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+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: 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
+
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