mr. Murray, when he had +completed his round. Two or three other warders had accompanied him. +He turned on these. "Someone will smart for this--you see if they +don't. Keep those men still." + +The din was deafening. The prisoners, secure of a grievance, were +practising step-dances in their heavy shoes on the stone floors: they +made the narrow vaulted corridors ring. + +"Silence those men!" shouted Mr. Jarvis, the second warder, who was +tall and thin as the chief was short and stout. He might as well have +shouted to the wind. Those in the cells just close at hand observed +the better part of valour, but those a little distance off paid not +the slightest heed. If they were locked in, the officers were locked +out. + +"I must go and see the governor." Mr. Murray pursed up his lips. "Keep +those men still, or I'll know the reason why." + +He strode off, leaving his subordinates to obey his orders--if they +could, or if they couldn't. + +Mr. Paley's house was in the centre of the jail. Paley, by the way, +was the governor's name. The governor, when Mr. Murray arrived, was +still in bed. He came down to the chief warder in rather primitive +disarray. + +"Anything the matter, Murray?" + +"Yes, sir; there's something very much the matter, indeed." + +"What is it?" + +"We can't get any of the doors of the night-cells open." + +"You can't get--what?" + +"There seems to be something the matter with the locks." + +"The locks? All of them? Absurd!" + +"Well, there they are, and there's the men inside of them, and we +can't get 'em out--at least I've tried my hand, and I know I can't." + +"I'll come with you at once, and see what you mean." + +Mr. Paley was as good as his word. He started off just as he was. As +they were going, the chief warder made another remark. + +"By the way, there is one cell we managed to get open--I opened it +myself." + +"I thought you said there was none?" + +"There's that one--it's that man Mankell." + +"Mankell? Who is he?" + +"He came in yesterday. It's that magician." + +When they reached the cells, it was easy to perceive that something +was wrong. The warders hung about in twos and threes; the noise was +deafening; the prisoners were keeping holiday. + +"Get me the keys and let me see what I can do. It is impossible that +all the locks can have been tampered with." + +They presented Mr. Paley with the keys. In his turn he tried every +lock in the jail This was not a work of a minute or two. The prison +contained some three hundred night-cells. To visit them all +necessitated not only a good deal of running up and down stairs, but a +good deal of actual walking; for they were not only in different +floors and in different blocks, but the prison itself was divided into +two entirely separate divisions--north and south--and to pass from one +division to the other entailed a walk of at least a hundred yards. By +the time he had completed the round of the locks, Mr. Paley had had +about enough of it. It was not surprising that he felt a little +bewildered--not one of the locks had shown any more readiness to yield +to him than to the others. + +In passing from one ward to the other, he had passed the row of +day-cells in which was situated B 27. Here they found Oliver Mankell +sitting in silent state awaiting the call to work. The governor pulled +up at the sight of him. + +"Well, Mankell, so there was nothing the matter with the lock of your +door?" + +Mankell simply inclined his head. + +"I suppose you know nothing about the locks of the other doors?" + +Again the inclination of the head. The man seemed to be habitually +chary of speech. + +"What's the matter with you? Are you dumb? Can't you speak when you're +spoken to?" + +This time Mankell extended the palms of his hands with a gesture which +might mean anything or nothing. The governor passed on. The round +finished, he held a consultation with the chief warder. + +"Have you any suspicions?" + +"It's queer." Mr. Murray stroked his bristly chin. + +"It's very queer that that man Mankell's should be the only cell in +the prison left untampered with." + +"Very queer, indeed." + +"What are we to do? We can't leave the men locked up all day. It's +breakfast-time already. I suppose the cooks haven't gone down to the +cookhouse?" + +"They're locked up with the rest. Barnes has been up to know what he's +to do." + +Barnes was the prison cook. The cooks referred to were six +good-behaviour men who were told off to assist him in his duties. + +"If the food were cooked, I don't see how we should give it to the +men." + +"That's the question." Mr. Murray pondered. + +"We might pass it through the gas-holes." + +"We should have to break the glass to do it. You wouldn't find it +easy. It's plate-glass, an inch in thickness, and built into the solid +wall." + +There was a pause for consideration. + +"Well, this is a pretty start. I've never come across anything like it +in all my days before." + +Mr. Paley passed his hand through his hair. He had never come across +anything like it either. + +"I shall have to telegraph to the commissioners. I can't do anything +without their sanction." + +The following telegram was sent: + +"Cannot get prisoners out of night-cells. Something the matter with +locks. Cannot give them any food. The matter is very urgent. What +shall I do?" + +The following answer was received: + +"Inspector coming down." + +The inspector came down--Major William Hardinge. A tall, portly +gentleman, with a very decided manner. When he saw the governor he +came to the point at once. + +"What's all this stuff?" + +"We can't get the prisoners out of the night-cells." + +"Why?" + +"There's something the matter with the locks." + +"Have you given them any food?" + +"We have not been able to." + +"When were they locked up?" + +"Yesterday evening at six o'clock." + +"This is a very extraordinary state of things." + +"It is, or I shouldn't have asked for instructions." + +"It's now three o'clock in the afternoon. They've been without food +for twenty-one hours. You've no right to keep them without food all +that time." + +"We are helpless. The construction of the night-cells does not permit +of our introducing food into the interior when the doors are closed." + +"Have they been quiet?" + +"They've been as quiet as under the circumstance was to be expected." + +As they were crossing towards the north division the governor spoke +again: + +"We've been able to get one man out." + +"One!--out of the lot! How did you get him?" + +"Oddly enough, the lock of his cell was the only one in the prison +which had not been tampered with." + +"Hum! I should like to see that man." + +"His name's Mankell. He only came in yesterday. He's been pretending +to magic powers--telling fortunes, and that kind of thing." + +"Only came in yesterday? He's begun early. Perhaps we shall have to +tell him what his fortune's likely to be." + +When they reached the wards the keys were handed to the inspector, who +in his turn tried his hand. A couple of locksmiths had been fetched up +from the town. When the Major had tried two or three of the locks it +was enough for him. He turned to the makers of locks. + +"What's the matter with these locks?" + +"Well, that's exactly what we can't make out. The keys go in all +right, but they won't turn. Seems as though somebody had been having a +lark with them." + +"Can't you pick them?" + +"They're not easy locks to pick, but we'll have a try!" + +"Have a try!" + +They had a try, but they tried in vain. As it happened, the cell on +which they commenced operations was occupied by a gentleman who had +had a considerable experience in picking locks--experience which had +ended in placing him on the other side that door. He derided the +locksmiths through the door. + +"Well, you are a couple of keen ones! What, can't pick the lock! Why, +there ain't a lock in England I couldn't pick with a bent 'airpin. I +only wish you was this side, starving like I am, and I was where you +are, it wouldn't be a lock that would keep me from giving you food." + +This was not the sort of language Major Hardinge was accustomed to +hear from the average prisoner, but the Major probably felt that on +this occasion the candid proficient in the art of picking locks had a +certain excuse. He addressed the baffled workmen. + +"If you can't pick the lock, what can you do? The question is, what is +the shortest way of getting inside that cell?" + +"Get a watch-saw," cried the gentleman on the other side the door. + +"And when you've got your watch-saw?" inquired the Major. + +"Saw the whole lock right clean away. Lor' bless me! I only wish I was +where you are, I'd show you a thing or two. It's as easy as winking. +Here's all us chaps a-starving, all for want of a little hexperience!" + +"A saw'll be no good," declared one of the locksmiths. "Neither a +watch-saw nor any other kind of saw. How are you going to saw through +those iron stanchions? You'll have to burst the door in, that's what +it'll have to be." + +"You won't find it an easy thing to do." This was from the governor. + +"Why don't you take and blow the whole place up?" shouted a gentleman, +also on the other side of the door, two or three cells off. + +Long before this all the occupants of the corridor had been lending a +very attentive ear to what was going on. The suggestion was received +with roars of laughter. The Major, however, preferred to act upon the +workmen's advice. A sledge hammer was sent for. + +While they were awaiting its arrival something rather curious +happened--curious, that is, viewed in the light of what had gone +before. Warder Slater formed one of the party. More for the sake of +something to do than anything else, he put his key into the lock of +the cell which was just in front of him. Giving it a gentle twist, to +his amazement it turned with the greatest ease, and the door was open. + +"Here's a go!" he exclaimed. "Blest if this door ain't come open." + +There was a yell of jubilation all along the corridor. The prisoners +seemed to be amused. The official party kept silence. Possibly their +feelings were too deep for words. + +"Since we've got this one open," said Warder Slater, "suppose we try +another?" + +He tried another, the next; the same result followed--the door was +opened with the greatest of ease. + +"What's the meaning of this?" spluttered the Major. "Who's been +playing this tomfoolery? I don't believe there's anything the matter +with a lock in the place." + +There did not seem to be, just then. For when the officers tried again +they found no difficulty in unlocking the doors, and setting the +prisoners free. + + + CHAPTER II. + + THE CHAPLAIN AS AN AUTHORITY ON + WITCHCRAFT. + +Major Hardinge remained in the jail that night. He stayed in the +governor's house as Mr. Paley's guest. He expressed himself very +strongly about the events of the day. + +"I'll see the thing through if it takes me a week. The whole affair is +incredible to me. It strikes me, Paley, that they've been making a +fool of you." + +The governor combed his hair with his fingers. His official manner had +temporarily gone. He seemed depressed. + +"I assure you the doors were locked." + +"Of course the doors were locked, and they used the wrong keys to open +them! It was a got-up thing." + +"Not by the officers." + +"By whom then? I don't see how the prisoners could have lent a hand." + +"I know the officers, and I will answer for them, every man. As for +the wrong keys being used, I know the keys as well as any one. I tried +them, and not a lock would yield to me." + +"But they did yield. What explanation have you to give of that?" + +"I wish I could explain." And again the governor combed his hair. + +"I'll have an explanation to-morrow!--you see if I don't!" But the +Major never did. + +On the morrow, punctually at 6 a.m., an imposing procession started to +unlock. There were the inspector, governor, chief warder, second +warder, and the warder who carried the keys. + +"I don't think we shall have much difficulty in getting the men out of +their cells this time," remarked the Major. They did not. "Good--good +God!" he spluttered, when they reached the corridor; "what--what on +earth's the meaning of this?" He had predicted rightly. They would +have no difficulty in getting the men out of their cells: they were +out already--men, and bedding, and planks, and all. There was a man +fast asleep in bed in front of each cell-door. + +"I thought I had given instructions that a special watch was to be +kept all night," the Major roared. + +"So there has been," answered the chief warder, whose head and face +and neck were purple. "Warder Slater here has only just gone off duty. +Now then, Slater, what's the meaning of this?" + +"I don't know," protested Slater, whose mountain of flesh seemed +quivering like jelly. "It's not a minute ago since I went to get my +keys, and they was all inside their cells when I went down." + +"Who let them out, then?" + +The Major glared at him, incredulity in every line of his countenance. + +"I don't know. I'll swear it wasn't me!" + +"I suppose they let themselves out, then. You men!" + +Although this short dialogue had been conducted by no means +_sotto-voce_, the noise did not seem to have had the slightest effect +in rousing the prisoners out of slumber. Even when the Major called to +them they gave no sign. + +"You men!" he shouted again; "it's no good shamming Abraham with me!" +He stooped to shake the man who was lying on the plank at his feet. +"Good--good God! The--the--man's not dead?" + +"Dead!" cried the governor, kneeling by the Major's side upon the +stones. + +The sleeper was very still. He was a man of some forty years of age, +with nut-brown tangled hair and beard. If not a short-sentence man he +was still in the early stages of his term--for he lay on the bare +boards of the plank with the rug, blanket, and sheet wrapped closely +round him, so that they might take, as far as possible, the place of +the coir mattress, which was not there. The bed was not a bed of +comfort, yet his sleep was sound--strangely sound. If he breathed at +all, it was so lightly as to be inaudible. On his face was that dazed, +strained expression which we sometimes see on the faces of those who, +without a moment's warning, have been suddenly visited by death. + +"I don't think he's dead," the governor said. "He seems to be in some +sort of trance. What's the man's name?" + +"'Itchcock. He's one of the 'oppickers. He's got a month." + +It was Warder Slater who gave the information. The governor took the +man by the shoulder, and tried to rouse him out of sleep. + +"Hitchcock! Hitchcock! Come, wake up, my man! It's all right; he's +coming to--he's waking up." + +He did wake up, and that so suddenly as to take the party by surprise. +He sprang upright on the plank, nothing on but an attenuated prison +shirt, and glared at the officials with looks of unmistakable +surprise. + +"Holloa! What's up! What's the meaning of this?" + +Major Hardinge replied, suspicion peeping from his eyes: + +"That is what we want to know, and what we intend to know--what does +it mean? Why aren't you in your cell?" + +The man seemed for the first time to perceive where he was. + +"Strike me lucky, if I ain't outside! Somebody must have took me out +when I was asleep." Then, realising in whose presence he was--"I beg +your pardon, sir, but someone's took me out." + +"The one who took you out took all the others too." + +The Major gave a side glance at Warder Slater. That intelligent +officer seemed to be suffering agonies. The prisoner glanced along the +corridor. "If all the blessed lot of 'em ain't out too!" + +They were not only all out, but they were all in the same curiously +trance-like sleep. Each man had to be separately roused, and each woke +with the same startling, sudden bound. No one seemed more surprised to +find themselves where they were than the men themselves. And this was +not the case in one ward only but in all the wards in the prison. No +wonder the officials felt bewildered by the time they had gone the +round. + +"There's one thing certain," remarked Warder Slater to Warder Puffin, +wiping the perspiration from his--Warder Slater's--brow, "if I let +them out in one ward, I couldn't 'ardly let them out in all. Not to +mention that I don't see how a man of my build's going to carry +eight-and-forty men, bed, bedding, and all, out bodily, and that +without disturbing one of them from sleep." + +As the official party was returning through B ward, inspecting the +men, who were standing at attention in their day-cells, the officer in +charge advanced to the governor. + +"One man missing, sir! No. 27, sir! Mankell, sir!" + +The chief warder started. If possible, he turned a shade more purple +even than before. + +"Fetch me the key of the night-cells," he said. + +It was brought. They went upstairs--the Major, the governor, the chief +and second warders. Sure enough they found the missing man, standing +at attention in his night-cell, waiting to be let out--the only man in +the prison whom they had found in his place. The chief warder unlocked +him. In silence they followed him as he went downstairs. + +When the Major and Mr. Paley found themselves alone, both of them +seemed a little bewildered. + +"Well, Major, what do you think of it now?" + +"It's a got-up thing! I'll stake my life, it's a got-up thing!" + +"What do you mean--a got-up thing?" + +"Some of the officers know more about it than they have chosen to +say--that man Slater, for instance. But I'll have the thing sifted to +the bottom before I go. I never heard of anything more audacious in +the whole of my career." + +The governor smiled, but he made no comment on the Major's +observation. It was arranged that an inquiry should be held after +chapel. During chapel a fresh subject was added to the list of those +which already called for prompt inquiry. + +Probably there is no more delicate and difficult position than that of +a prison chaplain. If any man doubt this, let him step into a prison +chaplain's shoes and see. He must have two faces, and each face must +look in an exactly opposite way. The one towards authority--he is an +official, an upholder of the law; the other towards the defiers of +authority--he is the criminal's best friend. It requires the wisest of +men to do his duty, so as to please both sides; and he must please +both sides--or fail. As has already been hinted, Mr. Hewett, the +Chaplain of Canterstone Jail, was not the wisest of men. He was in the +uncomfortable--but not uncommon--position of being disliked by both +the rival houses. He meant well, but he was not an apt interpreter of +his own meaning. He blundered, sometimes on the prisoners' toes, and +sometimes on the toes of the officials. Before the service began, the +governor thought of giving him a hint, not--in the course of it--to +touch on the events of the last two days. But previous hints of the +same kind had not by any means been well received, and he refrained. +Exactly what he feared would happen, happened. Both the inspector and +the governor were present at the service. Possibly the chaplain +supposed this to be an excellent opportunity of showing the sort of +man he was--one full of zeal. At any rate, before the service was +over, before pronouncing the benediction, he came down to the +altar-rail, in the way they knew so well. The governor, outwardly +unruffled, inwardly groaned. + +"I have something to say to you." + +When he said this, those who knew him knew exactly what was coming; or +they thought they did, for, for once in a way, they were grievously +wrong. When the chaplain had got so far he paused. It was his habit to +indulge in these eloquent pauses, but it was not his habit to behave +as he immediately did. While they were waiting for him to go on, +almost forecasting the words he would use, a spasm seemed to go all +over him, and he clutched the rail and spoke. And what he said was +this-- + +"Bust the screws and blast 'em!" + +The words were shouted rather than spoken. In the very act of +utterance he clung on to the rail as though he needed its support to +enable him to stand. The chapel was intensely still. The men stared at +him as though unable to believe their eyes and ears. The chaplain was +noted for his little eccentricities, but it was the first time they +had taken such a shape as this. + +"That's not what I meant to say." The words came out with a gasp. Mr. +Hewett put his hand up to his brow. "That's not what I meant to say." + +He gave a frightened glance around. Suddenly his gaze became fixed, +and he looked intently at some object right in front of him. His eyes +assumed a dull and fish-like stare. He hung on to the rail, his +surpliced figure trembling as with palsy. Words fell from his lips +with feverish volubility. + +"What's the good of a screw, I'd like to know? Did you ever know one +what was worth his salt? I never did. Look at that beast, Slater, +great fat brute, what'd get a man three days' bread-and-water +as soon as look at him. A little bread and water'd do him +good. Look at old Murray--call a man like that chief warder. +I wonder what a chief fat-head's like? As for the governor--as for +the governor--as--for--the--governor----" + +The chapel was in confusion. The officers rose in their seats. Mr. +Paley stood up in his pew, looking whiter than he was wont to do. It +seemed as though the chaplain was struggling with an unseen +antagonist. He writhed and twisted, contending, as it were, with +something--or some one--which appeared to be in front of him. His +sentence remained unfinished. All at once he collapsed, and, sinking +into a heap, lay upon the steps of the altar--still. + +"Take the men out," said the governor's quiet voice. + +The men were taken out. The schoolmaster was already at the chaplain's +side. With him were two or three of the prisoners who sang in the +choir. The governor and the inspector came and looked down at the +senseless man. + +"Seems to be in a sort of fit," the schoolmaster said. + +"Let some one go and see if the doctor has arrived. Ask him to come up +here at once." With that the governor left the chapel, the inspector +going with him. "It's no good our staying. He'll be all right. I--I +don't feel quite well." + +Major Hardinge looked at him shrewdly out of the corner of his eyes. +"Does he drink?" + +"Not that I am aware of. I have never heard of it before. I should say +certainly not." + +"Is he mad?" + +"No-o--he has his peculiarities--but he certainly is not mad." + +"Is he subject to fits?" + +"I have not known of his having one before." + +When they reached the office the Major began to pace about. + +"That chaplain of yours must be stark mad." + +"If so, it is a very sudden attack." + +"Did you hear what he said?" + +"Very well indeed." + +"Never heard such a thing in my life! Is he in the habit of using such +language?" + +"Hardly. Perhaps we had better leave it till we hear what the doctor +says. Possibly there is some simple explanation. I am afraid the +chaplain is unwell." + +"If he isn't unwell, I don't know what he is. Upon my word, Paley, I +can't congratulate you upon the figure Canterstone Jail has cut during +the last few days. I don't know what sort of report I shall have to +make." + +The governor winced. When, a few minutes afterwards, the doctor +entered, he began upon the subject at once. + +"How is the chaplain, doctor?" + +Dr. Livermore gave a curious glance about him. Then he shook hands +with the inspector. Then he sat down. Taking off his hat, he wiped his +brow. + +"Well? Anything wrong?" + +"The chaplain says he is bewitched." + +The governor looked at the inspector, and the inspector looked at him. + +"Bewitched?" said Mr. Paley. + +"I told you the man was mad," the inspector muttered. + +"Hush!" the doctor whispered. "Here he comes." + +Even as he spoke the chaplain entered, leaning on the chief warder's +arm. He advanced to the table at which the governor sat, looking Mr. +Paley steadily in the face. + +"Mr. Paley, I have to report to you that I have been bewitched." + +"I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Hewett." He could not resist a smile. +"Though I am afraid I do not understand exactly what you mean." + +"It is no laughing matter." The chaplain's tone was cool and +collected--more impressive than it was used to be. "The man whose name +I believe is Oliver Mankell has bewitched me. He was the second man in +the third row on my right-hand side in chapel. I could make out that +his number was B 27. He cast on me a spell." + +There was silence. Even the inspector felt that it was a delicate +matter to accuse the chaplain outright of lunacy. An interruption came +from an unexpected quarter--from the chief warder. + +"It's my belief that man Mankell's been up to his games about those +cells." + +The interruption was the more remarkable, because there was generally +war--not always passive--between the chief warder and the chaplain. +Every one looked at Mr. Murray. + +"What is this I hear about the cells?" asked Dr. Livermore. + +The governor answered: + +"Yesterday the men were all locked in their night-cells. This morning +they were all locked out--that is, we found them all seemingly fast +asleep, each man in front of his cell-door." + +"They were all locked in except one man, and that man was Mankell--and +he was the only man who was not locked out." Thus the chief warder. + +"And do you suggest," said the doctor, "that he had a finger in the +pie?" + +"It's my belief he did it all. Directly I set eyes upon the man I knew +there was something about him I couldn't quite make out. He did it +all! Have you heard, sir, how he came to the gate?" + +Mr. Murray was, in general, a reticent man. It was not his way to +express decided opinions in the presence of authorities, or indeed of +any one else. Mr. Paley, who knew his man, eyed him with curiosity. + +"What was there odd about that?" + +"Why, instead of the constable bringing him, it was him who brought +the constable. When they opened the gate there was him with the +policeman over his shoulder." + +In spite of Mr. Murray's evident earnestness, there were some of his +hearers who were unable to repress a smile. + +"Do you mean that the constable was drunk?" + +"That's the queer part of it. It was John Mitchell. I've known him for +two-and-twenty years. I never knew him have a glass too much before. I +saw him soon afterwards--he was all right then. He said he had only +had three half-pints. He was quite himself till he got near the gate, +when all of a sudden he went queer all over." + +"Possibly the ale was drugged," suggested the doctor. + +"I don't know nothing about that, but I do know that the same hand +that played that trick was the same hand that played the tricks with +the cells." + +"Consider a moment what you are saying, Murray. How are three hundred +locks to be tampered with in the middle of the night by a man who is +himself a prisoner? One moment--But even that is nothing compared to +the feat of carrying three hundred men fast asleep in bed--bed and +all--through three hundred closed doors, under the very noses of the +officers on guard--think of doing all that singlehanded!" + +"It was witchcraft." + +When the chief warder said this, Major Hardinge exploded. + +"Witchcraft! The idea of the chief warder of an English prison talking +about witchcraft at this time of day! It's quite time you were +superannuated, sir." + +"The man, Mankell, certainly bewitched me." + +"Bewitched you!" As the Major faced the chaplain he seemed to find it +difficult to restrain his feelings. "May I ask what sort of idea you +mean to convey by saying he bewitched you?" + +"I will explain so far as I am able." The chaplain paused to collect +his thoughts. All eyes were fixed upon him. "I intended to say +something to the men touching the events of yesterday and this +morning. As I came down to the altar-rail I was conscious of a curious +sensation--as though I was being fascinated by a terrible gaze which +was burning into my brain. I managed to pronounce the first few words. +Involuntarily looking round, I met the eyes of the man Mankell. The +instant I did so I was conscious that something had passed from him to +me, something that made my tongue utter the words you heard. +Struggling with all my might, I momentarily regained the exercise of +my own will. It was only for a moment, for in an instant he had +mastered me again. Although I continued to struggle, my tongue uttered +the words he bade it utter, until I suppose my efforts to repel his +dominion brought on a kind of fit. That he laid on me a spell I am +assured." + +There was a pause when the chaplain ceased. That he had made what he +supposed to be a plain and simple statement of facts was evident. But +then the facts were remarkable ones. It was the doctor who broke the +silence. + +"Suppose we have the man in here, so that we can put him through his +facings?" + +The governor stroked his beard + +"What are you going to say to him? You can hardly charge him with +witchcraft. He is here because he has been pretending to magic +powers." + +The doctor started. + +"No! Is that so? Then I fancy we have the case in a nutshell. The man +is what old-fashioned people used to call a mesmerist--hypnotism they +call it nowadays, and all sorts of things." + +"But mesmerism won't explain the cells!" + +"I'm not so sure of that--at any rate, it would explain the policeman +who was suddenly taken queer. Let's have the man in here." + +"The whole thing is balderdash," said the Major with solemnity. "I am +surprised, as a man of sane and healthy mind, to hear such stuff +talked in an English prison of to-day." + +"At least there will be no harm in our interviewing Mr. Mankell. +Murray, see that they send him here." The chief warder departed to do +the governor's bidding. Mr. Paley turned to the chaplain. "According +to you, Mr. Hewett, we are subjecting ourselves to some personal risk +by bringing him here. Is that so?" + +"You may smile, Mr. Paley, but you may find it no laughing matter +after all. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt +of in man's philosophy." + +"You don't mean to say," burst out the Major, "that you, a man of +education, a clergyman, chaplain of an English prison, believe in +witchcraft?" + +"It is not a question of belief--it is a question of fact. That the +man cast on me a spell, I am well assured. Take care that he does not +do the same to you." + +The governor smiled. The doctor laughed. The enormity of the +suggestion kept the Major tongue-tied till Mankell appeared. + + + CHAPTER III. + + THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF THE PRISON + OFFICIALS. + +Although Mankell was ushered in by the chief warder, he was in actual +charge of Warder Slater. The apartment into which he was shown was not +that in which prisoners ordinarily interviewed the governor. There a +cord, stretched from wall to wall, divided the room nearly in half. On +one side stood the prisoner, with the officer in charge of him; on the +other sat the governor. Here there was no cord. The room--which was a +small one--contained a single table. At one end sat Mr. Paley, on his +right sat Major Hardinge, the chaplain stood at his left, and just +behind the Major sat Dr. Livermore. Mankell was told to stand at +the end which faced the governor. A momentary pause followed his +entrance--all four pairs of eyes were examining his countenance. He +for his part bore himself quite easily, his eyes being fixed upon the +governor, and about the corners of his lips hovered what was certainly +more than the suspicion of a smile. + +"I have sent for you," Mr. Paley began, "because I wish to ask you a +question. You understand that I make no charge against you, but--do +you know who has been tampering with the locks of the cells?" + +The smile was unmistakable now. It lighted up his saturnine visage, +suggesting that here was a man who had an eye--possibly almost too +keen an eye--for the ridiculous. But he gave no answer. + +"Do you hear my question, Mankell? Do you know who has been tampering +with the locks of the cells?" + +Mankell extended his hands with a little graceful gesture which +smacked of more southern climes. + +"How shall I tell you?" + +"Tell the truth, sir, and don't treat us to any of your high +faluting." + +This remark came from the Major--not in too amiable a tone of voice. + +"But in this land it would seem that truth is a thing that wise men +shun. It is for telling the truth that I am here." + +"We don't want any of your insolence, my man! Answer the governor's +question if you don't want to be severely punished. Do you know who +has been playing hanky-panky with the cells?" + +"Spirits of the air." + +As he said this Mankell inclined his head and looked at the Major with +laughter in his eyes. + +"Spirits of the air! What the devil do you mean by spirits of the +air?" + +"Ah! what do I mean? To tell _you_ that," laying a stress upon the +pronoun, "would take a year." + +"The fellow's an insolent scoundrel," spluttered the Major. + +"Come, Mankell, that won't do," struck in Mr. Paley. "Do I understand +you to say that you do know something about the matter?" + +"Know!" The man drew himself up, laying the index finger of his right +hand upon the table with a curiously impressive air. "What is there +that I do not know?" + +"I see. You still pretend, then, to the possession of magic powers?" + +"Pretend!" Mankell laughed. He stretched out his hands in front of him +with what seemed to be his favourite gesture, and laughed--in the face +of the authorities. + +"Suppose you give us an example of your powers?" + +The suggestion came from the doctor. The Major exploded. + +"Don't talk stuff and nonsense! Give the man three days' bread and +water. That is what he wants." + +"You do not believe in magic, then?" Mankell turned to the Major with +his laughing eyes. + +"What's it matter to you what I believe? You may take my word for it +that I don't believe in impudent mountebanks like you." + +The only reply Mankell gave was to raise his hand--if that might be +called a reply--in the way we sometimes do when we call for silence, +and there was silence in the room. All eyes were fixed upon the +prisoner. He looked each in turn steadily in the face. Then, still +serenely smiling, he gently murmured, "If you please." + +There still was silence, but only for a moment. It was broken +by Warder Slater. That usually decorous officer tilted his cap +to the back of his head, and thrust his hands into his breeches +pockets--hardly the regulation attitude in the presence of superiors. + +"I should blooming well like to know what this means! 'Ere have I been +in this 'ere jail eleven years, and I've never been accused before of +letting men out of their night-cells, let alone their beds and +bedding, and I don't like it, so I tell you straight." + +The chief warder turned with automatic suddenness towards the +unexpectedly and unusually plain-spoken officer. + +"Slater, you're a fool!" + +"I'm not the only one in the place! There's more fools here besides +me, and some of them bigger ones as well!" + +While these compliments were being exchanged, the higher officials sat +mutely looking on. When the chief warder seemed at a loss for an +answer, the chaplain volunteered a remark. He addressed himself to +Warder Slater. + +"It's my opinion that the governor's a bigger fool than you are, and +that the inspector's a still bigger fool than he is." + +"And it's my belief, Mr. Hewett," observed the doctor, "that you're +the biggest fool of all." + +"It would serve him right," remarked the governor, quietly, "if +somebody were to knock him down." + +"Knock him down! I should think it would--and kick him too!" + +As he said this the Major glared at the chaplain with threatening +eyes. + +There was silence again, broken by Warder Slater taking off his cap +and then his tunic, which he folded up carefully and placed upon the +floor, and turning his shirt-sleeves up above his elbows, revealing as +he did so a pair of really gigantic arms. + +"If any man says I let them men out of the cells, I'm ready to fight +that man, either for a gallon of beer or nothing. I don't care if it's +the inspector, or who it is." + +"I suspect," declared the chaplain, "that the inspector's too great a +coward to take you on, but if he does I'm willing to back Slater for +half-a-crown. I am even prepared to second him." + +Putting his hands under his coat-tails, the chaplain looked up at the +ceiling with a resolute air. + +"If you do fight Slater, Hardinge, I should certainly commence by +giving the chaplain a punch in the eye." + +So saying, the governor leaned back in his chair, and began drumming +on the table with the tips of his fingers. The doctor rose from his +seat. He gave the inspector a hearty slap on the back. + +"Give him beans!" he cried. "You ought to be able to knock an over-fed +animal like Slater into the middle of next week before he's counted +five." + +"I've no quarrel with Slater," the inspector growled, "and I've no +intention of fighting him; but as the chaplain seems to be so anxious +for a row, I'll fight him with the greatest pleasure." + +"If there's goin' to be any fighting," interposed the chief warder, +"don't you think I'd better get a couple of sponges and a pail of +water?" + +"I don't know about the sponges," said the governor; "I don't fancy +you will find any just at hand. But you might get a pail of water, I +think." + +The chief warder left the room. + +"I'm not a fighting man," the chaplain announced; "and in any case, I +should decline to soil my hands by touching such an ill-mannered +ruffian as Major Hardinge." + +"I say," exclaimed the doctor, "Hardinge, you're not going to stand +that?" + +The Major sprang from his seat, tore off his coat, and flung it on to +the ground with considerably less care than Warder Slater had done. He +strode up to the chaplain. + +"Beg my pardon, or take a licking!" + +The Major clenched his fists. He assumed an attitude which, if not +exactly reminiscent of the pets of the fancy, was at least intended to +be pugilistic. The chaplain did not flinch. + +"You dare to lay a finger on me, you bullying blackguard." + +The Major did dare. He struck out, if not with considerable science, +at any rate with considerable execution. The chaplain went down like a +log. At that moment the chief warder entered the room. He had a pail +of water in his hand. For some reason, which was not altogether plain, +he threw its contents upon the chaplain as he lay upon the floor. + +While these--considering the persons engaged--somewhat irregular +proceedings had been taking place, Mankell remained motionless, his +hand upraised--still with that smile upon his face. Now he lowered his +hand. + +"Thank you very much," he said. + +There was silence again--a tolerably prolonged silence. While it +lasted, a change seemed to be passing over the chief actors in the +scene. They seemed to be awaking, with more or less rapidity, to the +fact that a certain incongruity characterised their actions and their +language. There stood Warder Slater, apparently surprised and +overwhelmed at the discovery that his hat and coat were off, and his +shirtsleeves tucked up above his elbows. The chief warder, with the +empty pail in his hand, presented a really ludicrous picture of +amazement. He seemed quite unable to realise the fact that he had +thrown the contents over the chaplain. The inspector's surprise +appeared to be no less on finding that, in his pugilistic ardour, he +had torn off his coat and knocked the chaplain down. The doctor, +supporting him in the rear, seemed to be taken a little aback. The +governor, smoothing his hair with his hand, seemed to be in a hopeless +mist. It was the chaplain, who rose from the floor with his +handkerchief to his nose, who brought it home to them that the scene +which had just transpired had not been the grotesque imaginings of +some waking dream. + +"I call you to witness that Major Hardinge has struck me to the +ground, and the chief warder has thrown on me a pail of water. What +conduct may be expected from ignorant criminals when such is the +behaviour of those who are in charge of them, must be left for others +to judge." + +They looked at one another. Their feelings were momentarily too deep +for words. + +"I think," suggested the governor, with quavering intonation, "I +think--that this man--had better--be taken away." + +Warder Slater picked up his hat and coat, and left the room, Mankell +walking quietly beside him. Mr. Murray followed after, seeming +particularly anxious to conceal the presence of the pail. Mr. Hewett, +still stanching the blood which flowed from his nose, fixed his eyes +on the inspector. + +"Major Hardinge, if, twenty-four hours after this, you are still an +Inspector of Prisons, all England shall ring with your shame. Behind +bureaucracy--above it--is the English press." The chaplain moved +towards the door. On the threshold he paused. "As for the chief +warder, I shall commence by indicting him for assault." He took +another step, and paused again. "Nor shall I forget that the governor +aided and abetted the inspector, and that the doctor egged him on." + +Then the chaplain disappeared. His disappearance was followed by what +might be described as an abject silence. The governor eyed his +colleagues furtively. At last he stammered out a question. + +"Well, Major, what do you think of this?" + +The Major sank into a chair, expressing his thoughts by a gasp. Mr. +Paley turned his attention to the doctor. + +"What do you say, doctor?" + +"I say?--I say nothing." + +"I suppose," murmured the Major, in what seemed to be the ghost of his +natural voice, "that I did knock him down?" + +The doctor seemed to have something to say on that point, at any rate. + +"Knock him down!--I should think you did! Like a log of wood!" + +The Major glanced at the governor. Mr. Paley shook his head. The Major +groaned. The governor began to be a little agitated. + +"Something must be done. It is out of the question that such a scandal +should be allowed to go out into the world. I do not hesitate to say +that if the chaplain sends in to the commissioners the report which he +threatens to send, the situation will be to the last degree unpleasant +for all of us." + +"The point is," observed the doctor--"are we, collectively and +individually, subject to periodical attacks of temporary insanity?" + +"Speaking for myself, I should say certainly not." + +Dr. Livermore turned on the governor. + +"Then perhaps you will suggest a hypothesis which will reasonably +account for what has just occurred." The governor was silent. "Unless +you are prepared to seek for a cause in the regions of phenomena." + +"Supposing," murmured the Major, "there is such a thing as witchcraft +after all?" + +"We should have the Psychical Research Society down on us, if we had +nobody else, if we appended our names to a confession of faith." The +doctor thrust his thumbs into his waistcoat arm-holes. "And I should +lose every patient I have." + +There was a tapping at the door. In response to the governor's +invitation, the chief warder entered. In general there was in Mr. +Murray's bearing a not distant suggestion of an inflated bantam-cock +or pouter-pigeon. It was curious to observe how anything in the shape +of inflation was absent now. He touched his hat to the governor--his +honest, rubicund, somewhat pugnacious face, eloquent of the weight +that was on his mind. + +"Excuse me, sir. I said he was a witch." + +"Your saying that he was a witch--or wizard," remarked the governor, +dryly, "will not, I fear, be sufficient excuse, in the eyes of the +commissioners, for your throwing a pail of water over the chaplain." + +"But a man's not answerable for what he does when he's bewitched," +persisted the chief warder, with characteristic sturdiness. + +"It is exactly that reflection which has constrained me to return." + +They looked up. There was the chaplain standing in the doorway--still +with his handkerchief to his nose. + +"Mr. Murray, you threw a pail of water over me. If you assert that you +did it under the influence of witchcraft, I, who have myself been +under a spell, am willing to excuse you." + +"Mr. Hewett, sir, you yourself know I was bewitched." + +"I do; as I believe it of myself. Murray, give me your hand." The +chaplain and the chief warder solemnly shook hands. "There is an end +of the matter as it concerns us two. Major Hardinge, do I understand +you to assert that you too were under the influence of witchcraft?" + +This was rather a delicate inquiry to address to the Major. Apparently +the Major seemed to find it so. + +"I don't know about witchcraft," he growled; "but I am prepared to +take my oath in any court in England that I had no more intention of +striking you than I had of striking the moon." + +"That is sufficient, Major Hardinge. I forgive you from my heart. +Perhaps you too will take my hand." + +The Major took it--rather awkwardly--much more awkwardly than the +chief warder had done. When the chaplain relinquished it, he turned +aside, and picking up his coat, began to put it on--scarcely with that +air of dignity which is proper to a prison inspector. + +"I presume," continued Mr. Hewett, "that we all allow that what has +occurred has been owing to the malign influence of the man Oliver +Mankell?" + +There was silence. Apparently they did not all allow it even yet: it +_was_ a pill to swallow. + +"Hypnotism," muttered the doctor, half aside. + +"Hypnotism! I believe that the word simply expresses some sort of +mesmeric power--hardly a sufficient explanation in the present case." + +"I would suggest, Major Hardinge," interposed the governor, "all +theorising aside, that the man be transferred to another prison at the +earliest possible moment." + +"He shall be transferred to-morrow," affirmed the Major. "If there is +anything in Mr. Hewett's suggestion, the fellow shall have a chance to +prove it--in some other jail. Oh, good Lord! Don't! He's killing me! +Help--p!" + +"Hardinge!" exclaimed the doctor; "what's the matter now?" + +There seemed to be something the matter. The Major had been delivering +himself in his most pompously official manner. Suddenly he put his +hands to the pit of his stomach, and began to cry out as if in an +ecstacy of pain, his official manner altogether gone. + +"He'll murder me! I know he will!" + +"Murder you? Who?" + +"Mankell." + +"Oddly enough, I too was conscious of a very curious sensation." + +As he said this, the governor wiped the cold dew of perspiration from +his brow. He seemed unnaturally white. As he adjusted his spectacles, +there was an odd, tremulous appearance about his eyes. + +"It was because you spoke of transferring him to some other jail." The +chaplain's tone was solemn. "He dislikes the idea of being trifled +with." + +The Major resented the suggestion. + +"Trifled with? He seems uncommonly fond of trifling with other people. +Confound the man! Oh--h!" + +The Major sprang from the floor with an exclamation which amounted to +a positive yell. They looked each other in the face. Each man seemed a +little paler than his wont. + +"Something must be done," the governor gasped. + +The chaplain made a proposition. + +"I propose that we summon him into our presence, and inquire of him +what he wishes us to do." + +The proposition was not received with acclamation. They probably felt +that a certain amount of complication might be expected to ensue if +such inquiries began to be addressed to prisoners. + +"I think I'll go my rounds," observed the doctor. "This matter +scarcely concerns me. I wish you gentlemen well out of it." + +He reached out his hand to take his hat, which he had placed upon a +chair. As he did so, the hat disappeared, and a small brown terrier +dog appeared in its place. The dog barked viciously at the +outstretched hand. The doctor started back just in time to escape its +teeth. The dog disappeared--there was the hat again. The appearance +was but momentary, but it was none the less suggestive on that +account. The doctor seemed particularly affected. + +"We must have all been drinking, if we are taking to seeing things," +he cried. + +"I think," suggested the chaplain, almost in a whisper, "that we had +better inquire what it is he wishes us to do." There was silence. +"We--we have all clear consciences. There--there is no reason why we +should be afraid." + +"We're--we're not afraid," gasped the governor. "I--I don't think you +are entitled to infer such a thing." + +The Major stammeringly supported him. + +"Of--of course we--we're not afraid. The--the idea is preposterously +absurd." + +"Still," said the doctor, "a man doesn't care to have hanky-panky +tricks played with his top hat." + +There was a pause--of considerable duration. It was again broken by +the chaplain. + +"Don't you think, Mr. Paley, that we had better send for this man?" +Apparently Mr. Paley did. + +"Murray," he said, "go and see that he is sent here." + +Mr. Murray went, not too willingly--still he went. + + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER WHICH THE OFFICIALS + OF CANTERSTONE JAIL PRESENTED MR. MANKELL + WITH A TESTIMONIAL. + +Oliver Mankell was again in the charge of Warder Slater. Warder Slater +looked very queer indeed--he actually seemed to have lost in bulk. The +same phenomenon was observable in the chief warder, who followed close +upon the prisoner's heels. Mankell seemed, as ever, completely at his +ease. There was again a suspicion of a smile in his eyes and about the +corners of his lips. His bearing was in striking contrast to that of +the officials. His self-possession in the presence of their evident +uneasiness gave him the appearance, in a sense, of being a giant among +pigmies; yet the Major, at least, was in every way a bigger man than +he was. There was silence as he entered, a continuation of that +silence which had prevailed until he came. The governor fumbled with a +paper-knife which was in front of him. The inspector, leaning forward +in his chair, seemed engrossed by his boots. The doctor kept glancing, +perhaps unconsciously, at his hat. The chaplain, though conspicuously +uneasy, seemed to have his wits about him most. It was he who, +temporarily usurping the governor's functions, addressed the prisoner. + +"Your name is Oliver Mankell?" The prisoner merely smiled. "You are +sentenced to three months' hard labour?" The prisoner smiled again. +"For--for pretending to tell fortunes?" The smile became more +pronounced. The chaplain cleared his throat. "Oliver Mankell, I am a +clergyman. I know that there are such things as good and evil. I know +that, for causes which are hidden from me, the Almighty may permit +evil to take visible shape and walk abroad upon the earth; but I also +know that, though evil may destroy my body, it cannot destroy my +soul." + +The chaplain pulled up. His words and manner, though evidently +sincere, were not particularly impressive. While they evidently had +the effect of increasing his colleagues' uneasiness, they only had the +effect of enlarging the prisoner's smile. When he was about to +continue, the governor interposed. + +"I think, Mr. Hewett, if you will permit me. Mankell, I am not a +clergyman." The prisoner's smile almost degenerated into a grin. "I +have sent for you, for the second time this morning, to ask you +frankly if you have any reason to complain of your treatment here?" +The prisoner stretched out his hands with his familiar gesture. "Have +you any complaint to make? Is there anything, within the range of the +prison rules, you would wish me to do for you?" Again the hands went +out. "Then tell me, quite candidly, what is the cause of your +behaviour?" + +When the governor ceased, the prisoner seemed to be considering what +answer he should make. Then, inclining his head with that almost +saturnine grace, if one may coin a phrase, which seemed to accompany +every movement he made: + +"Sir, what have I done?" he asked. + +"Eh--eh--we--we won't dwell upon that. The question is, What did you +do it for?" + +"It is perhaps within your recollection, sir, that I have my +reputation to redeem, my character to reinstate." + +"Your character? What do you mean?" + +"In the first interview with which you favoured me, I ventured to +observe that it would be my endeavour, during my sojourn within these +walls, to act upon the advice the magistrate tendered me." + +"What"--the governor rather faltered--"what advice was that?" + +"He said I claimed to be a magician. He advised me, for my character's +sake, to prove it during my sojourn here." + +"I see. And--and you're trying to prove it--for your character's +sake?" + +"For my character's sake! I am but beginning, you perceive." + +"Oh, you're but beginning! You call this but beginning, do you? May I +ask if you have any intention of going on?" + +"Oh, sir, I have still nearly the whole three months in front of me! +Until my term expires I shall go on, with gathering strength, unto the +end." + +As he said this Mankell drew himself up in such a way that it almost +seemed as though some inches were added to his stature. + +"You will, will you? Well, you seem to be a pleasant kind of man!" The +criticism seemed to have been extracted from the governor almost +against his will. He looked round upon his colleagues with what could +only be described as a ghastly grin. "Have you any objection, Mankell, +to being transferred to another prison?" + +"Sir!" the prisoner's voice rang out, and his hearers +started--perceptibly. Perhaps that was because their nerves were +already so disorganised. "It is here I was sent, it is here I must +remain--until the end." + +The governor took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. + +"I am bound to tell you, Mankell, judging from the experiences of the +last two days, if this sort of thing is to continue--with gathering +strength!--the end will not be long." + +The prisoner seemed lost in reflection. The officials seemed lost in +reflection too; but their reflections were probably of a different +kind. + +"There is one suggestion I might offer." + +"Let's have it by all means. We have reached a point at which we shall +be glad to receive any suggestion--from you." + +"You might give me a testimonial." + +"Give you what?" + +"You might give me a testimonial." + +The governor looked at the prisoner, then at his friends. + +"A testimonial! Might we indeed! What sort of testimonial do you +allude to?" + +"You might testify that I had regained my reputation, redeemed my +character--that I had proved to your entire satisfaction that I was +the magician I claimed to be." + +The governor leaned back in his seat. + +"Your suggestion has at least the force of novelty. I should like to +search the registers of remarkable cases, to know if such an +application has ever been made to the governor of an English jail +before. What do you say, Hardinge?" + +The Major shuffled in his chair. + +"I--I think I must return to town." + +The prisoner smiled. The Major winced. + +"That--that fellow's pinned me to my chair," he gasped. He appeared to +be making futile efforts to rise from his seat. + +"You cannot return to town. Dismiss the idea from your mind." + +The Major only groaned. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his +brow. The governor looked up from the paper-knife with which he was +again trifling. + +"Am I to understand that the testimonial is to take the shape of a +voluntary offering?" + +"Oh, sir! Of what value is a testimonial which is not voluntary?" + +"Quite so. How do you suggest it should be worded?" + +"May I ask you for paper, pens, and ink?" + +The prisoner bent over the table and wrote on the paper which was +handed him. What he had written he passed to the governor. Mr. Paley +found inscribed, in a beautifully fair round hand, as clear as +copperplate, the following "testimonial":-- + +"The undersigned persons present their compliments to Colonel Gregory. +Oliver Mankell, sentenced by Colonel Gregory to three months' hard +labour, has been in Canterstone Jail two days. That short space of +time has, however, convinced them that Colonel Gregory acted wrongly +in distrusting his magic powers, and so casting a stain upon his +character. This is to testify that he has proved, to the entire +satisfaction of the undersigned inspector of prisons and officials of +Canterstone Jail, that he is a magician of quite the highest class." + +"The signatures of all those present should be placed at the bottom," +observed the prisoner, as the governor was reading the "testimonial." + +Apparently at a loss for words with which to comment upon the paper he +had read, the governor handed it to the inspector. The Major shrank +from taking it. + +"I--I'd rather not," he mumbled. + +"I think you had better read it," said the governor. Thus urged, the +Major did read it. + +"Good Lord!" he gasped, and passed it to the doctor. + +The doctor silently, having read it, passed it to the chaplain. + +"I will read it aloud," said Mr. Hewett. He did so--for the benefit, +probably, of Slater and Mr. Murray. + +"Supposing we were to sign that document, what would you propose to do +with it?" inquired the governor. + +"I should convey it to Colonel Gregory." + +"Indeed! In that case he would have as high an opinion of our +characters as of yours. And yourself--what sort of action might we +expect from you?" + +"I should go." + +The governor's jaw dropped. + +"Go? Oh, would you!" + +"My character regained, for what have I to stop?" + +"Exactly. What have you? There's that point of view, no doubt. Well, +Mankell, we will think the matter over." + +The prisoner dropped his hands to his sides, looking the governor +steadily in the face. + +"Sir, I conceive that answer to convey a negative. The proposition +thus refused will not be made again. It only remains for me to +continue earnestly my endeavours to retrieve my character--until the +three months are at an end." + +The chaplain was holding the testimonial loosely between his finger +and thumb. Stretching out his arm, Mankell pointed at it with his +hand. It was immediately in flames. The chaplain releasing it, it was +consumed to ashes before it reached the floor. Returning to face the +governor gain, the prisoner laid his right hand, palm downwards, on +the table: "Spirits of the air, in whose presence I now stand, I ask +you if I am not justified in whatever I may do?" + +His voice was very musical. His upturned eyes seemed to pierce through +the ceiling to what there was beyond. The room grew darker. There was +a rumbling in the air. The ground began to shake. The chaplain, who +was caressing the hand which had been scorched by the flames, burst +out with what was for him a passionate appeal: + +"Mr. Mankell, you are over hasty. I was about to explain that I should +esteem it quite an honour to sign your testimonial." + +"So should I--upon my soul, I should!" declared the Major. + +"There's nothing I wouldn't do to oblige you, Mr. Mankell," stammered +the chief warder. + +"Same 'ere!" cried Warder Slater. + +"You really are too rapid in arriving at conclusions, Mr. Mankell," +remarked the governor. "I do beg you will not suppose there was any +negative intention." + +The darkness, the rumbling, and the shaking ceased as suddenly as they +began. The prisoner smiled. + +"Perhaps I was too hasty," he confessed. "It is an error which can +easily be rectified." + +He raised his hand. A piece of paper fluttered from the ceiling. It +fell upon the table. It was the testimonial. + +"Your signature, Major Hardinge, should head the list." + +"I--I--I'd rather somebody else signed first." + +"That would never do: it is for you to lead the van. You are free to +leave your seat." + +The Major left his seat, apparently not rejoicing in his freedom. He +wrote "William Hardinge" in great sprawling characters. + +"Add 'Inspector of Prisons.'" + +The Major added "Inspector of Prisons," with a very rueful +countenance. + +"Mr. Paley, it is your turn." + +Mr. Paley took his turn, with a really tolerable imitation of being +both ready and willing. Acting on the hint which had been given the +Major, he added "Governor" of his own accord. + +"Now, doctor, it is you." + +The doctor thrust his hands into his trousers' pockets. "I'll sign, if +you'll tell me how it is done." + +"Tell you how it is done? How what is done?" + +"How you do that hanky-panky, of course." + +"Hanky-panky!" The prisoner drew himself straight up. "Is it possible +that you suspect me of hanky-panky? Yes, sir, I will show you how it's +done. If you wish it, you shall be torn asunder where you stand." + +"Thank you,--you needn't trouble. I'll sign." + +He signed. The chaplain shook his head and sighed. + +"I always placed a literal interpretation on the twenty-eighth chapter +of the first book of Samuel. It is singular how my faith is +justified!" + +The chief warder placed his spectacles upon his nose, where they +seemed uneasy, and made quite a business of signing. And such was +Warder Slater's agitation, that he could scarcely sign at all. But at +last the "testimonial" was complete. The prisoner smiled as he +carefully folded it in two. + +"I will convey it to Colonel Gregory," he said. "It is a gratification +to me to have been able to retrieve my character in so short a space +of time." + +They watched him--a little spellbound, perhaps; and as they watched +him, even before their eyes--behold, he was gone! + + + + + TWINS! + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE FIRST LADY. + +"Mrs. And Miss Danvers." + +Mr. Herbert Buxton, standing at the office window of the hotel, +glancing at the visitors' book on the desk at his right, saw the names +among the latest arrivals. They caught his eye. "Pontresina" was +stated to be the place from which they had lately come. + +"It is _the_ Danvers, for a fiver--Cecil's Danvers." + +Strolling from the office window, he took a letter--a frayed +letter--from his pocket-book. It was post-marked "Pontresina." The +signature was "Cecil Buxton"--it was from his brother. + +"Dear Hubert," it ran, "you really must get something to do! Your +request for what you call an advance is absurd. So far from advancing +you anything I shall have to cut short the allowance I have been +making you. I have met here a Mrs. and Miss Danvers. I have asked Miss +Danvers to do me the honour to marry me. She has consented. When that +event comes to pass--which will be very shortly--your allowance will +recede to a vanishing point. That you will get something to do is, +therefore, the advice of your affectionate brother, Cecil Buxton." + +"It would be an odd coincidence," reflected Hubert, "if that Miss +Danvers is this Miss Danvers." + +An idea occurred to his fertile--too fertile--brain. As the first +glimmerings of the idea burst on him, Hubert smiled. + +In giving birth to Cecil and Hubert Buxton, Nature had been indulging +in one of her freaks. They were twins--born within a few seconds of +each other. Cecil came first. Hubert came, with all possible +expedition, immediately after. Babies are proverbially alike. These +babies were so much alike that, when they were undressed, no one ever +pretended to be able to tell one from the other. The resemblance +outlived babyhood. As the years went on, Cecil was always being taken +for Hubert, Hubert for Cecil. The unfortunate part of the business was +that the resemblance was merely superficial. Inside, they were +altogether different. Cecil was solid and steady, while Hubert--well, +at that particular moment he was quartered at that fashionable +Bournemouth hotel, without money in his pocket with which to pay his +hotel bill, and with nobody within reach from whom he could borrow a +five-pound note. + +"If," he told himself, "_this_ Danvers is that Danvers, I might make +something out of that fatal likeness after all." + +It would not be, by any means, the first time he had made something +out of the "fatal likeness," but on that, in this place, we need not +dwell. He strolled along the corridor, the open letter in his hand, +biting his nails and thinking over things as he went. As he approached +the glass door which led into the grounds, it opened to admit a lady. +At sight of him she stopped. + +"Cecil!" she exclaimed. + +Hubert looked at her. She was a magnificent woman, planned altogether +on a magnificent scale, with a profusion of red-gold hair, and a pair +of the biggest and brightest eyes Hubert, with all his wide +experience, ever remembered to have seen. + +"It _is_ the Danvers!" he inwardly decided. "What a 'oner'!" + +But he was equal to the occasion. He generally was--more than equal. +He held out his hand to her with a little sudden burst. + +"You!" he cried. + +The lady, however, did not immediately respond to his advances. On the +contrary, she put her hands behind her back. + +"This is an unexpected pleasure. I didn't expect to see you here. I +thought you were in Paris." + +As a matter of fact according to the most recent advices, Cecil was in +Paris. But, of course, Hubert had nothing to do with that. + +"I only arrived last night. You--you don't seem glad to see me?" + +"It is rather I who should ask the question. Are you glad to see me?" + +There was a dryness in her tone which grated on Hubert's ears. + +"This is a case in which diplomacy is required. I wonder what there's +been between them." Aloud he remarked, "Can you not forget and +forgive?" + +"Cecil, do you mean it?" She glanced behind her as if in sudden +agitation. "I cannot stop now. Meet me in the garden after dinner." + +She was gone before he even had a ghost of a chance of feeling his +way. + + + CHAPTER II. + + THE SECOND LADY. + +"Cecil! Where are you? Here?" + +Hubert, who had been leaning against the wall, came out into the +moonlight. The lady stood on the top of the steps. The moon shone full +upon her. It lit up the glory of her red-gold hair. She was clad in +full evening dress. Her little opera cloak, which had slipped off her +shoulders, revealed, rather than concealed, her magnificent +proportions. Hubert, eying her critically from below, told himself +that she was certainly a "oner!" + +"I am afraid I am late. I hope you haven't been waiting long." + +"Nothing to speak of. Just time enough to enjoy a cigar--and to dream +of you." + +"Cecil! For shame! Is it damp? I have only my thin shoes on." + +She held one out in evidence. Hubert liked the look of it. + +"It is as dry as tinder; just the night for lovers." + +"I really think it is." She came down the steps. "How glorious!" +Laying her hand upon his arm, she looked into his eyes with her big +ones. "As you say, it is just the night for lovers." + +They began to stroll. She spoke-- + +"It seems strange, after all that has passed between us, that you and +I should be walking here together." + +"It does seem strange." It certainly did. + +"After all the hard things you have thought and said of me." There was +a pause. She looked down, speaking softly. "Call me by my pet name." + +He slightly started. But he was not the sort of man to remain long at +a loss. As he turned to her and answered, in his voice there was a +ring of passionate intensity. + +"Tell me by what name to call you!" + +"Call me Angel." + +"Angel! My angel of love! My angel of all good things!" + +"Cecil!" + +Their lips met in a kiss. As they did so, he told himself that if she +was Cecil's idea of an angel, she wasn't his. But she was certainly a +"oner." He wondered if she had been christened "Angel" Danvers. What a +weapon with which to chastise a wife! + +"Cecil, let us understand each other. You are not trifling with me +again?" + +"Need you ask?" This time he was fairly startled. "I am afraid that +after all which has passed between us, I need----" + +"You do mean to make me your wife?" + +"Make you my wife? Good heavens! What do you suppose I mean?" + +"Then you do not believe I cheated?" + +"Cheated!" + +"Then you do not believe that man? You don't believe the lies they +said of me?" + +"Never for one single instant." + +His outspoken denial seemed to take her aback. + +"Then, if you didn't believe it, why--but never mind! Cecil, it would +be useless to pretend to you that I have been the best of women, but I +swear that I will be a good wife to you until I die." + +"My own," he murmured. To himself he said, "There seems to have been a +good deal more romance about this little affair of Cecil's than I +supposed." + +Her manner changed. + +"Let us talk of something else! Let us talk of you. Tell me of +yourself, my love!" + +"Well," said Hubert, the ever-ready, "for the moment I am in rather an +awkward predicament." + +"What is it?" + +"The fact is"--he looked her straight in the face, and never turned a +hair--"my remittances seem to have all gone wrong. I am landed here +with empty pockets." + +She laughed. "Let me be your banker, will you?" + +"With pleasure." + +"I'm quite rich, for me. I've got a heap of money in my purse, if I +can only find it." She found it, after long seeking. "How much would +you like--twenty pounds?" + +"Thank you." + +"Should I make it thirty?" + +"If you could make it thirty." + +Some bank-notes changed hands. He thrust them into his +waistcoat-pocket, telling himself that that was something on account +at any rate. + +"Now, your remittances must make haste and come. Thirty pounds is +nothing to you; it is a deal to me. Now _I_ am destitute." + +She held out her purse for him to see. It still contained a couple of +bank-notes and some gold. + +"I suppose you couldn't manage to spare the rest?" he said. + +"You greedy thing! I can scarcely believe you are the Cecil Buxton I +used to know--he would never have condescended to borrow thirty pounds +from me. Do you know, it isn't only that you are nicer, but, somehow, +even your manner and your voice seem different." + +"Do you think so?" They were standing under the shadow of a tree. He +leaned back against the tree. "By the way, I have been remiss. I ought +to have inquired after your mother." + +"My mother?" She started. + +"I see your names are bracketed in the visitors' book together." + +"Our names bracketed in the visitors book together! You are dreaming!" + +"I saw them there--Mrs. and Miss Danvers." + +"Mrs. and Miss Danvers! Cecil! what do you mean?" + +It was his turn to stare. Her manner had all at once become quite +singular. + +"What do _you_ mean? Isn't your mother with you?" + +"Cecil, are you making fun of me?" + +Hubert felt that, in some way, he was putting his foot in it--though +he did not quite see how. + +"Nothing is further from my thoughts than to make fun of you. But when +I saw Mrs. Danvers' name in the visitors' book----" + +"Whose name?" + +"When I saw Mrs. and Miss Danvers there as large as life----" + +The lady moved a step away from him. All at once she became, as it +were, a different woman entirely. + +"I see that you are the same man after all. The same Mr. Cecil Buxton. +The same cold, calculating, sneering cynic. Only you happen to have +broken out in another place. I presume you have been having a little +amusement at my expense on a novel plan of your own. But this time, my +friend, you have gone too far. You have asked me, in so many words, to +be your wife--I dare you to deny it! You have borrowed money--I dare +you to deny that too! I am not so unprotected as you may possibly +imagine. I took the precaution to wire this morning for a friend. You +will marry me, or we shall see!" + +The lady swept him a splendid curtsey, and--walked off. He was so +taken aback by the sudden change in her deportment that he made not +the slightest attempt to arrest her progress. He stared after her, in +the moonlight, open-eyed and open-mouthed. + +"Well----! I've done something, though I don't know what. And I've +done it somehow, though I don't know how. Cecil ought to be grateful +to me for ridding him of her. They'd never have been happy together, +I'll stake my life on it. Hallo! Who's this? More adventures!" + +There was a rustling behind him. He turned. Someone came out of the +shadow of the tree. It was a young girl. She was clad in a plain black +silk dinner dress. A shawl was thrown over her shoulders. He could see +that she had brown hair and pleasant features. She addressed to him a +question which surprised him. + +"Who is that woman?" she asked. + +She pointed after the rapidly retreating "Angel" with a gesture which +was almost tragic. He raised his hat. + +"I beg your pardon? I don't think I have the pleasure----" + +She paid no attention to his words. + +"Who is that woman?" she repeated. + +"Which woman?" + +"That woman?" + +"Really I--I think there's some mistake----" + +To his amazement she burst into a passion of tears. "Cecil, don't +speak to me like that--don't! don't! don't!" + +Hubert stared. The young lady dropped her hands from before her face. +She looked at him with streaming eyes. + +"Who is that woman? Tell me! I've been longing for your coming, +thinking of all that I should say to you, wishing that the minutes +were but seconds--and you've been here all the time! You must have +come hours before you told me that your train was due. What is the +meaning of it all?" + +"That is precisely what I should like to know." + +"I came out here that I might be alone before our meeting. I heard the +sound of voices, and I thought that one of them was yours--I could not +believe it. I listened. I heard you talking to that woman. I saw her +kiss you. Oh, Cecil! Cecil! my heart is broken!" + +She tottered forward, all but falling into Hubert's arms. He tried to +soothe her. _Sotto voce_ he told himself that Cecil had more romance +in his nature than he had given him credit for. His complications in +the feminine line appeared to be worthy of the farces at the Palais +Royal. In the midst of her emotion, the young lady in his arms +continued to address him. + +"Why--did you--tell me--you were coming--by one train--when--all the +time--you must have meant--to come by another. I--have your letter +here----" + +From the bosom of her dress she drew an envelope. Hubert made a dash +at it. + +"My letter? Permit me for an instant!" + +With scant ceremony he took it from her hand. He glanced at the +address--recognising Cecil's well-known writing. + +"Miss--Miss Danvers! Are you--are _you_--Miss Danvers?" + +The girl shrank from him. Her tears were dried. Her face grew white. +"Cecil!" she exclaimed. + +"Forgive me if my question seems a curious one, but--_are_ you Miss +Danvers?" + +The girl shrank away still more. Her face grew whiter. She spoke so +faintly her words were scarcely audible. + +"Cecil! Give me back my letter, if you please!" + +He handed her back her envelope. "Miss Danvers, I entreat you----" + +But the look of scorn which was on her face brought even Hubert to a +standstill. As he hesitated, she "fixed him with her eyes." He had +seldom felt so uncomfortable as he did just then. He seemed to feel +himself growing smaller simply because of the scorn which was in her +glance. + +"Good evening, _Mister_ Buxton." + +She slightly inclined her head--and was gone. Hubert stared after her +dumfounded. When he did recover the faculty of speech he hardly knew +what use to make of it. + +"Well--I've done it! If _she's_ Miss Danvers--_who_ is 'Angel?' Cecil +will thank me for the treat which I'm preparing for him. I knew this +fatal likeness would dog me to the grave. Why was I born a twin?" + +He strolled slowly toward the building. As he entered the hall a lady +was coming along the corridor. At sight of him she quickened her pace. +She advanced to him with outstretched hands. She was a lady of perhaps +forty years of age. + +"Cecil!" she cried. + +But Hubert was not to be caught with salt. He had had enough, for the +present, of Cecil and--of Cecil's feminine friends. Ignoring her +outstretched hands, he slightly raised his hat. + +"Pardon me, you have the advantage of me, Madame." + +The lady seemed bewildered. She stared at him as if she could not +believe her eyes and ears. The door through which Hubert had just +entered from the grounds was re-opened at his back. A figure glided +past him. It was the young girl from whom he had just parted--in not +too cordial a manner. She went straight to the lady, slipping her arm +through hers. + +"Mamma, Mr. Buxton has declined to acknowledge my acquaintance as he +declined to acknowledge yours. I think I can give you a sufficient +reason for his doing so, if you will come with me, dear mother." + +"Hetty!" murmured the elder woman, still plainly at a loss. + +"Come!" said the girl. They went, leaving Hubert to stare. + +"Well--I've gone one better! That's Mrs. Danvers, I presume. So I've +contrived to insult the mother and the daughter too. Cecil will shower +blessings on my head. Who _can_ that Angel be?" + +As he was about to follow the ladies along the corridor, someone +touched him on the arm. Turning, he saw that a stranger in a black +frock coat stood at his side. + +"What were you saying to those ladies?" this person asked. + +"What the deuce is that to do with you? And who the devil are you?" + +"It has this to do with me, that I am the manager of this hotel, and +that it is sufficiently obvious that your presence is objectionable to +those ladies. Moreover, under existing circumstances, it is +objectionable to me. It is a rule of this hotel that accounts are paid +weekly. You have been here more than three weeks, and your first +week's bill is yet unpaid. You have made sundry promises, but you have +not kept them. I don't wish to have any unpleasantness with you, sir, +but I regret that I am unable to accommodate you with a bed, in this +hotel, to-night." + +Hubert felt a trifle wild. He was capable of that feeling now and +then. As they were advancing in one direction, two gentlemen, a tall +and a short one, were advancing towards them in the other. They were +coming to close quarters. Hubert was conscious that the manager's +outspoken observations could not be altogether inaudible to the +approaching strangers. So he rode as high a horse as he conveniently +could. + +"As for your bill, I will see it hanged first. As for your insolence, +I will report it to your employers. As for myself, I shall only be too +glad to go at once." + +One of the approaching strangers--the tall one--suddenly standing +still, placed himself in front of Hubert in such a way as to bar his +progress. With the finger tips of his right hand he tapped him lightly +on the chest. + +"Not just at once, dear Buxton, not just at once. Not before you have +said a few words to me." + +"And to me," said the short man, who stood beside his taller +companion. Hubert looked from one to the other. + +"And pray who may you be?" he inquired. + +"You do not know me?" asked the big stranger. + +"Nor me?" echoed the little one. + +"But it does not matter. Perhaps you have a bad memory, my dear +Buxton." + +The big man's manner was affable. He turned to the manager. "You must +excuse us for one moment, we have just a word to say to our friend +Buxton. Here is our little private sitting-room most convenient--just +a word." + +Before Hubert had altogether realised the situation, the big man had +thrust his arm through his, and drawn him into a sitting-room which +opened off the corridor from the left. When they were in, the big man +locked the door--he not only locked the door, but in an ostentatious +manner he pocketed the key. + + + CHAPTER III. + + THE UNFORTUNATE RESULT OF BEING A TWIN. + +"So, Mr. Buxton, you don't know me?" + +"Nor me?" + +The larger stranger stood against the door. The lesser one, who +appeared to be acting as echo, leaned against a table. He began, with +a slightly overacted air of carelessness, to roll a cigarette. There +was something about this little man which Hubert did not like at all. +He was a short, wiry individual, with long, straight black hair, +hollow, sallow, shaven cheeks, high projecting cheek-bones, and a pair +of small black eyes, which he had a trick of screwing up until only +the pupils could be seen. His personal attractions were not enhanced +by a huge mole which occupied a conspicuous place in the middle of his +left cheek. But if he liked the appearance of the small man little, it +was not because he liked the appearance of the tall man more. This was +a great hulking fellow, with sandy whiskers and moustache, and a +manner which, in spite of its greasy insinuation, Hubert felt was +distinctly threatening. + +"Is it really possible, Mr. Buxton, that I have had the misfortune to +escape your memory?" + +"And me?" + +Hubert glanced from one to the other. That the little man was a +foreigner, probably an Italian, he made up his mind at once. As to the +nationality of the big man he was not so sure. He had had dealings +with some strange people in his time, both at home and abroad. But he +could not recollect encountering either of these gentlemen before. + +"I do not remember having ever seen either of you." + +"Oh, you do not remember?" The big man came a step nearer. "You do not +remember that pleasant evening in that little room at Nice?" + +"You do not remember slapping my face?" quickly exclaimed the little +man, suddenly slapping his own right cheek with startling vigour. + +"You do not remember accusing me of cheating you at cards?" + +"You do not remember placing an insult on me! on me! on me?" + +All at once, abandoning the process of manufacturing his cigarette, +the little man came and placed himself in even uncomfortable proximity +to Hubert's person. "My friend, my cheek is burning to this very +hour." + +Hubert did not like the look of things at all. He was _sure_ he had +never seen these men before. + +"I understand the position exactly. You are doing what people +constantly are doing--you are mistaking me for my brother." + +"Mistaking you for your brother? I am mistaking you for your brother?" + +"And me!" cried the little man, again saluting his own cheek smartly. +"You liar!" + +The big man's manner was insulting. Hubert felt he must resent it. + +"How dare you----" + +But the sentiment died down into his boots as the big man came at him +with a sudden ferocity which seemed to cause the beating of his heart +to cease. + +"How dare I! You dare to speak a word to me. Liar! I will kill you +where you stand." + +"As for me," remarked the short man, affably, "I have this, and this." +From one recess in his clothing he took a revolver. From another, a +long, glittering, and business-like, if elegant, knife. + +"All these years I have not been able to make up my mind if I will +shoot you like a dog, or stick you like a pig--which you are." + +"Gentlemen," explained Hubert, with surprising mildness, "I assure you +you are under a misapprehension. The likeness between my brother and +myself is so striking that our most intimate friends mistake one for +the other." + +"For whom, then, did my sister mistake you this morning and to-night?" + +A light flashed upon Hubert's brain. "You mean Angel?" + +"You call her Angel! He calls her Angel!" + +"I hear," observed the little man. + +"If you will allow me to explain!" + +The big man made a gesture of refusal. But the little man caught him +by the arm. "Let the liar speak," he said. + +The big man, acting on his friend's advice, let the--that is, he let +Hubert speak. Availing himself of the courteously offered permission, +Hubert did his best to make things clear. + +"I am not--as I would have told you before if you would have let me--I +am not Cecil, but Hubert Buxton." The big man made another gesture. +Again the little man restrained him. "We are twins. All our lives it +has been difficult to tell one from the other. Of recent years, I +understand, the resemblance between us has grown even greater. But the +likeness is only skin deep. Cecil is the elder by, I believe, about +thirty seconds. He is a rich man, and I am a poor man--bitterly poor." + +The big man spoke. "And you dare to tell me that you have been making +love to my sister under a false name? Very good, I have killed a man +for less. But I will not kill you--not yet----Is your handwriting as +much like your brother's as you are?" + +"My fist is like Cecil's." + +"So! Sit down." Hubert sat down. "Take that pen." He took the pen. He +dipped it in the ink. "Write, 'I promise to marry----'" + +"What's the good of my promising to marry anyone? Don't I tell you +that I'm without a sou with which to bless myself?" + +"Write, my friend, what I dictate. 'I promise to marry----'" Hubert +wrote it--"'Marian Philipson Peters----'" + +"And who the----something is Marian Philipson Peters?" + +"Marian Philipson Peters--Mrs. Philipson Peters, is my sister." + +It seemed to be a tolerably prosaic paraphrase of "Angel." Hubert, if +the expression of his features could be trusted, appeared to think so. + +"And what possible advantage does your sister propose to derive from +my promising, either in black and white or in any other way, to marry +her? Does the lady propose to pay my debts, or to provide me with an +income?" + +"Attend to me, my friend--write what I dictate." The big man laid his +hand on Hubert's shoulder with an amount of pressure which might mean +much--or more! Hubert looked up. The pressure increased. "Write it." + +The little man was standing on the other side of the unwilling scribe. +He had his revolver in one hand, his knife in the other. "Write it!" +he said. + +Up went Hubert's shoulders--he wrote it. The big man continued his +dictation. + +"'Within three months after date.'" + +"What on earth----" + +"Write--'Within three months after date.'" + +"Oh, I'll write anything. I'll promise to marry her within three +minutes--to oblige you." + +The big man examined what Hubert had written. + +"Very like!--very like indeed. So like Cecil Buxton's handwriting that +I plainly perceive, my friend, that you are the prince of all the +liars. Now sign it." He arrested Hubert's hand. "Sign it--'Cecil +Buxton.'" + +Hubert glanced up. He dropped his pen. "Now I see!" + +"Pick up that pen." + +"With pleasure." He picked it up. + +"Sign it--'Cecil Buxton."' + +The big man spoke in a tone of voice which could not, truthfully, be +described as friendly. + +"In other words--commit forgery." + +The tall man turned to the short one. + +"Eugene, who is to use your revolver? Is it you or I? I swear to you +that if this scoundrel, this contemptible villain, does not make all +the reparation to my sister that is in his miserable power, I will +blow his brains out as he is sitting here." + +The short man smiled--not pleasantly. + +"Leave to me, my friend, that sacred duty--the sacred duty of being +executioner. I have long had a little grudge of my own against Mr. +Cecil Buxton. I have one of those little insults to wipe out which can +only be wiped out by--blood. I have not doubted all the time that this +is Mr. Cecil Buxton. I doubt it still less now that I have seen him +write." + +"I swear to you----" + +The big man cut Hubert uncivilly short. He repeated his command. "Sign +it--'Cecil Buxton.'" + +Hubert looked from one face to the other. He was conscious--painfully +conscious!--that his was not a pleasant situation. He saw murder on +the short man's face. He did not like the look of his revolver. He +held it far too carelessly. That he was the sort of man who would +entertain no kind of conscientious scruple against shooting him, to +use his own words, like a dog, he felt quite certain. + +"Let me say one word?" he pleaded. + +The big man refused him even that grace. "Not one!" + +While Hubert hesitated, the pen between his fingers, there came a +rapping at the door. + + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE ARRIVAL OF THE OTHER TWIN. + +The cause of that rapping at the door was this. + +Cecil Buxton arrived by the train by which he had informed Miss +Danvers, by letter, that he would arrive. Hastily seeing his luggage +on to a cab, he drove off to the hotel. In the hall he encountered a +porter. + +The porter greeted him in rather a singular manner, scarcely as hotel +porters are wont to greet arriving guests. + +"What! Back again!" Cecil stared, as, under the circumstances, any man +would stare. "This won't do, you know. I know all about it--you've +been chucked. My orders is, not let you into the place again." + +"My good man," said Cecil, fully believing that what he said was true, +"you're drunk." + +Just then a lady came down the staircase. He recognised her--recognised +her well. He rushed towards her. + +"Hetty!" he cried. + +The lady gave a start, but not the sort of start he had reason, and +good reason, to expect. She turned, she looked at him--with scornful +eyes. She drew back, seeming to remove her very gown from any risk of +personal contact. + +"I half expected to see you at the station. Hetty, what--what's the +matter?" + +The lady said nothing, but she looked at him--and she walked away, her +head held very high in the air. + +"Now you've got to come out of this!" The porter who had followed him +across the hall laid his hand upon his shoulder. Cecil swung round. +And he not only swung round, but he swung the porter off, and that +with a degree of vigour which possibly took that official by surprise. + +"Remove your hand!" he cried. + +There was a moment's pause, and during that moment's pause another +lady came down the stairs. The bewildered Cecil rushed to her. + +"Mrs. Danvers, has everybody gone mad? What is the matter with Hetty?" +There was no mistake about it this time. The lady was so desirous that +none of her garments should come into contact with Cecil that, the +better to draw them away from him, she clutched her skirts with both +her hands. _She_ spoke-- + +"How dare you, sir, address yourself to me?" She turned to the porter +with an air of command. "Desire this person to stand out of my way." + +And she swept off, Cecil staring at her like a man in a dream. + +"Well, sir?" Cecil turned. A decently-attired, and even gentlemanly, +individual was standing at his side. "Have you returned to pay your +bill?" + +Cecil looked him up and down. In his appearance he noted no signs of +insanity, nor of intoxication either. + +"Are you the manager of this establishment?" + +"You know very well that I am. Pray don't let's have any nonsense." + +"Allow me to give you my card." Cecil handed him his "pasteboard." "I +left Paris last night. I have been travelling all day. I arrived five +minutes ago in your hotel. What is the meaning of the treatment which +has been accorded me?" + +The manager regarded him with a smile which scarcely came within the +definition of a "courteous smile." + +"You are certainly a character." + +"Explain yourself." + +"Surely not much explanation is required. It is only a few minutes ago +since I informed you that your presence in this establishment could no +longer be permitted, and now you favour me with this amazing story." + +Cecil started forward. A new light came into his eyes. + +"Has anyone been staying here resembling me?" + +"So much resembling you that we shall be obliged if you will pay his +bill, which lies, unpaid, on the cashier's desk." + +Cecil gave an exclamation--not of pleasure. + +"By Jove! It's Hubert! I see it all! He has been up to some of his +infernal tricks with Hetty and her mother! If he has!" He turned upon +the manager, "Where is he?" + +The manager hesitated. + +"Where is who? _You_ are standing here. When I last saw you, you were +entering a private sitting-room with two gentlemen who happened to +have a particular desire for your society." + +"Where is this sitting-room?" + +"I will show you if you really don't know." The manager led the +way--still smiling. Cecil went after him. As they moved along a +corridor, into which the manager turned, they came upon a lady who was +standing outside one of the sitting-rooms, and who, not to put too +fine a point on it, seemed listening at the door. Her back was turned +towards them as they advanced. It was only when they were quite close +to her that she seemed to become conscious of their approach. When she +arrived at such a state of consciousness she sprang up--she had been +stooping a good deal forward before--and sprang round. She was in +evening dress. A fine, tall, generously proportioned woman, with big +bright eyes, and red-gold hair, she was Hubert's "oner"--"Angel." As +her glance fell upon Cecil she gave a start--a most melodramatic +start--so melodramatic a start that she bumped herself, quite +unintentionally, but with considerable force, against the wall. + +"You!" she exclaimed. + +Cecil, on his part, appeared to recognise the lady. + +"You!" he said--without any appearance of undue deference in his +manner. + +His arrival on the scene seemed to have thrown the lady into a state +of really curious agitation. She stood with her back against the wall, +staring at him as if he were a ghost. She positively trembled. + +"How--how did you get out?" she asked--speaking in a sort of gasp. + +"I was never in." Cecil turned to the manager. "It's a little +complicated, but I think that I begin to understand the situation." He +turned to the lady. He pointed to the sitting-room, outside which she +was standing. "Who is in there?" + +Angel did not answer. Leaning forward, she rapped with her knuckles +against the panel of the door. + + + CHAPTER V. + + THE TWINS CONFRONT EACH OTHER. + +When there came that rapping at the door, Hubert started back. + +"Who's that?" he cried. + +The big man still retained his grasp on Hubert's shoulder. He +tightened it. + +"Never mind who it is. Sign that paper." + +There was a voice without. "Open the door!" + +Hubert slipped from the man's grasp. He sprang to his feet. He threw +the pen from him on to the floor. "It's Cecil!" + +The two men looked at him. He looked at them. Again there was the +voice without. "Open the door!" + +"It's Cecil! It's my brother! Now you will see if I lied." + +In Hubert's manner there was positively something approaching an air +of triumph. The associates exchanged glances. The big man addressed +himself again to Hubert. + +"Look here, my friend, you will sign that paper." + +He moved a step forward. Hubert grasped the back of a chair. + +"You touch me! By George! I'll smash you!" + +The big man hesitated. Hubert seemed to have gained a sudden access of +energy. He continued to address his companions in a strain which was +distinctly not pacific. "You couple of cowardly curs! You get me into +a room, you lock the door, you come at me, the pair of you, with a +revolver and a knife, when you know that I haven't got so much as a +toothpick in my pocket! Why, you miserable brutes, I'll smash you +both!" + +Hubert brandished the chair about his head. The big man still +hesitated. The shorter gentleman addressed this inquiry to his friend, +"Shall I shoot him? Shall I put six shots into his carcass--shall I?" + +Hubert did not wait to hear the other's answer. He turned to the door. +"Cecil! Cecil! break down the door. The brutes will murder me! Break +down the door!" + +These words, uttered with the full force of Hubert's lungs, seemed to +create, as was not unnatural, some sensation without. Several voices +were heard speaking together. There was a loud knocking at the door. +Someone said, evidently not Cecil, "Open the door immediately! I am +the manager of the hotel! Open at once!" + +The associates looked at each other. The clamour without seemed to +mean business. Hubert had slipped from their control. If they were not +careful their friendly little interview might be disagreeably +interrupted. The shorter man shrugged his shoulders right up to his +ears. + +"What is the use? You had better open the door. What is the use of +playing a losing game too far?" Then, to Hubert, "With you, my friend, +I will settle some other time." + +"And I," chimed in the big man, playing the part of echo for once. + +"I don't care that," Hubert snapped his fingers in the air, "for +either, or both of you, you curs!" + +The comrades still hesitated--they probably resented the alteration in +the young gentleman's demeanour. But the clamour at the door +continued. The big man, doubtless perceiving that the position was +becoming desperate, took the key out of his pocket. He unlocked the +door. As he did so, his companion's weapons disappeared into the +hidden recess of his apparel. The moment the door was opened Hubert +advanced. + +"Cecil! so it is you. Now, gentlemen, you will be able to see if I +lied. These gentlemen, Cecil, are friends of yours, not of mine. _I_ +have never seen them before to-night. You appear to have offended +them. They have been endeavouring to visit your offence on me. I +cannot congratulate you on your acquaintance. That little scoundrel +there, who appears to be an Italian bravo, has a knife in one pocket, +and a revolver in the other. He would have murdered me if you had +delayed your appearance on the scene." + +"Bah!" Again the little man's shoulders went up to his ears. "It was +but a little game." + +"And was this a little game?" + +Hubert snatched up the paper, the unsigned promise of marriage, from +the table on which it was lying; he held it out in front of him. The +big man, in his turn, snatched it from his grasp. He tore it into +minute shreds. While Hubert still was staring, a lady advanced. It was +Angel. + +"So, all the time you were amusing yourself at my expense. You are a +charming person. Where are my thirty pounds?" + +Hubert was not at all embarrassed. He twirled his moustache. + +"Cecil, this lady appears to be a friend of yours. Where are her +thirty pounds?" + +Cecil stepped up to him. "What confounded tricks have you been up to?" + +Hubert's air of injured innocence was, in its way, superb. + +"Cecil, this is too much; too much! In mistake for you I have been +insulted, all but murdered, and all"--he turned to the assembled +company--"and all, upon my word of honour, because I was so +unfortunate as to have been born a twin." + + + + + A VISION OF THE NIGHT. + + + CHAPTER I. + + ASLEEP. + +"Charlie, do you believe in dreams?" + +It was in the great hall of the Pouhon spring at Spa. The band was +playing. The motley crowd which gathers in the season at Spa to drink, +or not to drink, the waters, were talking, smoking, drinking coffee, +something stronger, looking at the papers, or listening to the music. +Among the crowd were Gerald Lovell and his friend Charles Warren. At +the particular moment in which Mr. Lovell put his question, Mr. Warren +was puffing rings of cigarette smoke into the air. + +"Ask me," he said, with distinct irreverence, "another." + +"A queer thing happened to me last night." + +"If you have any malicious intention of inflicting on me a dream, +young man, there'll be a row. I have an aunt who dreams. She's a +dreaming sort. She's always dreaming. And she tells her dreams--such +dreams! Ye Goths! At the mere mention of the word 'dreams' the +nightmare figure of my aunt rises to my mind's eye. So beware." + +"But I'm not sure that this was a dream. Anyhow, just listen." + +"If I must!" said Mr. Warren. And he sighed. + +"I dreamt that a woman kissed me!" + +"If I could only dream such a thing. Some men have all the luck." + +"The queer thing was, that it was so real. I dreamt that a woman came +into my room. She came to my bedside. She stood looking down upon me +as I slept. Suddenly she stooped and kissed me. That same instant I +awoke. I felt her kiss still tingling on my lips. I could have sworn +that someone had just kissed me. I sat up in bed and called out to +know if anyone was there. I got up and lit the gas and searched the +room. There was nothing and no one." + +"It was a dream!" + +"If it was, it was the most vivid dream I remember to have heard of; +certainly the most vivid dream I ever dreamt. I saw the woman so +distinctly, and her face, as she stooped over me, with laughter in her +eyes. To begin with, it was the most beautiful face I ever saw, and +hers were the most beautiful eyes. The whole thing had impressed me so +intensely that I took my sketch-book and made a drawing of her then +and there. I have my sketch-book in my pocket--here is the drawing." + +Mr. Lovell handed his open sketch-book to his friend. It was open at a +page on which was a drawing of a woman's face. When Mr. Warren's eyes +fell on this drawing, he sat up in his chair with a show of sudden +interest. + +"Gerald! I say! You'll excuse my saying so, but I didn't think you +were capable of anything so good as this. Do you know that this is the +best drawing of yours I have ever seen, young man?" + +"I believe it is." + +"It looks to me--I don't want to flatter you; goodness knows you've +conceit enough already!--but it looks to me as though it were a +genuine bit of inspiration." + +"Joking apart, it seems to me almost as if it were an inspiration." + +"I wish an inspiration of the same kind would come to me. I'd be +considerably grateful--even for a nightmare. Do you know what I should +do with this? I should use it for a picture." + +"I thought of doing something of the kind myself." + +"Just a study of a woman's face. And you might call it--the title +would be apposite--'A Vision of the Night!'" + +"A good idea. I will." + +And Mr. Lovell did. When he returned to his Chelsea studio, he chose +a moderate-sized canvas, and he began to paint on it a woman's +face--just a woman's face, and nothing more. She was looking a little +downwards, as a woman might look who was about to stoop to kiss +someone lying asleep in bed--say a sleeping child--and she glanced +from the canvas with laughing eyes. Mr. Warren came in to look at it +several times while it was progressing. When it was finished, he +regarded it for some moments in silent contemplation. + +"I call that," he declared, sententiously, with what he supposed, +perhaps erroneously, to be a Yankee twang, "a gen-u-ine work of art. I +do. _The_ thing. Young man, if you forward that, with your +compliments, or without 'em, to the President, Fellows, and Associates +of the Royal Academy, I'll bet you five to one it's hung!" + +His prediction was verified--it was hung. It was the first of Mr. +Lovell's pictures which ever had been hung--which made the fact none +the less gratifying to Mr. Lovell. It was hung very well, too, +considering. And it attracted quite a considerable amount of attention +in its way. It was _sold_ on the opening day. That fact was not +displeasing to Mr. Lovell. + +One morning, about the middle of June, a card was brought in to Mr. +Lovell, while he was working in his studio. On it was inscribed a +name--Vicomte d'Humieres. The card was immediately followed by its +owner, a tall, slightly built gentleman; unmistakably a foreigner. He +saluted Mr. Lovell with a bow which was undoubtedly Parisian. + +"Mr. Gerald Lovell?" + +The accent was French, but, for a Frenchman, the English was fair. + +"I am Gerald Lovell." + +"Ah! That is good! You are a gentleman, Mr. Lovell, whom I +particularly wish to see." The stranger had been carrying his stick in +one hand and his hat in the other. These he now deposited upon one +chair; himself he placed upon a second--uninvited. He crossed his +legs. He folded his black gloved hands in front of him. "I believe, +Mr. Lovell, that we are not strangers--you and I." + +Mr. Lovell glanced at the card which he still was holding. + +"You are the Vicomte d'Humieres?" + +"I am." + +"I am afraid--it is unpardonable remissness on my part; but I am +afraid that, if I have ever had the pleasure of meeting you before, it +is a pleasure which has escaped my memory." + +"It is not that we have ever met before--no, it is not that. It is my +name to which you are not a stranger." + +Mr. Lovell glanced again at the card. "Your name? I am afraid, +Vicomte, that I do not remember having ever heard your name before." + +"Ah! Is that so?" The stranger regarded his polished boots. He spoke +as if he were addressing himself to them. "Is it possible that she can +have given another name? No, it is not possible. She is capable of +many things. I do not believe she is capable of that." He looked up +again at Mr. Lovell. "My business with you, Mr. Lovell, is of rather a +peculiar kind. You will think, perhaps, that mine is rather a singular +errand. I have come to ask you to acquaint me with the residence of my +wife." + +"With the--did you say, with the--residence of your wife?" + +"That is what I said. I have come to ask you to acquaint me with the +residence of my wife." The artist stared. + +"But, so far as I am aware, I do not know your wife." + +"That is absurd. I do not say, Mr. Lovell, that you are conscious of +the absurdity. But still--it is absurd--_I_ was not aware that you +were acquainted with my wife until I learned the fact, this morning, +at your Academy." + +"At our Academy?" + +"Precisely. Upon the walls of your Academy of Painting, Mr. Lovell." + +Mr. Lovell began to wonder if his visitor was not an amiable French +lunatic. + +"Is that not rather a singular place in which to learn such a fact?" + +"It is a singular place. It is a very singular place, indeed. But that +has nothing to do with the matter. It is as I say. You have a picture, +Mr. Lovell, at the Academy?" + +"I have." + +"It is a portrait." + +"Pardon me, it is not a portrait." + +"Pardon me, Mr. Lovell, in my turn; it is a portrait. As a portrait, +it is a perfect portrait. It is a portrait of my wife." + +"Of your wife! You are dreaming!" + +"You flatter me, Mr. Lovell. Is it that you suppose I am an imbecile? +Are not the features of a wife familiar to a husband? Very good. I am +the husband of my wife. Your picture, Mr. Lovell, is a portrait of my +wife." + +"I cannot but think you have mistaken some other picture for mine. +Mine is a simple study of a woman's face. It is called 'A Vision of +the Night.'" + +"Precisely. And 'A Vision of the Night'--is my wife." + +"It is impossible!" + +"Do I understand you to say, Mr. Lovell, of a thing which I say is +so--that it is impossible?" + +The Vicomte rose. His voice had a very significant intonation. Mr. +Lovell resented it. + +"I do not know, Vicomte, that I am _called_ upon to explain to you. +But, in face of your remarkable statement, I will _volunteer_ an +explanation. I saw the face, which I have painted, in a dream." + +"Indeed; is that so? What sort of dream was it in which you saw my +wife's face, Mr. Lovell?" + +The young man flushed. The stranger's tone was distinctly offensive. + +"It was in a dream which I dreamt last August, at Spa." + +"Ah! This is curious. At what hotel were you stopping last August at +Spa?" + +"At the Hotel de Flandre--though I don't know why you ask." + +"So! We approach a point at last. Last August, my wife and I, we were +at Spa. We stayed, my wife and I, at the Hotel de Flandre. It was at +the Hotel de Flandre my wife left me. I have never seen her since. +Perhaps, Mr. Gerald Lovell, you will be so good as to inform me what +sort of dream it was in which you saw my wife's face, at the Hotel de +Flandre, last August, at Spa?" + +Mr. Lovell hesitated. He perceived that caution was advisable. He felt +that if he entered into minute particulars of his dream, there might +be a misunderstanding with the Vicomte. So he temporized--or he +endeavoured to. + +"I have already told you that I saw the face in my picture in a dream. +It is the simple fact--that I have no other explanation to offer." + +"Is that so?" + +"That is so." + +"Very good, so far, Mr. Gerald Lovell. I thought it possible that you +might have some explanation of this kind to offer. I was at the +Academy with a friend. When I perceived my wife's portrait on the +walls, and that it was painted by a Mr. Gerald Lovell, I said to my +friend: 'I will go to this Mr. Lovell, and I will ask him, among other +things, who authorized him to exhibit my wife's portrait in the +absence of her husband, in a place of public resort, as if it were an +advertisement.' My friend proposed to accompany me. But I said: 'No. I +will go, first of all, alone. I will see what sort of explanation Mr. +Gerald Lovell has to offer. If it is not a satisfactory explanation, +then we will go together, you and I.' I go to seek my friend, Mr. +Lovell. He is not very far away. Shortly we will return. Then I will +request, of your courtesy, an explanation of that very curious dream +in which you saw my wife's face at the Hotel de Flandre. Mr. Lovell, I +wish you, until then, good day." + +The Vicomte withdrew, with the same extremely courteous salutation +with which he had entered. The artist, left alone, looked at his +visitor's card, which he still retained in his hand, with a very +puzzled expression of countenance. + +"If the Vicomte d'Humieres returns, it strikes me there'll be a little +interesting conversation." + +He laid down the card. He resumed the work which had been interrupted. +But the work hung fire. A painter paints, not only with his hand, but +with his brain. Mr. Lovell's brain was, just then, preoccupied. + +"It was a dream. And yet, as I told Warren at the time, it certainly +was the most vivid dream I ever dreamt." Deserting his canvas he began +to move about the room. "Supposing it wasn't a dream, and the woman +was a creature of flesh and blood! Then she must have come into my +room, and kissed me while I slept. I'll swear that someone kissed me. +By Jove! the Vicomte won't like to be told a tale like that! As he +says, a man ought to know his own wife's face when he sees it, even in +a portrait. And if the picture is a portrait of his wife, then it was +his wife who came into my room--and kissed me. But whatever made her +do a thing like that? There's no knowing what things some women will +do. I rather fancy that I ought to have made a few inquiries before I +took it for granted that it was nothing but a dream. They would have +been able to tell me at the hotel if the original of my dream had been +staying there. As it is, unless I mind my P's and Q's, I rather fancy +there'll be a row." + +"Pardon!--may I enter?" + +Mr. Lovell was standing with his back to the door. The inquiry, +therefore, was addressed to him from behind. The voice in which it was +uttered was feminine, and the accent foreign. The artist turned--and +stared. For there, peeping through the partly open door, was the woman +of his dream! There could not be the slightest doubt about it. +Although the head was covered with the latest thing in Parisian hats, +there was no mistaking, when one once had seen it--as _he_ had seen +it--that lovely face, those laughing eyes. He stared--and gaped. The +lady seemed to take his silence to imply consent. She advanced into +the room. + +"You are Mr. Gerald Lovell?" + +As she came into the room, he perceived that she was not only most +divinely fair, but most divinely tall. Her figure, clad in the most +recent coquetries of Paris, was the most exquisite thing in figures he +had lately seen. So completely had she taken his faculties of +astonishment by storm, that he could only stammer a response. + +"You are the painter of my portrait?" For the life of him, he knew not +what to say. "But, if you are Mr. Gerald Lovell, it is certain that +you are. Besides, I see it in your face. There is genius in your eyes. +Mr. Lovell, how am I to thank you for the honour you have done me?" +Moving to him, she held out to him her hand. He gave her his. She +retained it--or, rather, part of it--in her small palm. "If I am ever +destined to attain to immortality, it is to your brush it will be +owing. Monsieur, permit me to salute the master!" + +Before he had an inkling of her intention, she raised his hand and +touched it with her lips. He withdrew it quickly. + +"Madame!" + +She exhibited no signs of discomposure. + +"I was at your Academy, with a friend--not half an hour ago. I +beheld miles of mediocrity. Suddenly I saw--my face! my own face! +glancing at me from the walls! _Ah, quel plaisir!_ But my face--how +many times more lovely! How many times more beautiful! My +face--depicted by the hand of a great artist! by the brush of a poet, +and a genius!--Monsieur, you have placed on me ten thousand +obligations." + +She gave him the most sweeping curtsey with which he ever had been +favoured--and in her eyes was laughter all the time. He was recovering +his presence of mind. He felt that it was time to put a stop to the +lady's flow of flowery language. He was about to do so--when a +question she put to him again sent half his senses flying. + +"There is one thing which I wished to ask you, Monsieur. When and +where did I sit to you for my portrait? I do not remember to have had +the pleasure and the honour of meeting you before." The lady's +laughing eyes were fixed intently on his face. "And yet, as I +look at you, a sort of shadowy recollection comes to me of a +previous encounter; it is very strange! Monsieur, where was it we +encountered--you and I?" + +"Madame!" + +Seeing how evidently he was at a loss for words, she put out her hand +to him as if to give him courage. + +"Do not be afraid. Tell me--where was it that you saw me?" + +"I saw you in a dream." + +"A dream? Monsieur! To hear you speak--it is like a poem. Monsieur, +where did you dream this dream in which you dreamt of me?" + +"It was last year, at Spa." + +"At Spa--that horrible place?" + +"I did not find it a horrible place." + +"No? Was it that dream which you dreamt of me which robbed it of its +horror?" He did not speak. He allowed her to infer a compliment, but +he did not proffer one. "But Monsieur, I was only at Spa one afternoon +and a single night." + +"It was that night I dreamed of you." + +"You dreamed? How? Tell me about this dream." + +"I dreamed that you came into my room while I was asleep in bed, and +kissed me!" + +She continued to look at him intently a moment longer, as if she did +not realize the full meaning of his words. Then--let us do her +justice!--the blood rushed to her face, her cheeks flamed fiery red. +With her hands she veiled her eyes. She gave a little cry. + +"_Ah, mon Dieu!_ It was you--I remember. _Quelle horreur!_" + +There was silence. Before she removed her hands from her eyes she +turned away. She stood with her back towards him, trifling with a +brush which he had placed upon the table. She spoke scarcely above a +whisper. + +"Monsieur, I thought you were asleep." + +"I was asleep. I saw you in a dream." + +"Then did--did I wake you?" + +"You must have done. I woke--you must forgive my saying so--with a +kiss tingling on my lips." The lady put her hands up to her eyes +again. "The dream had been so vivid I could not understand it. I got +up to see if anyone was in the room." + +"If you had caught me!" + +"There was no one. But so acutely had your face impressed itself on my +imagination that I took my sketch-book, and made a drawing of it then +and there. In the morning I showed this drawing to a friend. He +advised me to use it for a picture I did. That picture is 'A Vision of +the Night'!" + +"It is the most extraordinary thing, Monsieur; you will suppose I am a +very peculiar person. It is but a lame explanation I have to offer. Of +that I am but too conscious. But such as it is, I entreat that you +will suffer me to give it you. Monsieur, I am married"--Mr. Lovell +bowed. He did not mention that he was aware of that already--"to the +most capricious husband in the world--to a husband whom I love, but +whom I cannot respect." Mr. Lovell thought that that was good--from +her. "He is a man who is extremely _difficile_, Monsieur. I do not +think you have a word which expresses what I would say in English. He +is extremely jealous; he is enraged that his wife should use the eyes +which are in her head! The very day on which we arrived at Spa we had +a dreadful quarrel. I will not speak of the treatment to which I was +subjected; it is enough to say that he locked the door so that I +should not leave the room--he wished to make of me a prisoner. +Monsieur, directly he was gone, I perceived that there were two doors +to the room--the one which he had locked, and another, which I tried I +found that it was open. Monsieur, when a prisoner desires to escape, +he escapes by any road which offers. I was a prisoner; I desired to +escape; I made use of the only road which I could find. I entered the +door; I found myself in a room in which there was--how shall I say +it?--in which there was a man asleep. Monsieur, it was you!" + +It must be owned that at this point the lady certainly did look down. + +"I was, that night, in a wicked mood. I glanced at you; I perceived +that you were but a boy"--Mr. Lovell flushed: he did not consider +himself a boy--"but a handsome boy." She peeped at him with malicious +laughter in her eyes. "I regarded myself as your mother, or your +sister, or your guardian angel. Monsieur will perceive how much I am +the elder." Again, a glance of laughing malice from those bewitching +eyes. "I am afraid it is too true that I approached the sleeping +lips." There was silence. Then, so softly that her listener was only +able to catch the words: "I pray that Monsieur will forgive me." + +"There is nothing for which Madame needs forgiveness." + +"Monsieur but says so to give me pleasure. But one thing Monsieur must +permit me to observe: If every woman were to be rewarded, as I have +been, for what I did, half the women in France would commit--a similar +little indiscretion." Mr. Lovell was silent; he did not know exactly +what to say. "Monsieur will permit me to regard him, from this day +forward, as my friend? Mr. Gerald Lovell, permit me to introduce to +you--the Vicomtesse d'Humieres!" + +The lady favoured him with another sweeping curtsey. + +"I have already the pleasure of being acquainted with Madame's name." + +"From whom did you learn it? From the people at the hotel?" + +"I but learned it a few minutes before Madame herself came here." + +"So! From whom?" + +"I learnt it from the Vicomte d'Humieres." + +"The Vicomte d'Humieres! My husband! Are you acquainted with him, +then?" + +"I can scarcely claim to be acquainted with the Vicomte. It seems, +Madame, that this has been a morning of coincidences. It would appear +that just before Madame perceived my little picture at the Academy, +the Vicomte d'Humieres perceived it too." + +"Truly! But how magnificent!" + +The lady clasped her hands in a little ecstacy. + +"The Vicomte d'Humieres did not seem to consider it magnificent. He +took a distinctly contrary view." + +"But that is certain!" + +"He requested me to furnish him with your address. When I informed him +that I was not acquainted with Madame, he desired to know who had +authorized me to send your portrait to a public exhibition. I observed +that I was not aware that it was the portrait of Madame, since the +face in the picture was but the study of a face which I had seen in a +dream." + +"In a dream! You did not tell him--the little history?" + +"I entered into no particulars." + +"I entreat you, Monsieur, not to tell him the little history. There +will be a scandal; he is so quick to misconceive." + +"I will endeavour to observe Madame's wishes." + +"It is like a little romance, is it not, Monsieur? Perhaps I should +explain myself a little further. _That_ night"--she emphasized the +_that_--"I left my husband. In effect, he had become unbearable. I +have seen and heard nothing of him since. But I am beginning to become +conscious of a desire to meet with him again. I know not why! I +suppose, when one loves one's husband truly, one wishes to meet +him--once a year. I do not wish our reconciliation to be inaugurated +by a quarrel--no, I entreat you, Monsieur, not recount to him that +little history." + +"I should inform Madame that I expect the Vicomte d'Humieres to +return." + +"Return? Where? Here? When?" + +"Very shortly--with a friend. In fact, unless I am mistaken, he comes +already." + +The lady listened. + +"It is Philippe's voice! _Mon Dieu!_ He must not find me here." + +"But, Madame----" + +"Ah, the screen! It is like a farce at the Palais Royal--is it not a +fact? I will be your model, Monsieur, behind the screen!" + +"Madame!" + +Before he could interpose to prevent her, the lady vanished behind the +screen. The door of the studio opened, and the Vicomte d'Humieres +entered, accompanied by his friend. + + + CHAPTER II. + + AND AWAKE. + +The Vicomte's friend was a gentleman of a figure which is not uncommon +in France, even to-day. His attitude suggested a ramrod, he breathed +powder and shot; and he bristled--what shall we say?--with bayonets. +The last person in the world with whom a modern Briton should have a +serious difference of opinion. The ideas of that sort of person upon +matters which involve a difference of opinion are in such contrast to +ours. The Vicomte performed the ceremony of introduction. + +"Mr. Gerald Lovell, permit me to introduce to your courteous +consideration my friend, M. Victor Berigny!" + +M. Berigny bowed, ceremoniously. Mr. Lovell only nodded--his thoughts +were behind the screen. The Vicomte turned to his friend. + +"Victor, I have explained to you that I have already had the pleasure +of an interview with Mr. Gerald Lovell." M. Berigny bowed. "I have +also explained to you that I have desired him to inform me by whose +authority he exhibits a portrait of my wife in a public exhibition. To +that he has replied that his picture, 'A Vision of the Night,' is not +a portrait of my wife. I request you, Victor, to state, in Mr. Gerald +Lovell's presence, whether that picture, in your opinion, is or is not +a portrait of my wife." + +"Certainly, it is a portrait." + +M. Berigny's accent was more marked than the Vicomte's, but still he +did speak English. + +"I thank you, Victor. It remains for me to once more request, in your +presence, Mr. Gerald Lovell to explain how it was that he happened to +dream of the face of my wife last August, in the Hotel de Flandre, at +Spa. Mr. Gerald Lovell, I have the honour to await your explanation." + +The Vicomte, his arms crossed upon his chest, his left foot a little +protruding, his head thrown back, awaited the explanation. + +Mr. Lovell's thoughts ran screenwards. + +"What the deuce shall I do if he discovers her behind the screen?" + +"Monsieur, I am waiting." + +"If he does discover her--there'll be a row." + +"I still am waiting, Mr. Gerald Lovell." + +With each repetition of the statement the Vicomte's tone became more +acidulated. The artist arrived at a sudden resolution. + +"Then I am afraid, Vicomte, that you will have to wait." + +The Vicomte looked at the artist with an evident inclination to add a +cubit to his own stature. + +"Is it possible that I understand your meaning, Mr. Gerald Lovell?" + +"My language is sufficiently simple." + +"In France, Mr. Gerald Lovell, an artist is supposed to be a +gentleman." + +"And so in England, Vicomte. And therefore, when an artist is +interrupted at his work by another gentleman, he feels himself at +liberty to beg that other gentleman--to excuse him." + +Mr. Lovell waved his hand, affably, in the direction of the door. The +Vicomte's countenance assumed a peculiar pallor. + +"You are a curious person, Mr. Gerald Lovell." + +His friend interposed. + +"Philippe, you had better leave the matter to me." + +M. Berigny approached the painter--with a ramrod down his back. + +"I have the honour, Monsieur, to request from you the name of a +friend." + +"Of a friend? What for?" + +"Ah, Monsieur--to arrange the preliminaries!" + +"What preliminaries?" + +"Is it that Monsieur amuses himself?" + +"Is it possible that you suppose that I am going to fight a duel?" + +"Monsieur intends, then, to offer an explanation to my friend?" + +"M. Berigny, I do not wish to say to you anything uncourteous, or +anything unworthy an English gentleman; but I do beg you to believe +that, because you choose to be an idiot, and your friend chooses to be +an idiot, it does not follow that I choose to be an idiot, too." + +"Monsieur!" + +"One other observation. I have not seen much of you, M. Beringy, but +that little has not disposed me to see more. May I therefore ask +you--to leave my studio?" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Or--must I turn you out?" + +"Turn me out!" + +The Vicomte had been listening to this little dialogue. He now turned +towards his friend. + +"Ah, my friend, it is as he says! He will turn you out, neck and crop, +as the English say. He will throw you down the stairs, he will heave +half a brick at your head, to help you on your way. Then, when you +require satisfaction, he will refer you to a magistrate. You will +summon him--it will be in the papers--he will be fined half-a-crown! +That is how they manage these affairs in England. It is true!" + +"But--among gentlemen!" + +"_Ah, mon ami, voila!_ In England, nowadays, there are no gentlemen!" + +Mr. Lovell moved a step towards M. Berigny. + +"I have asked you, as a gentleman, to leave my studio." + +"Monsieur, you are a coward!" + +The painter's eyes gleamed. But he kept his temper pretty well, +considering. + +"You appear to have been taught singularly ill manners in your native +country, sir. I will endeavour to teach you better manners here. Are +you going? Or must I eject you?" + +"_Polison!_" + +That was M. Berigny's answer. There was just a momentary hesitation. +Then, grasping M. Berigny firmly by the shoulders, Mr. Lovell began to +move him, more rapidly than gently, in the direction of the door. The +Vicomte came forward, with the evident intention of interposing. There +would probably have been a slightly undignified scramble had not a +diversion been created by the opening of the door, and the entrance of +Mr. Warren. That gentleman glanced from one person to another. + +"I beg your pardon," he observed. "I hope I don't intrude!" + +Mr. Lovell laughed, a little forcedly. His complexion was distinctly +ruddy. + +"Not at all! I wish you had come in sooner. The most ridiculous thing +has happened." + +"Indeed! I have an eye for the ridiculous." + +"You know that picture of mine, 'A Vision of the Night'?" + +"I've heard of it." + +"This gentleman says that it's a portrait of his wife." + +Mr. Lovell pointed to the Vicomte d'Humieres. + +"No? Then, in that case, this gentleman's wife came into your bedroom +in the middle of the night, and--kissed you, wasn't it?" + +Mr. Warren spoke in the innocence of his heart, but, at that moment, +Mr. Lovell could have struck his boyhood's friend. There was a +listener behind the screen. The young gentleman's cheeks grew crimson, +as the lady's had done a few minutes before. He was conscious, too, +that the Vicomte's unfriendly eyes were fixed upon his face. + +"So! That is it! You--you----" The Vicomte moved a step forward, then +checked himself. "Tell me, where is my wife at this instant?" + +Mr. Lovell could have told him, but he refrained. + +"I decline to give you any information of any kind whatever." + +"You decline?" The Vicomte raised his hand. He would have struck the +artist. Mr. Warren interposed to avert the blow. + +"He declines for the very simple reason that he has never seen your +wife; isn't that so, Gerald?" + +Mr. Lovell hesitated. He scarcely saw his way to a denial while the +lady was behind the screen. + +"You see! He does not even dare to lie!" + +"Don't talk nonsense, sir! Gerald, why don't you tell the man that you +have never seen the woman in your life?" + +"I repeat that I decline to give this person any information of any +kind whatever." + +"You decline?" + +The Vicomte uttered the words in a kind of strangled screech. His +patience was exhausted. He seemed to think that he was being subjected +to treatment which was more than flesh and blood could bear. He rushed +at Mr. Lovell. Mr. Lovell, probably forgetting himself on the impulse +of the moment--or he would have been more careful--swung the Vicomte +round against the screen. It tottered, reeled, and, raising a cloud of +dust, it fell with a bang to the floor! + +It was a leaf out of Sheridan. + +For an instant the several members of that little party did not +distinctly realize what it was that had happened. Then they saw. There +was a pause--a curious pause. Their attitudes betrayed a charming +diversity of emotions. The Vicomte, his coat a little disarranged, +owing to the somewhat rough handling which he had just received, stood +and glared. M. Berigny, more ramroddy than ever, stared. Mr. Warren +gasped. Mr. Lovell's quickened breathing, crimsoned cheeks, and +flashing eyes seemed to suggest that his breast was a tumult of +conflicting feelings. The lady, whose presence had been so +unexpectedly revealed, stood behind the fallen screen, with the most +charming air of innocence in the world, and she smiled. + +It was she who broke the silence. She held out her hand to the +Vicomte. + +"_Bon jour_, Philippe!" + +"Ah-h-h!" The Vicomte drew himself away with a sort of shuddering +exclamation. "Antoinette! It is you! It cannot be!" + +"My dear Philippe--why not?" + +"Why not?" + +"Why not? She asks why not!" The Vicomte held out his hands, as though +he appealed to the eternal verities. "_Traitresse!_ Once more is woman +false and man betrayed!" + +The Vicomte's gesture was worthy of the tragic stage--in France. The +lady still held out her hand, and still she smiled. + +"My dear Philippe--try comedy!" + +"Comedy? Ah, yes, I will try comedy--the comedy of r-r-revenge!" The +Vicomte distinctly rolled his r's. He turned to Mr. Lovell. "I will +kill you, even though for killing you, by the law of England, I am +hanged. Victor, where is my hat?" + +The Vicomte put this question to his friend with a peculiar coldness. +M. Berigny shrugged his shoulders. + +"How should I know? It is not a question of a hat." + +"As you say, it is not a question of a hat. It is a question"--the +Vicomte moved towards Mr. Lovell--"of that!" + +He raised his hand with the intention of striking the artist on the +cheek. Mr. Lovell never flinched; but the lady, rushing forward, +caught her husband by the wrist. She looked at him, still with +laughter in her eyes. + +"Try not to be insane." + +The Vicomte glared at her with a glare which, at least, was +characteristic. + +"Why do I not kill her--why?" + +The lady only smiled. + +"They say that a woman is devoid of humour. How is it then sometimes +with a man? You, Philippe, are always thinking of the Porte St. +Martin--I, of the Bouffes Parisiens." + +The Vicomte turned to his friend. + +"Victor, why do I not kill this woman?" + +M. Berigny only shrugged his shoulders. Possibly because he was not +ready with a more adequate reply. The lady turned to the artist. + +"Monsieur, I offer you ten thousand apologies, which my husband will +one day offer you himself, as becomes a gentleman of France." + +The Vicomte repeated his inquiry: + +"Victor, why do I not kill this woman?" + +Only a shrug in reply. The lady went on: + +"You have immortalized my poor face, Monsieur; my husband insults you +in return." + +The Vicomte folded his arms across his chest. + +"It is certain, Victor, that she still lives!" + +"One night, Monsieur, my husband locked me in my room. He designed to +make of me a prisoner. Why? Ah, do not ask me why? When he had left +me, I escaped, not by the door which he had locked, but by a door he +had not noticed. This door led into an apartment in which there was a +stranger sleeping. I was but an instant in that apartment--but the +instant in which it was necessary to pass through. The sleeper never +spoke to me; he never saw me with his waking eyes. But, even in his +sleep, my poor, frightened face so flashed upon his brain that, even +in his waking hours, it haunted him so that he made of it a picture--a +picture of that Vision of the Night!" + +The Vicomte approached closer to his friend. He addressed him in a +sort of confidential, but still distinctly audible, aside: + +"Victor, is it possible that this is true?" + +"I beg, my friend, that of me you will ask nothing." + +"Monsieur, this morning I was at your Academy. I saw my own +countenance looking at me from the walls. For the first time I learned +that my poor, frightened woman's face had appeared to a sleeping +stranger in a Vision of the Night. Oh, Monsieur, Monsieur!" + +The lady covered her face with her hands. It would, perhaps, be rash +to say that she cried; but, at least, she seemed to cry, and if it was +only seeming, she did it very well. + +"Victor," again inquired the Vicomte of his friend, "is it possible +that this is true?" + +M. Berigny wagged his finger in the Vicomte's face. + +"D'Humieres, it now becomes a question of hats." The Vicomte laid his +hand on his companion's arm. + +"One instant, Victor--still one instant more." + +The lady, uncovering her eyes--which actually were sparkling with +tears--continued to address the artist. + +"Monsieur, I will not speak to you of my love for my husband--my +Philippe! I will not speak to you of how we have been parted for a +year--a whole, long year--_mon Dieu_, Monsieur, _mon Dieu!_ I will not +speak to you of how, every instant of that long, long year I have +thought of him, of how I have yearned for him, of how I have longed +for one touch of his hand, one word from his lips, one glance from his +eyes. No, Monsieur, I will not speak to you of all these things. And +for this reason: That, with me all things are finished. I go, never to +return again. My face--you have made immortal; the rest of me--will +perish. For the woman whose heart is broken there remains but one +place--the grave. It is to that place I go!" + +The lady had become as tragic as her husband--even more so, in +her way. She moved across the room with the air of a tragedy +queen--Parisian. The Vicomte was visibly affected. He fastened a +convulsive clutch upon M. Berigny's arm. + +"Victor, tell me, what shall I do? Advise me, oh, my friend! This is a +critical moment in my life! It is impossible that I should let her go. +Antoinette!" + +The Vicomte advanced, just in time, between the lady and the door. + +"Monsieur, I entreat of you this last boon, to let me go. You have +insulted me in the presence of a stranger; for me, therefore, nothing +else remains. You have inquired if you should kill me. No, Philippe, +you need not kill me; it is myself I will kill!" + +"Antoinette!" + +"I am no longer Antoinette; I am the woman whose happiness you have +destroyed. It is only when I am dead that you will learn what is +written on my heart for you." + +"Antoinette," the strong man's voice faltered, "Antoinette, am I +never, then, to be forgiven?" + +There was a momentary pause. Then the lady held out both her hands. +"Philippe!" + +"My heart! my soul! thou treasure of my life! thou star of my +existence! Is it possible that a cloud should have interposed itself +between thy path and mine?" + +He took her in his arms. He pressed her to his breast. M. Berigny +turned away. From his attitude it almost seemed as if the soldier--the +man of ramrods and of bayonets!--wiped away a tear. + +"Philippe! Take care, or you will derange my hat!" + +"Antoinette! My beautiful, my own!" + +"Philippe, do you not think you should apologize--take care, my +friend, or you certainly will derange my hat!--to the stranger who has +made immortal the face of the woman who loved you better than her +life--my friend, take care!--who has made her appear on canvas so much +more beautiful than she is in life?" + +"No, Antoinette, that I will not have. It is impossible. Beauty such +as yours in not to be rendered by a painter's brush!" + +"If that be so, all the more reason why we should be grateful to Mr. +Lovell for endeavouring the impossible." + +The lady peeped at Mr. Lovell with the quaintest malice in her eyes. + +"Certainly, Antoinette, there is something in what you say. And, after +all, it is a charming painting. I said, Victor, when I saw it, there +can be no doubt, as a painting, it is charming--did I not say so?" M. +Berigny inclined his head. With his handkerchief the Vicomte smoothed +his moustache. He advanced towards Mr. Lovell: "Monsieur, a +Frenchman--a true Frenchman--seldom errs. On those rare occasions on +which he errs he is always willing, under proper conditions, to +confess his error. Monsieur, I perceive that I have done you an +injustice. For the injustice which I have done you--I desire to +apologize." + +Mr. Lovell smiled. He held out his hand. + +"My dear fellow! There's nothing for which you need apologize." + +The Vicomte grasped the artist's hand in both of his. + +"My dear friend!" he cried. + +"Philippe," whispered the lady into her husband's ear, "do you not +think that you would like Mr. Lovell and his friend to favour us with +their company at luncheon?" + +The Vicomte seemed to think he would. They lunched together--all the +five! Why not? + + + + + THE WAY OF A MAID WITH A + MAN. + + (Miss Whitby writes to her Mother.) + + +MY DEAREST MAMMA,--You will be surprised, and I hope you will be +pleased to hear that I am engaged to be married! You are not to +smile--it would be cruel--this, really, is serious. Charlie is all +that a husband should be--you are not to laugh at that--you know +exactly what I mean. I am nearly twenty, and, this time, I feel that +my happiness really is at stake. I may not be able to keep my looks +for long--some girls lose them when they are quite young--and +something seems to tell me that I ought to begin to look life +seriously in the face, and become responsible. I almost wish that I +had taken to district visiting, like Emma Mortimer--it might have +balanced me. Poor Emma! what a pity she is so plain. + +Will you mind hinting to Tom Wilson that I think he might be happy +with Nora Cathcart? It is true that I made him promise that he would +never speak to her again, but all that is over. I hope you will not +think me fickle, dear mamma. I enclose the ring Tom gave me. Will you +please give it to him? And point out to him that I am now persuaded +that boy and girl attachments never come to anything serious. + +By the way, do not forget to tell them to send two pairs of evening +shoes. Those which I have are quite worn out. Let both pairs be +perfectly plain bronze. Charlie thinks that they make my feet look +almost ethereal. Is he not absurd? But I hope that you will not think +so, when you come to know him, for he loves your child. You might +also ask them to send me a dozen pairs of stockings--nice ones. All +mine seem to be in holes. You know I like them as long as you can get +them. + +I have been here nearly a month, and I have been almost engaged to +three different men. How time does seem to fly! Lily says I am a +heartless little flirt. I think that perhaps I was, until he came. He +has been here just a week, and I seem to have known him years. + +Lily seems to be under the impression that I was engaged to Captain +Pentland. She is wrong. Captain Pentland has some very noble +qualities. He is destined to make some true woman profoundly happy. Of +that I have no doubt whatever. But I am not that woman. No, dear +mamma, I feel that now. Besides, he wears an eyeglass. As you are +aware, I have always had an insuperable objection to an eyeglass. It +seems to savour of affectation. And affectation I cannot stand. And +then he lisps. As I told you, when I wrote you last, when I sprained +my ankle on Highdown Hill, he carried me in his arms for over a mile. +Of course, I was grateful. And, between you and me, dear mamma, he +held me so very closely to him, that, afterwards I felt as if I ought +to marry him. I have explained everything to Charlie. He quite agrees +with me that it is absurd for Captain Pentland to think himself +ill-used. + +While I think of it, when you are in town will you tell them to send +me a box of assorted chocolates? You know the kind I like. There is +nothing of that sort to be had here, and I do so long for some. + +Charlie is Lily's cousin. Do you think that cousins ought to kiss each +other? I wish I could get the opinion of someone on whose judgment I +could implicitly rely. At any rate, even supposing that they ought I +am quite sure that there should be limits. Before long I am afraid +that I shall have to give Charlie a hint that I do not think, under +the circumstances, that he ought to kiss Lily quite as much as he does +me. She may be his cousin, but she is young, and she is pretty. And +cousins are not sisters. It is nonsense for people to pretend they +are. + +The odd part of it is that if Charlie had not been so fond of kissing +Lily I might not be going to marry him now. I knew that he was coming. +And I was sitting alone in the drawing-room, in a half-light, with my +back to the door, when suddenly someone, putting his arm round my +waist, lifting me off my feet, twisted me right round, and began +kissing me on my eyes and lips and everywhere. + +I thought it was Captain Pentland. Though I was astonished at such +behaviour even from him--because it was only that morning we +quarrelled. You may judge of my astonishment when I was again able to +look out of my own eyes, to find myself being held, as if I were a +baby, or a doll, in the arms of a perfect giant of a man, whom I had +never seen before. You may imagine how shocked I felt, because, as you +know well, my views on such subjects--which I owe to your dear +teaching--are, if anything, too severe. I will do him the justice to +admit that he seemed to be almost as much shocked as I was. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, "ten thousand times. I thought that you +were Lily." + +He put me down very much as you handle your Chelsea cups, mamma--softly +and delicately, as if he had been afraid of chipping pieces off me. + +"I suppose you're Charlie?" + +I spoke more lightly and more cheerfully than I felt. He seemed so +ashamed of himself, and so confused, that I pitied him. You know, dear +mamma, that when people know, and feel, that they have done wrong, I +always pity them. I cannot help it. It is my nature. All flesh is +weak. I myself am prone to err. When Lily did appear, we were talking +quite as if we knew each other. And that is how it began. It is odd +how these sort of things sometimes do begin. As you are aware, I speak +as one who has had experience. I shall always believe that it was only +the breaking of a shoelace which first brought Norman Eliot and me +together. + +But those chapters in my life are closed. In the days which are past I +may have seemed to hesitate, to occasionally have changed my mind. But +now my life is linked to Charlie's by bonds which never shall be +broken. I feel as if I were already married. The gravity of existence +is commencing to weigh upon my mind. A woman when she is nearly twenty +is no longer young. + +While I remember it, when you send the chocolates don't send any +walnuts. I am sick of them. Variously flavoured creams are what I +really like. And let two pairs of the stockings be light blue, with +bronze stripes high up the leg. + +I cannot truly say that Lily is behaving to me quite nicely in my +relations with Charlie. I do not wish to wrong her, even in my +thoughts--she is the very dearest friend I have!--but, sometimes, I +cannot help thinking that she had an eye on Charlie for herself. +Because when the other morning I was telling her how strongly I +disapproved of cousins marrying, if she had not been Lily--whose +single-hearted affection I have every faith in--I should have said +that she was positively rude. Charlie only proposed to me last night, +yet, although she must have seen what was coming, in the afternoon she +was actually talking to me of Norman Eliot--as if I had been to blame! +Mr. Eliot and I never really were engaged--some people jump to +conclusions without proper justification. And am I compelled to answer +a person's letters if, for reasons of my own--quite private reasons--I +do not choose to? + +She came to my bedroom last night, just as I was going to bed. I told +her what Charlie had said, and what I had said. Of course I expected +her to congratulate me--as, in circumstances such as mine, a girl's +best friend ought to do. She heard me to an end, and she looked at me, +and said: + +"So you've done it again." + +"I don't know about again, dear Lily," I replied. "But it would seem +as if I had done it at last. I am feeling so happy that it almost +makes me afraid." + +"Some girls would feel afraid if they had reason to be conscious of +the fact that they had engaged themselves to marry three men at once." + +I could not help but notice that a jarring something was in her tone. +But I paid no heed to it. + +My thoughts were elsewhere. + +"How wrong it is," I murmured, "for people to scoff at love. They +cannot know what love is--as I do." + +"Perhaps not. I should think that what you don't know about love, May, +isn't worth knowing." I sighed. + +"I fancy, Lily dear, that I have heard stories about you." + +"I daresay; but I never snapped up your favourite cousin from under +your nose. Possibly you will not mind telling me if you do mean to +marry one of them, and, if so, which." + +"Lily! How can you ask me such a question? Have I not just been +telling you that there is only one man in the world for me, henceforth +and for ever, and that his name is Charlie?" + +"Exactly. Only last week you told me precisely the same story, and his +name was Jim, while about a fortnight ago, it was Norman." + +My dearest mamma, you see I am making a clean breast of everything to +you. I own, quite candidly, that since I have been here I have not +behaved precisely as I might have done, and, indeed, ought to have +done. I do not know how it is, I meant to be good; I am sure that +nothing could have been better than my resolutions. I had no idea that +they could have been so easily broken. It only shows, after all, how +fragile we are. I felt that, strange and sad though it seems, Lily was +not wholly unjust. I got up from my chair, and I knelt at her feet, +and I pillowed my head in her lap and I cried: + +"Oh, Lily, I've been so wicked! You can't think how sorry I am, now +that it's too late. I wish you'd help me, and tell me what I ought to +do." + +"I'm a bit of a dab at a cry myself," she said. "So, if you take my +advice, to begin with, you'll literally dry up." + +Was it not unkind? And was it not vulgar? But I sometimes think that +Lily's heart is like the nether millstone--so hard, you know. She went +on: + +"If you do mean business with Charlie, and you do want my advice, +you'll just tell him everything you have been doing, and leave the +solution of the situation to him." + +I made up my mind there and then that that was exactly what +I would do. I resolved that I would have no secrets from my +husband--particularly as he would be sure to be told them by +unfriendly lips if he did not learn them from mine. Besides, in such +matters, a man is so much more generous, and so much more sympathetic +than a woman--especially the man. Nor does he value you any the less +because he finds that someone else happens to value you a little too. + +So, directly Lily had gone I let my hair down, and I put on my light +blue dressing-jacket and a touch of powder, and I waited. Presently I +heard steps coming along the passage. I opened the door. Sure enough +it was Charlie, just going to bed. At sight of me he started. I was +conscious that I was, perhaps, acting with some imprudence. But I +could not help it. My entire happiness was at stake. You know, dear +mamma, that I do look nice in that pretty dressing-jacket, with my +hair, not at all untidy, but simply let down. You yourself have told +me that, in every sense of the word, I look so young. He held out his +hands to me--under a misapprehension. I shrank back. + +"Mr. Mason," I began very softly, with, in my voice, a sort of sob, "I +could not rest until I had told you all that has passed between us +to-night must be considered as unsaid." + +He started as if I had struck him. I could see that his face went +white. + +"Miss Whitby! May! What do you mean?" He seemed to gasp for breath. +"After all, it is only natural that you should not love a great +hulking idiot such as I am." + +"You are mistaken. You are not a great hulking idiot. And I do love +you. I shall never love anyone but you. It is you who will not love me +when you have heard all I have to say." + +"What nonsense are you talking?" + +Again he held out his arms to me. And again I shrank away. + +"It is not nonsense. I wish it were. So far is it from being nonsense +that I felt that I could not be at peace until my conscience was +unburdened." I paused. I felt the crucial moment was arriving. My +voice sank lower. "Someone else was staying here before you came." + +"Yes, I know; Lily told me--a man named Pentland." + +"Oh, Lily told you so much, did she? Did Lily also tell you that the +man named Pentland had bad taste enough to fancy that he had fallen in +love with me?" + +"Bad taste, you call it. I know nothing about the man, but there, +evidently, can be no sort of doubt about his perfect taste." + +"But, Charlie--I mean, Mr. Mason." + +"You don't--you mean Charlie." + +Dear mamma, once more I sighed. I perceived that it would have to be. +Some men are so dictatorial. + +"The worst of it is that he worried and worried me so--I was staying +in the same house, and couldn't get away from him, you see--that he +made me almost think I cared for him. But now you have come, and made +me see what a mistake it was." + +"My little love." + +For the third time he held out his arms to me. And, this time, he took +me in them. I could not find it in my heart to resist him any longer; +it might be the last time he would ever hold me there. I continued my +remarks with my head not very far away from his waistcoat. He smoothed +my hair, very softly, with his great right hand. + +"Unfortunately, I am not at all sure that Captain Pentland does not +think that, in a sort of way, I am engaged to him. Oh, Charlie, +whatever shall I do?" + +"Tell him the truth. Say that you're sorry for him, poor chap, but +even the best regulated girls will make mistakes. I'm the mistake +you've made." + +I was silent. Then I whispered: + +"Will you forgive me?" + +"It strikes me that it is I who ought to ask you to forgive me--for +not having been the first to come upon the scene." + +This was throwing a new light upon the subject. It had not occurred to +me to look at it from that point of view before. But I had not come to +the end of my confessions. Dear mamma, how careful we women ought +to be! It is these crises in our lives which make us feel what +short-sighted mortals we actually are. + +"Before Captain Pentland came"--I was pulling at one of the buttons on +his waistcoat as I spoke, and I realised what a big heart Charlie's +must be, if it was at all in proportion to his chest--"another friend +of Lily's was stopping in the house." + +"Ye-es." + +I could not help but be conscious of a certain hesitation in his +pronunciation of the word. + +"His name was Eliot." + +"Well?" + +There had been a moment's silence before he spoke. And, when he had +spoken, there ensued a portentous pause. I hid my face still more from +his examining gaze. My voice seemed almost to die away. + +"He, also, professed to bestow on me the gift of his affection." + +"The devil he did!" + +Yes, mamma, that was precisely what he said. It made me shiver. But he +was sorry as soon as the words had passed his lips. + +"Forgive me! I didn't mean it! After all, it is only to be expected +that every man who sees you will fall in love with you at sight." + +I wondered if he would talk to me like that in years to come. Do +husbands of ten years' standing say such things unto their wives? Oh, +how ashamed of myself I felt as I thought of what I still had to +admit! Dear mamma, I will try hard never again to do what my +conscience tells me is not right. If only we would always listen to +the still small voice which seeks to guide us! + +"Charlie, you have no notion how foolish I have been! Until you came I +had no proper conception of the actualities of existence. Mr. Eliot +caused me to confuse the issues just as Captain Pentland did." + +He held me out a little way in front of him, trying to look into my +face. I was careful not to let him see too much of it. I hung down my +head with what, I do hope, mamma, was proper penitence. + +"Let me know, clearly, where we are, little girl. Am I to understand +you to say that both these men asked you to marry them?" + +"I am afraid, Charlie, that you are to understand something of the +kind." + +"And that you gave both of them encouragement?" + +I looked up at him--such a look, mamma! My eyes were swimming in +tears. I knew he would not tell me to "dry up." My heart seemed to be +rising to my lips. + +"Not real encouragement. I never gave anyone real encouragement, +Charlie, till I knew you. Even in your case I fear I ought to have +been more reticent. But you cannot have the least idea of what a wide +world of love you seem to have opened out to me. Won't you forgive me +for encouraging you?" + +Dear mamma, he collapsed. Of what took place during the moments which +immediately followed. I can give you no definite description. I know I +began to think that the end of the world had come. When he had quite +finished, he said: + +"Look here, young lady, what is past is past. We will make no further +allusions to what took place before the war. But, in the future, +perhaps you will kindly manage not, as you put it, to confuse the +issues, but will continue to confine yourself to encouraging me." + +Was it not noble of him? And so sweet! I am persuaded that his +character is one of singular beauty. + +Dear mamma, the passages which ensued were too sacred even for your +dear eyes. When he left me I felt certain it was to dream of him. I +know that, all night long, I dreamt of him. And, on my knees, beside +my bed, I registered a vow that, in the time to come, I will be as +good as I possibly can. + +Do not forget the shoes, and the stockings, and the chocolates! And do +give Tom his ring! I am registering this letter, so you are sure to +get it safe. + +I will bring, or send, Charlie to you, on approval, whenever you +please. + + I am, my dearest mamma, + + Your ever loving daughter, + + MAY. + + + + + AUNT JANE'S JALAP. + + + CHAPTER I. + + BEFORE TAKING. + +"There's a fortune in it!" + +"For the bottlemakers." + +"If for them, then what for us? We shan't want more bottles than we +can sell. Besides, we can make our own bottles if it comes to that. +Cost of bottle, contents, cork, label, and all, one penny. Selling +price, eightpence. Sale, at a moderate estimate, one million bottles a +year. How does that figure for a profit?" + +"It figures nicely. But give me facts. How long do you suppose it will +take us to reach that sale?" + +"No time. The name will sell it! 'Aunt Jane's Jalap!' There isn't an +old woman in England who, seeing those words staring her in the face, +won't press a longing hand to her inside." + +"Outside, I presume, you mean. But no matter." + +Hughes placed the bottle on the table. He looked at it with loving +eyes. Then he shook his head. + +"There's only one thing we want." + +"Customers?" + +"Testimonials! There's something in it. I know there is." + +"Not much, perhaps, but still something." + +"That bottle, sir, contains a remedy for all known diseases, and all +unknown ones, for all that I can tell. In fact, I have a suspicion +that it is to the unknown diseases that it will come as the greatest +blessing. Patent medicines generally do. Those mysterious maladies +which, up to the advent of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' have baffled all the +resources of medical science. Give me a day or two and I will prove +it. I will bring you testimonials which will make your hair stand up +on end, and--" He paused, looking me fixedly in the face--"all +genuine." + +That evening I had a small dinner-party. It was rather an occasion. +The suggestion, I am bound to admit, had come from Margaret. + +"My dear George, it's the easiest thing in the world, and you could do +it nicely! Why don't you ask us to dinner? Aunt and I, and old Pybus +to round it off." Square it off, I suspect she meant, because, of +course, that would make four with me. But I didn't correct her. "And +then you and I could look over the house together--after dinner." + +So I asked them. And they came. Old Pybus said he would be delighted. +I don't care for Pybus myself, but Mrs. Chalmers does, and this was an +occasion on which her taste had to be consulted rather than mine. And +during dinner I began on "Aunt Jane's Jalap." + +"Well, it's all settled with Hughes." + +I addressed myself to Margaret. + +"What about?" + +"'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +Mrs. Chalmers put down her spoon. This was while the soup was on. + +"'Aunt Jane's Jalap!' Whatever's that?" + +"The new patent medicine--the coming boom. You must know that my +friend Francis Hughes has a wonderful old nurse, and this wonderful +old nurse has the most wonderful medicine, which she used to +administer to all her charges. Hughes has obtained the receipt from +her." + +"How much did he give her for it? Half-a-crown?" + +I crushed Pybus. + +"That is a private matter, but _rather_ more than half-a-crown." + +As a plain statement of fact he hadn't given her anything as yet. But, +of course, we should both of us see that she made a good thing of it +when the sale got up. + +"I need scarcely observe what fortunes have been made in patent +medicines." + +"And lost in them, my boy." + +This was just like Pybus--but I let it pass. + +"Millions, literally millions, have been made, and, I may safely say, +that none of them can compare with 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +"Have you tried the stuff upon yourself?" + +"No, Pybus, I have not. I am ready at any time to try it upon you. +Well, Hughes has supplied the medicine, and I am going to supply part +of the capital." + +"What part?" + +"That is another private matter, Pybus. Sufficient, I trust, to bring +the matter before the public eye." + +"Don't you think the name is rather a funny one?--'Aunt Jane's +Jalap!'" + +This was hard, coming from Margaret. + +"My dear Margaret, the name is half the battle. Hughes thinks it's a +splendid one." + +"But don't you think it makes one think of indigestion?" + +"That's exactly what it's meant to do." + +"Before, or afterwards?" + +This, of course, was Pybus. + +"Let those laugh who win. Wait till you see the name blazoned on every +dead wall. Then you'll welcome 'Aunt Jane's Jalap' as a friend." + +That dinner, I confess, was a little patent mediciney. More than once +I rather wished that I had kept the subject out of it. Pybus told some +pleasant and characteristic anecdotes about injurious effects of +patent medicines. How he had known whole families killed by taking +them. How more than half the infant mortality of Great Britain was +owing to their unrestricted sale. How the habit of taking patent +medicines was worse than the habit of dram drinking, and the why, and +the wherefore, and so on. I could not, at my own table, take the man +by the scruff of the neck and drop him from the first floor window. +But I know that Margaret didn't like it--and I didn't either. Mrs. +Chalmers seemed undecided. She herself swears by some noxious +compound, which is absurdly named "Daddy's Delight," and which I know, +by the mere smell of it, is nothing else but poison. + +"Have you any of the stuff in the house?" she asked. + +"I have a bottle of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' which is not stuff, my dear +Mrs. Chalmers, but a most invaluable medicine. Hughes brought it this +afternoon as a sample." + +"Trot it out," said Pybus. + +Pybus is fifty-five, if he is a day, but he uses the slang of a +schoolboy. I was not going to act on such a hint as that, but when +Mrs. Chalmers expressed a wish to look at it I fetched the bottle. It +was a small black bottle, such as is used for "samples" of wines, +about quarter-bottle size. I held it in my hand. + +"This, ladies and gentlemen, is 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' It is a name +which I trust will soon be familiar in your mouths as household words. +This, however, is its first appearance on the scene, and I propose, to +mark the importance of the occasion, that we drink to its success. I +propose, ladies and gentlemen, that we drink to 'Aunt Jane's Jalap' +_in_ 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' Brooks, bring four claret glasses." + +I drew the cork. + +"George, you don't mean that we're to drink the stuff?" + +"I do, my dear Margaret, why not? The dose is a wine-glassful, to be +taken immediately after meals. Mrs. Chalmers, allow me to offer you a +glass of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +She sniffed at it. + +"It has a very disagreeable smell." + +That was good. I protest that I have smelt "Daddy's Delight" when I +was passing the house, and took it--till I knew better--for drains. + +"Margaret, a glass of 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +"But, George, I assure you that I never do take medicine." + +"Some people's wine is no better than medicine. We drink that, and +pretend we like it. Why not jalap?" + +This was Pybus! As he had just before been making insinuations about +my wine, the allusion was pointed. But the man's proverbial. + +"No heeltraps--'Aunt Jane's Jalap'--with the honours!" + +We all stood up. I drained my glass. I immediately wished I hadn't. +The others drained their glasses. I saw they wished they hadn't too. I +do not think I ever tasted anything quite so nasty. I wished I had +sampled it before. As it was, it took me by surprise, so much by +surprise that my first impulse was to fly for shelter. It was +like--well, the taste was really so exceedingly disagreeable that +comparison fails me. + +"It is a case of kill or cure," observed Pybus, with the most +extraordinary expression of countenance I ever saw. "The man who takes +much of that stuff will be killed if he isn't cured. Death for me, +rather than 'Aunt Jane's Jalap'--if it _is_ jalap." + +"It is rather pungent," I owned. + +"I don't know about pungent," continued Pybus, who certainly seemed to +be suffering; "but with ice pudding it's a failure." + +"Never," declared Mrs. Chalmers, who was leaning back in her chair, +and had her handkerchief in her hand, "never did I taste anything like +it! Never! and after dinner, too!" + +Margaret's feelings seemed for the moment to be too strong for speech. +I perceived the thing had been a failure. Still, I endeavoured to pass +it off, which was difficult, for I myself felt really ill. + +"Ah! it is to the after effects we must look forward." + +"It is the after effects I'm thinking of," said Pybus. + +That was almost more than I could bear; it was the after effects I was +thinking of as well. + +"Come, let's adjourn and have a little music." + +"Have we finished the bottle of jalap?" inquired Pybus. + +"I really must apologise; I confess I had no idea what a peculiar +taste it had; it certainly is peculiar." Mrs. Chalmers put her +handkerchief up to her eyes. + +"And after dinner, too!" + +We accompanied the ladies to the drawing-room, as well as we could. +Pybus went with Mrs. Chalmers, I took Margaret. As we went I whispered +in her ear: + +"Now, you and I can look over the house together." + +"I am afraid, George, you must excuse me. I--I couldn't walk about +just yet. Do take me to a chair!" + +We had planned that we would examine the house together from attic to +basement; indeed, the whole affair had been got up for that express +purpose. Everything was in apple-pie order and ready for inspection. +The servants were on the tiptoe of expectation. As we went, Margaret +was to make suggestions for alterations which would fit the house for +its mistress. And opportunities might arise for a little confidential +intercourse. But, of course, I could not drag the girl about the place +against her will. Love works wonders. But there _are_ circumstances +which prove too strong. + +The atmosphere of the drawing-room was depressing. It was no use my +talking to Margaret, because she wouldn't talk to me. And general +conversation seemed out of the question. So I tried another line. + +"Pybus, give us a song." (Pybus thinks he can sing. He may have been +able to--once.) "Here's 'Drink to me only.' That's a favourite of +yours." (You should hear him sing it.) "Margaret will play the +accompaniment." + +"Lucas," he said, "Do you think, by any chance, that dose of jalap was +too strong? I ask the question because I remember, when I was a boy, +hearing of a family being poisoned by an overdose of jalap. In their +case they took it by mistake. Though, judging from the taste of your +jalap, I can't see how that could be. Still, if there is likely to be +any danger it is as well that we should be prepared for it." + +"Margaret," murmured Mrs. Chalmers, "let's go home." + +"Why, aunt? It will pass off in time." + +In time! At that moment I heartily wished that Hughes had been at +Jericho before he induced me to dabble in his patent medicines. I +always did hate them, even as a child. + +"It is quite impossible," continued Pybus, "that the sensations which +I am now experiencing are the ordinary and natural outcome of a dose +of jalap." + +"Margaret," groaned Mrs. Chalmers, "I insist upon your coming home." + +"Aunt, what is the use of going home?" + +"You haven't got a book in the house, Lucas, treating of poisons?" + +"I wish you wouldn't talk like that, Pybus. It really is unfair. I +quite perceive that I made a mistake in administering the dose after +dinner; in fact, I am myself inclined to believe that I misunderstood +Hughes, and that the dose ought to be administered before a meal." + +"Good God!" + +"Pybus!" + +"I can't help it. I really cannot help it, sir. The idea of a +reasonable person voluntarily swallowing such a concoction as that +before his dinner is enough to make any man profane!" + +"I don't think, Mr. Lucas," murmured Mrs. Chalmers, "that you have the +least idea how ill I feel." + +"My dear Mrs. Chalmers, if--if there is anything I can do for you." +"Yes," said Pybus, "another bottle." + + + CHAPTER II + + AFTER TAKING. + +Just then Brooks came in. + +"Mr. Hughes, sir, wishes to speak to you." + +"Excuse me one moment--I'll be back directly." + +I found Hughes waiting for me in my snuggery. + +"Sorry to interrupt you, old man, but I just called in to prevent +accidents." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You know that bottle I brought you this afternoon. I thought it was +'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' but it isn't. I found it out directly I got home. +You see, I keep all sorts of bottles in my cupboard--regular chemist's +shop!--and I caught hold of the wrong one by mistake." + +"Not 'Aunt Jane's Jalap!'" + +"No, it's laudanum." + +"Laudanum? Hughes!" + +"The fact is--Lucas!--What's the matter?--You don't mean to say you +have been drinking some?" + +"Is--is it poison?" + +"Poison!--Why, it's pure laudanum!" + +"Would--would a wineglassful do any harm?" + +"A wineglassful! Lucas, old man, don't say you've drank a +wineglassful!" + +"We all have." + +"All have!" + +"Margaret, and Mrs. Chalmers, and Pybus. + +"Great powers!" + +"We--we thought it was 'Aunt Jane's Jalap,' and we drank to its +success." + +"Are they dead?" + +"Dead! Hughes!" + +"How long ago is it since they took it?" + +"Not long. After dinner." + +"But--a wineglassful! Are they conscious?" + +"They were when I just now left them. But they weren't feeling well. +I--I'm not either. We couldn't understand it. This--this explains it. +Hughes, you--you've murdered us!" + +"Never mind, old man. Keep your head; I'll pull you through. Trust all +to me. The great thing in a case like this is to keep your head. Don't +sit down; keep yourself in constant circulation! Just one second! +Brooks! Brooks! Run, Brooks, to the nearest doctor, and then to +half-a-dozen others, and tell them there's a case of laudanum +poisoning, and they're to come at once." + +"Laudanum poisoning, sir! What, in the house?" + +"Yes, in the house. Don't stand there like a pig in a fit. It's a +question of life or death!" + +"One moment, sir, while I get my hat." + +"Go without your hat. Here; take mine. Now, run for your life. +Remember, if anything happens through you, you will be held +responsible in the eyes of the law. Come along, Lucas, let's go in to +them. Keep yourself awake, old man; jump about. Don't say a word to +them about what has happened. Don't let them even suspect from your +manner that anything is wrong. The great thing is to keep them in +entire ignorance. And keep cool--keep cool." + +He gave a jerk at my arm which almost pulled me forward on my face. + +"I say, Hughes, don't!" + +"But I must, old man, I must. I must keep you alive, at any cost. Oh, +Lucas, old man, if anything should happen---- But I won't talk like +that, or I shall make a fool of myself. Come along, old man, and mind +what I say. Keep cool." + +We went along--that is to say, he took me by the arm and dragged me +towards the drawing-room. My emotions I am unable to describe. I +always think that when a man is able to describe his emotions he +hasn't had any worth describing. But through it all I had a dim +perception that, in spite of his repeated adjurations, Hughes himself +kept anything but cool. Outside the drawing-room door I brought the +procession to a standstill. I gripped his arm. + +"Hughes, do you think that she will die?" + +"Who?" + +"Margaret." + +"Nonsense! Don't I tell you no one's going to die? For goodness' sake +don't talk like that. Don't I keep telling you to keep cool?" + +He did. But it was scarcely with an air of coolness that he threw the +door wide open, and with so much force that it seemed as if he were +trying to wrench it from its hinges. I fancy our entry made a slight +sensation. It was strange if it didn't. They were certainly not +unconscious--yet! Even amidst my own agitation it was with quite a +sensation of relief that I perceived so much. Mrs. Chalmers was +reclining on the couch, with her head thrown back, and a look about +her which I did not like. Margaret was on a settee, seeming as though +the proceedings had lost all interest for her. Pybus sat in an arm +chair, his hands crossed upon his stomach. + +"Good evening," said Hughes. I could see he did not like the look of +things. "I--I've just dropped in." + +Pybus rose. + +"I'm just dropping out. Good evening, Lucas. I have to thank you for a +very pleasant evening. I'll send you the doctor's bill when I get it." + +Hughes looked at me, then at Pybus. + +"You're not going, Mr. Pybus?" + +"Do you wish me to be ill here?" + +"But I was looking forward to a song, or a dance, or something." + +"Dance! I feel like dancing; and singing, too. I've been the victim of +an outrage, Mr. Hughes. I've been introduced to 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +"I've heard of it. Lucas ought not to have given it you." + +"And after dinner!" + +This was a murmur from the couch. + +"That was wrong--quite wrong. The dose should have been administered +before the meal." + +"In that case," I observed, a little nettled, "we should all of us +been dead by now." + +Pybus glanced at me sharply. + +"Dead! What do you mean?" + +Hughes turned on me in a rage. + +"Yes. What do you mean?" + +I felt I had made a mistake. + +"I--I mean nothing. Only--only I think Hughes was as much to blame as +I was." + +Hughes took Pybus away. They went to Mrs. Chalmers. So far as I could +judge, the lady was rapidly sinking into a lethargic condition. I +remained standing where I was. I began gradually to realise my +situation--the approaching tragedy in which, by fate or circumstance, +I was cast as an actor. A strange leaden feeling seemed to be stealing +over me, but, in spite of it, I began to understand that at any moment +the drawing-room, this drawing-room, my drawing-room, might be strewed +with corpses. I knew nothing of the effects of laudanum poisoning, but +Hughes seemed to be surprised that we were not all of us dead already. +Here was Margaret, the woman I loved best in all the world, upon my +right. There was her aunt, for whom, I own, my love was less, upon the +couch. There was old Pybus. That old man's blood was also on my hands. + +What would they call me? A suicide? The irony! In the full flush of +health and strength, with fortune, all the world before me, and a +wife. A wife whom I loved with a great fulness of love which was quite +old-fashioned. I had wrought this hecatomb. I felt impelled to scream +aloud. To warn my victims of the frightful fate which was stealing +fast upon them, and of which they were still unconscious. + +Someone touched me on the arm. I turned. It was Margaret! + +"George, what is the matter?" + +"Margaret!" + +My voice trembled. There was a choking in my throat. I wished to take +her in my arms before them all. It might be a last embrace. + +"George, tell me, what is wrong?" + +I made an effort to pull myself together. + +"Oh! there's nothing wrong. I--I'm only a bit upset." + +She put her arm through mine. She led me across the room. I required +leading. She drew me into an alcove, which was formed by a window bay. + +"Now, George, tell me what is wrong. I know there is something wrong. +Tell me what it is." + +I was at a loss for words. I trifled with her. + +"Margaret! What do you mean?" + +"George, was"--her voice sank to a whisper--"was there anything wrong +about that stuff you gave us?" + +What could I say to her? + +"It--it was a mistake drinking it after dinner." + +"Is that all? Was it the right stuff, George?" + +"It--it was the stuff Hughes gave me." + +"You are trifling with me? I know that there is something wrong. I can +see it in your manner and in Mr. Hughes's. See how strangely Mr. +Hughes is behaving now." + +I peeped round the corner. Hughes was behaving strangely. He was +frantically urging Mrs. Chalmers to stand up and dance, though anyone +looking less like dancing than she did I never saw. He was evidently +forgetting his own axiom--keep cool. A curious qualm came over me. +Almost without knowing it I leaned for support against the wall. + +"George! What is the matter? You are ill." + +Margaret's eager face looked into mine. + +"It will be all right in a minute." + +"It won't! I know it won't! Tell me what it is. There was something +the matter with that stuff you gave us. I knew it directly I had +swallowed it. Do you think I am a coward? Do you think I am afraid? +But it is only fair that you should tell me. If you won't tell me, +George, I will go to Mr. Hughes and insist upon his telling me." + +"Don't, Margaret. The doctor will be here directly." + +"The doctor?" She drew herself straight up. A strange look came into +her eyes. + +She spoke almost in a whisper. "What is the doctor coming for?" + +"Hughes thought that he had better come." + +"Is it so bad as that? George, what was that stuff you gave us?" + +"I have not said that it was anything. The--the dose was too strong." + +"Was it poison?" + +"Margaret!" + +I took her two hands in mine. She came into my arms. I held her to my +breast. + +"Was it poison? If you love me half as much as I love you you will +tell me, George." + +"Margaret!" + +"What poison was it?" + +"Laudanum!" + +She drew herself away from me. She looked at me with her great wide +open eyes. Then her eyes were closed. Before I had the least suspicion +of what was going to happen she had fallen to the ground. I knelt +beside her. + +"Margaret!" I cried. I cried to her in vain. I was seized with a great +horror. "She is dead!" I exclaimed. + +Hughes came running forward. I almost sprang at him. + +"You have killed her!" + +"Don't be an idiot, Lucas! She _can't_ be dead!" + +"She is dead. And it is your work. For the matter of that, all our +blood is upon your head. But we shall not die alone. You shall come, +too, my friend." + +"If you don't take your hands away, Lucas, I shall have to do you a +mischief." + +"Mr. Lucas! Mr. Hughes! Have you both of you gone mad? Are you aware +that there are ladies present?" + +The interference came from Pybus. He dragged us asunder. He showed +more presence of mind, and more coolness, too, than I had credited him +with. He was a great deal calmer than either Lucas or I. + +"What is the meaning of this extraordinary behaviour? And what is the +matter with Miss Hammond?" + +"He has killed her." + +"Who has killed her?" + +"That scamp; with his infernal negligence." + +"I don't in the least understand you. And I think that instead of +wrangling here your attentions were better bestowed upon Miss +Hammond." + +I threw myself at her side. I was like a man distraught in the +whirlwind of conflicting emotions which came sweeping over me. + +"My darling! Oh, my darling! I shall soon be with you. Already the +poison is stealing through my veins. May my end be as rapid as was +yours. Why doesn't the doctor come? I don't believe that you have sent +for him. Go and fetch him." + +Again I sprang at Hughes. And again Pybus interposed. + +"Mr. Lucas, may I ask for an explanation of your singular conduct? Has +Miss Hammond fainted?" + +"Fainted! He has poisoned her!" + +"Poisoned her!" + +"Yes, and you and me and all of us! We all, like her, are doomed to +die." + +"Mr. Lucas!" + +"Lucas, you're--you're mad, you know." + +This was Hughes. But a piercing scream came from the couch. + +"I knew that I was poisoned!" + +Mrs. Chalmers might know that she was poisoned, but that was no reason +why, on the strength of her knowledge, she should develope violent +hysterics, which she immediately did. I had never seen so much of the +man in Pybus as he showed just then. He gave one look at Mrs. +Chalmers, and then he turned to Hughes. + +"Mr. Hughes, will you be so good as to tell me if there is any meaning +in Mr. Lucas's words?" + +Hughes was ghastly white. + +"The great point is to bring Miss Hammond back to life again. While we +are talking here she may be dying at our feet. I appeal to your +manhood, Mr. Pybus, to help me bring her back to consciousness." + +Hughes knelt down by Margaret. Pybus turned to me. + +"What does he mean?" he said. + +I did not answer. I knelt down by Hughes. He had my darling's hand in +his. I saw that he was putting great restraint upon himself. Beads of +perspiration were on his brow. + +"She is not dead," he stammered. "She is in a faint or something. At +any cost we must bring her back to consciousness. Be a man, Lucas, and +help me. Her life should be even more precious to you than to me." + +"Don't talk like that, Hughes. Don't you see that I am nearly mad +already? What can I do?" + +"Help me to raise her." + +Between us we raised her to a perpendicular position. + +"Mr. Pybus, can I trouble you to order some brandy? Stay, she is +coming back to life again!" + +She was. She sighed. She opened her eyes, as if she were waking out of +sleep. She turned to me. + +"George!" + +"My darling!" + +I caught her in my arms. I held her to my breast. What mattered it if +there were others there? We were standing by an open grave! + +"I do so love you, George!" + +She was dreaming. She thought we were alone. + +"Margaret!" + +I kissed her. Something caused her to look round. There was old Pybus +standing at her side. She drew herself away from me. She blushed a +rosy red; then her glance travelled round the room. She pressed her +hands against her bosom. A startled look came into her eyes. + +"Then--it wasn't all a dream." + +Hughes slipped his arm through hers. + +"Miss Hammond, I must insist upon your taking exercise. Take a sharp +turn or two round the room with me. Lucas, I wish you'd sit down and +play us a dance. Or, better still, let me sit down and play, and you +and Miss Hammond take a few turns together. Mr. Pybus, you must dance +with Mrs. Chalmers. A flyaway gallop, or a rattling polka. They're +better than valses." + +There was a remarkable expression upon old Pybus's enamelled +countenance. So far as that goes, I expect there was on mine--but, as +to that, no matter. + +"Might I ask, once more, for an explanation of these very singular +proceedings?" + +"I warn you, Mr. Pybus, that if you do not dance with Mrs. Chalmers, +you must be responsible for the consequences, both as they regard +yourself and the lady." + +Pybus's eyes wandered from Hughes to Mrs. Chalmers. The lady was +making noise enough for ten. She did not strike the imagination as +being a promising partner for a dance. So Pybus seemed to think. +Hughes struck up, "You should see me dance the polka," playing it at +the rate of about sixty miles an hour. Margaret looked at me. + +"Are you and I to dance? Why dance?" + +I shook my head. + +"Hughes," I said, "I can't." + +"You must, man, you must! Are you mad?" + +"I can't." + +I couldn't. A numbness seemed to be settling on my brain. My legs +refused to support me. I sank into a chair. Margaret hesitated for +just one second. I could see her trembling. Then she sat on the ground +close to my feet. She leaned her arm upon my knee. Her face was turned +towards mine. + +"Nor can I. If we must die, George, let us die together; but not +dancing." + +"What on earth," inquired Pybus, "is all this talk of dying, Mr. +Hughes? I insist upon an answer, sir." + +In a sort of fury Hughes leaped from the music-stool. + +"And I insist, Mr. Pybus, upon your dancing with Mrs. Chalmers. I warn +you that if you don't you will be morally guilty, not only of murder, +but of suicide." He turned to me. "As for you--are you a man? Do you +think that it is your life only which is hanging in the balance? I +tell you that the only hope for Miss Hammond is to keep her +circulating. Do that, and I will answer for it with my own life, that +all will yet be well." + +"Come, while I can, let me keep you circulating, Maggie!" + +It was not often that I called my "rare, pale Margaret" Maggie. But, +at that master moment of our lives, I felt that the endearing name was +best. She rose, my darling. I put my arm about her waist. + +"George, whatever you think it best." + +"That's better," said Hughes. + +"Now let me see you go it. Give her fits, my boy." + +Again he dashed into Mr. Grossmith's popular air. I never heard it +played at such a rate before. Possibly with a view of raising our +spirits, he shouted out the chorus in a tone of voice which must have +been audible quite two streets away. It was deafening! + + + You should see me dance the polka, + You should see me cover the ground; + You should see my coat-tails flying-- + + +My coat-tails were anything but flying. We made no attempt at keeping +time with Hughes. Under the most favourable circumstances the thing +would have been impossible. We moved, Margaret and I, as if we were +treading a funeral measure. My legs were going at the knees. I felt +her frail frame quivering in my arms. + +"Now, then, Pybus," shouted Hughes, "off you go with Mrs. Chalmers. +Don't ask her; make her. Pull her off the couch and jump her about!" + +Pybus appeared to be endeavouring to persuade Mrs. Chalmers to join +him in the mazy dance. The lady had suddenly become still, which, for +some reasons, the chief one being the noise which Hughes was making, +was perhaps as well. + +"How can I pull her off the couch," answered Pybus, "when she's in a +fit, or dead, or something?" + +Up jumped Hughes. + +"Keep going, you two! Don't stop for a single instant. Lucas, +everything depends upon your keeping Miss Hammond circulating." + +"I can't," I said. + +"Nor can I," said Margaret. + +The utterances were almost simultaneous. Simultaneously we sank into +an ottoman. + +"Mrs. Chalmers! Mrs. Chalmers!" shouted Hughes, "Pybus, help me to +lift her off the couch. Now, then, you two, what have you stopped +for?" + +He turned to Margaret and me. Something in our faces or in our +attitudes appeared to frighten him. He ran to the door yelling in a +manner which absolutely frightened me. + +"Brooks! Brooks! Oh, my God, why doesn't the doctor come?" + + + CHAPTER III. + + DOCTORS TO THE RESCUE! + +Just as he reached the door it was opened. A very tall, and very +stout, old gentleman entered. He had a black bag in his hand. But he +did not seem to be the least in a hurry. + +"Good evening. I trust there is nothing serious the matter." + +I suppose that in the agitated state of his nervous system, the +stranger's sudden appearance took Hughes by surprise. He stared at him +as though he were a ghost. + +"Are--are you the doctor?" + +"I am the doctor--Dr. Goldsmith." + +I had already recognised him as the doctor who lived at the corner of +the square. Although I had not the pleasure of his personal +acquaintance, I had more than once wondered why he did not try +Banting. Leaving off sugar, and butter, and milk, and trying a piece +of lemon in your tea, is an excellent method of reducing the flesh. He +looked round the room, and bowed--a little vaguely. Then he said, +addressing Hughes, whom he apparently took to be the master of the +house, "Where is the patient?" + +"They're--they're all patients." + +This answer seemed to cause the doctor to experience a slight sense of +mystification. He placed a pair of gold glasses upon the bridge of his +nose. He cast another glance around the room. + +"All patients?" + +Pybus came forward. Pybus knows everyone. + +"How are you, Dr. Goldsmith?" + +"How are you, Mr. Pybus? Charmed to see you." + +"Whether I am charmed to see you remains to be seen. May I ask--and +don't think it's an impertinent question--what you have come for?" + +"Come for? I----" The doctor threw a glance of interrogation towards +Hughes. "I--someone came to my house and said that I was wanted for a +case of----" + +Old Pybus laid his hand upon the doctor's arm. + +"Case of what?" + +"A case of laudanum poisoning." + +"Laudanum poisoning!" + +"I understood that it was a----" The doctor ceased. Pybus's face had +assumed a very singular hue. "I--I hope that I have said nothing----" + +"No, you have said nothing. Laudanum poisoning?" He turned to Hughes. +"So that is it." And then to me. "So that was 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.' +It's--it's rather hard--that a man of my years--should--die +of--jalap." + +Pybus took a seat. The doctor stared at him. + +"Mr. Pybus, I hope that nothing is the matter." + +"Nothing, only--I'm the man--that's poisoned." + +"You!" + +"Me, Sam Pybus. I've been dining with a man, who asked me to meet--his +girl--and smooth the tabby--and he gives me--jalap, which is another +name for laudanum." + +The doctor seemed bewildered. + +"I am afraid I don't understand." + +Hughes endeavoured to explain. He was suffering as much as either of +us. The words fell from his stammering lips. + +"What Mr. Pybus says is correct. There's been a mistake." + +"Yes," said Pybus, "there's been a mistake." + +"My friend, Lucas, thought he was giving his guests 'Aunt Jane's +Jalap,' and instead of that he was giving them--I am afraid, through +my carelessness--pure laudanum." + +"Oh, it was through your carelessness, was it?" Pybus assumed towards +Hughes a little air of ferocity. But it soon disappeared. "But what +does it matter if I must die?" + +"Pure laudanum!" said the doctor. "Of what strength?" + +"The highest possible." + +"In what quantity?" + +"Enough to kill a dozen men. A bottleful." + +"A bottleful of laudanum!" + +The words were uttered by a newcomer--a little man who came running in +as if he ran a race. It was Dunn, another doctor, who had recently +started practice round the corner. In appearance he was a complete +contrast to Goldsmith. He was a little, wiry, hungry-looking man, who +seemed as though he never could keep still. He hurried past Pybus, +patting him on the shoulder as he went. Had Pybus been more himself he +would have resented the insult to the death. + +"Come, my dear sir, keep yourself alive. That's the great secret; let +us keep our spirits up!" he paused in front of Margaret. "Now, my dear +young lady, don't we feel quite well? Just a little out of sorts. +Come, wake up!" + +He actually caught Margaret by the shoulder and shook her. I don't +know what Margaret's feelings were, but if I myself had not been quite +so prostrate, I fancy that I should have let him know that he +presumed. Then he turned and shook me. + +"Come, my dear sir, wake up, wake up, wake up! We must keep ourselves +awake." He wheeled round; he marched to the couch. When he saw Mrs. +Chalmers lying on it, still in a dead faint--so far as I know no one +had moved a finger to bring her round--he shook his head. + +"Serious; I am afraid it's very, very serious. But we will do our +best; always do our best. Let all the servants in the house be +summoned, and let assistance be given to carry the poor dear sufferers +up to their beds." + +The little man took command of everything. The servants were summoned +and they came trooping in. Several other doctors came in also. There +is no necessity to specify their number. Brooks liberally carried out +the instructions Hughes had given him. He fetched as many as he could. +There were not one or two, but several. I have their bills. + + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE MISTAKE EXPLAINED. + +I will not dwell upon the dreadful details of that night. There are +scenes, not necessarily pathetic scenes, on which a curtain should be +drawn. Through it all I never once lost consciousness. I wish I had. +One need but allude to the stomach pump to draw up visions from the +vasty deep. Over such agonies let a veil be drawn. This is not an +episode of vivisection. And, afterwards, when--when a too eager +medical man, thinking the process had not gone far enough--he meant +well; it was his zeal; may he be forgiven--tried emetics, mustard and +water, and other preparations from the medical pharmacop[oe]ia--do not +let us touch upon these subjects. Never, when the sea was at its +wildest, among passengers entirely unused to the mysteries of +navigation, was ever seen the like. I still live, and I was through it +all. It is wonderful what a vigorous constitution will endure. + +Mrs. Chalmers was put into my bedroom. There was nothing particular of +mine lying about, but I would rather they had put her somewhere else. +Margaret had the best guest-room, Pybus the second best, and I was put +into an apartment which had not been occupied for years. It was done +in the confusion, I suppose. Looking back, I am surprised they did not +overlook me altogether. I wish they had. And all through the night the +issue was hanging in the balance. Hamlet's question was waiting for an +answer. "To be, or not to be?" What their sufferings were--Margaret's, +her aunt's, and Pybus's--I can imagine when I let memory hark back to +my own. But none of them succumbed. And in the morning I, for one, was +able to leave my room; in fact, I insisted on doing so. Had I remained +any longer in that dreadful chamber I should certainly have died. Pale +and ghastly, with my dressing-gown wrapped round my trembling limbs, I +descended to my snuggery. I felt that I was but the wreck of what once +I was. Hughes was there--the sight of me seemed to give him pain--well +it might!--and Dr. Dunn, and Dr. Goldsmith, and a Dr. Casey. He was a +tall, thin man, with a serious manner. I always think of Dr. Casey +when I think of Mr. Stiggins. Dunn seemed in quite a cheerful frame of +mind. + +"Well, that's over. With a little care, Mr. Lucas, you'll forget all +about it in a week." + +Never! But I did not tell him so. And he went on: + +"And this all comes of what I venture to call a trifling indiscretion. +You think it's jalap, and it's laudanum." + +"Laudanum is not a thing to trifle with," said Dr. Casey. + +"It certainly isn't a thing to drink in pailfuls." + +As he said this, Dr. Goldsmith rattled his keys and coppers. + +"Nor is it to be recommended as a liqueur with dessert--eh, Mr. +Lucas?" Dunn rubbed his hands, and grinned at me. + +"The poor lady," said Dr. Casey, "whom I treated found it a very +serious matter." + +This was Mrs. Chalmers. + +"The sweet young thing," said Goldsmith, "for whom I did my best, did +not seem to think that the occasion was altogether a festive one," and +this was how he spoke of her. + +"I dare say, Mr. Lucas," sniggered Dunn, "that you have spent far more +agreeable nights." + +Dunn was the fiend who had pushed his zeal too far. And now he laughed +at me! + +"Dr. Lambert," observed Dr. Casey, "who treated the other gentleman, +assured me that his patient asked him to put him out of his misery +rather than push his treatment further." + +That was Pybus. I could easily believe it. Death was preferable to +Dunn's emetics. + +"Now, where is the bottle which contained the cause of all the +mischief?" + +The fatal bottle had been brought into my snuggery for safety. It was +handed to Dunn. He sniffed at it. + +"Hum!" He sniffed again. "Hum!" He seemed surprised. "Rather--rather +an odd smell for laudanum. Smell that!" + +He handed it to Goldsmith. + +"Very"--sniff!--"odd"--sniff!--"indeed"--sniff. "You are sure it is +the bottle?" + +There was not the slightest doubt about its being the bottle. It was +passed to Casey. He had a smell. + +"This isn't laudanum," he declared. + +"_Not_ laudanum!" Back it went to Dunn. + +"It doesn't smell like laudanum." + +"It isn't laudanum," said Goldsmith. + +"Not a trace of it," said Casey. + +NOT laudanum! I looked at Hughes. He looked at me. Then he staggered +towards that fatal bottle. + +"Let me--let me smell it." + +They let him. An extraordinary change came over his countenance as he +applied it to his nose. He staggered against the wall. + +"Good--good heavens!" + +What was it? Had he mistaken the poison? Was it strychnine, arsenic, +prussic acid? Would the treatment have to be gone through all over +again? For me, death rather than that. + +"I see it all," cried Hughes, "I see the mistake I made. After all, it +was not the bottle I supposed. I remember now that I placed that upon +the shelf above." + +"What is it?" I screamed. + +"It's--it's what I thought it was." + +"What you thought it was?" + +"It's 'Aunt Jane's Jalap.'" + +"'Aunt Jane's Jalap!'" + +The words came from the three medical gentlemen in a sort of chorus. +As for me, in spite of my piteous condition, I felt inclined to tear +my hair--and Hughes's! + +"I see, quite clearly, how the mistake arose. It was in this way. +There were two sample bottles of the mixture, only in one of them the +quantities were wrong. I placed it where I generally keep my +laudanum--so that I shouldn't mistake it. And when I found it missing, +of course I thought it was the laudanum which had gone." + +"Was it--was it poison?" + +"Not a bit of it, dear boy! The finest medicine in the world! Only in +that particular bottle there was a little too much jalap, and, taking +it on the top of such a dinner as you'd been eating, it a little upset +you--that was all." + +That was all? + +I thought of how those doctors had spent the night in practising on us +their dreadful arts, of their bills, and----that was all. + + + + + WILLYUM. + + +I had been seated in the next chair to hers for at least two minutes. +I felt that it was time to introduce myself. + +"It's a fine evening." + +She turned, she looked me up and down, then she looked straight in +front of her again. + +"I don't know you." + +But I was not to be crushed; there was something about the shape of +her that which suggested sociability. + +"That is my misfortune, rather than my fault." + +"I don't know nothing at all about that. I do not speak to strangers +as a rule. Sometimes there's never no knowing who they are." + +I felt that I was getting on--so I went on. + +"What do you think of the band?" + +"It's not loud enough for me. I like a band as I can hear." + +One suspected there might be occasions on which one could almost like +a band which one could not hear, but I did not say so. That broke the +ice, and the conversation drifting on to personal topics she explained +to me that she had a young man, who, so to speak, was "resting," owing +to what she called a "difference" which she had had with him. It +struck me that the tale, as she told it, contained elements of +tragedy. + +"Bakers," she observed, "is what I like. I have a sister who likes +butchers. To me there's always the smell of the meat about a butcher. +But it's as you're made. The worst of bakers is, they're such a +thirsty lot." + +"Possibly," I suggested, "that is in a measure owing to the nature of +their occupation." + +"That may be, but still there is a limit, and when a man is always +drinking, I think it's time for him to stop." + +I thought so too, but she went on: + +"My young man, his name is Willyum Evans, is a baker, and him and me +have been walking out together four years come next month. So I said +to him, 'Willyum, it's my day out, Tuesday. I shall expect you to take +me somewhere.' So he said, 'I will.' So I said, 'Hyde Park Corner, +half-past ten.' I was there as the clock was striking, and a fine +scuffle I had to get there too; and, if you'll believe me, he kept me +waiting two hours and three-quarters by the clock what's over the +gatekeeper's lodge--which is longer than any gentleman ought to keep a +lady waiting, I don't care who he is. So when he did come, I was a bit +huffy. + +"So I said, 'Well, Willyum, I hope I've put you to no hurry, and it's +a pity you should have troubled yourself to come at this time of day, +seeing as how I'm just off home.' So he said, and he wiped his lips, +and I could see he had had a moistener, if not more, 'It's like +this--I accidentally had an appointment, which was of the nature of +business, and which I couldn't help; and that's how it is I'm a little +behind!' 'I see,' I said, 'and it had something to do with pint pots, +I have no doubt.' So he sat down on a seat, which was wet, owing to +there being a drizzle on, and as it seemed silly for me to stand +whilst he was sitting, I sat down likewise. + +"So there we sat, neither of us saying nothing, till I began to feel a +little damp, because I had my thin things on, and it was beginning to +come down heavy. So I said, 'Well, Willyum, have you forgotten it's my +day out? I thought you was going to take me somewhere.' He said, 'So I +am.' So I said, 'Where are you going to take me to? It's getting on, +and I'm likewise getting wet'--which I was. So he said, 'What do you +say to Battersea Park?' So I said, 'I say nothing. And the idea, +Willyum, of your talking about taking me to Battersea Park, when, as +you very well know, it is raining cats and dogs, is not what I +expected'-because, as he could very well see, I only had a parasol, +which was red, and the rain was coming through, and the colour coming +out. But he didn't care for the rain no more than nothing; because, as +I tell you, he being a baker, to him it was a kind of a change. + +"You must know that Willyum is that near about money that I never saw +nothing like him; not that it's a bad thing in a man, though it may be +carried too far and I must say I do think Willyum do carry it too far. +He has never given me nothing which he didn't want me to pay for, not +even half a pint of beer. So I was not surprised when he said, 'The +fact is Matilda'--which is me--'I haven't got no money.' 'Well,' I +said, 'that's a nice thing, to promise to take me out, and then to +have no money.' So he said, 'If you was to pay the expenses for both +the two of us, it might make things more pleasant.' So I said, 'No, I +thank you,' because I had been had that way before, and more than +once. So I got up, and I said, 'Well, Willyum, I will now wish you a +good day; because I have been here since half-past ten, and it +is now past two, and my clothes is sticking to me, and I don't +care to stop no longer.' So he said, 'Now, Matilda, don't you get +disagreeable'--which I was beginning to feel it, and so I own. 'We +are both of us having a day out,' he said, 'and don't let no bad +tempers spoil our pleasure. I may have some money somewhere, +unbeknown to myself, so I will look and see; though I must say I do +think it hard that all the expenses should be borne by me!' + +"So he begins feeling in his pockets, and, presently, he gives a kind +of a start, and he brings out half-a-crown. 'There,' he said, 'is +half-a-crown; and if you put five shillings to it, it will make it +seven and six!' 'No!' I said, 'I shall put no five shillings of mine +to no half-crown of yours, and so the least said the soonest mended. +And, if you don't mind, I will go and get myself something to eat, +being hungry, and having, I am thankful to say, money of my own with +which to pay for it.' Then he gives another kind of start, and he +says, 'There! If I didn't make a pasty for you, last night, with my +own hands, and I've been sitting on it all the time,' which he had, +and anything like the mess he'd made of it you never saw. He held it +out to me. 'No,' I said. 'I thank you. I am particular about my +vittles, and I never eat no scraps, and, still less, things what have +been sat down upon.' 'Well,' he said, 'it's a pity it should be +wasted, I'll eat it myself.' Which he did, and me standing in the rain +there looking on. That did put my back up. 'Mr. Evans,' I said, short +and sharp, 'I wish you a good day. I am going.' So I goes. And he +comes running after me, picking at the bits of pasty what was stuck to +the paper; I must say this for Willyum, that it takes a deal to get +his temper up. So I pulls up. 'Now, let us understand each other. +Willyum, if you please, are you going to pay for something for me to +eat, or are you not?' He gives himself a kind of a shake, so as to get +his courage up, and he says, 'You shall have anything you like to eat, +at my expense, Matilda, so long as the cost does not exceed'--then he +hesitated--'ninepence.' Then he gave himself another kind of shake, +which I took as a sign that his courage was running down, 'for both +the two of us.' + +"That made me fairly wild it really did. To think that he had promised +to take me somewhere, and that I had been more than three hours there +in the rain, and got wet through, and my things all spoiled--which it +was a new dress I had on, what I had got special for the occasion, and +it had only come home from the dressmaker's the day before--and the +colour was coming out of my parasol--which was likewise new--and my +hair all coming out of curl, and me feeling as limp as a rag, +and starving hungry, and that he should want to put me off with +fourpence-halfpenny worth of food, drawn from him as if it were his +eye-tooth--it did make me feel really wild. + +"I never said a word to him, but I walks right out of the park. He +comes running after me, and he catches hold of my arm and he says, +'Now, Matilda, what did I say just now about letting no bad tempers +spoil our pleasure?' I said, 'I don't know what your idea of pleasure +is, but it isn't mine, and as I don't want to have no more to do with +you, Mr. Evans, perhaps you will be so kind as to let me go.' But he +holds on to me all the tighter, and he says, 'I tell you what, +Matilda, a idea has just come into my head 'My brother, as you have +heard me talk about, lives close by here, we will go and dine with +him. He being a married man, and with a comfortable home, he will be +glad to see us.' + +"Well, I didn't know what to do, not liking to have no quarrel with +him in the street, so off we starts for his brother's. He took me to a +mews what led out of Park Lane, and, as we was turning the corner, he +said, 'There's only this one thing about my brother, him and me has +had a little difference of opinion, and he is not of a forgiving +disposition.' So I said, 'Now, Willyum, what do you mean by that?' So +he said, 'No. 32, on the other side, is where he lives, and if you was +to go on and knock at the door, and ask for Mrs. Henry Evans, what is +my brother's wife, so to speak, it might smooth the way.' So I said, +'I do not understand you. Just now you was saying as how your brother +would be glad to see us. Are you now insinuating otherwise?' He +catches a glimpse of my eye, and he sees the kind of mood I was in, +and he plucks up, and he walks on, and he says, 'We will hope for the +best. Do not let us spoil our day's pleasure by no disagreeable +observations. There is never no knowing what might happen.' All of a +sudden he cries out, 'There is my brother! Now, Matilda, don't you let +him start hitting me.' And he jumps behind me, so as to get into the +shadow, as it were. So I says, 'Willyum, whatever is the matter now? +Your conduct do seem to me to be of the most extraordinary character.' + +"And there was a great big giant of a man on the other side of the +road, washing a carriage, with a bucket of water and I don't know +what, and as I moves on one side he catches sight of Willyum, and +anything like the way in which he started swearing you never heard. +'Hollo' he says, 'there's that putty-faced brother of mine. I've been +looking for you for some time. Here's something for you, Willyum.' And +before I had no idea of what he was going to do, he catches up the +bucket of water and he throws it over Willyum, and some of it went +over me. Oh, dear me, you never saw nothing like the mess that I was +in! And he grabs hold of Willyum by the collar, and he says, 'Hang me +if I don't wipe down the street with you!' And he shouts out, +''Enrietta, here's Brother Willyum. Haven't you got anything for him? +You bet your life he's come for something.' And a window opens over +the way, and a woman puts her head out, and she empties something out +of a pail over Willyum, and again some of it went over me. Oh dear! oh +dear! And that giant of a man he set about Willyum something cruel; +and all the mews was in a uproar, and I hurried away as hard as ever I +could, I was that frightened, and I got into a cab, just as I was--and +you should have seen how the cabman stared, and drove right away to a +sister of mine what lives at Camberwell, and I nearly cried my eyes +out, and I've never spoken to Willyum nor set eyes on him since then, +which it's a fortnight the day after to-morrow, and if you had been in +my place, and had been treated as I was, would you have let things go +on as usual, just as if there hadn't been no difference?" + +No, I said, I should not. I should have insisted on their going on in +quite a different kind of way. + +And so I told her. + + + + + HIS FIRST EXPERIMENT. + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE LADY. + +Last winter George Pownceby spent some weeks at the Empire Hotel. One +morning he was coming along the corridor leading from the smoking-room +when he met Mrs. Pratt. The lady stopped. + +"What is that you have in your hand?" she asked. + +Mr. Pownceby had in his hand a slim pamphlet, in a green paper cover. +He held it up. + +"I've got it!" + +"No?" + +"Yes!" + +"Oh, I say!" + +These remarks are not given here as examples of English conversation, +but with a view of presenting the reader with an accurate report of +what was spoken. There was a pause. Then the lady said, with great +solemnity:-- + +"You don't mean to say that it has actually come?" + +"I do!" Mr. Pownceby held out the slim pamphlet at arm's length in +front of him. He pointed at it with the index-finger of his other +hand: "'How to Hypnotise. A Practical Treatise. Hints to Amateurs. +With full instructions for marvellous experiments. Price 7d. post +free, eight stamps.'" + +"Oh, Mr. Pownceby, I am so sorry." + +"Sorry, Mrs. Pratt! Why, it was, at your instigation I plunged to the +extent of those eight stamps." + +"But you don't understand; my husband's coming; I have to meet him at +the station at 12.32." Mr. Pownceby stroked his moustache; there was +not much, but he was fond of stroking what there was of it. Mrs. +Pratt's husband had been rather a joke. People who winter in hotels +are, as a rule, quite prepared to be epigrammatic at the expense of a +pretty married woman whose husband is not in evidence. And Mrs. +Pratt's husband had not been in evidence--as yet. + +"I don't quite follow you." Mr. Pownceby spoke with a little malice. +"Whence your sorrow? Because your husband is coming by the 12.32?" + +"Don't you see, I want to be the first to be experimented on. I've +been waiting for that book two days, and now it just comes when I +can't stay. Don't' you think there's time? Come into my sitting-room." + +They went into her sitting-room. When they were there, the lady again +assailed the gentleman with the inquiry: + +"Don't you think there's time?" + +"It depends. I think you're going too fast. To commence with, I've +been looking through the thing in the smoking-room, and I believe it's +a swindle." + +"A swindle! Oh, don't say that." + +"It's nothing but a hash of old mesmeric tricks I've seen performed at +country fairs." + +"But doesn't it tell you how to do them?" + +"It pretends to. It gives some ridiculous directions--but I don't +believe they can be done that way." + +"Try!--do!--on me!" + +Mr. Pownceby laughed. Mrs. Pratt amused him; and not for the first +time either. + +"To begin with, we have to sit face to face and stare at each other +for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour." + +"Come along! Let's begin." + +The lady brought forward a couple of chairs and they sat down on them, +face to face; and very close together. Opening the pamphlet, Mr. +Pownceby searched for further instructions. + +"You're not staring at me," remarked the lady. + +"Half a minute; I'm looking for what comes next." + +"What does it say? Read it aloud." + +"After I've stared at you long enough----It doesn't sound civil, does +it?" + +"Never mind the civility; go on!" + +"'After I've stared at you long enough, you begin to feel queer. +Then'"--Mr. Pownceby read from the pamphlet, "'Place the thumb of your +left hand on the subject's forehead'--you're the subject--'just above +the nose, and level with the eyebrows.'" Mrs. Pratt placed her pretty +little hand above her pretty little nose to point out the exact spot +denoted. Mr. Pownceby read on. "'This is the locality of the +Phrenological Organ of Individuality.'" + +"Is it?" said Mrs. Pratt in an awe-struck whisper. The reader +continued: + +"'Rest the ends of your fingers on the top of the subject's head. At +the same time take hold of the left hand with your right hand, applying +the inside part of your thumb to the middle of the palm of the hand.' +I'm punctuating this," interpolated Mr. Pownceby, "as I go on. The man +who printed it seems to have had a fount of type containing no other +stops but commas. 'The object of this is for the operator to get in +contact with two very important nerves that pass in the palm of the +hand which are called Ulnar and Median nerves'--I don't know if that's +true, or what it means, but it says so here--'with your left hand, +still keeping the thumb on the forehead between the eyes, and the +fingers resting on the subject's head, which must be inclined slightly +back. Say, "Look into my eyes." After gazing in his eyes intently for +a few seconds, say in a loud, clear, firm tone of voice, "Close your +eyes quite tight." Let him remain a few seconds like this,'--and the +trick is done. There's a lot more nonsense to follow, but when +you've remained for a few seconds like that you're supposed to be +mesmerised, or hypnotised, or whatever they call the thing." + +"Really! It sounds quite simple." + +"It does--simple folly." + +"Hush! You shouldn't speak like that. Perhaps, if you don't believe, +you mayn't succeed." + +"It says something to that effect in these precious pages." + +"Then try to believe. Let us begin." + +They began. The lady was preternaturally solemn, but the gentleman was +tortured by a desire to smile. He felt that the lady might resent his +laughter. Under these circumstances the ten minutes' stare was trying. +Mrs. Pratt had sweet blue eyes, which were large and round--the sort +of eyes which the average man would not object to stare at for ten +minutes or even longer. As the appointed space of time drew to a +conclusion even Mr. Pownceby became reconciled to his lot. He placed +his left thumb on the lady's forehead above her nose. + +"Is that level with my eyebrows?" she inquired. He reproved her. + +"I don't think you ought to speak. You destroy the connection." + +Mrs. Pratt was dumb. Mr. Pownceby proceeded in accordance with the +directions contained in the pamphlet. He rested the tips of his +fingers on the top of the lady's head. He took hold of her left hand +with his right. He applied the "inside part" of his thumb to the +centre of her palm. He said to her: + +"Look into my eyes." + +She looked into his eyes, her head inclined a little backwards. This +part of the proceedings was, so far as the gentleman was concerned, on +the whole agreeable. He gazed fixedly into her pretty eyes. Then he +added, in a "loud, clear, firm tone of voice": + +"Close your eyes quite tight." + +She closed her eyes. There was a pause for a few seconds. Remembering +the instructions contained in the pamphlet, he proceeded another step: + +"You cannot open your eyes," he said. "Your eyes are fast, quite +fast." + +The pamphlet had it, "Should the subject be very sensitive he will be +unable to open them." Apparently the subject, though in this case +feminine, was very sensitive. At least Mrs. Pratt kept her eyes shut +fast. Mr. Pownceby was a little startled. He removed his touch from +her brow and released her hand. + +"Mrs. Pratt, are you hypnotised already?" Mrs. Pratt was silent. "Mrs. +Pratt, you don't mean you're really hypnotised?" Still silence. He +leant forward and stared at the lady, not in the same way he had done +before, but quite as fixedly. "By Jove! I believe she is!" He got up +from the chair. He glanced at the pamphlet. He wanted to know how to +reverse the process--how to bring the lady to again. + +"This is a pretty state of things! The thing is not such a swindle as +I thought it was. But it's all nonsense. She can't be magnetised, or +mesmerised, or hypnotised, or whatever it is. If she is, the thing's +as easy as winking. If I'd only known it I'd have been mesmerising +people since the days of childhood. Mrs. Pratt!" + +But Mrs. Pratt was silent. If she was not "hypnotised," then she was +in some condition which was equally curious. She sat back in her +chair, with her face turned up to the ceiling, in a state of the most +complete quiescence. Something in her appearance struck Mr. Pownceby +as even unpleasantly odd. He recommenced searching down the page of +the green covered pamphlet for the reversal process. It was +beautifully simple. + +"In order to release him," the pamphlet said--throughout the writer +had taken it for granted that the "subject" would be masculine--"blow +a sharp, cold wind from your mouth on his eyes, and say with +authority, 'Now you can open them.' Repeat if necessary. It is +important to recollect that a cold wind blown from the operator +destroys the effect and demagnetises." + +One could not but suspect that some subjects might not like this. But +its simplicity was charming. If that was all that was necessary, then, +so far as Mr. Pownceby was concerned, the whole science of hypnotism +was already mastered. + +He approached Mrs. Pratt. He bent over her, devoutly hoping that no +one might enter the room as he was engaged in doing so. Quite a shock +went through him as he advanced his face towards hers, the expression +of her countenance was so very much like death. He blew a "cold wind" +on her eyes--those pretty blue eyes, whose cerulean hue he had veiled. + +"Now you can open them." + +The words were spoken with as much "authority" as he could muster in +the then agitated state of his mind; but Mrs. Pratt did not open them. +The pamphlet said, "Repeat if necessary." Mr. Pownceby repeated. He +blew, and he blew. He blew the "cold wind" all out of him, so that the +beads of perspiration stood upon his brow, but still the "subject" +gave no signs. + +"Mrs. Pratt! Mrs. Pratt! I say, Mrs. Pratt, for heaven's sake do look +at me!" + +All signs of "authority" had gone from him now. But wind and voice +alike were ineffectual. Apparently it was easier to hypnotise than to +do the other thing. In his trouble Mr. Pownceby told himself that the +writer of that pamphlet was--well, untrustworthy. Or else something +had gone wrong in the working. But what could it be? He looked at his +watch. + +"Half-past twelve! I shall have her husband here directly. I imagine +that he will make some observations if he finds his wife like this." + +Such a contingency was only to be expected. When a man, after long +absence from his wife, returns to find a stranger experimenting on +her, and she in a "hypnotic" condition, from which the stranger cannot +release her, his first feelings towards that stranger are not, in +civilised countries, invariably friendly. Mr. Pownceby, when he had +blown the "cold wind" all out of him, arrived at a resolution. + +"I will tell Doris. I must get her to help me. It is quite certain +that, whatever happens, I mustn't let that man come and find me alone +with his wife." + +It was only the dread of such a catastrophe that brought him to the +"sticking-point" of his resolution. Miss Haseltine--christened +Doris--was Mr. Pownceby's betrothed. She also was wintering in the +hotel with her mamma. Mr. Pownceby was aware, even painfully aware, +that the young lady's feelings towards Mrs. Pratt were not of the +warmest possible kind. He was equally conscious that her impression +was that his feelings were, if anything, _too_ warm. He would rather +anything had happened, almost, than that he should have been reduced +to the necessity of acquainting Miss Haseltine with the situation he +was in. But it was certainly impossible for him to allow the returning +husband to come in and find him there, alone with his wife, and she +apparently in a chronic hypnotic condition. + +So he went in search of the young lady. Of course he found her where +he would have least wished to find her--in the drawing-room with the +ladies. He had to call her out, and at first she wouldn't come. + +But as it would have been impossible for him to tell his tale in the +presence of a dozen sharp-eared and sharp-tongued women, he protested +that there was something of the utmost importance which he must say to +her alone. "Well, what is it?" she asked, directly he had got her +outside the door. He perceived that she was not in one of her +sentimental moods. Perhaps something in his manner had roused her +suspicions. + +"Mrs. Pratt has fainted." + +"Indeed? What has that to do with me? Let her faint. She looks to me +as though she were the sort of person who could faint at pleasure." + +"Doris, for goodness' sake hear me out; I want your help. It's through +me she's fainted." + +"Pray what do you mean?" + +"It's--it's this confounded thing." Mr. Pownceby held out the slim, +green-covered pamphlet. "You know I told you I'd written for that +pamphlet, 'How to Hypnotise.' Well, the thing came this morning; here +it is! I've been experimenting on her, and I've not only hypnotised +her, but, by George, I can't get her round again." + +"A pretty state of things, upon my word." + +"Don't pitch into me now, Doris, don't. There she is in her +sitting-room in a fit or something; I don't know what's the matter +with her; and her husband's coming this morning." + +"He is coming at last, is he?" + +"I expect him every moment; he's due at 12.32." + +"She seems to have told you all about it." + +"She told me so much, at any rate. I know I've been an ass, I can see +that now, but lend me a hand first, and let me have it afterwards. I +was obliged to come to you. I couldn't let him find me alone with her +in such a state as that. Come and see what you can do for her, there's +a darling, do! After all, it's for me, you know, not her." + +Miss Haseltine yielded so far as to advance with him along the +corridor. There was a fresh arrival when they reached the hall--a +gentleman. He was speaking to the young lady, who acted as +book-keeper, through the office window. + +"My name is Pratt--Gilead J. Pratt. I believe my wife is staying +here." + +Mr. Pownceby clutched Miss Haseltine's arm. + +"It's he!" he whispered. + +"There is a Mrs. Pratt staying here," replied the book-keeper. "Her +sitting-room is No. 13." + +The new arrival was about to be ushered into No. 13, when Mr. Pownceby +interposed. He hurried across the hall and touched him on the +shoulder. "Excuse me, may I speak to you? My name is Pownceby." + +The new arrival turned and faced him. As he did so Mr. Pownceby +perceived, a little dimly perhaps, what sort of a man he was. He was +of medium height, slightly built, about forty years of age, very dark, +with a clean-shaven face and a pair of keen black eyes, which looked +at Mr. Pownceby as though they meant to pierce him. + +"Delighted to hear you speak, or any man, even if his name's not +Pownceby." + +Directly the words were spoken Mr. Pownceby became conscious that the +new arrival was an American. + +"I believe you are Mr. Pratt--Mrs. Pratt's husband." + +"I am--worse luck." + +"Eh--she intended to meet you at 12.32." + +"She did, did she? That's her all through. As she used to be. She +never did get farther than intentions. It is about two years since I +saw her, and I don't see her now. Have you a message to deliver? Does +she desire that I should go away for another two years? If so, I'm +willing." + +As this was said out loud, without the slightest attempt at +concealment, so that every word was audible, not only to Mr. Pownceby, +to whom the remarks were addressed, but also to Miss Haseltine, and +the book-keeper, and the porter, and the boots, and the waiter, and +the chambermaid, and any other straggler who might happen to be within +fifty yards or so, it would seem that in her husband Mrs. Pratt +possessed a man of character. But Mr. Pownceby was not fond of such +publicity. + +"Can I say a word to you alone?" + +"No, sir, you cannot. If you have a message from my wife, say it. If +not, lead on to No. 13." + +"The fact is, Mr. Pratt, eh--Mrs. Pratt is not--eh--quite well." + +"Is that so? I'm glad to hear it. It's a comfort to know that only +sickness would keep her from her husband; though it wouldn't need much +of that to keep her from a chance of seeing me." + +"The fact is, I wish, Mr. Pratt, you would let me speak to you alone." + +"No, sir, I will not. If she's dead, don't spare my feelings. If she +has left me for a better man, don't spare my feelings either." + +"The fact is, she's in a hypnotic state." + +"In a what state?" + +"A hypnotic state." + +"What state's that?" + +"'Hypnotic' 's a new word--it's been brought in lately--it means +'mesmeric.'" + +Mr. Pratt paused before replying. He looked Mr. Pownceby up and down. + +"Look here, Mr. ---- I think you mentioned Pownceby; I don't know who +you are, but you seem a friendly kind of man. Take my advice and get +something off your chest. I see you've got it on." + +Mr. Pownceby smiled, rather faintly. He did not lack presence of mind, +as a rule, though just then the situation was as much as he could +manage. He made a dash at it. + +"I wish you would give me half a minute alone; but, since you will +not, I must try to tell my story where we are. You see this book?" Mr. +Pownceby held up the fatal treatise. "It contains instructions for the +performance of mesmeric experiments. Mrs. Pratt insisted on my +performing one of them on her. I succeeded in producing the mesmeric +state, but I--I couldn't get her out of it." + +There was a curious twinkle in Mr. Pratt's eyes. + +"I don't catch on," he said. + +"I say that I hypnotised her--that is, produced the mesmeric state, +but that I--I couldn't get her out of it." + +"Well?" + +"She's in it now." + +"In what?" + +"The mesmeric state." + +"Does she seem to like it?" + +"That is more than I can say. I had just induced Miss Haseltine to +come to my assistance when we were so fortunate as to encounter you." + +"Then I am to understand that when she ought to have been at the depot +looking out for me, she was engaged in looking out for the mesmeric +state along with you; is that so?" + +"I'm afraid it is." + +"Where is she?" + +"In her sitting-room, No. 13." + +"Lead on to No. 13." + +The procession started. The waiter went first, Mr. Pratt next, and +after him Miss Haseltine and Mr. Pownceby. Miss Haseltine's demeanour +was severe. Either her severity or something else seemed to weigh upon +her lover, who did not appear to be altogether at his ease. They +reached No. 13. The waiter knocked. There was no reply. He knocked +again; still no reply. Mr. Pratt turned towards Mr. Pownceby. + +"I guess she's still in that state of yours. I think we'll all go in." +He turned the handle of the door and entered. "I guess she's quitted." + +The room was empty. + + + CHAPTER II. + + AND THE GENTLEMAN. + +It was undoubtedly the case, unless they were to suppose that she had +hidden under the sofa, or behind the curtains. Mr. Pownceby looked +about him, conscious of a slight feeling of bewilderment. There were +the two chairs, exactly as he left them, but the one which Mrs. Pratt +had occupied was vacant. + +"It's very odd," he murmured. + +"How?" + +"She was certainly unconscious when I left her." + +"Perhaps the knowledge that she was failing in her duty as a wife came +to her in that mesmeric state; came to her so strongly that she +started off to the depot, just then and there, to look for me. If +she's at the depot now, in the state you say she was, I guess she'll +soon be popular." + +"Don't you think I'd better go and look for her?" + +"I do not. If she's gone, she's gone, and if she comes back again she +comes, but I'm not the man to put my friends out for a trifle. My +friend, if you will allow me to call you so, give me your hand." +Before Mr. Pownceby was quite aware of it, Mr. Pratt had possession of +his hand. "I thank you. You have placed me under an obligation to you +this day. But it may be that I shall cry you evens yet. Let's liquor. +Perhaps the young lady will pool in?" Miss Haseltine, however, making +some inaudible remark having reference to her mamma, vanished out of +sight. Mr. Pratt was not at all abashed. He addressed the waiters. +"Champagne--a large bottle--and a bucket of ice." + +Mr. Pownceby protested. + +"You are very kind, but I don't drink at this hour of the day, and +only so----" + +Mr. Pratt cut him short. + +"Fetch the drink." The waiter fled. "If, after performing those +pleasing experiments on the wife, you refuse to drink with the +husband, I shall take it quite unkindly." + +"But don't you think some inquiries ought to be made for Mrs. Pratt?" + +"I do not. What I do think is that I ought to cultivate your +friendship now that I have the chance. A man who knows the wife so +well should know something of the husband too." + +The drink came. Mr. Pratt saw two bumpers filled. Mr. Pownceby, who +was an abstemious man, had a difficulty in escaping being compelled to +drain his draught. + +"Bring another bottle when I ring," said Mr. Pratt as the waiter left +the room. + +The two gentlemen were left alone. Mr. Pownceby still did not feel +quite easy in his mind. Champagne generally disagreed with him at any +time, always in the morning. He had some glimmerings of an idea that, +if he refused to drink, Mr. Pratt would seek in his refusal an +occasion to quarrel. He had heard and read of some curious customs in +the States; how, for instance, to refuse, under certain circumstances, +to drink with a citizen of the Great Republic was to place on him an +insult which could only be wiped out by blood--blood in which +six-shooters played a part. He half suspected that Mr. Pratt was a +citizen like that. Certainly he was unlike any American he had seen. +His indifference to his wife's fate was almost brutal. Mr. Pownceby +felt this, but he also felt that it was impossible for him to insist +on making inquiries if the husband declined to sanction them. Nor was +his uneasiness lessened by Mr. Pratt's appearance of entire ease. That +gentleman leaned back in his chair--the one his wife had occupied--his +summer coat unbuttoned, his hat tilted on to the back of his head. + +"So you hypnotised my wife?" Mr. Pownceby smiled faintly; the subject +was beginning to be unpleasant. "Hypnotise me." + +Mr. Pownceby started. + +"I suppose you're joking?" + +"Why? My wife had an inquiring mind, why shouldn't I have too? Perhaps +you prefer trying those sort of experiments on wives rather than on +their husbands." + +Mr. Pownceby was not quite sure if this remark was intended +disagreeably. It made him wince. + +"Perhaps you think I have been trying these experiments all my life. +Until this pamphlet was brought by this morning's post I knew no more +about hypnotism than you do. My first experiment was tried, at her own +urgent request, upon your wife." + +"I take after her; I'm fond of experiments too. That book must be a +treasure. Oblige me with a glance at it." + +Mr. Pownceby handed it to him. Mr. Pratt began reading at the end. + +"There's a nice little bit as a finish." Mr. Pratt read it aloud: "'In +conclusion, I would earnestly ask all my readers to remember that this +valuable science should not be abused, especially in the case of +females, and that, in all cases when making experiments, they should +have friends or other persons present.' That's sound advice. Did you +notice it?" + +"I--I think it caught my eye!" + +Mr. Pownceby seemed a little fidgety. Mr. Pratt turned to the +beginning. + +"I see it mentions that the subject is to stare at the operator, and +the operator is to stare at the subject, for about ten minutes or a +quarter of an hour. Did you work the thing like that?" + +"I followed, to the best of my ability, the instructions contained in +the pamphlet." + +"Did you stare at my wife?" + +"It sounds uncivil, but I'm afraid I did." + +"For ten minutes or a quarter of an hour?" + +"About that." + +"And did my wife stare at you?" + +Mr. Pownceby laughed. He was conscious that Mr. Pratt's line of +examination was tending to place him in a false position. + +"I perceive you've marked this work with your pencil where it says, +'Place the thumb of your left hand on the subject's forehead, just +above the nose, and level with the eyebrows.' Did you place the thumb +of your left hand on my wife's forehead just above the nose, level +with the eyebrows?" + +"Really, Mr. Pratt, I can only say that, with the view of making a +little experiment, I followed, to the best of my ability, the +instructions generally." + +"You seem to have seen the thing well through. It says that you've +next to rest the ends of your fingers on the top of the subject's +head. Did you rest the ends of your fingers on the top of my wife's +head?" + +"You may take it for granted that I did whatever the book directs." + +"May I? That's kind. You increase my sense of obligation. Then you're +to say to the subject, 'Look into my eyes.' Did you ask my wife to +look into your eyes?" + +"I did--certainly." + +"Certainly. Of course. You're thorough--like the book. The man who put +this book together had seen it done before. Then you're to say, 'Close +your eyes quite tight.' Did you tell my wife to close her eyes quite +tight?" + +"I did. It was at that point that she went off into the hypnotic +state." + +"Was it now? This is really interesting. And what did you do next?" + +"I tried to bring her to." + +"Now, hark at that! And after all the trouble you had taken to send +her off. And did she come?" + +"I am sorry to say, as I have already explained to you, that my +efforts were not attended with success." + +"That was mean of her--real mean. And I suppose that, when you were +performing these little experiments of yours upon my wife, this room +was filled with a large assemblage?" + +"We were alone together. I wish, now, it had been otherwise." + +"Why?" + +"After the questions you have already put to me, that needs no +answer." + +"Think not? Well, let me fill up your glass for you, Mr. Pownceby." + +"I am obliged to you, but must beg you to excuse me." + +"Is that so? You don't show yourself so friendly towards me as towards +my wife. Perhaps, Mr. Pownceby, you're not aware that for the last two +years I've been trotting round the world picking up the pieces to +throw into her lap. She's English, and I'm American. She's not at all +times fond of me, and we sometimes differ; but I love her, in my way. +So you may think that when the first thing I hear, when I come to +catch a sight of her after a two years' parting, is this little tale +of yours, I find it a pleasing tale entirely. I find it that, I do +assure you. Now, the only thing I should like you to do would be to +play those little tricks on me which you played upon my wife. I should +like to be hypnotised, uncommonly." + +"If I were to attempt to do so I don't think that I should succeed. +But, in any case, after my experience of this morning, it will be a +long time before I make any more experiments on any one." + +"Is that so? Think it over, Mr. Pownceby, while I lock this door and +slip the key into my pocket." + +Mr. Pratt locked the door and "slipped," as he called it, the key into +his pocket. + +"Mr. Pratt, I insist upon your unlocking that door." + +"Mr. Pownceby, I was raised out West, and I was raised fighting, and I +learnt to smell a fight when it was coming, and there's as big a fight +now coming as ever I yet smelt." + +"Why do you use this language, sir, to me?" + +"It's my ignorance, may be. But in those parts where I was raised, +when one man played upon another man's wife the tricks you've played +on mine, it generally ended up in fighting. You bet it's going to end +in fighting now." Mr. Pownceby made a movement towards the bell. Mr. +Pratt sprang in front of him. "You can ring the bell, sir, afterwards; +but first you'll listen to me. They'll have to break the door down to +get into this room, and that'll be a scandal; and while they're +breaking it down I'll be whipping you. You'd better, take it fighting. +I've got a shooter." Putting his hand to his pistol-pocket, Mr. Pratt +flashed the barrel of a revolver in Mr. Pownceby's face. "But I know +your English notions, and I don't want to use it in a little affair +like this. Let's strip to the waist, and clear the furniture out of +the middle of the room, and have a little prize-fight all to +ourselves." + +"Do you take me for a madman, Mr. Pratt? If you don't immediately +unlock the door I shall summon assistance, and if you use any violence +towards me, I shall give you into the charge of the police." + +"Is that your line? That's mine!" + +Dropping the hand which held the revolver, Mr. Pratt delivered with +his left. Delivered so neatly, in the centre of Mr. Pownceby's +forehead, that that gentleman was hurled backwards on to the floor. + +"If you like you can take it lying down, and you can summon assistance +while you are taking it; but you'll take it somehow--that you bet." + +Mr. Pownceby, lying on the floor, looked up at Mr. Pratt standing over +him. + +"Let me get up." He got up. The blow had cut the skin, and the blood +was trickling through. With his handkerchief he staunched the flow. +"In America, Mr. Pratt, they may think the sort of thing that you +propose heroic. In England they consider a row of any sort +ridiculous." + +"Consider! It isn't what they consider I'm thinking of, it's how +you're going to take it." + +Mr. Pownceby fixed his glance on Mr. Pratt's keen black eyes. He +smiled. + +"Take it? I'll take it fighting, like the converter of Colonel Quagg!" + +"I thought you would. I smelt it coming on." + +As he spoke Mr. Pratt placed his revolver on the mantelshelf. Mr. +Pownceby was still smiling. + +"Do you propose to settle it now?" + +"I do. I propose to settle it before you leave this room." + +"In that case don't you think we'd better pull the blind down, or +people walking on the terrace will be able to see the fun? If we are +going to make asses of ourselves, we may as well do it, as far as +possible, in private." + +Mr. Pratt pulled the blind down. The sun was shining outside. The room +was still quite light. + +"I guess," said Mr. Pratt, "we had better clear the furniture out of +the middle of the room." + +Mr. Pownceby assisted him in doing so, what little there was to clear. +The bottle of champagne and the two glasses they placed with the +revolver on the mantelshelf. They then proceeded to strip. As they +were doing so Mr. Pownceby asked a question. + +"How shall we manage about time?" + +"We will call time when we feel we want it. You understand, this is +not only a fight; it's a whipping. I'm whipping you." + +Mr. Pownceby smiled as he answered: "I understand exactly." + +When they were in position there was not much, so far as appearance +went, for a lover of the "fancy" to choose between the two. Now that +they were peeled, both seemed thoroughly fit--as fit almost as though +they had been trained. Mr. Pownceby was fair, Mr. Pratt was dark; that +was about the only difference. Both would have turned the scale at +something near eleven stone, and both measured something under five +foot eight. Nor did it take long to show that both could use their +hands. There was none of that waiting for each other which so often +tries the patience of the spectators round a ring. Mr. Pratt came at +once to business; with, perhaps, rather too much self-confidence. He +was apparently under the impression that it was going to be a case of +whipping his opponent from the first; which was the reason, doubtless, +that Mr. Pownceby succeeded in returning the compliment which had been +paid himself, and landing Mr. Pratt upon his back. That gentleman +seemed surprised. + +"I say," he asked, lying where he had fallen, "what's this?" + +Mr. Pownceby replied politely: "I hope I haven't hurt you?" + +"You haven't hurt me--much. You've surprised me--more. I reckon we'll +continue." + +The proceedings recommenced. But this time Mr. Pratt had changed his +tactics. Instead of coming up with the apparent intention of wiping +his opponent off the face of the earth with a single blow, he played +his game more cautiously. He fenced; but, becoming tired of this, and +feeling possibly that the whipping was not proceeding fast enough, he +led off with his right, and followed on with his left, and Mr. +Pownceby countered and returned--returned with such effect that for +half a minute Mr. Pratt was dancing about while Mr. Pownceby was +performing on him much in the fashion which the regimental drummer +beats to quarters on his drum. + +"Time!" he cried. + +The round was over. A pause ensued, during which his feelings were +plainly too deep for words. + +"Have you ever had a whipping before?" he asked. + +Mr. Pownceby smiled; it was evident that his smile was a smile of +enjoyment at last. + +"One or two," he said. + +"Like this?" + +"Not exactly. In England we don't, as a rule, indulge in this form of +amusement in the private sitting-room of an hotel." + +"Don't you? Well, it's as well. I smelt that a big fight was coming, +and it's come. I'm going to enjoy myself entirely. You've closed up +one of my eyes, I should say, from the feel of it, for ever. You've +broken the bridge of my nose; what there'll be to pay for the blood +upon the carpet--there's a quart gone from me already--is more than I +quite care to think. Before I've finished whipping you I reckon I'll +be slain." + +"Come, Mr. Pratt, don't you think this foolish business had better +cease? If you require an apology I am willing to tender one in any +form you like. What passed between your wife and myself was simply in +the nature of a little scientific experiment." + +"It'll be in the nature of a little scientific experiment what's going +to pass between us too. I'm fond of experiments as well as you. Time!" + +Mr. Pratt fell into position. He struck at Mr. Pownceby. Mr. Pownceby +laughed as he warded off the blow. + +"Come, Mr. Pratt, why will you persist in this absurdity?" + +"I'm going to whip you, sir." + +"In that case you really must excuse me for putting on the steam. If a +waiter or someone were to come and find me engaged like this, I should +never hear the last of it as long as I lived. Here goes!" + +It went. He had been warding off Mr. Pratt's blows while he was +speaking. When he ceased the battle really joined. Mr. Pratt's guards +were nowhere. In spite of all that he could do to save himself, his +antagonist proceeded to administer severe punishment in thoroughly +workmanlike style. The blows rang out upon his head and body. Mr. +Pownceby wound up with one under the chin which lifted him off his +feet and laid him on his back. He lay where he fell. The blow had +knocked him senseless. Mr. Pownceby proceeded to revive him with the +remains of the champagne. + +"This," he murmured, opening his eyes and looking up, "is nice." + +Mr. Pownceby propped him up upon a chair. + +"You compelled me to rush the thing; but I hope I haven't hurt you +much." + +"Well," said Mr. Pratt, "you haven't killed me--quite. I never enjoyed +whipping a man so much before. Say, stranger, is this the first little +fight you've had?" + +"I've sparred for the amateur championship, and won it twice. I'm +going in for it again next week." + +"You might have mentioned that before the game began." + +"If the inherent absurdity of your proposal could not deter you, I +doubt if any information I might have imparted would have been of much +avail." + +"There's something in that. Time!" + +Mr. Pratt rose from his chair. He stood on his feet--rather +doubtfully. + +"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Pownceby. + +"I'm going on whipping you." + +"Look here, Mr. Pratt, each time you stand up I shall simply knock you +down again. Of course you can go on with that sort of thing as long as +you like." + +"That is so; I can. And that's a sort of thing of which one doesn't +care to get more than enough." + +Mr. Pratt rested his hand on the back of a chair. It seemed as though, +without some support of that kind, he could not stand. Mr. Pownceby +advanced to him. + +"Mr. Pratt, give me your hand." + +Mr. Pratt gave it to him, it would seem, mechanically. The two men +stood looking at each other in silence--the one almost without a +scratch, the other a battered ruin. While they were so engaged the +latch of the French window was opened from without, the blind was +thrust aside, and a lady entered. It was Mrs. Pratt. When she saw what +met her eyes she stared, which, as a breach of good manners, was, +under the circumstances, excusable. + +"Mr. Pownceby! Gilead! What have you been doing?" + +"I've been whipping him," said Mr. Pratt. "I must be off my ordinary, +for I never whipped a man that way before." + +Mr. Pownceby slipped on his jacket. He helped Mr. Pratt to put on his. + +"It's my fault, Mrs. Pratt. When I told your husband of our little +experiment and that I found myself unable to release you from the +hypnotic state which I had induced he thought I must have done you a +serious injury, and that he naturally resented." + +Mrs. Pratt looked at Mr. Pownceby. There was a twinkle of intelligence +in her sweet blue eyes. + +"I see. Miss Haseltine is looking for you. You'll find her in the +drawing-room." + +"Thank you," said Mr. Pownceby. "I--I'll go and look for her." + +As he sneaked out of the room, with his shirt and waistcoat under his +arm, devoutly hoping that no one might encounter him on his journey to +his own apartment, he heard Mrs. Pratt make this remark to her +husband--the first after two years absence: + +"So, Gilead, you've been at it again." + +He heard Mr. Pratt reply: + +"I have. I was raised fighting, and I reckon that fighting I shall +die. If I have to whip that Pownceby again it is a certainty I shall." + + + + + AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS. + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE PROMISE. + +"An old-fashioned Christmas.--A lively family will accept a gentleman +as paying guest to join them in spending an old-fashioned Christmas in +the heart of the country." + +That was the advertisement. It had its points. I was not sure what, in +this case, an old-fashioned Christmas might happen to mean. I imagine +there were several kinds of "old-fashioned" Christmases; but it could +hardly be worse than a chop in my chambers, or--horror of horrors!--at +the club; or my cousin Lucy's notion of what she calls the "festive +season." Festive? Yes! She and her husband, who suffers from +melancholia, and all the other complaints which flesh is heir to, and +I, dragging through what I call a patent-medicine dinner, and talking +of everybody who is dead and gone, or else going, and of nothing else. + +So I wrote to the advertiser. The reply was written in a sprawling +feminine hand. It was a little vague. It appeared that the terms would +be five guineas; but there was no mention of the length of time which +that fee would cover. I might arrive, it seemed, on Christmas Eve, but +there was no hint as to when I was to go, if ever. The whole thing was +a trifle odd. There was nothing said about the sort of accommodation +which would be provided, nothing about the kind of establishment which +was maintained, or the table which was kept. No references were +offered or asked for. It was merely stated that "we're a very lively +family, and that if you're lively yourself you'll get on uncommonly +well." The letter was signed "Madge Wilson." + +Now it is a remarkable thing that I have always had an extraordinary +predilection for the name Madge. I do not know why. I have never known +a Madge. And yet, from my boyhood upward, I have desired to meet one. +Here was an opportunity offered. She was apparently the careworn +mother of a "lively family." Under such circumstances she was hardly +likely to be "lively" herself, but her name was Madge, and it was the +accident of her Christian name which decided me to go. + +I had no illusions. No doubt the five guineas were badly wanted; even +a "lively family" would be hardly likely to advertise for a perfect +stranger to spend Christmas with them if they were not. I did not +expect a princely entertainment. Still I felt that it could hardly be +worse than a chop or cousin Lucy; the subjects of her conversation I +never cared about when they were alive, and I certainly do not want to +talk about them now they are dead. As for the "pills" and "drops" with +which her husband doses himself between the courses, it makes me ill +even to think of them. + +On Christmas Eve the weather was abominable. All night it had been +blowing and raining. In the morning it began to freeze. By the time +the streets were like so many skating rinks it commenced to snow. And +it kept on snowing; that turned out to be quite a record in the way of +snow-storms. Hardly the sort of weather to start for an unknown +destination "in the heart of the country." But, at the last moment, I +did not like to back out. I said I would go, and I meant to go. + +I had been idiot enough to load myself with a lot of Christmas +presents, without the faintest notion why. I had not given a Christmas +present for years--there had been no one to give them to. Lucy cannot +bear such trifling, and her husband's only notion of a present at any +time was a gallon jar of somebody's Stomach Stirrer. I am no dealer in +poisons. + +I knew nothing of the people I was going to. The youngest member of +the family might be twenty, or the oldest ten. No doubt the things I +had bought would be laughed at, probably I should never venture to +offer them. Still, if you have not tried your hand at that kind of +thing for ever so long, the mere act of purchasing is a pleasure. That +is a fact. + +I had never enjoyed "shopping" so much since I was a boy. I felt quite +lively myself as I mingled with the Christmas crowd, looking for +things which might not turn out to be absolutely preposterous. I even +bought something for Madge--I mean Mrs. Wilson. Of course, I knew that +I had no right to do anything of the kind, and was aware that the +chances were a hundred to one against my ever presuming to hint at its +existence. I was actually ass enough to buy something for her +husband--two things, indeed; alternatives, as it were--a box of +cigars, if he turned out to be a smoker, and a case of whiskey if he +didn't. I hoped to goodness that he would not prove to be a +hypochondriac, like Lucy's husband. I would not give him pills. What +the "lively family" would think of a perfect stranger arriving +burdened with rubbish, as if he had known them all their lives, I did +not dare to think. No doubt they would set him down as a lunatic right +away. + +It was a horrible journey. The trains were late, and, of course, +overcrowded; there was enough luggage in our compartment to have +filled it, and still there was one more passenger than there ought to +have been; an ill-conditioned old fellow who wanted my hat-box put +into the van because it happened to tumble off the rack on to his +head. I pointed out to him that the rack was specially constructed for +light luggage, that a hat-box was light luggage, and that if the train +jolted, he ought to blame the company, not me. He was impervious to +reason. His wrangling and jangling so upset me, that I went past +the station at which I ought to have changed. Then I had to wait +three-quarters of an hour for a train to take me back again, only to +find that I had missed the one I intended to catch. So I had to cool +my heels for two hours and a half in a wretched cowshed amidst a +bitter, whirling snowstorm. It is some satisfaction for me to be able +to reflect that I made it warm for the officials, however cold I might +have been myself. + +When the train did start, some forty minutes after scheduled time, it +jolted along in a laborious fashion at the rate of about six miles an +hour, stopping at every roadside hovel. I counted seven in a distance, +I am convinced, of less than twenty miles. When at last I reached +Crofton, my journey's end, it turned out that the station staff +consisted of a half-witted individual, who was stationmaster, porter, +and clerk combined, and a hulking lad who did whatever else there was +to do. No one had come to meet me, the village was "about half a +mile," and Hangar Dene, the house for which my steps were bent, "about +four miles by the road"--how far it was across ploughed fields my +informant did not mention. + +There was a trap at the "Boy and Blunderbuss," but that required +fetching. Finally the hulking lad was dispatched. It took him some +time, considering the distance was only "about half a mile." When the +trap did appear it looked to me uncommonly like an open spring cart. +In it I was deposited, with my luggage. The snow was still descending +in whirling clouds. Never shall I forget the drive, in that miserable +cart, through the storm and those pitch black country lanes. We had +been jogging along some time before the driver opened his mouth. + +"Be you going to stop with they Wilsons?" + +"I am." + +"Ah!" + +There was something in the tone of his "Ah!" which whetted my +curiosity, near the end of my tether though I was. + +"Why do you ask?" + +"It be about time as someone were to stay with them as were a bit +capable like." + +I did not know what he meant. I did not ask. I was beyond it. I was +chilled to the bone, wet, tired, hungry. I had long been wishing that +an old-fashioned Christmas had been completely extinct before I had +thought of adventuring in quest of one. Better cousin Lucy's notion of +the "festive season." + +We passed through a gate, which I had to get down to open, along some +sort of avenue. Suddenly the cart pulled up. + +"Here we be." + +That might be so. It was a pity he did not add where "here" was. There +was a great shadow, which possibly did duty for a house, but, if so, +there was not a light in any of the windows, and there was nothing +visible in the shape of a door. The whereabouts of this, however, the +driver presently made clear. + +"There be the door in front of you; you go up three steps, if you can +find 'em. There's a knocker, if none of 'em haven't twisted it off. If +they have, there's a bell on your right, if it isn't broken." + +There appeared to be no knocker, though whether it had been "twisted" +off was more than I could say. But there was a bell, which creaked +with rust, though it was not broken. I heard it tinkle in the +distance. No answer; though I allowed a more than decent interval. + +"Better ring again," suggested the driver. "Hard. Maybe they're up to +some of their games, and wants rousing." + +Was there a chuckle in the fellow's voice? I rang again, and again +with all the force I could. The bell reverberated through what seemed +like an empty house. + +"Is there no one in the place?" + +"They're there right enough. Where's another thing. Maybe on the roof; +or in the cellar. If they know you're coming perhaps they hear and +don't choose to answer. Better ring again." + +I sounded another peal. Presently feet were heard advancing along the +passage--several pairs it seemed--and a light gleamed through the +window over the door. A voice inquired: "Who's there?" + +"Mr. Christopher, from London." + +The information was greeted with what sounded uncommonly like a chorus +of laughter. There was a rush of retreating feet, an expostulating +voice, then darkness again, and silence. + +"Who lives here? Are the people mad?" + +"Well--thereabouts." + +Once more I suspected the driver of a chuckle. My temper was rising. I +had not come all that way, and subjected myself to so much discomfort, +to be played tricks with. I tolled the bell again. After a few +seconds' interval the pit-pat of what was obviously one pair of feet +came towards the door. Again a light gleamed through the pane. A key +was turned, a chain unfastened, bolts withdrawn; it seemed as if some +one had to drag a chair forward before one of these latter could be +reached. After a vast amount of unfastening, the door was opened, and +on the threshold there stood a girl, with a lighted candle in her +hand. The storm rushed in; she put up her hand to shield the light +from danger. + +"Can I see Mrs. Wilson? I'm expected. I'm Mr. Christopher, from +London." + +"Oh!" + +That was all she said. I looked at her; she at me. The driver's voice +came from the background. + +"I drove him over from the station, Miss. There be a lot of luggage. +He do say he's come to stay with you." + +"Is that you, Tidy? I'm afraid I can offer you nothing to drink. We've +lost the key of the cellar, and there's nothing out, except water, and +I don't think you'd care for that." + +"I can't say rightly as how I should, Miss. Next time will do. Be it +all right?" + +The girl continued to regard me. + +"Perhaps you had better come inside." + +"I think I had." + +I went inside; it was time. + +"Have you any luggage?" I admitted that I had. "Perhaps it had better +be brought in." + +"Perhaps it had." + +"Do you think that you could manage, Tidy?" + +"The mare, she'll stand still enough. I should think I could, miss." + + + CHAPTER II. + + AND THE PERFORMANCE. + +By degrees my belongings were borne into the hall, hidden under an +envelope of snow. The girl seemed surprised at their number. The +driver was paid, the cart disappeared, the door was shut; the girl and +I were alone together. + +"We didn't expect that you would come." + +"Not expect me? But it was all arranged; I wrote to say that I would +come. Did you not receive my letter?" + +"We thought that you were joking." + +"Joking! Why should you imagine that?" + +"We were joking." + +"You were? Then I am to gather that I have been made the subject of a +practical joke, and that I am an intruder here?" + +"Well, it's quite true that we did not think you were in earnest. You +see, it's this way, we're alone." + +"Alone? Who are 'we'?" + +"Well, it will take a good while to explain, and you look tired and +cold." + +"I am both." + +"Perhaps you're hungry?" + +"I am." + +"I don't know what you can have to eat, unless it's to-morrow's +dinner." + +"To-morrow's dinner!" I stared. "Can I see Mrs. Wilson?" + +"Mrs. Wilson? That's mamma. She's dead." + +"I beg your pardon. Can I see your father?" + +"Oh, father's been dead for years." + +"Then to whom have I the pleasure of speaking?" + +"I'm Madge. I'm mother now." + +"You are--mother now?" + +"The trouble will be about where you are to sleep--unless it's with +the boys. The rooms are all anyhow, and I'm sure I don't know where +the beds are." + +"I suppose there are servants in the house?" + +She shook her head. + +"No. The boys thought that they were nuisances so we got rid of them. +The last went yesterday. She wouldn't do any work, so we thought she'd +better go." + +"Under those circumstances I think it probable that you were right. +Then am I to understand that there are children?" + +"Rather!" + +As she spoke there came a burst of laughter from the other end of the +passage. I spun round. No one was in sight. She explained. + +"They're waiting round the corner. Perhaps we'd better have them here. +You people, you'd better come and let me introduce you to Mr. +Christopher." + +A procession began to appear from round the corner of boys and girls. +In front was a girl of about sixteen. She advanced with outstretched +hand and an air of self-possession which took me at a disadvantage. + +"I'm Bessie. I'm sorry we kept you waiting at the door, but the fact +is that we thought it was Eliza's brother who had come to insult us +again." + +"Pray, don't mention it. I am glad that it was not Eliza's brother." + +"So am I. He is a dreadful man." + +I shook hands with the rest of them. There were six more, four boys +and two girls. They formed a considerable congregation as they stood +eyeing me with inquiring glances. Madge was the first to speak. + +"I wondered all along if he would take it as a joke or not, and you +see he hasn't. I thought all the time that it was a risky thing to +do." + +"I like that! You keep your thoughts to yourself then. It was you +proposed it. You said you'd been reading about something of the kind +in a story, and you voted for our advertising ourselves for a lark." + +The speaker was the biggest boy, a good-looking youngster, with sallow +cheeks and shrewd black eyes. + +"But, Rupert, I never meant it to go so far as this." + +"How far did you mean it to go then? It was your idea all through. You +sent in the advertisement, you wrote the letters, and now he's here. +If you didn't mean it, why didn't you stop his coming?" + +"Rupert!" + +The girls cheeks were crimson. Bessie interposed. + +"The thing is that as he is here it's no good worrying about whose +fault it is. We shall simply have to make the best of it." Then, to +me, "I suppose you really have come to stay?" + +"I confess that I had some notion of the kind--to spend an +old-fashioned Christmas." + +At this there was laughter, chiefly from the boys. Rupert exclaimed: + +"A nice sort of old-fashioned Christmas you'll find it will be. You'll +be sorry you came before it's through." + +"I am not so sure of that." + +There appeared to be something in my tone which caused a touch of +silence to descend upon the group. They regarded each other +doubtfully, as if in my words a reproof was implied. Bessie was again +the spokeswoman. + +"Of course, now that you have come, we mean to be nice to you, that is +as nice as we can. Because the thing is that we are not in a condition +to receive visitors. Do we look as if we were?" + +To be frank, they did not. Even Madge was a little unkempt, while the +boys were in what I believe is the average state of the average boy. + +"And," murmured Madge, "where is Mr. Christopher to sleep?" + +"What is he to eat?" inquired Bessie. She glanced at my packages. "I +suppose you have brought nothing with you?" + +"I'm afraid I haven't. I had hoped to have found something ready for +me on my arrival." + +Again they peeped at each other, as if ashamed. Madge repeated her +former suggestion. + +"There's to-morrow's dinner." + +"Oh, hang it!" exclaimed Rupert. "It's not so bad as that. There's a +ham." + +"Uncooked." + +"You can cut a steak off, or whatever you call it, and have it +broiled." + +A meal was got ready, in the preparation of which every member of the +family took a hand. And a room was found for me, in which was a +blazing fire and traces of recent feminine occupation. I suspected +that Madge had yielded her own apartment as a shelter for the +stranger. By the time I had washed and changed my clothes, the +impromptu dinner, or supper, or whatever it was, was ready. + +A curious repast it proved to be; composed of oddly contrasted dishes, +cooked--and sometimes uncooked--in original fashion. But hunger, that +piquant sauce, gave it a relish of its own. At first no one seemed +disposed to join me. By degrees, however, one after another found a +knife and fork, until all the eight were seated with me round the +board, eating, some of them, as if for dear life. + +"The fact is," explained Rupert, "we're a rum lot. We hardly ever sit +down together. We don't have regular meals, but whenever anyone feels +peckish, he goes and gets what there is, and cooks it and eats it on +his own." + +"It's not quite so bad as that," protested Madge, "though it's pretty +bad." + +It did seem pretty bad, from the conventional point of view. From +their conversation, which was candour itself, I gleaned details which +threw light upon the peculiar position of affairs. It seemed that +their father had been dead some seven years. Their mother, who had +been always delicate, had allowed them to run nearly wild. Since she +died, some ten months back, they appeared to have run quite wild. The +house, with some six hundred acres of land, was theirs, and an income, +as to whose exact amount no one seemed quite clear. + +"It's about eight hundred a year," said Rupert. + +"I don't think it's quite so much," doubted Madge. + +"I'm sure it's more," declared Bessie. "I believe we're being robbed." + +I thought it extremely probable. They must have had peculiar parents. +Their father had left everything absolutely to their mother, and the +mother, in her turn, everything in trust to Madge, to be shared +equally among them all. Madge was an odd trustee. In her hands the +household had become a republic, in which every one did exactly as he +or she pleased. The result was chaos. No one wanted to go to school, +so no one went. The servants, finding themselves provided with eight +masters and mistresses, followed their example, and did as they liked. +Consequently, after sundry battles royal--lively episodes some of them +had evidently been--one after the other had been got rid of, until, +now, not one remained. Plainly the house must be going to rack and +ruin. + +"But have you no relations?" I inquired. + +Rupert answered. + +"We've got some cousins, or uncles, or something of the kind in +Australia, where, so far as I'm concerned, I hope they'll stop." + +When I was in my room, which I feared was Madge's, I told myself that +it was a queer establishment on which I had lighted. Yet I could not +honestly affirm that I was sorry I had come. I had lived such an +uneventful and such a solitary life, and had so often longed for +someone in whom to take an interest--who would not talk medicine +chest!--that to be plunged, all at once, into the centre of this troop +of boys and girls was an accident which, if only because of its +novelty, I found amusing. And then it was so odd that I should have +come across a Madge at last! + +In the morning I was roused by noises, the cause of which, at first, I +could not understand. By degrees the explanation dawned on me; the +family was putting the house to rights. A somewhat noisy process it +seemed. Someone was singing, someone else was shouting, and two or +three others were engaged in a heated argument. In such loud tones was +it conducted that the gist of the matter travelled up to me. + +"How do you think I'm going to get this fire to burn if you beastly +kids keep messing it about? It's no good banging at it with the poker +till it's alight." + +The voice was unmistakably Rupert's. There was the sound of a scuffle, +cries of indignation, then a girlish voice pouring oil upon the +troubled waters. Presently there was a rattle and clatter, as if +someone had fallen from the top of the house to the bottom. I rushed +to my bedroom door. + +"What on earth has happened?" + +A small boy was outside--Peter. He explained, + +"Oh, it's only the broom and dustpan gone tobogganing down the stairs. +It's Bessie's fault; she shouldn't leave them on the landing." + +Bessie, appearing from a room opposite, disclaimed responsibility. + +"I told you to look out where you were going, but you never do. I'd +only put them down for a second, while I went in to empty a jug of +water on to Jack, who won't get out of bed, and there are all the +boots for him to clean." + +Injured tones came through the open portal. + +"You wait, that's all! I'll soak your bed tonight--I'll drown it. I +don't want to clean your dirty boots, I'm not a shoe-black." + +The breakfast was a failure. To begin with, it was inordinately late. +It seemed that a bath was not obtainable. I had been promised some hot +water, but as I waited and waited and none arrived, I proceeded to +break the ice in my jug--it was a bitterly cold morning, nice +"old-fashioned" weather--and to wash in the half-frozen contents. As I +am not accustomed to perform my ablutions in partially dissolved ice, +I fear that the process did not improve my temper. + +It was past eleven when I got down, feeling not exactly in a +"Christmassy" frame of mind. Everything, and everyone, seemed at sixes +and sevens. It was after noon when breakfast appeared. The principal +dish consisted of eggs and bacon; but as the bacon was fried to +cinders, and the eggs all broken, it was not so popular as it might +have been, Madge was moved to melancholy. + +"Something will have to be done! We can't go on like this! We must +have someone in to help us!" + +Bessie was sarcastic. + +"You might give Eliza another trial. She told you, if you didn't like +the way she burned the bacon, to burn it yourself, and as you've +followed her advice, she might be able to give you other useful hints +on similar lines." + +Rupert indulged himself in the same vein. + +"Then there's Eliza's brother. He threatened to knock your blooming +head off for saying Eliza was dishonest, just because she collared +everything she laid her hands on; he might turn out a useful sort of +creature to have about the place." + +"It's all very well for you to laugh, but it's beyond a jest. I don't +know how we're going to cook the dinner." + +"Can I be of any assistance?" I inquired. "First of all, what is there +to cook?" + +It seemed that there were a good many things to cook. A turkey, a +goose, beef, plum pudding, mince pies, custard, sardines--it seemed +that Molly, the third girl, as she phrased it, could "live on +sardines," and esteemed no dinner a decent dinner at which they did +not appear--together with a list of etceteras half as long as my arm. + +"One thing is clear; you can't cook all those things to-day." + +"We can't cook anything." + +This was Rupert. He was tilting his chair back, and had his face +turned towards the ceiling. + +"Why not?" + +"Because there's no coal." + +"No coal?" + +"There's about half a scuttle full of dust. If you can make it burn +you'll be clever." + +What Rupert said was correct. Madge confessed, with crimson cheeks, +that she had meant, over and over again, to order some coal, but had +continually forgotten it, until finally Christmas Day had found them +with an empty cellar. There was plenty of wood, but it was not so dry +as it might have been, and anyhow, the grate was not constructed to +burn wood. + +"You might try smoked beef," suggested Rupert. "When that wood goes at +all it smokes like one o'clock. If you hung the beef up over it, it +would be smoked enough for anyone by the time that it was done." + +I began to rub my chin. Considering the breakfast we had had, from my +point of view the situation commenced, for the first time, to look +really grave, I wondered if it would not be possible to take the whole +eight somewhere where something really eatable could be got. But, when +I broached the subject, I learned that the thing could not be done. +The nearest hostelry was the "Boy and Blunderbuss," and it was certain +that nothing eatable could be had there, even if accommodation could +be found for us at all. Nothing in the shape of a possible house of +public entertainment was to be found closer than the market town, +eight miles off; it was unlikely that even there a Christmas dinner +for nine could be provided at a moment's notice. Evidently the only +thing to do was to make the best of things. + +When the meeting broke up Madge came and said a few words to me alone. + +"I really think you had better not stay." + +"Does that mean that you had rather I went?" + +"No; not exactly that." + +"Then nearly that?" + +"No; not a bit that. Only you must see for yourself how awfully +uncomfortable you'll be here, and what a horrid house this is." + +"My dear Madge"--everybody called her Madge, so I did--"even if I +wanted to go, which I don't--and I would remind you that you +contracted to give me an old-fashioned Christmas--I don't see where +there is that I could go." + +"Of course, there's that. I don't see, either. So I suppose you'll +have to stay. But I hope you won't think that I meant you to come to a +place like this--really, you know." + +"I'm sorry; I had hoped you had." + +"That's not what I mean. I mean that if I had thought that you were +coming, I would have seen that things were different." + +"How different? I assure you that things as they are have a charm of +their own." + +"That's what you say. You don't suppose that I'm so silly as not to +know you're laughing at me? But as I was the whole cause of your +coming, I hope you won't hate the others because of me." + +She marched off, brushing back, with an impatient gesture, some +rebellious locks which had strayed upon her forehead. + +That Christmas dinner was a success--positively. Of a kind--let that +be clearly understood. I am not inferring that it was a success from +the point of view of a "chef de cuisine." Not at all; how could it be? +Quite the other way. By dint of ransacking all the rooms, and emptying +all the scuttles, we collected a certain amount of coal, with which, +after adding a fair proportion of wood, we managed. Not brilliantly, +but after a fashion. I can only say, personally, I had not enjoyed +myself so much for years. I really felt as if I were young again; I am +not sure that I am not younger than I thought I was. I must look the +matter up. And, after all, even if one be, say forty, one need not be +absolutely an ancient. Madge herself said that I had been like a right +hand to her; she did not know what she would have done without me. + +Looking back, I cannot but think that if we had attempted to prepare +fewer dishes, something might have been properly cooked. It was a +mistake to stuff the turkey with sage and onions; but as Bessie did +not discover that she had been manipulating the wrong bird until the +process of stuffing had been completed, it was felt that it might be +just as well to let it rest. Unfortunately, it turned out that some +thyme, parsley, mint, and other things had got mixed with the sage, +which gave the creature quite a peculiar flavour; but as it came to +table nearly raw, and as tough as hickory, it really did not matter. + +My experience of that day teaches me that it is not easy to roast a +large goose on a small oil stove. The dropping fat caused the flame to +give out a strong smelling and most unpleasant smoke. Rupert, who had +charge of the operation, affirmed that it would be all right in the +end. But, by the time the thing was served, it was as black as my hat. +Rupert said that it was merely brown; but the brown was of a sooty +hue, and it reeked of paraffin. We had to have it deposited in the +ashbin. I daresay that the beef would not have been bad if someone had +occasionally turned it, and if the fire would have burned clear. As it +was, it was charred on one side and raw on the other, and smoked all +over. The way in which the odour and taste of smoke permeated +everything was amazing. The plum-pudding, came to the table in the +form of soup, and the mince pies were nauseous. Something had got into +the crust, or mincemeat, or something, which there, at any rate, was +out of place. + +Luckily we came upon a tin of corned beef in a cupboard, and with the +aid of some bread and cheese, and other odds and ends, we made a sort +of picnic. Incredible though it may seem, I enjoyed it. If there was +anywhere a merrier party than we were, I should like to know where it +was to be found. It must have been a merry one. When I produced the +presents, in which a happy inspiration had urged me to invest, "the +enthusiasm reached a climax"--I believe that is the proper form of +words which I ought to use. As I watched the pleasure of those +youngsters, I felt as if I were myself a boy again. + + * * * * * + +That was my first introduction to "a lively family." They came up to +the description they had given of themselves. I speak from knowledge, +for they have been my acquaintances now some time. More than +acquaintances, friends; the dearest friends I have. At their request, +I took their affairs in hand, Madge informally passing her trusteeship +on to me. Things are very different with them now. The house is spick +and span. There is an excellent staff of servants. Hangar Dene is as +comfortable a home as there is in England. I have spent many a happy +Christmas under its hospitable roof since then. + +The boys are out in the world, after passing with honour through +school and college. The girls are going out into the world also. +Bessie is actually married. Madge is married too. She is Mrs. +Christopher. That is the part of it all which I find is hardest to +understand--to have told myself my whole life long that the name of my +ideal woman would be Madge, and to have won that woman for my own at +last! That is greater fortune than falls to the lot of most men. I +thought that I was beyond that kind of thing; that I was too old. But +Madge seemed to think that I was young enough. And she thinks so +still. + +And now there is a little Madge, who is big enough to play havoc with +the sheets of paper on which I have been scribbling, to whom, one day, +this tale will have to be told. + + + + + BY DEPUTY. + + A REMINISCENCE OF TRAVEL. + + + CHAPTER I. + + DESPOILED. + +"It would seem, Greenall, as if you couldn't even shoot." + +"It would seem like it, wouldn't it." + +As I sauntered back to the hotel I was conscious of a slight feeling +of exacerbation. As if I had been "got at," "had." No man likes +to feel that he is a laughing-stock. I felt that I had been made a +laughing-stock just then; that, indeed, the process of manufacture had +been going on ever since I showed my face in Ahmednugger. The men I +had met were nice enough--in their way. Indeed, they were almost too +nice--also in their way. They appeared to have so little to do, in the +way of actual work, that they had made it the business of their lives +to perfect themselves in what are usually regarded, say, as +accomplishments. I was, and am, a plain civilian. I have worked for, +and earned, my little pile, such as it is, and until I set out upon +that pleasure tour in the East, it had never occurred to me that a man +could be regarded as an uneducated idiot if he could not, say, run +into double figures every time he took up his cue at billiards. A +suspicion that a man might be so regarded had been dawning upon me +ever since I arrived in India; but until I came to Ahmednugger I had +never quite realised how shockingly my education had been neglected on +exactly those points on which it ought to have been most carefully +attended to. The men of Ahmednugger were the most sporting individuals +I had ever yet encountered. Possibly I have not moved much among the +congregations of the sporting men, but I certainly have seen something +of men of business. These men of Ahmednugger were not only the keenest +sportsmen I had encountered, they were the keenest men of business, +too. And talk of the rigour of a competitive examination! They formed +themselves into an examining board, which very soon took the +"stiffening" out of me. They insisted on putting me through my paces +before I had been a week in the place. They examined me in every game +of cards which has been invented--and found me wanting in them all. +They examined me as a rider, as a driver, as a shootist, as a cueist, +in fact, in a range of subjects which I will not even venture to +enumerate. They refused me one solitary "pass." They "plucked" me in +them all. It did not add to my sense of satisfaction, that I found my +ignorance expensive. + +The joke of the thing was, that before I came to India I had rather +fancied myself as an amateur sportsman. I flattered myself that I had +a decent seat in a saddle, whether across country or on the flat. I +thought that I made a tolerable fourth at whist; that I had some +notion, at any rate, of English billiards, and of a hazard off the +red. I certainly was under the impression that I could see with +tolerable accuracy along the barrel of a gun. But these vain delusions +were scattered, at once and for ever, by the men of Ahmednugger. My +all-round, purblind, insensate ignorance had been so convincingly +displayed, that, as I have said, I was the laughing-stock of all the +place. + +My latest performance in the exhibition line had been in a match with +young Tebb, the youngest and the latest joined of the subalterns. +Young Tebb had lured me on to skittles. Mr. Tebb--who would have been +more correctly designated as "Master" Tebb--was an awkward +hobbledehoy, who, at any other place than Ahmednugger, I should have +looked down upon with the most supreme contempt. When he challenged me +to see who could smash most glass balls with a rifle bullet, he or I, +I rashly took his challenge up. I flattered myself that, at last, I +had a "soft thing" on. I had, myself, been found a "soft thing" so +many times, that I looked forward to a little change. I had no notion +(it was rather late at night when the challenge was thrown down, and +taken up) how difficult it really was to hit a glass ball with a rifle +bullet. I had never fired at a glass ball, nor had I ever seen anyone +else do so. But I conceived, that at any rate, young Tebb would find +at least as much difficulty in the thing as I should. + +We were each to fire at fifty glass balls, which were to be sent up +into the air out of a trap. We were, of course, to fire at them while +they were in the air. Out of my fifty I smashed one. Out of his fifty +young Tebb smashed forty-nine. It was the most mirth-provoking +exhibition that was ever seen. Of course, the young scoundrel had been +doing nothing else but fire at glass balls his whole life long. It was +when I handed over the two hundred rupees which I had staked and lost, +that Mr. Tebb made his remark to the effect that "I couldn't even +shoot." + +When I returned to the hotel, a man was standing in the doorway. He +addressed me as I came up the steps. + +"It strikes me that you and I might shake hands, sir." + +I asked him what he meant. + +"I've made myself one kind of ass, and you've made yourself another +kind. We'd be a pair of beauties." + +I did not like being addressed in this manner, especially by a +stranger, and especially by a stranger like this stranger. He was a +short, undersized man, with a vacuous expression of countenance. His +attire suggested seediness. Perceiving that I did not appreciate his +manner, he explained. + +"No offence intended, sir. But I just now saw you playing pantaloon to +that youngster's clown, and I thought that he made the end of the +poker rather hot. As for me, I'm an ass all over. My name's Johns. I +came to this place to shear the sheep. There's been some shearing, but +it's the sheep that's done it. They've about sheared me. I happened to +have a trifle of money, so I came to these parts to see if I could do +a bit of bookmaking. I've done a bit. The gentlemen in these parts +have also done a bit. They've got hold of pretty well every blessed +mag I had." + +I did not encourage Mr. Johns; quite the contrary. I had heard of him +before. The regimental races had recently been held; a bookmaker had +appeared upon the scene--Mr. Johns. Nearly every man in the place had +had bets with him, and to nearly every man in the place he had lost +his money. With a vengeance had the Philistine been spoiled. + + + CHAPTER II. + + THE GAME. + +Later in the day on which I had shot off that match with Mr. Tebb I +encountered Mr. Johns again. I was in the billiard-room of what was +called "the club." As regards membership, it was very free-and-easy +"club" indeed. A local celebrity was taking the floor. The room was +tolerably full. On one of the side seats was Mr. Johns. + +The local celebrity was a Mr. Colson. Mr. Colson was stud groom to the +Rajah of Ahmednugger. He was also, and at the same time, one of the +most obnoxious persons I have, in the course of my career, had the +pleasure of meeting. There never was such a loud-voiced braggart. It +set one's nerves on edge to hear him. To listen to him, there was +nothing he could not do. The misfortune was, that some of the things +which he said he could do, he could do, and do well. I had found that +out to my cost, soon after my arrival in Ahmednugger. And, in +consequence, he had sat on me heavily ever since. He was a horrible +man. + +That evening Mr. Colson was holding forth in his usual style, on the +subject of billiards. I should mention that, at the period of which I +am writing, Mr. John Roberts, the famous player, was on a tour in +India. + +"I saw John Roberts at Calcutta," observed Mr. Colson, "and he saw me. +He also saw me play. When he saw me play, he said he doubted if he +could give me fifteen in a hundred. I told him that I should like to +see him do it. But he wouldn't take it on." + +"Is that so?" asked Mr. Johns. + +"That is so. I should like to see him give me ten in a hundred, either +John Roberts or any man now living." + +"I should like to have a game with you, Mr. Colson." + +"You would?" Mr. Colson looked at Mr. Johns. He looked him up and +down. Mr. Colson was large and florid. Mr. Johns was small and +underfed. Mr. Colson was, at least, expensively attired. About Mr. +John's costume there was certainly no suspicion of expense. "I don't +mind having you a hundred up, my lad. How many shall I give you?" + +"I am no player, Mr. Colson, but I'd like to play you even, if only +for the sake of saying that I'd had the cheek to do it." + +"You shall have that pleasure. And how much would you like to have +on--if only for the sake of saying that you had the cheek to have it +on?" + +And Mr. Colson winked at the company in general. + +"Well, Mr. Colson, you and the other gentlemen have won all my money; +but, I daresay, I might manage ten rupees." + +"Put 'em up, my lad. Here's my ten. We'll play for the twenty." + +They played for the twenty. And, to my satisfaction, and I believe to +the satisfaction of most of the others who were in the room, it was +Mr. Johns who won. I am bound to say that it seemed to me to be rather +a fluky win. Mr. Colson, whose disgust was amusing, had no doubt +whatever about the fluke. + +"Never saw anything like it, never! The balls never broke for me, not +once! As for you; why, you did nothing else but fluke." + +"Do you think so? I'll play you again double or quits, and I'll give +ten in the hundred, Mr. Colson." + +Mr. Colson seemed amazed. In fact, I have no doubt he was amazed. + +"I like your modesty! You'll give me ten! Here's my twenty. I'll take +you on." + +Mr. Colson took him on. And, by way of fair exchange, Mr. Johns took +him off. That is to say, he took off the stakes and the game. He did +it rather neatly: just running in as Mr. Colson looked like winning. +Mr. Colson was adjectival. + +"Never saw anything like it--never, in all my born days! Never saw +anything like my somethinged, somethinged, somethinged luck! And as +for your fluking--why, it just beats anything." + +"Think so? I'll play you again, Mr. Colson, and again double or quits; +and this time I'll give you twenty in a hundred." + +"You'll give me--you'll give me--twenty in a hundred? You will? Come +on! That'll be forty rupees a side--here's mine! Macbee, put me on +twenty, and we'll see what I can do." + +We did see what he could do. We also saw that Mr. Johns seemed able to +do a little better. Once more he won the game. I am sure that we were +all enjoying ourselves very much--much more than we had had any reason +to anticipate. As for Mr. Colson, he went purple. He showered on Mr. +Johns a volley of that sort of language which I had found pretty +fashionable at Ahmednugger. Mr. Johns listened to him in silence, +while he pocketed the spoils. Then he had his say. + +"You say I fluke? Why, my dear sir, you've no idea what a fluke is. +You've no idea of any sort about billiards. You can no more play +billiards than you can play the gentleman--you can't! You're the sort +of person whom it is just as well, once in a way, to expose. You're a +humbug, Mr. Colson, you're a humbug. As for John Roberts doubting if +he could give you fifteen in a hundred--why, he could give you +ninety-nine in a hundred, and beat you single-handed. I tell you what +I will do, Mr. Colson. I will play you five hundred up, for five +hundred rupees a side. I will give you four hundred start, and I will +lay two to one against you with any gentleman who cares to back you. +I don't think that's an unfair offer, Mr. Colson." + +It struck me as, at any rate, a rash offer. Mr. Colson was not such a +tyro as Mr. Johns made out. He had made mincemeat of me--I do know +that. Yet the offer did not seem to be made in any spirit of +braggadocio. I fancy that the quiet, matter-of-fact manner in which it +was made impressed Mr. Colson more than he altogether cared to own. My +impression it that, if he had had his own way, he would have changed +the subject. But the odds offered him were such, and the challenge was +made in such a public manner, that he probably felt that, if he wished +to preserve a rag of reputation, now or never was the time to show the +stuff that he was made of. Anyhow, the offer was accepted, and the +terms of the match were definitely arranged before the parties left +the room. + + + CHAPTER III. + + THE COALITION. + +As I was retiring to rest, some one tapped at my bed-room door. In +response to my invitation to enter, Mr. Johns came in. Without any +preamble, he plunged at once into the purport of his presence in my +chamber at that hour of the night, or, rather, morning. + +"I have come, Mr. Greenall, to ask you to lend me five hundred +rupees." + +I turned. I looked at him. He met my glance without showing any signs +of discomposure. + +"You have come to--what?" + +He repeated his remark--quite as though it were a matter of course. + +"To ask if you will lend me five hundred rupees." + +"I don't know if you are in earnest, Mr. Johns. If you are, I would +remark, first, that I am not a money lender; and, second, that you are +a complete stranger to me." + +"I want the money to stake in my match with Mr. Colson." + +"Indeed. Is that so? Then that is an added reason why I should decline +to lend it to you. In my opinion, Mr. Johns, your chances of success +in that match are, to say the least of it, remote." + +"Look here, Mr. Greenall, I'm the last man in the world to wish to +make myself offensive, but if we can understand each other I think +that you and I might do each other a good turn. I know all about how +you've been treated by the fellows here. I know how they've all been +taking pop shots at you. From what I hear they've made you look like +the biggest all-round muff that ever left his mammy. I daresay it's +cost you something, too." + +I did not altogether appreciate this gentleman's free-and-easy style +of conversation. But to a certain extent I, so to speak, dissembled. + +"I do not know what warrant you have, Mr. Johns, for your remarks; +and, in any case, I fail to see what business it is of yours." + +"It's this way; if you like, you can be even with all the lot of +them--and more than even." + +"How? By lending you five hundred rupees, and letting you have, as you +put it, a pop-shot at me with the rest of them. Thank you, Mr. Johns. +By the way, I fancy I have heard of some person or persons taking +pop-shots at you. I think I did hear that you came here to make a +fortune. Did you make it, Mr. Johns?" + +"No, I didn't--hang 'em! I'm like you, I owe them one. And I mean to +pay them, with compound interest. And, if you like to say the word, +I'll pay them that little lot you owe them too. Look here, Mr. +Greenall, I don't mind owning that a keener lot of gentlemen than the +gentlemen here I don't think I ever had to do with. I won't say they +robbed me, but they certainly cut me up into very nice little pieces, +and they handed me round. I've seldom seen any thing of the kind which +was better done. But never mind--my turn's coming! I'm not fond of +bragging--quite the other way. If it wasn't that I was in a hole, I +wouldn't say a word. But it is the simple truth that, at all the +things at which these fellows think they're dabsters, I'm as far ahead +of them as they're ahead of you,--no offence intended. You can take my +word for it that I know what I'm talking about. It doesn't follow +because, just once in a way, they happened to muck up my book, that +I'm a flat. As for being able to give Colson four hundred out of five +hundred at billiards,--if I choose, and I shall choose, he's simply +bound to lose. I don't mean to say that I'm a John Roberts, because +I'm not. But I do know how to play, and that in a sense which Colson +hasn't even begun to understand. I've heard that Mr. Colson hasn't +behaved over well to you. I thought that you'd like to see him taken +down a peg or two." + +I should. I should have liked to have seen more than one of them taken +down a peg or two, though I said nothing of that to Mr. Johns. + +"How came you to match yourself, Mr. Johns, when you were aware that +you were not in possession of the required stakes?" + +"I took it for granted that I should get the stakes from you." + +Mr. Johns was frank, at any rate. + +"From me? What claim did you suppose yourself to have on me?" + +"No claim; but you see, sir, they've had me, and they've had you. +They've had both of us, in fact, pretty smartly. And I thought that +you might like to be even with some of them, by deputy." + +By deputy. If it was workable, that was not a bad idea. I felt that I +should like to be even with some of them, beginning, say, with Mr. +Colson--how that man had squelched me beneath his elephantine foot! +the brute!--even, as it were, by deputy. + +"What guarantee have I that you will not lose my money, as you already +have lost your own?" + +"If we get up early, we shall have the billiard room all to ourselves. +If you like, I will give you some idea of what I can do upon a +billiard table." + +We did get up early. We did have the billiard room all to ourselves. +And Mr. Johns did give me some idea of what he could do upon a +billiard table. For one thing, he got "on the spot," and he stopped +there. He continued to put the red down, without once missing, until +the marker appeared. When the marker did appear, we thought that +perhaps the proceedings had better cease. If I can trust my memory, +before the proceedings ceased, Mr. Johns had put the red down +something like two hundred times in succession. I thought that was +good enough, even for Mr. Colson. I agreed to advance the necessary +number of rupees. + +The match came off. It was a beautiful match. The room was crowded to +overflowing. Mr. Johns had managed to back himself to a very fair +amount. Even I, in my small way, had managed to back him too. But +there was not so much readiness shown to support the local champion as +I had expected. They were keen, were the men of Ahmednugger. I fancy +that already they had begun to smell a rat. And not only so; they were +always willing to "make a bet." But on that particular occasion they +were almost equally willing to see Mr. Colson come to grief. I think +that, in those parts, Mr. Colson was not so popular as he deserved to +be. I verily believe that there were some who objected to him almost +as much as I did. + +Poor Mr. Colson! He was painfully nervous. His nervousness prevented +his showing even his usual form. He had made fifteen, when Mr. Johns, +getting on the spot, stayed there. He ran out without once putting +down his cue. Nothing like it had ever been seen before in +Ahmednugger. When the marker notified the fact that Mr. Johns had +completed his fifth hundred, Mr. Colson was, for a moment, speechless. +He seemed unable to realize that the thing was so. + +"It's a--something swindle!" + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Colson--it's a what?" + +Mr. Colson's tone was loud and threatening. Mr. Johns' tone was quiet, +and almost indifferent. Yet Mr. Colson did not seem to altogether like +it. He began to bluster. "You did not tell me that you were a +professional." + +"No; I did not tell you that I was a professional." + +"You didn't play the other night as you have played to-day. It looks +to me uncommonly like a put-up thing." + +"It looks to you like a put-up thing, does it, Mr. Colson. Well, I'll +give you a chance of showing _your_ professional side. I believe you +can drive?" + +"Drive!" Mr. Colson looked at the little man as if he would like to +eat him. "I'm the finest whip in India." + +"Indeed! Is that so? Well, I'll drive you either four, or eight, in +hand, for a thousand rupees a side, although you are the finest whip +in India." + +Mr. Colson snapped at his offer, before it was fairly out of his +mouth, and I felt that Mr. Johns was going a little too far. It was +one thing to match him at billiards, another thing to match him at +driving. There Mr. Colson was on his native heath. When I was alone +with Mr. Johns I told him so. + +"I don't know if you are aware, Mr. Johns, that Mr. Colson really is a +first-rate whip. I am informed that it was his magnificent driving +which first attracted the Rajah's attention." + +Mr. Johns did not exhibit much appearance of concern. + +"I guess I'll fix him, anyhow. I haven't driven a stage over some of +the worst country in the western states of America for nothing. I'll +back myself to drive a coach-and-four along a wall just wide enough to +hold the wheels--and I'll take you as a passenger, if you like to +come." + +"Thank you, Mr. Johns, my tastes do not incline that way." + +"Don't you worry, Mr. Greenall. I mean to take on the whole lot of 'em, +one after the other, and show 'em a thing or two all round. These +gentlemen here fancy they know a little, but we'll be more than even +with them before we've done." + +The driving match came off. I do not know how they manage similar +affairs in England. I have sometimes wondered. But I am under the +impression that they are not managed on the lines on which they +managed that driving match in Ahmednugger. + +The way in which they managed it there was this. Mr. Colson was to +drive upon the Monday, Mr. Johns upon the Wednesday. Each was to drive +the same team--eight-in-hand. The horses, by-the-way, came out of the +Rajah's stables. The course was to be up and down the streets of +Ahmednugger, and then for a certain distance outside the city. The +judges occupied the front of the coach. I had a seat among the +insignificant people at the back. On the whole, I was content to sit +behind. The proceedings, in the streets of Ahmednugger, were +distinctly exciting--almost too exciting, I felt, for me. Those +streets were very narrow, and they were blocked with traffic, be it +understood. Mr. Colson and Mr. Johns, each with his eight horses, and +a coach load of passengers, went down those streets at full speed, as +if they had been fifty yards wide, and as if there had not been a soul +in sight. What damages were done, and what was the list of the killed +and wounded, I have never been informed. I never quite realized what +it meant to belong to a subject race, till then. It appeared to me +that, in the eyes of my companions, a native had, as a matter of +course, no rights at all. We drove over whole streets full of them, in +style. My heart was in my mouth most of the time. We dashed round +impossible corners, shaking native tenements to their foundations. But +we kept ourselves alive somehow. The peaceful pedestrians were slain. +I am no judge of coachmanship--of such coachmanship as that, at any +rate. Those who were judges, without a dissentient voice, awarded the +palm to Mr. Johns and, in consequence it was said, Mr. Colson entered +himself as a candidate for delirium tremens. He was a dreadful man. + +It seemed as if Mr. Johns was prepared to match himself against the +men of Ahmednugger at exactly those things at which each man fancied +he was strongest. That is what he did do. He challenged any one to +meet him at driving, or at billiards. And, when his challenge--for +what seemed to me to be sufficient reasons--met with no response, he +challenged any one to ride him. That challenge was taken up. But he +beat all takers. He had a way with a horse which seemed little else +than magical. A horse would jump six feet for him, when, apparently, +it would not jump six inches for any other man in Ahmednugger. I don't +know how it was, but so it was. I know nothing of Mr. Johns, beyond +what I am writing. I never heard his story, nor how it was that a man +of genius--he was a man of genius--came to find himself a broken-down +small bookmaker in that little town "up country." Perhaps he was +another exemplification of the fact that only mediocrity succeeds. + +I know that I was more than even with the men of Ahmednugger--by +deputy. The band played to them, as it had played to me. He made them +face the music, and there was not one of them who did not leave his +scalp upon the ground. My belt was adorned with trophies--by deputy. +When Mr. Johns had beaten the men of Ahmednugger--as they had beaten +me--at riding, and at driving, and at billiards, he took them on at +shooting. And, so to speak, he shot their heads off. He showed them +that, in the presence of this man, they were as nothing, and less than +nothing. He even challenged Mr. Tebb to smash glass balls. He fixed +the point from which they were to fire at an abnormal distance, and, +if I remember rightly, he beat Mr. Tebb by about a score. After he had +annihilated that presumptuous young vagabond, Mr. Johns informed me +that shooting at glass balls really was not shooting. I was quite +prepared to admit it. He said that it was only a trick. When you had +once mastered the trick, it was impossible to miss. Perhaps. I have +never fired at glass balls since then, so I have no reason to suppose +that I have mastered the trick. When I do again fire at glass balls I +am inclined to think that I shall not experience the slightest +difficulty in missing every one of them. + + + CHAPTER IV. + + EVENS. + +When Mr. Johns had beaten the men of Ahmednugger at almost everything +at which they could be beaten, he began to amuse himself by taking a +hand in various little games at cards. It was remarked that, to say +the least of it, his luck was wonderful. There was scarcely a man in +Ahmednugger who had not been compelled by Mr. Johns to take a lower +seat; to take a lower seat, too, just where he felt that his claim was +strongest to take the highest one. Naturally, here and there, a man +resented it. An even stronger spirit of resentment was evinced when +the men of Ahmednugger found that their money was going in search of +their vanished reputations. There were some disagreeable little +scenes. Then there was a royal row; it was at the club. Mr. Johns had +been carrying everything in front of him. Things were said; then other +things were said Then Mr. Johns laid down his cards; he faced the +company. + +"Gentlemen, I wish to inform you that you are, individually and +collectively, a set of curs." + +There were sounds which suggested neither the ways of pleasantness nor +the paths of peace. + +"Softly. Postpone the fighting for one minute. I would remind you +that, when Mr. Greenall appeared in Ahmednugger, you all, with one +accord, took shots at him. You used him as if he had been a variety of +old Aunt Sally. When I made my appearance, you put your heads +together, and you bested me. You see, we were strangers, and you took +us in. Neither Mr. Greenall nor I quite liked this sort of thing, so +we put our heads together, and, in our turn, we've bested you. We've +used you as old Aunt Sallies. We've made you all sit up. We've made +you all sing small. Even at games of mingled chance and skill, I've +beaten you. Instead of taking your punishment like men, you begin to +whimper. Therefore, gentlemen, I repeat that you are, individually and +collectively, a set of curs." + +Colonel Smith interposed so soon as Mr. Johns ceased speaking. I fancy +that the Colonel had only just entered the room. + +"Mr. Johns, you very much forget yourself." + +"On the contrary, Colonel, I am remembering myself. It is the +gentlemen you have the honour to command, who forget themselves. +Should there be any one present who resents the words which I have +used, I shall be happy to meet that person, either with the gloves, or +without them, or with any weapon he may choose--for the honour of +Ahmednugger." + +There was silence--grim silence. Probably there was more than one +there who would have liked to have ground Mr. Johns between the upper +and the nether millstones. But, after all, they were gentlemen--in +their way. Bean stood up, the adjutant of the ----th. He was a big +fellow, head and shoulders taller than the audacious little +challenger. He went round to where Mr. Johns was sitting. + +"Mr. Johns, you will either apologise for the words which you have +just now used, or take a thrashing." + +"I will take a thrashing," said Mr. Johns. + +He took it. What is more, he took it there and then. The meeting was +immediately adjourned; and in the moonlight, the little argument came +off. The proceedings were a trifle irregular; perhaps over here we +should deem them so. I am not prepared to say that any dignitaries +were actually present. Still there was a goodly gathering. The two men +"peeled." In a very short space of time the little man had knocked the +big man senseless. This is not a fairy tale. It is a simple record of +a sober matter-of-fact. It almost seems as if Mr. Johns was a lineal +descendant of the Admirable Crichton. Looking back, I really fancy +that he must have been. + +When Mr. Bean's satisfaction had been signified in what, I believe, is +the usual manner, Mr. Johns addressed the lookers-on: + +"Is there any other gentleman present who would like to thrash me--for +the honour of Ahmednugger?" + +Someone came out of the shadow--someone who, in those parts, was a +very great man indeed. + +"Mr. Johns, you will be so good as to leave Ahmednugger within +four-and-twenty-hours." + +Mr. Johns looked the great man up and down. He seemed to be in no way +awed, even though he stood there in the moonlight without his shirt. + +"I am at a loss, sir, to understand by what authority you address +yourself to me in such a manner. I am in no way answerable for my +movements to you. I have not broken the law. I have not even broken +the peace. As it happens, I do intend to leave Ahmednugger, and in +less than four-and-twenty hours. Not in deference to your orders, but +simply because I have had enough of Ahmednugger, having taught your +compatriots hereabouts what, it strikes me, was a much-needed +lesson--the next time they encounter strangers, except in the +scriptural sense--not to take them in." + +The next day Mr. Johns did leave Ahmednugger. And I went too. He went +his way, I went mine. I have neither seen nor heard of him since. But, +as I continued on my journeyings, I felt that after all I had been +even, and more than even, with the men of Ahmednugger--by deputy. + + + + + MR. WHITING AND MARY ANN. + + +I did not mean to kiss her; it was a pure accident. Her face was close +to mine, or my face was close to hers, and then her lips came into +contact with my lips, or my lips came into contact with her lips--I +don't know which it was--and then at that moment her mother came into +the room, and she said, "Mr. Whiting, may I ask what is the meaning of +this?" I said it meant nothing--nothing! Absolutely nothing! Only I +found it difficult to explain, and when I did explain she would not +understand. Her manner was not at all the sort of thing I care for. +The result is that I am engaged to Mary Ann Snelling without being +conscious of having entertained any intention of the kind. + +Not that I have a word to say against Mary Ann, except that I never +knew a girl with quite so many relations. To begin with she had six +brothers and five sisters, and she is the eldest of the batch, and +there's not one of the brothers whom I feel drawn to. Her father is a +most remarkable person, to say the least. + +After they had arranged between them that I was engaged to Mary Ann (I +was really not allowed to have a voice in the matter) her father +remarked, with a pointed air, which I cannot but think, under the +circumstances, was unusual, that he thought it was about time that I +did come to the scratch, and that if I had kept on dilly-dallying much +longer he would have had a word to say to me of a kind. I do not know +what he meant, and would rather not attempt to imagine. But it is +quite plain to me that all the arrangements for my wedding are going +to be made by the Snellings. + +I do not know when it is going to be, but it will be either next week +or the week after, certainly at the earliest possible moment, and I +shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that all Mary Ann's "things" +had been already bought, and perhaps some of them marked. + +We are to live in a house which belongs to a cousin of Mr. Snelling; +it is to be furnished by a brother of Mrs. Snelling, the house linen +is to be supplied by the father of the young man to whom Jane Matilda +is engaged, and the ironmongery by the uncle to whom George Frederic +is apprenticed. All, apparently, that is left for me to do, is to pay +for everything. It is most delightful. It might just as well be some +one else's wedding, so unimportant is the part which I am set to play +in it. + +And it is all the result of an accident. I deny that for the last +six months I have been using Mr. Snelling's home as if it were a +boarding-house. Nothing of the kind. The mere suggestion is absurd. It +is true that I have dropped in to dinner now and then, or to spend the +evening, or for an afternoon call, or for an hour or two in the +morning; but that has been simply and solely because the Snelling +family have evinced so marked a desire for my society. The alteration +which has taken place in their demeanour since my accident with Mary +Ann is, therefore, all the more amazing. For instance, look at their +behaviour in the matter of the ring. + +The accident in question occurred upon the Sunday evening. I had been +with Mary Ann to church, and had seen her home, and had had a little +supper, and it was after supper that it happened. I did not go and +purchase the engagement ring the first thing on the Monday morning, I +own it. Certainly not. Nor did I take any steps in that direction +during the whole of that week. I was not pressed for time. + +Besides, I was turning things over in my mind. But that was no reason +why, the Monday week following, four of her brothers should have +called on me on their way to the office, when I was scarcely out of +bed, and actually breakfasting, and assailed me in the way in which +they did. + +There was William Henry, John Frank, Ferdinand Augustus, and Stephen +Arthur. Each of them twice my size and all of them frightfully +ignorant and wholly regardless of the sensitive little points of those +with whom they came in contact. There is no circumlocution about them. +They go straight at what they want; and were scarcely inside my door +before they blurted out the purport of their coming. It was Frederick +Augustus; if the thing is possible he is, if anything, more direct +even than the rest of his family. + +"Look here, Whiting, how about Mary Ann's ring? The girl is fretting, +but you don't seem to notice it. And as you don't appear to know what +is the proper thing to do in a case of this kind, and don't understand +that the ring ought to be bought straight away, we've bought it for +you." + +I gasped--positively gasped. + +"Am I to understand that you've purchased my engagement ring?" + +"That's it; on your account. From a cousin of ours who's in that +line." + +I never saw people like the Snellings for possessing relatives in all +sorts of "lines." No matter what you want, or do not want, and never +will want, they are sure to have some relative who has dealt in it, +his or her whole life long. + +They produced the ring, and told me what I had to pay for it. A +handsome price it was. I was persuaded that somebody besides that +cousin got a profit out of Mary Ann's engagement ring. But I handed +over the amount. I did not want any unpleasantness; and I am quite +sure there would have been unpleasantness had I demurred. + +Later in the day I took it with me when I went to call on Mary Ann. +She appeared to be surprised almost into speechlessness when I +presented it to her. Her head dropped on my shoulder, and she kissed +me under the chin, observing, "You dear old Sam." The moments when I +am alone with Mary Ann are alleviations for those more frequent +moments when I am not alone with Mary Ann. Still I noticed that the +ring fitted her perfectly, and I could not but wonder if she had tried +it on before. + +At the same time I am beginning to be comforted by a suspicion that +Mary Ann is on my side; on my side, that is, as against the rest of +her family. There has been a difference of opinion as to where we are +to spend our honeymoon. It is from her action in that matter that my +suspicion springs. + +The Snellings have an aunt who lives in an out-of-the-way hole at the +other end of nowhere. The woman's name is Brady. There she owns a +cottage, or it may be a pigstye for all I know. When she heard of my +engagement with Mary Ann, she wrote and suggested that we should spend +our honeymoon in her cottage, or pigstye, and that I should pay her +rent for it. The matter was talked about at dinner. Mary Ann was +silent for some time; then she quietly remarked: + +"Don't trouble yourselves to discuss Aunt Brady's proposal. I shall do +nothing of the kind." + +This observation was followed by perfect silence. The members of the +family looked at one another. But, after a very considerable pause, +her mother said, with quite unusual mildness, "Very well, my dear. +Then, it's settled." + +After dinner I took advantage of an opportunity which offered to thank +Mary Ann for her action in the matter, because, of course, I had no +wish to spend my honeymoon in a place of which I knew nothing, to +oblige an aunt of whom I knew still less. Mary Ann beamed at me, and +she said, "You dear old man!" Presently she continued: + +"Do you know that in marrying me you are doing the best thing for +yourself that you ever did in all your life?" + +I endeavoured to explain to her that I felt sure of it; but I fear +that my explanation was a little stumbling. But she went on with the +most perfect fluency. There were no signs of faltering about her flow +of language. + +"You want someone who can look after you; and you could not, by any +chance, have chosen a person who will look after you better than I +shall." + +Such an assurance was most satisfactory. We had a long confidential +chat on matters of business. I found that as a woman of business she +was beyond all my expectations. + +I told her exactly what my income was; and the source from which it +came, and all about it. She drew up a plan on which we were to lay it +out. It was an admirable plan. I had never had one, but I saw clearly +that in that way the money would go twice as far. + +It turned out that she had a little money of her own; about a hundred +and thirty pounds a year. And, of course, I had my expectations, and +she had hers. It was plain that together we should manage most +comfortably. Delightfully, in fact. On the subject of wedding +presents, too, her ideas were the most lucid I ever yet encountered. +It was wonderful to listen to her--really wonderful. + +"I shall make papa give me five hundred pounds, at least. 'A bird in +the hand is worth two in a bush'--and it will be something to have by +us." + +I quite agreed with her remarks about the bird in the hand; and it +certainly will be something to have by us. + +"I know what mamma can afford to give, and I will see she gives it. +And I will see that there is no shirking about the boys--or about the +girls either. I will take care that my relations do their duty. I have +drawn up a list of all the people who ought to give us a present, and +I shall tell them what they ought to give--it won't be my fault if I +don't get it. Of course there are some people with whom you can't be +perfectly plain, but I shall be as plain as I can; there's a way and a +manner of doing that kind of thing. I have no intention of being +presented with an endless collection of duplicates, or a lot of +useless rubbish which I don't know what to do with. If you take my +advice you will follow in my footsteps." + +I endeavoured to. At least I drew up a list of people who ought to +meet the occasion, and I tried in more than one instance to drop a +hint of what, as I felt, they ought to meet it with. + +But I am bound to admit that so far my success has been as nothing +compared with hers. Hers has been prodigious. It is certain that we +have a large collection of really valuable property about the +house--the wedding presents to Mary Ann. She has a knack of getting +people to do what she wishes and to give her what she wants, which is +a little short of miraculous. + +A singular feature about the situation is that people are actually +beginning to pity me--to sympathise with me for being about to marry +Mary Ann. I notice that they are generally persons who have already +tendered their offerings. The fact of having given Mary Ann a wedding +present seems to fill them with a feeling of rancorous acidity which, +to me, is inexplicable. My belief is that they have been induced to +spend at least twice as much as they intended, and that they resent +it. Such is the selfishness of human nature. But why, on that account, +they should pity me, I altogether fail to understand. + +"We have all been giving Mary Ann presents, and I suppose you, Mr. +Whiting, have been giving her something too." That was what Mrs. +Macpherson said to me only the other day. I have given Mary Ann two or +three trifles, and I said so. "And what," inquired Mrs. Macpherson, +"has Mary Ann given you?" + +"Her love." + +Someone sniggered. I cannot pretend to explain why, except on the +supposition that romance is dead; at least in that circle of society +in which the Snellings move. But that is not the only society the +world contains. + +As a matter of fact, Mary Ann has given me a pair of slippers, worked +by her own hands. It is true that they are a trifle large for me, and +that I shall never be able to keep them on my feet except when I am +sitting still. But Mary Ann does not seem to think that that matters, +so why should I? Her youngest sister, Clara Louisa, has quite +gratuitously informed me that she has had them by her for some +considerable time, and that, not to put too fine a point on it, they +were originally designed for another individual altogether--a Mr. +Pilbeam. But even supposing that what Clara Louisa says is true--of +which I have no evidence--I have, surely, cause to congratulate myself +on standing literally in Mr. Pilbeam's shoes, even if they are a +little spacious. + +On the whole I do not know that I regret that accident I had with Mary +Ann. It is true that there are times when I am a little disposed to +wish that she were not quite so good a manager; now and then every man +likes to call his soul his own. On the other hand, she is well +qualified to protect me from the rest of the family. She will keep +them at bay. Because it is beginning to dawn on me that, singlehanded, +she is more than a match for them all. Which is just as well. If she +had been like me they would have rent us limb from limb. As it is, +unless I am mistaken, some of the rending will be on our side. And +they know it! + +P.S.--The cards are out for the wedding. It is to take place on +Tuesday fortnight. We are going for our honeymoon to Italy and the +South of France. A second cousin of Mary Ann's is in the Cook's Tours +line. He has given us free passes all the way to the end of our +journey, and all the way back again; and coupons for free board and +lodging at the hotel. It's a wedding present. So that, as Mary Ann +says, our honeymoon need cost us practically nothing. Besides which we +can always sell the coupons and railway passes which we don't use. + +Nothing could be more delightful. + + + + + A SUBSTITUTE. + + THE STORY OF MY LAST CRICKET-MATCH. + + + CHAPTER I. + + I AM APPOINTED CAPTAIN. + +I have some idea of cricket--not much, perhaps, but I certainly have +some. I was not in the 'Varsity team, nor near it; but I played in the +Freshman's match, and provided myself with spectacles. I was nearly in +the school team once. That was when I carried my bat for forty-five. I +must own that my performance was a surprise to everyone--and to myself +among the rest. But as I never repeated it--or anything like it--they +left me, very wisely, out of the eleven. + +Thus it will be seen that, from a cricketing point of view, I did not, +even in my best days, come up to first-rate form; and my best days +were, reckoning from last summer, quite fifteen years ago. During +those fifteen years I do not remember once handling a bat, far less +hitting at a cricket-ball with one; and yet, in this state of +unpreparedness, I had the presumption last summer to captain a team, +and to lead them on--well, not to victory but to disgrace. It's a fact. +The match was Storwell _v_. Latchmere. Storwell was _my_ team; and as +I do not think a more remarkable match was ever known in the whole +annals of cricketing history, I here venture to report it. + +When they first asked me to play I thought they were mad. +Storwell-on-Sea is a village on the south coast--I beg pardon; I +believe it is called by the inhabitants a town. It is a pretty place, +and not unknown--in the locality. It has a season and all that kind of +thing, and it was during the season I was there. And one day a +deputation of the inhabitants called on me at my lodgings to ask if I +would lead the local cricket club to, say, victory. As I have said, my +first impression was that they were mad; either that, or else that +they were "playing it off" on the unprotected stranger. + +I hinted so much to the deputation. The deputation smiled. The chief +spokesman was the local barber; his name was Sapsworth. He explained +that Mr. Wingrave had sent them there. Wingrave was the vicar; we were +"up" together, and he must have known quite well whereabouts my +cricketing form came in. I decided to crush the deputation before the +thing went farther. + +"To show you the sort of man you propose should captain you, I need +only mention that it is more than fifteen years since I had a bat in +my hand." + +But the admission did not crush them: quite the other way. It opened +the floodgates of their eloquence. + +"That's nothing," Mr. Sapsworth cried. "There's Hedges here; we've had +to put him in; he don't even know the rules of the game, and he's just +turned sixty-one." + +I glanced at Mr. Hedges, thus frankly referred to. He was a smiling, +red-faced, bald-headed old gentleman, who, if not considerable in +height, was great in girth. He would certainly have turned the scale +at sixteen stone. I felt that, to cricketers who intended to play Mr. +Hedges, any objections which I might urge would appear quite trivial. + +"When is the match to be?" I asked. + +"To-morrow," was the startling reply. + +I was speechless. That I, after fifteen years' total abstention, +should be asked to captain a team the members of which were entire +strangers to me, and of whose individual styles of play I had not the +faintest notion, in a match against an unknown foe, at four-and-twenty +hours' notice, was a little hard to credit. It was altogether too +preposterous. I told them so. But they could not be brought to see it. + +The end of it was that I agreed to play. No man knows to what a depth +of folly he can sink until he tries. + + + CHAPTER II. + + MR. BENYON BOWLS. + +The match was to be played on Mr. Stubbs's field. Mr. Stubbs was a +local butcher. Mr. Sapsworth had kindly promised to come and escort me +to the scene of action. He arrived at half-past nine, just as I was +opening my morning's letters. On the way he gave me a chart of the +country. It appeared that in batting we were not strong, in fielding +we were weak, and that our bowling was more than shaky. + +"But we shall pull through," Mr. Sapsworth added; "especially now," +and he glanced at me. + +"I hope you are under no delusion as to my powers, Mr. Sapsworth. I +never was a first-rate cricketer, and, as I have already told you, it +is more than fifteen years since I handled a bat." + +"If you'll excuse my saying so, sir, I've generally noticed that them +who doesn't say much does a deal." + +That was one way of looking at it, no doubt; but if I did a deal, I +could only say that it would be a pleasant surprise to me. + +"And our opponents--what sort of a team are they?" + +Mr. Sapsworth turned up his nose--not metaphorically, but as a matter +of fact. + +"If we're bad," he said, "they're wuss. There's only one thing I've +ever seen those Latchmere blokes much good at, and that is cheating. +You'll have to keep a sharp eye on them, or they'll have all our chaps +out when they ain't; and they won't go out themselves, not even when +you've bowled their three stumps down all of a row." + +"Surely," I suggested, "those sort of questions are for the umpires to +decide." + +"Umpires!" Up went Mr. Sapworth's nose again. "They bring their own +umpire, and he's got his own ideas of umpiring, he has. But we've got +our own umpire as well as them." + +I said nothing; but Mr. Sapsworth's words conveyed to my mind pleasant +impressions of the strict rigour of the game. + +When we arrived there was a goodly gathering already assembled in Mr. +Stubbs's field. A tent was erected; in and about it was a nondescript +collection of men and boys; some forty or fifty others, availing +themselves of the opportunity afforded them for a little practice, +were actually disporting themselves on the pitch on which we were +presently to play. I consoled myself with the reflection that the +worse the ground was the more _my_ bowling would tell. + +Mr. Sapworth introduced me to the crowd _en masse_. Several persons +touched their caps to me; others nodded their heads; some grinned. + +"Good-morning, gentlemen. We're going to have a fine day for our +match. Our team all here?" + +Mr. Sapworth took upon himself to answer; he had been searching about +him with his eyes. + +"They're here all right. I suppose those Latchmere chaps ain't come +yet?" + +They had not come, and they did not come for an hour or more. I +employed the interval in becoming acquainted with the individual +members, arranging the order of going in, and their positions in the +field; matters in appearance simple enough, but more difficult in +practice. But at last the preliminaries were settled somehow, and the +Latchmere men appeared upon the ground. + +Their captain, coming up, was introduced to me. I was informed +afterwards that he was a blacksmith. I thought he was by the way in +which he grasped my hand. His opening speech was a little surprising. + +"We ain't going to play you if you've got eleven men, you know." + +I inquired into his meaning. + +"We've only got ten," he said. "And one of them's Soft Sawney, and +another's Sprouts." + +I do not know if those were the correct names of the gentlemen +referred to, or only fancy ones by which they were known to their +friends; but he laid his hand on two of his followers and hauled them +to the front. One was a long, weedy youth, who, one saw at a glance, +was more than half an imbecile; and the other was a portly old +gentleman of fifty-five or six, with a corporation like a barrel. + +Mr. Sapsworth intervened. + +"What's that?" he cried. "We've got Hedges!" + +He brought Mr. Hedges forward. I could not but feel that, to say the +least of it, Mr. Hedges balanced Mr. Sprouts. If Mr. Hedges could run +more than a dozen yards without pausing to take breath, I was almost +ready to express my willingness to eat my hat. + +"But we've only got ten men," persisted Mr. Barker. "You'll only have +to have ten. If you think we're going to play against your eleven we +won't play you at all, so that's all about it." + +There was a prospect of unpleasantness even before the match began. It +seemed that one of us would have to retire, in satisfaction of Mr. +Barker's rather unjustifiable demand. I was about to retire +myself--for I instinctively felt that, as a captain, I was no match +for Mr. Barker--when a rather curious incident occurred. + +On a sudden a newcomer appeared upon the scene. I say on a sudden, for +no one had noticed his approach, and yet, all at once, there he was, +standing between the Latchmere captain and myself. To me at any rate +his presence was so unexpected, and, indeed, so startling, that I +stared. He seemed to have come out of space. He was a big, burly +fellow, with smooth cheeks, round face, bullet-shaped head, and +sleepy-looking black eyes. + +"Let me play for you?" he said. + +For a moment Mr. Barker stared at the stranger in surprise, in common +with the rest of us. Then he jumped at the offer. + +"Let you! rather!" He thrust out his hand and caught the stranger's +palm in his. But no sooner had he got it firmly gripped than he +dropped it with an exclamation: "Why, what's the matter with you? +Ain't you well? Your hand's as cold as a frozen corpse." + +I went a little aside with Mr. Sapsworth. + +"Who is he?" I asked. + +"I don't know, and yet I seem somehow to have seen his face before. +But let them have him. He doesn't look as though he were up to much." + +He did not. Anyone looking less like a cricketer I have seldom +seen. His costume was ridiculous. He had on a pair of large check +trousers--a check of the kind which the Oxford tailor explained to the +undergraduate was a _leetle_ too large to be seen to advantage on a +single pair of understandings. He had on a huge top hat, of a size and +shape which would have made the fortune of a "lion comique." A red +woollen muffler was wound several times round his neck, and his +capacious person was enveloped in an enormous overcoat, the like of +which I had never seen before. The day promised to remind us of the +torrid zone, yet Mr. Barker had cried out that the stranger's hand +felt cold. + +In the toss for innings victory fell to us. So we went in. I led the +van. My associate was a youth named Fenning. He was a mere lad, and +looked too much of a lout to be much of a cricketer. Mr. Barker led +the bowling. I soon saw that if he had any strength it was not as a +bowler. If I kept my head, I told myself, and he carried away my +bails, it would be owing to the ground; for a rougher piece of turf, I +suppose, few wickets have been pitched upon. But I was far too nervous +to take liberties even with Mr. Barker. And, indeed, when the first +over was finished, and I found myself still in, I drew a long breath +of self-congratulation. + +The other bowler was, in his own line, as meritorious a specimen as +his captain. So, on the whole, things were going better than I had +expected. I had scored eleven, six off Mr. Barker, and the rest off +his friend. Even Fenning had hit up two--_literally_ hit up. I was +really beginning to think that I was getting set, which, in my +palmiest days had only happened once--thrice happy day!--when +something took place which showed me, not for the first time, the +advisability of never counting your chickens till the eggs are +hatched. + +Mr. Barker was just about to commence an over. He actually had the +ball in his hand, when the substitute--the stranger who had +volunteered to fill the place of the eleventh man--came marching right +across the field. Mr. Barker saw him coming, and called out to him to +stay where he was. But, wholly unheeding, the substitute strode on. He +reached Mr. Barker, and, without saying a word, so far as I could +perceive, he coolly held out his hand for the ball. I fully expected +that the Latchmere captain would remonstrate, and not only +remonstrate, but remonstrate strongly; but, to my surprise, he +instantly surrendered the ball, and slunk rather than walked to the +place which the stranger had just quitted. So the substitute was left +to bowl. + +Without doubt he was an eccentric character. Up to that moment he had +been fielding in his woollen muffler, his overcoat, and, last but not +least, his wonderful top hat. These, however, he now doffed, and laid +in a heap upon the ground. Their disappearance revealed the fact that +he wore a tight-fitting jacket which was the same wonderful pattern in +checks as his trousers. From the look of him, I certainly never +supposed that he could bowl. My surprise was, therefore, all the +greater when I discovered that he could. His action was peculiar. He +went right up to the wicket, and stood quite still, delivering the +ball with a curious flourish of the wrist. Its pace was amazing. It +pitched a good two feet to the off, and broke right in--perhaps aided +by the ground, though he certainly had found a spot. I was so +astounded by the pace--which reminded me of the old stories told of +Lillywhite; you could hear it "humming" in the air--that I never even +moved my bat. It was that which saved me. As it was the bat was all +but driven out of my hand. I told myself that on the arrival of a +second edition I should have to go. Yet I did manage to stop the next +four balls--how, I have not the faintest notion; but the sixth--for it +seemed that, in those parts, they bowled six to the over--took my +middle stump, breaking it clean off at the top. + +As I entered the tent the scorer cried out-- + +"What name?" + +"Tom Benyon," replied the bowler. + +Mr. Hedges, who was seated at the scorer's side, brought down his fist +upon the trestle-table with a bang. + +"I knew it was! I knowed him all along!" Mr. Hedges was in a state of +odd excitement. "That chap who bowled you ain't a man, sir--he's a +ghost." + +"He manages to put a good deal of pace on the ball for a ghost," I +answered. + +"And so he ought to. Did you hear what name he said? He said Tom +Benyon! There wasn't a better cricketer in all these parts than Tom +Benyon used to be. He played up in Lunnon more than once, I know, and +got well paid for playing too. But he always was a queer sort, was +Tom. I knew him well. I saw him buried. And if it is him, and not his +ghost, he ain't grown a day older these twenty years, he ain't." + +I laughed. I supposed the old gentleman was jesting. But not a bit of +it. When our second man had gone to the wicket Mr. Sapsworth drew me +aside. + +"I don't like the look of this," he said. + +"Nor I," I answered, supposing he referred to Mr. Benyon's bowling. +"He'll bring down our stumps like ninepins." + +"It isn't that. It--it's the man," he said. + +"Do you mean the ghost?" I asked jokingly. + +"It's easy to laugh. But----" Mr. Sapsworth paused. I could see he was +ashamed of himself, yet had his suspicions none the less. "I thought I +had seen him before, and I had. It _is_ Tom Benyon." + +"He says he is Tom Benyon, and I suppose he should know best." + +"Yes." Mr. Sapsworth fidgeted. "But Tom Benyon's been dead these +twenty years." + +"Dead!" I cried, and laughed. "He showed himself too much alive for +me, at any rate." + +"When I was a youngster," continued Mr. Sapsworth, "Tom Benyon used to +come into my father's shop to be shaved. He was always on the drink. +One morning I was all alone, minding the shop for father, when he came +in, mad drunk. I never shall forget that morning, never. He made me +sit in the shaving-chair, and set about to shave me. He soaped me all +over--face and hair and all. I was that there frightened I couldn't +make a sound. I never shall forget how I sat and watched him, with the +soap all in my eyes, as he put an edge upon the razor. Then he set +about shaving off my hair. He had got off about half of it, and I was +streaming with blood, when who should come in but my father. If he +hadn't Tom Benyon would have made an end of me." + +He paused. I perceived that the mere recollection of his little +adventure affected him unpleasantly. + +"There was something queer about his death. Some people said it was +drink had done for him, some of 'em said he had done for himself. +Anyhow, the whole country-side was at his funeral. I was there. I +remember it as plainly as though it was yesterday." + +While I was looking at Mr. Sapsworth, and pondering his words, there +came the sound of laughter from the middle of the ground. It was not a +loud laugh, but it was a distinctly disagreeable one. I looked round. +Mr. Benyon was laughing at Mr. Fenning's discomfiture. He had served +him as he had served me--he had taken his middle stump right out of +the ground. I turned to Mr. Sapsworth. + +"You follow." + +"Me!" Mr. Sapsworth turned several shades whiter. "Me!" He looked +about him with a frightened air. "Mr. Trentham, I--I can't," he said. + +"Nonsense, Sapsworth! You don't mean to say that you are going to +allow yourself to be frightened by any nonsense about a ghost, and in +broad daylight too!" + +The little man did not look by any means reassured by my tone of +derision. He seemed more inclined to take to his heels than to take +his place at the wickets. It is not impossible that he might have done +so had he not been addressed from a different quarter. + +"Bob Sapsworth!" It was Mr. Benyon calling to the little barber right +across the field. "Come and be shaved!" + +I own that I myself was startled. The words were apposite, to say the +least of it. We had just been speaking of Mr. Sapsworth's experience +of the shaver's art as practised by Mr. Benyon's hands, and here was +Mr. Benyon's namesake inviting him, if not to be cut, at least to come +again. On Mr. Sapsworth the effect of the invitation was surprising. +He had on his pads, his bat was in his hand. Without a word he +shuffled towards the stumps. If ever I saw a man go to the wickets in +a state of "mortal funk," I saw him then. + +I myself moved towards the scoring-tent. The state of things within it +at once impressed me as peculiar. It had been filled, a little time +ago, with jovial faces. Now, the owners of those faces might have been +attendants at a funeral. And many a man has had a livelier following +to the grave than I saw assembled then. + +Fenning came shambling into the tent. I spoke to him. + +"Mr. Benyon's bowling was too much for you, eh, Fenning?" + +Unless I am mistaken, Mr. Fenning wiped a tear out of his eye. He +certainly put up his hand and rubbed the optic with his knuckles. + +"I never seed such bowling! 'Tain't fair!" he said. + +"What is there unfair about it, Fenning?" + +"It comes so sharp. I never seed the ball afore there was my wickets +down." + +I smiled. Not so the company. They regarded Mr. Fenning's words with +different eyes. Mr. Hedges gave expression to the general opinion. + +"You ain't never seen such bowling afore, and you won't never see such +bowling again. 'Cause why? 'Cause it's a ghost that's bowling, not a +man!" + +Mr. Fenning looked about him with open eyes, and with open mouth as +well. "A ghost!" he mumbled. + +"A ghost!" said Mr. Hedges. + +I expostulated. + +"Come, Mr. Hedges, you frighten the lad. I am surprised, too, that a +man of your age and experience and wisdom should talk nonsense about +ghosts." + +Mr. Hedges looked up at me a little sharply. + +"If he ain't a ghost, what's become of the things that he's took off?" + +I asked him what he meant. He pointed across the ground. + +"He took off his hat and his coat and his scarf, and he laid 'em on +the grass. He ain't touched 'em, and no one ain't took 'em, yet +they're gone! We saw 'em go. If he ain't a ghost, what's become of the +things that he's took off?" + +Mr. Hedges grew a little excited. I looked in the direction in which +the old gentleman was pointing. The garments he referred to had +apparently vanished, but, of course, their disappearance was +susceptible of a most natural explanation. I should have maintained +this proposition with more confidence had it not been for something +which immediately occurred. + +Mr. Benyon was preparing to deliver his first ball to Mr. Sapsworth, +and as I eyed him I noted the extremely unworkmanlike attitude in +which Mr. Sapsworth awaited the delivery. Preparatory to delivering +the ball Mr. Benyon divested himself of his remarkable coat, which +matched his trousers, and in so doing disclosed a waistcoat which +matched his coat. Neatly folding up the garment, he laid it beside him +on the ground. No sooner did it touch the ground than it disappeared. +I am unable to say how, but it did, and that before the eyes of all +the lookers-on. This singular behaviour on the part of that curious +garment took me by surprise. + +After that I was prepared to excuse a certain amount of nervousness on +the part of Mr. Sapsworth. To Mr. Benyon Mr. Sapsworth's nervousness +seemed to afford positive pleasure. He cried, in a tone which was +perhaps _meant_ to be jovial: + +"Now, Bob Sapsworth, prepare to be shaved!" + +The ball went from his hand like lightning. Mr. Sapsworth yelled. Mr. +Benyon sent down his second ball--whack! not against the bat, but, I +should say, as nearly as possible against the same portion of Mr. +Sapsworth's frame which it had struck before. Any cricketer might have +been demoralised after receiving two such blows, but he would at least +have tried to get out of the way of the ball instead of in it. Mr. +Sapsworth placed his person exactly where the ball might be expected +to come, and, for once in a way, expectation was realised--it did +come. The third, fourth, and fifth balls found an exactly similar +billet, and the sixth not only knocked his bat out of his trembling +hands, but all three of his stumps clean out of the ground. + +"I said I'd shave you, Bobby!" shouted Mr. Benyon, as the victim went +limping from the place of execution. + +"Next man in," I said. + +"I ain't going in," courteously rejoined the player whose turn it was +to follow. I was about to ask him why, when I was saved the trouble by +Mr. Benyon. + +"Jack Hawthorn!" Oddly enough, the man's name was Hawthorn, though how +Mr. Benyon came to know that he was next man in is more than I can +say. Mr. Hawthorn was a huge fellow quite six feet high; but at the +sound of Mr. Benyon's voice he rose, docile as a child. "I'm waiting +for you." + +Without pads Mr. Hawthorn went striding across the turf, content to +use the bat which Mr. Sapsworth had left lying on the ground. That +hero came limping into the tent. + +"It's a ghost," he said. + +I could not but feel that the fellow was something of a cur. To this +feeling I gave expression. + +"Ghost or no ghost, rather than let him pound me all over the body +with the ball, I would have made one try to hit at it. And you told me +that you were an all-round player." + +No doubt the man must have been suffering considerable pain, but I was +too much annoyed at his cowardice to feel for him. Besides, the whole +thing was so preposterous. + +Undoubtedly, as a trundler Mr. Benyon was superb. I have no hesitation +in saying that I do not remember to have seen finer bowling than his +on any ground in England. He combined two things which, so far as I am +aware, are not to be found together in any living player--pace _and_ +break. But it was not his bowling, fine as it was, which promised to +work our ruin, so much as the absurd belief entertained by the members +of the team that he--check trousers and all--was a ghost. An idea came +into my head. I resolved that I would ask him, point-blank, in the +face of all the people, if he was a ghost. If his answers did not +satisfy the doubters nothing would. + +The opportunity occurred just as he was about to begin his following +over. Moving from the tent, I advanced towards the wickets. + +"Excuse me, Mr. Benyon, but before you commence to bowl might I speak +to you a word?" + +He turned and looked at me. As he did so I was conscious that, in the +most emphatic sense of the word, his appearance was peculiar. He +looked as though he were a corpse, and an unhealthy corpse to +boot--the sort of corpse that no man would spend a night with +willingly. And this unpleasant appearance was accentuated by his +ridiculous attire. Fancy a dead man, of a bloated habit of body, +taking his walks abroad in a suit of checks--each check twelve inches +square! I was so uncomfortably conscious that Mr. Benyon did not look +a clubbable kind of man that I faltered in my speech. + +"You will excuse me, Mr. Benyon, if the question I am about to put to +you appears to you even worse than absurd, but the members of my team +have some ridiculous notion in their heads that you are a certain Tom +Benyon who died twenty years ago, and who now lies buried in the +churchyard. I am sure, therefore, you will forgive my asking, are you +a ghost?" + +Mr. Benyon eyed me, and I eyed him--not willingly, but because, for +some reason or other, I could not help it. At last he answered, +speaking in a sort of shout, + +"I am." + +Of course such an answer was absurd--ridiculously absurd. As I sit +here writing no man could be more conscious of its absurdity than I +am. But _then_ it was not _that_ I was so conscious of as of a cold +shiver going all down my back, and of a sort of feeling as though +Providence had sent me out into the world knock-kneed. I struggled +against a strong inclination to sit down upon the turf and stop there. +But being at the same time dimly aware that I was making an unexampled +fool of myself, I made a frantic effort to regain the use of my +tongue. + +"Oh, you--you are a ghost! I--I thought so. Tha--thanks." + +How I got back to the tent I have not the faintest notion. But I do +know that after that exhibition of the sort of stuff that I was made +of, disaster followed hard upon disaster. + +The first wicket--my own--had fallen for thirteen runs. The second, +and the third, had seen the score unaltered. Hawthorn was the fourth +man in. He was so fortunate as to appear upon the scene just as I put +my fatal question--it was to give him a chance I put it. The answer +settled him--that is, if there was anything left to settle. I am not +able to state exactly what became of him, but I have a clear +impression that he was out at the end of the over. Moreover, of this I +am well assured, that nine wickets fell without an addition being made +to the score. I suppose that is, in its way, a record. + +Whether Mr. Benyon owed the inhabitants of his native place a grudge +the evidence before me does not enable one to decide; but, if he did, +he certainly paid it in full that day. Although he bowled at the +wickets he hit the players first. Nor was this, so far as appearances +went, in any way his fault; they seemed to have a singular knack of +getting just in the way of the ball. The order of the innings was +this: the ball hit each man five times, and the wickets once. At the +end of each of Mr. Benyon's overs a batsman returned to the tent a +sadder and a lamer man. + +One case in particular was hard. It was the case of Mr. Hedges. He was +the last man in; when his turn came, with the score still at thirteen +runs, he stuck to his seat like glue. + +"Won't somebody go in for me?" he asked, as he saw his doom +approaching. "I ain't no cricketer," he added, a little later on. "Now +am I?" He asked the question of his friends, but his friends were +still. He addressed himself to Mr. Sapsworth. "Bob Sapsworth, you +asked me to play, now didn't you? You says to me, 'If you play, +William Hedges,' you says, 'I shouldn't be surprised but what the gent +as we're going to ask to captain us stands you a free lunch,' you +says, 'not to speak of drinks,' you says." I pricked up my ears at +this, but held my tongue. "But you says nothing about being bowled at +by a ghost, now did you now; I ask you, Bob Sapsworth, did you now?" + +Mr. Sapsworth was silent. The old gentleman went on: + +"I shan't go in," he announced. That was when the ninth batsman had +received Mr. Benyon's first ball--upon his person. "Nothing shan't +make me go in to be bowled at by a ghost." This second announcement +followed the delivery of the second ball upon the batsman's person. "I +ain't no cricketer, and I don't know nothing about the rules of the +game, and I ain't going to stand up to be chucked at by a ghost," and +Mr. Hedges struck his fist upon the board. There came a yell from the +wickets; Mr. Hedges gripped his seat tightly with his hands. "I won't +go in!" he cried. Another ball, another yell. Mr. Hedges repeated his +determination over and over again, as if in its reiteration he sought +for strength to keep it. "I won't! I won't! I won't!" + +The last ball of the over, and the ninth of our hopes had fallen. A +pause ensued. The batsman came limping towards the tent. Mr. Hedges' +time was come; he clutched at the seat with the frenzy of despair. + +"Bill Hedges!" sang out Mr. Benyon; but Mr. Hedges gave no sign. "Bill +Hedges!" Still no reply. "Bill Hedges, have I got to come and fetch +you?" + +At that awful threat the old gentleman did rise. His ample form went +waddling across the ground. + +"I--I'm a-coming, Tom. I--I ain't no cricketer, Tom. Do--don't you be +too hard on me. If you must hit me, let it be behind." + +"Where's your bat?" + +The inquiry came from Mr. Benyon. Mr. Hedges had arrived at the wicket +without that batsman's requisite. He scratched his head. + +"My bat? I--I don't want no bat. I--I ain't no cricketer. You can hit +me quite as well without it, Tom." + +"Go and get your bat!" + +Mr. Hedges went and got it. When he had it it was evident that he had +but rudimentary notions of its uses. He held it gingerly, round side +foremost, as though he were afraid that if he grasped it tightly it +would burn him. + +"Bill Hedges, do you remember those drinks you paid for me the +Saturday week before I died?" + +"No, Tom; I can't say rightly as how I do." + +"You did. It was at the 'Crown and Anchor.' I had no money. I said if +you'd stand Sam I'd pay you back again; but I never did. I'll pay you +now." + +Mr. Benyon paid him, five times over. The old gentleman bore it like a +lamb. Whack--whack--whack--whack--whack! and the fall of his wicket at +the end. As he returned towards the tent he wiped his wrinkled brow. + +"I always said I wasn't no cricketer, and I ain't," he said. + + + CHAPTER III. + + AND BATS. + +Our innings was over--for thirteen runs. We sat there, moping in a +crowd, I among the rest, when Mr. Benyon, bustling up, reminded me of +my duties as a captain. + +"Now then, turn out. Send your men into the field. We can't stop here +all day. I'm first man in; soon I'll have to go, and I haven't had a +smack at a cricket-ball these twenty years!" + +We looked at each other. One part of his address gave us a certain +gratification--that part in which he stated that he soon would have to +go. We turned out. I suppose a more unpromising set of fieldsmen never +yet took their places in the field. The Latchmere men went slouching +towards the tent; some of them, I noticed, instead of going in stole +towards the rear. These, I suspect, stole off the ground; I never set +eyes on them again. + +"Mr. Trentham, I--I can't bowl," whispered Mr. Sapsworth to me as we +moved across the turf. + +He and I had agreed that we should start the bowling. I confess that I +felt no more inclined to act up to the letter of our agreement than he +did. But Mr. Benyon intervened. + +"Now, Bob Sapsworth, you take the bowling one end, and let your +captain take the other. Captain, you take first over." + +I obeyed without a murmur. It might have been quite a usual thing to +see in a match a member of one team ordering about the captain of the +other. I do not think that our field was arranged on scientific +principles; I may certainly claim that I had nothing to do with its +arrangement. There is a suspicion floating through my mind that at one +or two points--two, or more--men were placed unusually close together. +For instance, at deep mid-off--very deep mid-off--Mr. Hawthorn and Mr. +Hedges were not only doing their best to trample on each other's toes, +but each was seeking for a place of security behind the other's back. + +Mr. Barker shared with Mr. Benyon the honour of being first man in. +The Latchmere captain, as a captain, had become quite as much a +figurehead as I had. His bearing was indicative of extreme depression. +I think he had learned that to take, off-hand, the first substitute +who offered, was, now and then, unwise. + +To enable him to bat with more advantage, Mr. Benyon had removed his +waistcoat, which matched his trousers and his coat. What he had done +with it I cannot say; possibly it had vanished, with his other +garments, into air. Now he had on a bright red flannel shirt--his +tastes in costume seemed a trifle lurid--the sleeves of which were +turned up above the elbows. His pose was almost as peculiar as his +costume. He stood bolt upright, his legs together, his feet drawn heel +to heel; not at all in the fashion of a modern cricketer, who seeks to +guard his wickets with his legs. His bat he held straight down in +front of him, the blade swinging gently in the air. + +I am afraid I wasted more time in preparing to deliver my first ball +than I need have done; but if Mr. Benyon had not had a smack with a +bat for twenty years it was a good fifteen since I had bowled a ball. +After such a lapse of time one requires to pull oneself together +before exhibiting one's powers to a cricketer of Mr. Benyon's calibre. +He, however, did not seem to recognise the necessity which I myself +felt that I was under. + +"Hurry up, sir! Don't I tell you that soon I'll have to go?" + +I hurried up. I gave him an overhand full pitch which would have made +a decent catch for point, if point had been close in, which he wasn't. +However, in any case Mr. Benyon would have saved him the trouble. He +hit the ball a crack the like of which I had never seen before. He +drove it over the hedge, and over the trees, and up to the skies, and +out of sight. + +"I don't think that's a bad little smack to start with," he observed. +"I like your kind of bowling, mister. I suppose that's a boundary." He +called to the scorer--if there was one, which I doubt--"Put down Tom +Benyon six!" He turned again to me. "It's no good wasting time looking +for that ball. I've another in my pocket you can have." + +He put his hand into his trousers' pocket. Those remarkable garments +fitted him like eel-skins. I had certainly never supposed that he +could by any possibility have such a thing as a cricket-ball in one of +the pockets. But it appeared that he had. He drew one out and threw it +up to me. + +My second ball was a colourable imitation of my first, only this time +it was wide to leg. To long-leg Mr. Benyon sent it flying. + +"Put down Tom Benyon another six!" he cried. "I _do_ like your +bowling, mister. I've got another ball which you can have." + +He produced a second ball from the same pocket from which the first +had come. I could scarcely believe my eyes. But I was discovering, +with Horatio, that there were more things in heaven and earth than had +been contained in my philosophy. Since Mr. Benyon professed such +affection for the style of bowling which I favoured, I sent him down +another sample. This time it was fairly straight--by which I mean that +it would not have pitched more than a yard from the wickets if Mr. +Benyon had allowed it to pitch, which he didn't. He treated it as he +had done the first--he drove it, with terrific force, right above my +head. + +"Never mind about the ball," he said. "I've got another in my pocket." + +He had--the third. And in the same pocket from which the other two had +come. + +My fourth ball he treated to a swipe to square-leg. He seemed to have +a partiality for swiping. Quite unnecessarily he allowed that this was +so. + +"I do like a ball which I can get a smack at," he remarked as he +produced a fourth ball from the same pocket of his tightly-fitting +trousers which had contained the other three. "A swipe does warm me +so. Your kind of bowling, mister, 's just the thing." + +It was kind of him to say so; though, to my thinking, his remark did +not convey a compliment. When he sent my fifth ball out of sight I +wished that his love for swiping had been less, or my bowling of +another kind. The sixth, however, which he also produced from the same +wondrous store contained in his breeches pocket, he contented himself +with what he called "snicking." + +"That's what I call a pretty snick," he said. + +The "snick" in question was a tremendous drive to deep mid-off. It was +stopped, quite involuntarily, by Mr. Hawthorn and Mr. Hedges. So far +as I could see, it stunned the pair of them. Neither of them made the +slightest attempt to return the ball. + +"Run it out!" cried Mr. Benyon. He and Mr. Barker began to run. They +ran four, and then they ran two more, and still the ball was not +thrown in. Mr. Benyon urged the fielders on. "Hurry up, Bill Hedges!" + +Mr. Hedges did not hurry up; he never could have hurried up, even if +his manner of "fielding" the ball had not wholly deprived him of his +wind. But the ball was at last thrown in--when the pair had run +eleven. Forty-one runs off his first over was a result calculated to +take the conceit out of the average bowler. And Mr. Benyon's last +performance, his "snick," had placed him at the other wicket, prepared +to receive Mr. Sapsworth's bowling--when it came. + +"Now, Bob Sapsworth, I'll have a smack at you!" he said. + +He had. I felt for Mr. Sapsworth. But since I had suffered it was only +fair that he should suffer too. Crack--smack--whack went the balls out +of sight in all directions. And for each ball that disappeared Mr. +Benyon produced another from his breeches pocket. I felt that these +things must be happening to me in a dream. I was rapidly approaching +the condition in which Alice must have been in Wonderland--prepared +for anything. + +Time went on. Mr. Sapsworth and I bowled over after over. Mr. Benyon +was making a record in tall scoring. No performance of "W. G.'s" ever +came within many miles of it. And the balls he lost! And the balls +which he produced! And the diabolical ingenuity with which he managed, +at the close of every over, to change his end! If Mr. Barker did no +hitting, he did some running. He never had a chance to make a stroke, +but his partner took care to make him run an incredibly large odd +number as a wind up to every over. Mr. Benyon did not seem to be +distressed by the exertion in the least; Mr. Barker emphatically did. + +Mr. Benyon had buoyed us up by his statement that he would soon have +to go. His ideas of soon were different from ours. I suppose, at the +outside, our innings had lasted half an hour. How long we bowled to +Mr. Benyon is more than I can say. I know that I bowled until I felt +that I should either have to stop or drop. By degrees one fact began +to be impressed upon me. It was this--that the number of spectators +was growing smaller by degrees and beautifully less. Originally there +had been quite a crowd assembled. In course of time this had dwindled +to half a dozen stragglers. A little later on even these had gone. And +not only spectators but cricketers had disappeared. If my eyes did not +deceive me, there was not a member of the Latchmere team left on the +ground. They had had enough of Mr. Benyon--or his ghost. + +What was more, some of our own team took courage, and leg-bail. I +caught one of them--the lad Fenning--in the act of scrambling through +the hedge. But I had not the heart to stop him. I only wished that I +had been so fortunate as to have led the van. + +The thing grew serious. So far as I could see, Mr. Hawthorn, Mr. +Hedges, Mr. Sapsworth, and I were the only members of the Storwell +team left on the ground. And the reflection involuntarily crossed my +mind--what fools we were to stay! The amount of running about we had +to do! And the way in which Mr. Benyon urged us on! The perspiration +was running off from us in streams--I had never had such a "sweater" +before! + +"I do like your kind of bowling, mister," Mr. Benyon would constantly +remark. + +If I had had an equal admiration for his kind of batting we should +have been quits, but I had not; at least not then. + +A little later, looking round the field, I found that Mr. Hawthorn had +disappeared, and that Mr. Hedges, stuck in a hedge, was struggling +gallantly to reach safety on the other side. It was the last ball of +Mr. Sapsworth's over. Mr. Benyon ran thirteen for a hit to leg. He +made Mr. Barker run them too--it was the proverbial last straw. As Mr. +Barker was running the thirteenth run, instead of going to his wicket +he dropped his bat--the bat which he had never had a chance to +utilise--and bolted off the field as though Satan was behind him. Mr. +Benyon called out to him, but Mr. Barker neither stopped nor stayed. +It seemed that the match was going to resolve itself into a game of +single wicket. + +To make things better, when I came up to bowl I perceived that Mr. +Sapsworth's power of endurance had reached its tether. The position he +had taken up in the field had not much promise of usefulness. He first +stood close up to the hedge, then he stood in the middle of the hedge, +then--I doubt if he _stood_ upon the other side. But at least he had +vanished from my ken. And I was left alone to bowl to Mr. Benyon. That +over! + +"I do like your kind of bowling, mister," he observed when, as usual, +he sent my first ball out of sight. "Never mind about the ball. I've +got one in my pocket you can have." + +He had. He produced it--always from the same pocket. It was about the +second thousand. + +"It does warm me so to swipe." This he said when he had sent my second +ball on a journey to find its brother. Then a ball or two later on, "I +call that a tidy smack." The "smack" in question had driven the ball, +for anything I know to the contrary, a distance of some five miles or +so. + +The next ball I fielded. It was the first piece of fielding I had done +that day, and that was unintentional. It laid me on the ground. It was +some moments before I recovered myself sufficiently to enable me to +look round. When I did so no one was in sight. I was alone in the +field. The opposite wicket was deserted. The bat lay on the ground. +And Mr. Benyon had gone! + + + + THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Amusement Only, by Richard Marsh + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMUSEMENT ONLY *** + +***** This file should be named 38188.txt or 38188.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/1/8/38188/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + +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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